Better by Car by Far: A Journey by Car from North America to South America

By Steve Jamnicky

Have you ever wanted to go for a really long drive and explore along the way? I am not talking days or weeksI am talking months and years.
Wouldnt it be great if you could just take off on a long journey and start a whole new life? A life of discovery and adventure, satisfying your curiosity about the modern and ancient worlds, the different geographical locations, and the cultures of two completely different continents.
Is doing your favorite sports or activities in an entirely new environment of interest to you?
Do you want to challenge yourself learning new languages and dialects, including the local slang?
Do you want to know about some of the most amazing places on the planet?
If yes, then come with me on an entirely enlightening and inspiring, epic journey through the northern and southern hemispheres, through the continents of North and South America, by car.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524504304

Steve Jamnicky

I grew up in Montreal then, moved to Calgary when I was eighteen where there was so many opportunities. I worked in construction and oil and gas, i raised a wonderful family then I was ready for something very different, traveling the world.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Canada

It was a day like any other—normal weather, no big celebration, no special events—except for me. It was the start of a new life, a new journey, an adventure of epic proportions to places I had dreamed about since I was five years old. I guess it was a special day after all—November 10, 2012.

I was planning to drive my 2010 Jeep Patriot from Calgary, Alberta, Canada in North America all the way down to South America to the end of the earth, the bottom of the world—Tierra del Fuego, Fin del Mundo. The southernmost points you could drive in Argentina and Chile were to Ushuaia and then by boat to Puerto Williams. I also planned to drive partway back and settle in a tropical climate.

I retired two months earlier from Canada post, where I worked as a driver. It was my last job ever, and I was looking for somewhere warm to live, play, and relax in. I lived in Canada all my life; from a baby to eighteen years old, I lived in Montreal and then Calgary for over thirty years and six months in Banff. Montreal was a great city for many activities—arts, entertainment, and culinary experiences. The Eastern Townships and the Laurentian Mountains were good for skiing; so were Maine, Vermont, and New York. Great areas for camping, canoeing, kayaking, and fishing were also close by. Montreal was a multicultural city with a diversity of peoples and cultures from all over the world. There were many different languages spoken in that city, but the main ones were English and French. It was a great place to grow up in, with different friends speaking different languages, and someone was usually willing to play some kind of sport or game in any weather. When I finished high school and turned eighteen, it was time for me to get serious and find a good job or career. School wasn’t right for me at that particular time. I needed money for cars, guitars, sports gear, and travel.

Montreal’s unemployment rate was getting higher because companies were losing faith in the provincial government; the security of their businesses was equally troubling because of the upcoming referendum asking voters to separate Quebec from the rest of Canada. That was why Toronto increased in size and population so fast. Many head offices and corporations relocated to Toronto to save themselves from future aggravation and losses if Quebec actually got separated.

My sister, Cathy, left first to Calgary, Alberta, near the Rocky Mountains, and then my parents went west. I thought, If the whole family is going west, I should go too. It was the best decision an eager, excited eighteen-year-old could make in the summer of 1979.

I had a sweet girlfriend, but I wasn’t in love, so leaving was easy. I looked at Calgary on the map, and I wasn’t impressed. Calgary was on the prairies, surrounded by grasslands and farms. When I noticed the Rocky Mountains were only an hour away, it didn’t seem so boring. There were lots of jobs, lots of opportunities, bigger mountains to ski, and great spots for camping, hiking, kayaking, and fishing; it was also somewhere different to explore and discover new places. I was so thankful none from my family moved to Toronto—no good areas for skiing there. I have been skiing since I was three, so it was like walking for me. To not be able to ski would have made me seriously depressed. I drove west to Calgary, taking my time, seeing all I could in such a large and beautiful country. Camping, canoeing, and fishing along the way would be the best way to go.

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Calgary was very different from Montreal from a cultural standpoint. In Montreal, you could buy beer and wine at convenience stores twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. In Calgary, the beer they sold was warm and available only before ten thirty at night and not every day of the week. What? Warm beer? Why? I was in culture shock; why wasn’t their beer in refrigerators? Why was it not available everywhere and every day? They drilled for oil in Alberta, which was extremely technical, so why couldn’t they put beer in refrigerators? Unbelievable. It was a hard adjustment for an energetic young male who liked to party.

