The bus arrives at Mazatlán around 11:00. It's been a bouncy journey of fitful bouts of sleep. During the night I tried to pretend I was on a ship and that the to-ing and thro-ing was the gentle motion of the waves. Didn't work. It wasn't till 3 or 4 in the morning before tiredness defeated the bus's bone-shaking, that was trying to keep me awake. Twice during the journey, the bus was boarded by men in uniform.
At Mazatlán the weather is overcast and we struggle to orientate ourselves. Ideally we'd like to make our ferry reservation without going to the ferry terminal. Asking around gives no joy, so we take a taxi to the ferry terminal. Tickets are bought for the 15:00 sailing. $30 each. The plastic bag with the food and books falls apart while as we stagger with our belongings. It is more apparent than ever that we simply have too much stuff!
After minor ablutions in the public bathroom we wait patiently in the ferry terminal building for 3 o'clock to roll around (so much for the beach!). During the wait Monica manages to make arrangements for our onward travel. Looks like we'll spend tomorrow in La Paz then take another overnight bus to San Ignacio. This way we should be able to share the transportation cost from San Ignacio to the lagoon with some fellow whale watchers, arriving at the same time.
I buy a cheap square vinyl bag of a style that seems very popular amongst the locals. The vinyl bag is employed as effective camouflage for our expensive gear. It's also more comfortable to hand carry than the day pack we were using. The camouflage works pretty well - the bag is almost invisible thanks to the hundreds of identical bags in the area. It's vaguely amusing to be privy to the secret that my cheap plastic bag is worth a few thousand dollars. Hope no one else figures it out.
15:00 arrives with no sign of activity so Monica goes off to see what's up. Turns out there's an hour time difference in the west of Mexico! We set our watches back to 14:00 and go back to wait mode.
Shortly before embarking, all bags are lined up on the ground and a sniffer dog works his way along them. Mazatlán is in Sinaloa, a state with a reputation as a drug trafficking center.
Finally we get to board. Our ferry tickets are for the cheapest 'salon' class - basically a padded seat for the 16 hour trip. The padding is missing from my armrest. At this stage we're feeling tired and unclean. A private cabin costs $60 more (double the 'salon' price). We decide to try and upgrade. "You'll have to wait till everyone is on board". We wait, with failing patience, and start to squabble.
Almost an hour later we start to move off. I ask again about the cabin. We're In luck and moments later I'm holding the keys to a private cabin (with shared bathroom facilities). After ditching our bags (at last, freedom!) we head up on deck where we are treated to a receding view of Mazatlán's islands. Dolphins leap in the distance. A warm sea breeze blows the smell and sounds of the waves as we watch the sun setting in orange and pink. Things are suddenly looking up! After the sun drops below the horizon we go below for dinner. Warm food! Now we're positively jovial.
After dinner we try out the showers. A strong spray of lukewarm water fills a space about the size of an upturned coffin. I squeeze in and find that the shower curtain is cleverly designed to blow in during use. Given the limited room, I have to put up with a wet plastic sheet sticking to one side of my body as I attempt to play houdini with the soap. It crosses my mind that we're still in a 'modern' country - what's it going to be like in poorer places like Nicaragua?!
Despite the crampness, the shower feels great and we prepare for bed - horizontal at last. While organizing our luggage, Monica discovers a couple of things, like ginseng tablets, that, with hindsight, she could probably do without. I get a rush of excitement to find there's an electric socket in the room. Out comes all the gear to recharge batteries, transfer photos to laptop, hotsync Palm, write journal, etc. Heaven!
