The desire to see exotic places often comes gradually. One sees an advertisement, colorful pictures in a travel bureau or talks to friends who have been there. Having a few days off in December, I wanted to fly to Mexico and decided to put an ad in the paper for paying companions but had no response. Luckily I ran into a fellow professor, Mel, who wanted to take his girlfriend to Mexico. A very vague itinerary including cities like Mexico, Oaxaca, Acapulco, and wherever stops needed to be made, as well as an acceptable cost-sharing plan were all agreed on.
On the day of departure, Tallahassee looked bad and rainy. My people arrived early, and the three of us and all luggage were weighed on my bathroom scale. All was within limits, and after checking the weather and filing IFR we took off. There were clouds off and on all the way to Mobile, Alabama, but then the weather cleared, and we made our first landing in Baton Rouge. Fuel was low and legs needed to be stretched. In less than half an hour all our needs were taken care of, and we went VFR to Galveston, Texas, our first overnight stop.
Next morning we had beautiful weather and followed the Texas coastline. I decided this must be the prettiest part of flat Texas; Matagordo Bay, Aransas Pass and Corpus Christi stood out beautifully. We even saw a flock of snow geese taking off from one of the wildlife sanctuaries, over which we flew much higher than the legal minimum altitude of 1500 feet.
My family used to live in Kingsville during the early 1960’s while I taught at Texas A&I. Now we did our best to avoid the military alert area by following the thin Padre Island to the south. Suddenly the over voltage red light came on. I checked my Operator’s Manual which in accordance with FAR’s I had on board, and turned the master switch off which zeroed radio, VOR, transponder, and ADF. The flight was not affected, the engine ran perfectly and navigation in these parts was easy. Coming closer to Brownsville, one half hour later, I turned the master switch back on to allow radio-communication with the tower. After landing I had a mechanic look at the trouble, but he found nothing wrong, so we went back into the airplane without refueling, and flew across the border into Mexico.
Matamoros has a big airport which was not very busy on this hot December afternoon. We cleared customs easily, filled the tanks with 80 octane gasoline, and filed a flight plan with the comandante. Nobody gave us any trouble nor demanded unusual fees. One man led us from one desk to the next office, and we might have tipped him a little.
Now our real trip began, and the weather couldn’t have been better. We flew over a lot of flat land, saw small rivers, huge ranches, the Laguna Madre, and after an hour or so, some mountains in the west. Many of the ranchos had airstrips, and I was tempted to make a personal call to one of them, but then I thought that uninvited guests may not be welcome. There were no flying problems; all systems worked, even the VOR to Tampico. By late afternoon we reached Tampico in the state of Tamaulipas. We had a travel guide book with us and chose one of the moderately priced hotels for the night. A taxi brought us to town, and after supper we did some sightseeing. This being the Christmas season, a lot of people were out shopping. One department store had hired a band to play typical Mexican music to attract customers.
Next morning the taxi brought us back to the Tampico airport. Weather was terrible with heavy fog which seemed typical for this area. We waited till the airport was officially open and then filed IFR for Mexico City. Ours was about the third airplane ready for take-off. I was surprised that two airplanes came back on the taxiway and moved to another runway. The tower instructed us to follow those two, and only when it was my turn to take off, did I discover the reason: several cows were on the original runway.
We easily flew through the remaining clouds and headed southwest, climbing steadily. As usual I filed 100 knots as my flying speed. Climbing though reduced my airspeed to 80 knots and even less. The Skyhawk is a slow climber, especially as it gets to higher altitudes. Finally we reached and reported 12000 feet. It was about time, for the mountains were very close. We had to report over the Platon intersection and later over the Pachua VOR. Close by was a peak of 10410 feet, and we saw some orchards on the mountain slopes. Now the country below us became flat and opened up to a big basin.
We kept on flying towards Mexico City which was totally obscured by heavy smog while Pachua was clear and huge mountain peaks were visible on the three other sides of the city.