Oh well, at least the skiing was good, and there was so much employment. You could quit a job, walk down the street, and get another one or two in the same day. Calgary really was the land of opportunity. I bought a house and raised a family—well, helped raise a blended family, meaning not everyone was related by blood. It was tough during some days, but we all made it through and had happy, well-adjusted lives. I had two paternal daughters—Yvette, twenty-nine, and Emily, eighteen—at the start of my exodus south. Yeah, it was a bit of a gap, but I wanted another child. I spent thirty years of my life helping raise children; now I was ready for some me time.

I dreamed about driving down south to the end of the earth since I was five years old when I saw it on a map, and now it was finally happening. My dream was about to come true. I asked Emily and Yvette to join me on this awesome expedition, but Yvette was motivated to finish her fourth year of university to get a degree in criminology, which she did on June 2013. I was and still am very proud of her. I was and am also very proud of Emily for finishing high school and being a really generous and kind person. All a parent really wanted for their kids besides the world was for them to be decent healthy human beings. Emily just finished high school on the summer of 2012 and worked a few different jobs to see which path she wanted to take, so there was nothing holding her back from going on an excellent adventure, and hey, Dad was paying for the whole trip to exciting new places, so why not go? I had a girlfriend I cared about but not enough to give up my dream.

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Emily lasted for about 1.5 months; she was homesick and missed her friends, family, and cats. She didn’t like the negative side of traveling—vehicle repairs, ugly hotels, crooked cops, slow border crossings, and being away from home and everything familiar to her for an extended period. She was homesick. She returned to Calgary just before Christmas 2012 to celebrate with her mom and siblings. In January, she was motivated to go back to school, which every parent wanted to hear. She could have stayed with me for a long time and visited many more countries, but it was her choice. Emily traveled through Canada, America, and Mexico and saw many amazing things. It was still a great experience for her. She flew back from Huatulco, Mexico, a resort city on the Pacific side close to the Guatemala border. I continued south into Central America.

Emily also experienced the negative side of airports and airlines; she flew from Huatulco to Mexico City, which was a potentially very dangerous place, but she never left the airport. She made her connection to Houston, but then in Houston, there was a problem with her connecting flight to Calgary. She had to stay overnight in the airport. I was sure she was stressed out and scared. That sucked, but to make matters worse, the airline lost one of her suitcases with all her cosmetics and other personal items. It was very traumatic for an eighteen-year-old girl to go through, but she returned safely to Calgary the next day and was reunited with her mother, friends, and cats for a cold-outside-but-warm-inside Christmas. Two months later, after touring who knew where, her suitcase returned to her all beat-up but with everything inside intact. She was lucky that way; I have talked to many travelers, and some never saw their luggage again.

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Originally, my plan for Christmas was to drive with Emily down to Costa Rica, where Yvette was going to fly down and meet us to hang out on a beautiful beach for two weeks, but I lost two weeks’ traveling time because of mechanical repairs and visa and permit problems. The delay set me too far back to make the schedule to Costa Rica in December. I was really looking forward to a tropical Christmas with my kids. It didn’t happen; I was so upset. I did manage to get down to Costa Rica in time to meet some Canadian ski friends in January, though. We met for a week in Manuel Antonio National Park, Quepos, south of San Jose on the Pacific side.

Emily and I were planning to leave Calgary on November 10, 2012. It was snowing and about -15°C; it was not great driving weather, but we were both really excited and motivated to get to a warm place. Emily knew I wanted to leave early, but she was at a friend’s house for a farewell party the night before and late. I talked to my ski friends who were skiing on opening day at a resort in Alberta, and I said, If Emily is not here by eleven, I am coming skiing and will drive south tomorrow instead. It was very rare for me to miss opening day at some resorts, but I was extremely excited to begin my epic journey.

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Emily was ready at about ten thirty and helped me load up my Jeep totally full of sports gear, camping equipment, beach stuff, and clothes. I had September and October to think about what to pack; the decision to take only things I really needed and would actually use was a tough one. I spent two months eliminating nonessential items and remembered where I was going—somewhere tropical. I definitely did not need my parka, snow shovel, or anything related to cold weather. I lived in my Calgary home for over twenty years; you could collect a lot of good stuff in twenty years, but you could also collect a lot of junk. I had a garage with no room for a car in it. I retired early in September and was selling most of my personal possessions till I left. I sold most of my electronics, musical instruments, tools, furniture, albums I spent years collecting, and other things we thought we needed in our homes and in our lives. I took what I could, sold what I could, and gave everything else away. I didn’t need that stuff anymore anyway. My Jeep was overloaded, but I didn’t feel like lightening the load; I couldn’t bear to part with anything else. I took one last look at my property, and I was a little sad to leave my house and home but not the ice, snow, and taxes.

