My Last Road Trip—Maybe

 

          My Last Road Trip—Maybe

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Jim from Missouri, one of my part-time neighbors, walked over to ask if I would like to go with him to Isla de la Piedra, otherwise known as Stone Island, across the estuary from Mazatlan, my old stomping grounds.

We quickly knocked out the details for a short trip, two days on the road flanking two days on the water.

Jim and I have talked, with much laughter, a lot these last few weeks about impending death, our own, which is not to be taken as morbid, but, as practical. We might be considered the halt and the lame, me mechanically, Jim with lung challenges. We both have friends on the coast we wanted to see, at least once more.

Monday we drove the cuota, the toll road, over which I’ve been many times but not in the last five or six years. So, for me, this drive was much like seeing the country with fresh eyes.

Once we’d arrived, we filled our time in exactly the ways we’d intended.  I met Jim’s friend, Lynn, truly a character and a delight, a woman with energy to spare. We sat around a campfire on the beach. 

Lynn is a decade older than me, more spry, with a never-ending repertoire of stories. May we all have Lynns in our world.

My own main purpose for the trip was to see my old friend, Carlos.

Carlos drives a pulmonia. The pulmonia is one of the modes of public transport in Mazatlan, an open air conversion of a WWII model Volkswagen. When I lived in Mazatlan, Carlos, and then his family, took me under wing and helped me navigate through much of my business and personal needs.

We became close and I needed, wanted, to tell Carlos, face to face, how important he and Selena were to me and how much I love them all. Hugs, tears, laughter, stories of family: that describes our day of sweet wonderful. That’s the best way I can say it.

When not with Lynn or Carlos, we filled our hours with fresh seafood, with watching the waves roll in. Our hotel rooms overlooked the beach with an excellent restaurant adjacent. What’s not to like!

Thursday, on the road again. We took the toll road as far as Tepic, a bit over halfway, then jumped onto the camino libre for the winding road through mountain villages and lava fields, with frequent stops along the way. This is my favorite part of the road, slower, with several hold-your-breath turns, but more scenic by far than the cuota.

While we were gone from home on our not-so-epic journey, the season turned from winter to spring, a welcome coming home for two grizzled, happy and exhausted travelers.

Both Jim and I felt like we’d done something important. We’d told people we loved them, and face-to-face is always better.

Sondra Ashton

HWC: Looking out my back door

March 4, 2026

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