Approach control very kindly gave us vectors, and we had to descend first to 11000 then to 9500 feet. There were a few airliners above the smog, but they did not bother me. Approach control gave us missed approach instructions and followed with radio guidance to an ILS approach, since I did not carry the appropriate approach plate. The smog was too thick to see anything except rare glimpses of high buildings. At 8700 then 8100 feet at a heading of 50 degrees I still saw nothing. Now I was told I should see the airport directly below us. No - yes -. Quickly I gave full flaps and practically dropped on an enormous runway, thinking “oh what a relief it is”. Apprehensively I taxied out of the way of the big boys, parked at the ramp and refueled with 80 octane gas which I could pay for with my Master Card.
I turned in my arrival report to the comandante and again had no trouble. We took a taxi downtown to the Hotel Avenida and found it quite adequate with bath and TV. All three of us ate good T-bone steaks and had some good cerveza. While my own Spanish got me by, we were lucky to have Mel along who really is a Spanish professor and had studied in Mexico.
The following couple of days we toured the city admiring the beautiful cathedral and the Museum of Buenas Artes which featured huge, expressive paintings. Some of the expressions of the human figures, though, might create nightmares! I located Maximilian’s palace and the St. Francis of Assisi church. Mexico is a very large city with 12 Million or more inhabitants and terrific traffic. During the day it was hot - in December - while at night a coat or sweater were needed. The high altitude of Mexico (7800 feet and more) makes it advisable to take it easy the first day or two. While in the USA city streets are nearly empty at night, Mexico becomes alive after dark when everybody walks the streets.
On our second day we took a bus to the pyramids of Teotihuacan. Mel first took us to the Centro del Norte via two changes of city buses. The main bus was neat and uncrowded. For about seven pesos we had a one-hour trip into the outskirts of Mexico City. We stopped near the gate but walked around the whole complex in blazing heat before entering the enclosed area. The pyramid of the sun was very impressive, before the Azteecs, the Toltecs, used them in their religion which essentially consisted of sacrificing people (after they had one full year of fun), tearing their hearts out and throwing their bodies down the steps. - Gruesome customs those! - Many visitors walked up these very steep steps to the top. However I just did not want to, the pyramid made me airsick and “you couldn’t pay me enough to go up there”, I said. Mel and Estelle laughed that I was afraid of heights on the ground but not at 12000 feet in the air. Then they went up, while I enjoyed the scenery from below. A lot of souvenirs were sold by stores and peddlers. The latter got on my nerves when they did not want to leave me alone even after I bought a silver pendant with the Aztec sun clock for myself. Eventually I managed to turn the table on the vendors by selling one of them a candy bar.
Back in the hotel I took out my air charts to plan next day’s flight to Oaxaca. My partners had some business in town next morning (attempting to regain a stolen purse) but by noon we were back at General Aviation of the Mexican airport. This was just opposite commercial or airline aviation, something that has to be mentioned to the taxi driver. Incidentally, we took the cheaper buses whenever possible.
At the airport I talked to the weathermen and a couple of local pilots about my flight and my fear of high mountain turbulence. Instead of following the main road which goes straight east between high mountains, they suggested that I first fly northeast about 20 miles then south to Puebla. This worked fine, but I still had to climb to 11000 feet, and we were not much above the forests. The land then opened up. In Puebla I saw a huge factory and later learned that this was where Volkswagens are built. Now I turned southeast toward Tehuacan. The valley got ever narrower and ended up in a canyon. I could still reach Mexico City by radio and was told that Oaxaca was clear. Yet there were clouds between me and the canyon, and I was forced to 12000 feet where I worried about oxygen. Oaxaca approach could not understand me, and I worried even more thinking about pilots who followed the wrong canyon and came to grief. In good time, though, the clouds ended, the valley opened a bit, and I could receive Oaxaca.
The approach to the one-runway Oaxaca airport led me over a big hill where we could see the Mitla ruins, sign of an ancient civilization. Then there was a very clean approach to a very long asphalt runway. Even a strong crosswind failed to dampen my pleasure to have accomplished this difficult leg of our trip. As usual, I quickly wanted to tie the plane down, run to the bathroom and then worry about the rest. This time the comandante came out to meet me and wanted me to sign my arrival report right in the strong wind. By now I felt like a Captain with authority and insisted on signing inside the calm terminal.