It was snowing and cold through Alberta, Montana, and Idaho. Crossing the Canada-USA border was fast and uneventful. One country down, many more to go.

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CHAPTER 2

America

It was warming up a little in Washington and Oregon, much to Emily’s relief and mine. I tried to teach Emily how to drive standard on the way, but she got too frustrated, so I drove the whole time. Oregon was beautiful; we passed by thick forests and many cold but lovely beaches. Whenever we saw something we liked, we would stop and take pictures. Walking around and exploring tidal pools was always intriguing. The coastline was stunning and well worth the extra miles. I have driven it many times before, and it was always a treat.

Because I was moving somewhere warm, I wanted to buy a surfboard and get much better at surfing. I have been surfing since I was a teenager, but it was hard to get good at something when you only practice it once a year or two for only a few days at a time. This was my opportunity to get good at surfing while I was passing by thousands of miles of coastline and had all the time in the world because I was retired. Yeah! All the surf shops were closed in Oregon, but I knew they would be open in California. Something was odd as we approached the California state line. We passed a long open bay with good waves up and down the coastline connecting Oregon and California. The beach was the same, and the waves were the same on both sides of the state line, but no one was surfing on the Oregon side. On the California side, right past the state line and the sign, there were cars and people everywhere. There were surfers, stand-up surfers, and bodyboarders in the water. It was really weird, like there was an invisible force field separating Oregon and California. It was just an imaginary state line, but nobody would cross it. Apparently, nobody from Oregon wanted to surf that lovely beach, or they chose to surf the California side.

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I passed by many surf shops, looking and looking; there were so many choices out there. Finally, I bought an almost new board in a surf shop close to the ocean, which had a large selection of boards and friendly staff. The idiots there forgot to sell me a leash with the board. I was all excited to start surfing when a girl parked next to me and said, Where’s your leash? Damn it! I had to drive back to the shop and buy a leash. Later on, a surfer friend told me I had the wrong fin on my board. I had a nine-inch-long board fin on it when I actually needed a seven-inch fin for my particular board. Wow! These guys really sucked at their jobs. There were no extra sales for the shop, and they sold me the wrong gear—very lazy and unprofessional. I learned a lot more about surfing and boards as time went on.

Emily and I only camped twice on the way down, but it was relaxing and scenic both times. One evening, we were beachcombing and then watched an amazing sunset; afterward, we sat by a cozy campfire. I said cozy because not only was a campfire mesmerizing to watch but it kept you warm and cozy as well. Cooking by a fire could be fun, and it gave food a smoky flavor, but it required your undivided attention, or things would burn easily. Once the campfire was out, the stars became much more brilliant, and then you’d realize just how cold it could get at night by the seashore. The tent we used was average, except for ease and simplicity. You could set it up in four minutes. The tent poles were all connected to the tent; you just had to straighten them out and lock in place. Camping has been made easier with some innovative inventions, but some of it failed miserably. I had two good sleeping bags, one for summer and one for winter. I gave Emily the better one, good for -20°C. She was just fine and slept like a baby. I didn’t sleep very well and damn near froze my ass off.

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We passed a few wineries along the way, and of course, I had to have a few samples. The fellow who ran one winery was polite and friendly, unlike the neighbor. There was another vineyard beside his in the coastal mountains—same climate, same grapes, same altitude, and maybe same process. I couldn’t sample the neighbor’s wine because I was not part of his exclusive club, where you had to buy a certain number of bottles per month, or you were never invited. Excuse me. I didn’t need to be a part of that snobby club anyway. Ciao. Emily wasn’t twenty-one yet, so she couldn’t sample the smooth California wine. That was okay because she didn’t like wine anyway. I thought it was just fine.

Most of the time, we just stayed in average motels and hotels—nothing fancy but definitely clean and safe. I would always flip back the sheets and look for bedbugs. No bedbugs or cockroaches, we’d stay. No loud car stereos or parties close by, no gunshots ringing out in the night, no problems, we’d stay.

