The ferry ride was a manageable 8 hour trip from Baja to Topolobampo. This new terrain seems very foreign. I’m right in the middle of a major shipping port and its beginning to come alive with everyone showing up for work. Long gone is the easy to navigate Highway 1, dirt turnoffs and charming taco stands. I begin to miss Baja.

Instantly as I leave port I am met with my first search. Soon after I am lost. I can’t find my bearings with the sun and no ocean in sight so I pull over and dig out my map. Looking at my map with no destination in mind I decide to head south and let instinct take over when it feels like clocking in. Now all I need to do is find south. I take out my map compass. I’m clueless on how to use it. Fuck.

It’s about 8 in the morning and I’ve hit the town of Los Mochis. Instinct says keep going, and fast. Nothing feels right. My map lets me know that I’m in the state of Sinaloa. This doesn’t sit well with me. I tell myself its too early for drug lords to be up. But keep moving.

After Mochis I hit a nice long stretch of road that is well maintained with no potholes. This is a nice change. The speed limit says 110 km/hr; that’s about 65 mph. The speed limit in Baja was 70 km/hr (43 mph). It appears to be an expressway or a freeway. The toll booth ahead confirms my assumptions. Now I’m paying to drive. What’s next, pay to camp? I almost want to head back to the ferry and start second guessing my decision.

From Mochis to Culiacan it’s more desert, dusty towns and toll roads. Check points are now frequent and its not just the military throwing the search parties. Now the Federalis and some other outfits are involved. I get waved by – for now. Culiacan is a major city and the capital of Sinaloa. It is noon. No way can I get out and walk around with Riley in this desert heat. I’m anxious and driving feels more like work instead of exploring. I just want a beach. So I pick Mazatlan.

After 6 hours of driving and 40 bucks on toll roads I reach Mazatlan. I go to 3 beaches trying to avoid crowds and no luck. Riley and I have a quick swim and take off after the last beach. I just want to be alone to relax and this city is making it impossible. I haven’t had a bite to eat since port so I hit McDonalds and put down a couple chicken sandwiches.

I pull out my other guide book to find camping spots located in the area. Clearly I won’t be sleeping on the beach anywhere in this town with all the beachfront high rises. I drive into the Mar Rosa trailer park and instantly feel a sigh of relief. Not a person in site, just off the beach, and the palm trees are a nice touch.

With just enough time to enjoy a sunset I take a stroll on the beach my nerves began to calm. I realize that not everyday on the road can be perfect. There will be bad days and today felt like one of them.

I arrive back to the campground and a female traveler, Anne, introduces herself. She asks if I wanted to join her and another lady for dinner and live music later on in the evening. It is just the 3 of us at Mar Rosa. May is the off season for Mazatlan and the manager informs me that the campground will close in June because of heat and rain.

The lady from Michigan, whose name escapes me, takes us to her favorite spot to eat in the city. She tells me that she spends about 7 weeks in Mazatlan each year at the same campground. This is what she works for and looks forward to each year. She travels to Mazatlan by bus and her budget is tight and makes me wonder if I can do better with my own. Anne and the lady from Michigan are both traveling alone. They’ve been doing it for years and neither of them have had any problems.

We dine on 10 peso tacos and head over to the bar afterwards for some entertainment. Its hard to not think about the truck loads of masked men with machine guns as they pass by. Sinaloa is at war with major cartels fighting for lucrative territory. Mazatlan is a battleground. After a couple of beers it was time to retreat to the serenity of the campground and call it a night. I stare at the moon and stars through the palm leaves and listen as the waves pound on the shore. In the morning Anne will be heading north, I will be going south for my birthday and the lady from Michigan will stick around for a few more weeks until she runs out of money.