A taxi took us to town, and we located a hotel for the night. The one we chose had no shower curtains and no soap but was clean, not too expensive, and much nicer than the very first one we inspected. The food in restaurants was good, but we always avoided eating fresh salad. For breakfast the waiter first poured hot milk into the cup and expected us to say stop before pouring the hot coffee. If the mixture then was too dark or too light, he only grudgingly poured another cup or added either coffee or milk to make it come out right.
We enjoyed visits to souvenir stores where beautiful blankets with Aztec and other motifs were haggled about. My partners wanted to buy Christmas presents for all their friends, while I was continually worried about overweight of my airplane and had to use harsh words to stop excessive buying.
My reason for wanting to fly to Oaxaca was to see the Arbol de Tule. This is a huge Taxodium related to our Florida swamp cypress and measures 43 meters in circumference. Next to the tree was a nice chapel which, at that time, was beautifully decorated with flowers for a wedding. That evening we went to the Plaza downtown and enjoyed listening to a five-man marimba band. People were meandering through the park, and neon lights wished “feliz navidad”.
We could have enjoyed ourselves much longer in Oaxaca, but we wanted to be home for our Christmas, so we climbed into a very crowded bus driving south. It was truly unbelievable how many humans could be stacked into this bus! The legs and arms had a hard time to find a space, and other people’s bodies were twisted around us, really. Once I felt something a bit funny in my pocket, but it was too far away from my hand. My billfold was protected by my handkerchief, so I concentrated on not being crushed. It took some very agitated talking by Mel and two pesos each to make the bus stop next to the airport branch-off in the road. We had 100 meters or so to walk. My Skyhawk was still on the ramp, which gave me a good feeling. I cleared with the comandante and weather, and then bought some gasoline and oil for cash (no cards).
We were ready for departure, only I couldn’t find my key. Must be in the hotel! It cost me 80 pesos (and I was low on them) to find out the key was not there. Somebody in the bus probably picked my pocket! (This taught me to give a spare key to one of my passengers.) Mel found out that I left one window unlocked, and we could at least enter the airplane. Since it was Saturday, no Locksmith could be located. Then I saw a mechanic on the field. He took the cowling off, grounded the magnetos, and after putting the cover back on, he hand propped the airplane. Boy, did I feel lucky! Being careful not to let the engine die, I passed four dollar bills to the very helpful man. Then we took off, due south. There was a beautiful valley with just one big ridge of high mountains to clear, then it was the blue Pacific. We turned right and descended to 6500 feet and followed the ocean. In gorgeous weather we flew over Chila and many other small settlements, and a few small airstrips showed up from time to time. There were plantations of what I thought must have been bananas and coconuts. Acapulco appeared gorgeous and grandiose. We saw great hotels near big rocks and beaches. Several airliners talked to approach control in either English or Spanish. We, too, were kindly guided by ATC. It would have been a pleasant stop, but I decided to fly on. We were still along the Pacific and the scenery as pretty as ever. Gas, however, was getting low with the needles of both wing tanks touching the E-mark. I squeezed and squeezed. Petulant came into view. “Just a bit farther, Dear God”. Zihuatanejo was on my ADF and shortly I could talk to approach control. It was a good landing, and I parked next to two lonely airplanes on the ramp. As I checked in with an equally lonely but friendly comandante it was 5:30 pm.
A minibus took us to town where we reached a hotel. It was night now, and I felt lucky that we could find space even though the price was a bit high - or shall we say, regular? It appeared that reservations should be made in this tourist area where credit cards are acceptable. After putting down my bags, I quickly went for a swim; it was beautiful. Dinner was good, too, and there was a radio in my very neat hotel room.
Next morning all three of us went swimming. The water was warm enough, but it was windy and overcast, so I caught a little cold. A big loveboat was in the harbor, and I met some tourists from France with whom I enjoyed an interesting French conversation. A few Mexican soldiers with rifles patrolled the beach - but again, no trouble. We learned that Zihuatanejo and nearby Ixtapa are tourist centers which are less developed than Acapulco but just as great, and we agreed. One would have liked to stay a week or two.