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We drove to the Redwood National and State Parks, touring all through it and even driving my Jeep through a humongous redwood with a hole cut out of the base—very cool. We camped in a dense part of the redwood forest, and even in the middle of the day, it was dark by our campsite because the magnificent trees were so tall that they blocked out the sunlight. It was eerie but beautiful to look way up those huge trunks and see little specs of sunlight flickering through the mighty, majestic canopy. It was easy to sleep in because it was so dark all around us. The hiking trails were equally inspiring.

Whenever we saw something scenic and beautiful, we didn’t hesitate to capture it on camera. In the past, I was always in a rush to get there and not always enjoy the ride—the journey—and just focused on the destination. Well, it took many years to break that bad habit. I was officially retired; I had all the free time I wanted. It was time to stop and smell the flowers, stare into oblivion, take pictures. Emily had her own camera, and I had two—a professional one with various lenses and options and a simple waterproof point-and-shoot. Emily and I took many great shots along the way till, one day, that all changed.

I was keeping my promise to myself of getting better at surfing, so we took some time to relax at Rincon Beach near Santa Barbara. I was attempting to catch waves and surf; Emily was up and down the beach, taking pictures of palm trees, waves, shells, and whatever. I felt somewhat frustrated with my performance on my new board. I was determined to get good or at least okay at surfing. Trying a new difficult sport at fifty-one was not impossible but definitely more of a challenge than when you were much younger and more flexible. Sometimes I would get it and most times not. To relieve my anguish and feeling of hopelessness, I would stick my head underwater and yell as loud as I could using a colorful variety of words. It didn’t help me get better at surfing, but it did lift the weight off my shoulders of expecting to be good quickly, and it just felt good to release negative energy and frustration. It was very therapeutic actually. After I said, One more wave, too many times, I gave up and headed back to the vehicle, sort of defeated but happy I got some exercise.

Emily was crying and extremely upset. I asked her, What is wrong? What happened? As a parent, you thought of the worst; all kinds of things popped into your head.

She was still crying. I asked her again, What happened?

She looked up at me with red eyes full of tears and said, I lost my camera.

Surprised and relieved it was nothing more serious, I asked her, Where did you lose it? It was actually a dumb question because if you knew where you lost it, it wouldn’t be lost; it would be found. We all did it from time to time.

She said she was walking along the beach close to the waves; and a big wave came up, splashed her, and knocked her camera from her hand. I, being the logical, insensitive type, said, Didn’t you have the leash on?

She said, Yeah, but the wave was so strong and powerful that it pulled it from my hand and carried it away with the current. Bummer. That totally sucked because she had a lot of great shots in there, mainly of her, and my camera had them mainly of me. Good thing I also took some shots of Emily on mine. Luckily, there was a big sale that week, Black Friday in November.

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We took advantage of the Black Friday sale at a well-known retail outlet. Emily bought a new compact camera, and I bought a new laptop. I bought another computer because I got tired of Emily asking me, Are you done yet? I brought a laptop down from Calgary to download photos and do research for the trip of important things like weather, travel advisories, road closures, maps, and insurance. When she wanted to use it, it was for social media. I got tired of asking her the same question, Are you done yet? We all had different priorities and responsibilities. We both got really good deals and then went to Long Beach in Los Angeles.

We boarded our cruise ship the next day—a five-day cruise to Catalina Island and Ensenada, Mexico, and then, of course, back to Los Angeles. It wasn’t the newest, biggest, or prettiest ship in the fleet; but it was in fine shape and good enough for us, both being on a cruise ship for the first time. The food and service was great; so was the weather. We were very fortunate to have hot, sunny weather and calm seas. I read some of the reviews in a magazine, and one in particular made me laugh: The ship was rocking back and forth, to and fro. It was terrible, very rough. It was a ship; it went through some rough water in the ocean sometimes. If you didn’t like the idea of a rough sea, then stay in a hotel on land. It was unbelievable how some people thought things should be smooth all the time, even when it came to weather.

The reason Emily and I went on a cruise was because it was along our way down south; it was fun, plus when I bought my Jeep brand-new from the dealer, it was an extra incentive included in the purchase. It had only twelve kilometers on it when I bought it. I wanted something new, reliable, and under warranty for such a long and grueling expedition.

