San Carlos is just far enough into Mexico to feel exotic, but not far enough for the country to truly reveal it’s charms. It’s the frontier where the excesses of those from the north run into the inability of the infrastructure to deal with em. In other words, it seems to be about as far down as most can comfortably drag the incredible array of stuff that they feel they need to set up camp for the winter.
The preponderance of Americans here means that dollars are generally welcomed, so it comes as no surprise that San Carlos is a lot more expensive than the towns just an hour or two south… where the dollar no longer works. But it’s still a hell of a value… by US standards… except for the gas which is still $3.00 a gallon for some reason.
With the very cool looking twin peaks of Cerro Tetakawi looking over, the town itself is really less of your typical concentrated town and more of a ten mile long strip that has the Sea of Cortez on one side and restaurants and hotels on the other.
It pretty much starts at the Totonaka RV Park, which is a VERY nicely appointed place that I think is managed quite well. And it ends at the Soggy Peso – a barefoot bar that reminded us a bit of the Hula Grill in Maui.
There’s a small fishing village just a mile or two north-ish along a dirt road that has what’s purported to be an amazing seafood restaurant that closes at sunset because there’s no power in the town. We didn’t make it there though so I can’t confirm it’s excellence (although I did talk to some people who I found to be rather picky eaters who raved about it).
It’s quite common to run into these “modern” ruins that make you wonder what the heck happened… or didn’t.
There’s a lot of vacant real estate that the locals claim is the hangover from the US banking scam of ’08/’09.
I don’t know if that’s true or not. But if it is it’s more dramatic evidence of the scope of the damage that can be done by just a few knuckleheads. At least they were punished for it. Oh wait… that’s right… they weren’t.
I developed an emotional attachment to the local Pacifico beer outlet… one of my daily tasks was to exchange empty ballena bottles for a full one… or two.
And on Friday and Saturday nights the BBQ comes out next to the beer store… right into the sidewalk… and the party starts. Nedless to say there might have been a couple of nights when the beer didn’t make it home.
All in all San Carlos seems like a good place to stop and kiss the ground so to speak, and ease into Mexico for those who were certain that they’d be killed upon crossing the border… but somehow survived.