At one pm the minibus took us back to the airport. I bought some gas with my Master Card and succeeded in getting a mechanic from Air Mexicana to hand prop me.
For a short time I followed the coast, then headed north over a long, twisted, man-made lake. There were some mountains in the area, but I preferred to follow the lowlands to Lago de Chapola. This is the largest inland lake in Mexico and surely worth a special visit on the ground. After Guadalajara radio guided me in, I taxied to the parking area and saw the comandante. He complained about my radio and said, I can’t leave next morning without fixing it. Possibly I did not hold the mike close enough to my mouth or too close because next day I had no trouble.
Guadalajara is another huge city with lots of smog. It might be a nice place to spend more time, but to me the weather was less than ideal. We ate well and walked the streets a bit before retiring to a relatively seedy hotel.
Next morning, a kindly soul propped me, and we flew northeast. This was highland, and we had to keep our altitude. Checkpoints along the way were Leon and San Luis Potosi. Both cities must be interesting on the ground, and we saw big cathedrals. The land was criss-crossed by a few interesting rivers. We ran into a few clouds and later had to climb to 11000 feet to cross the Sierra Madre. Ciudad Victoria was just on the east foot of this high mountain range.
Now we were back over lowlands again and flew north since I wanted to reach the States quickly to get a new key etc. We passed over an interesting mountain area with peculiarly crumpled forested ridges. There were a few clouds below us, but we were neatly VFR on top. As the Reynosa VOR got nearer, I started my let-down. Clouds were much thicker here and I could not see the city. Unfortunately I had no approach chart, nor could I get proper radio guidance. I tried to reach Laredo and Monterey to find out if they were in the clear, but nobody wanted to talk to me. Something had to be done before running out of gas, so I made a 180. Since on my trip north I saw that Ciudad Victoria was clear, I knew that this was my way out. Again I squeezed and squeezed, and it seemed to take forever to get there. The crumbly mountains reappeared, but the next flat area still did not have an airport in the middle. The weather was good, though. A lake appeared -but no airport, and the fuel needles stayed on low. At last we had the airport of Ciudad Victoria and made a straight-in landing. Fuel was available, and the comandante was understanding. We soon found out that weather had improved and flew back north to land this time safely in Reynosa. I felt I made the right decision.
In Reynosa we had to check out of the country. It took a bit of running around for this, and an officer inspected my plane. I bought my last cheap Mexican fuel and asked for a hand prop. The mechanic refused, claiming it was too dangerous and he was not permitted to do this. At last he sat in my plane while I propped. But the engine did not catch, and the mechanic impatiently stepped out. What next, so close to home? Now what follows would come under the “never again” column of one of my flying magazines. Mel, my nonpilot passenger, was willing to prop me. So I got him to come out of the airplane and gave him some exact instructions. The edges of my propeller are very sharp, and one has to be sure to step back quickly after the swing. “Like so” he asked, and the engine started with nobody at the controls. Somehow I managed to enter the cabin, thanking God that the breaks were on tight.
After getting our acts together, we flew over the border. It was night now, and I needed to have McAllen approach direct me to the airport. I think I did file or inform the radio to advise customs. Anyway, that’s what I told the customs lady who checked us in. We really behaved well and did not step out of the airplane until she came.
Next morning was awful in McAllen; cold and foggy. The FBO found an extra key which, with some wiggling, started the engine. We were IFR to almost Kingsville, and I thought it was “good experience”. From then on the weather was good. In Mobile, my overvoltage light came on again. We had to raise a mechanic that very cold night of the 24th of December. He checked it all out, basically found nothing but charged us plenty! (Much later my hometown mechanic found the trouble and fixed it for good).
Now it was really a dark night, but the red light did not come on, and we took off. There were some clouds below and stars above. It was a beautiful Holy Night, and everyone exchanged Christmas greetings over the radio. All three of us were most grateful to God when we landed safely at our home airport.