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The cruise ship was a huge playground, with waterslides, pools, casinos, bars, dining rooms, and many other interesting amenities. When we docked in Ensenada, they drove us to La Bufadora, a big blowhole by the sea in a little village. It was funny what fascinated some people. Actually, it was supposed to be the highest splash of any blowhole in the world, when the tide was right, so I guess it was a big deal. The locals were trying to sell the tourists all kinds of arts and crafts, but I wasn’t interested. I knew I was going to be driving all through Mexico and maybe get some items right from the source—the artist or craftsman.

After La Bufadora, they drove us to a big open bar with a pool in the middle, which looked like only drunk people swam in or went to pee in. Needless to say, we didn’t go in the pool. We had many shots of tequila and many beers. We also went to some other bars off the beaten track. Now we were on our own, so we had to find our own way back to the cruise ship and not miss our departure time. Emily and I got into an argument while we were barhopping. She wanted to continue partying at other bars with other people, and I said no. That wasn’t a good idea because we were in Mexico, and we didn’t want to miss our boat. I asked Emily if she wanted to go back to Calgary because I didn’t like her carefree attitude in a dangerous country like Mexico. She said no; she wanted to continue with the trip. I said, Okay, but no wandering off with strangers you think you know or trust. She said okay, and that was the end of it. The people she wanted to party with were actually from our boat, and we all made it safely back on board on time.

Catalina Island was interesting but not near as much fun as Ensenada. Emily and I both enjoyed ourselves on the cruise till I got the bill—$960. WTH? It was only five days and almost a thousand dollars? Oh, I was mad. I knew I would be paying extra charges for gratuities and alcohol, but we didn’t drink that much on board, and those port charges were absurd. I was not impressed, to say the least. I left my Jeep in a giant parking lot and was a little concerned if it would be secure for five days, but when I got back, everything was fine.

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We left Los Angeles and saw a few more beaches before we stopped in San Diego. San Diego was much safer, cleaner, smaller, and more peaceful than Los Angeles. I would much rather live in San Diego than Los Angeles. Unfortunately, not everyone always had a choice in where they wanted to live. Sometimes it was family that kept you in one place; or employment, sports, languages, and other factors made it easy or difficult to stay or leave. But hopefully, you have a choice. I personally never wanted to live in a big city—too much traffic and stress for me. Usually, employment and family helped you decide where to go.

Emily and I enjoyed the San Diego Zoo very much and then found a hotel right beside the Mexican border. I bought Mexican car insurance from a little office close by. Canadian and American insurance was not valid in Mexico, so it was mandatory to buy Mexican insurance online or from a little office by the border. We had our last American pizza before leaving the country. I knew that Tijuana was a dangerous border town, but it was the easiest route to get into Mexico and down the Baja Peninsula, so that was the way to go. The next day, we left all that was familiar to us and were ready for a new adventure, a new language, and a new challenge in colorful Mexico.

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CHAPTER 3

Mexico

When I drove through the USA-Mexico border, the customs agent just waved me on. I thought, Great. No long lineups, extra costs, visas, vehicle permits. I was so wrong. There was so much border traffic for Mexicans and Americans who worked on opposite sides of the border that, on the first seventeen kilometers of the Mexican border, a visa or vehicle permit was not required. If you went farther than that, you needed all the correct documents.

Emily and I drove down the northern part of the Baja Peninsula, which wasn’t very exciting, but it was hot. And that was what we were looking for—heat. We kept driving till we got to Ensenada; since we would be in Mexico for a while, I stopped by an electrical shop and bought adaptors for our laptops. Usually, electrical voltage and plug-ins were different in other countries, so I thought I would be prepared. We drove on to Rosarito near the Pacific. Humpback whales passed by there frequently. Rosarito was a place where you could get visas and vehicle permits but only when the Baja rally race was on. There was only one hotel and restaurant at our next stop. We were both very hungry; we hoped the food was good and safe to eat. There were no other choices in that little pueblo. Driving and driving past many cactus and rocks, we finally came to Santa Rosalia, a little port city, which had a ferry going to Guaymas on the mainland and back. I found an average hotel, and as usual, I flipped back the top sheet on the bed to check for bedbugs. I saw one of the creepy, nasty-looking things scurrying across the mattress. I said, No gracias, to the owner and left. We