This morning Paul and I rode to the border at Mexicala. We were expecting this to be the easiest border crossing of all due to the way the Mexican officials had dealt with our entry into their country and we were now entering the USA an efficient, organised first world country. Well it began poorly, we ended up at the USA entry without exiting Mexico! How did that happen? We had followed the line of cars and the odd direction from sellers and vendors servicing the line up, the range of goods ranging from cookies to car window shades. Once in this particular queue there was no getting out and we just continued to the small booth with the U.S. Customs and Border Control official in it. I told him that we needed to firstly exit Mexico and retrieve our $400 deposit paid to Mexico as security against our bikes being sold in the country then enter the U.S. A circus then ensued! Firstly we had to go through the entry procedure to enter the USA then exit the USA back into Mexico after visiting a few more booths and officials to explain the situation. The U.S. Officers gave directions to where they thought the exit area for Mexico was but we found out that there wasn’t even a building there. We Asked directions from several people and finally found Mexican Customs. Entering the lovely air conditioned office seemed reassuring, we had to be in the right place.
Once again our circumstances were explained to customs officials and once again we were told we were in the wrong place and no one was quite sure where the correct office was. Finally a gentleman came out of a nearby office and told us we actually had to go to a border crossing about 15 minutes ride back the way we had come, to Calaxico. A couple of years ago the area where retrieving the deposit and cancelling our import permit for the bikes had been moved to this border. As we were leaving I ended up engaging in a conversation with a couple of the Mexican customs officers regarding our trip and the cost. They thought the cost of the actual travelling was quite reasonable, I had estimated $4,000 dollars. One of them then added if he had that sort of money he would not do the trip but would rather spend the money on wild times with women!!
Back on the bikes we hopped in rather depressing heat and headed to the Calaxico border. Going through at least twenty intersections required us to pull up as each one was furnished with a stop sign, the last thing we needed now was to be charged with a traffic offence. Finally we reached our destination and into the Bancerito I went (air conditioned, aaahhhh!) and in a few minutes had the deposit returned to my Visa Card and the import permit cancelled. A quick walk over to the Immigration and all was done, Paul was processed in similar fashion and two happy bikers headed toward the USA and first world efficiency.
How wrong can a person be! Slowly we inched our way to the head of the queue to an area where our bikes were photographed automatically, then up to an officer at a booth where I tried to get a temporary import permit for the bike. A little further on it was time to get our very special EPA permit (it had taken copious amounts of communication with the department and the return of a four page document after two weeks of review) and the required Hs-7 form from the Federal department of transportation, stamped and authorised etc. Wasn’t going to happen as the officer knew nothing about it. We then had a paper stuck to our windscreens and were directed to a waiting area to be “taken care of” by someone in the know. “Those in the know”informed us that they did not know and it wasn’t their problem but over in the office across the complex was someone that could take care of the problem. The bikes and gear were to stay where they were as were our guns! I told the guy we didn’t have any and were the bikes and gear safe there, his answer informed me that this was America and of course they was safe!
We were escorted to the office by the same officer and told to wait. Finally we enter the office and try to explain to two Customs and Border Protection Officers our predicament and show them all the documentation (which I had copied from their and other web sites), that needed filling in, signed and stamped. Never seen them nor heard of them, advice had to be gained from their supervisor. No, we were told that we actually had to go over to the special cargo area where they dealt with vehicles that would be temporarily imported into the USA. An audible sigh of relief was uttered by the both of us, we were now getting somewhere! We were then informed that the area we required was actually closed as it was a Sunday and we would need to come back when it opened 8.00AM on Monday. Thank God for first world America!!! We both felt like turning around and heading back to the efficient and uncomplicated third world. They gave us our personal visa waivers and we rode into the states on our illegally imported bikes, no problem, except we weren't going to be able to export them as we hadn’t actually imported them.
Through the oppressive heat we rode to the town of Calaxico, 20km, to spend the night so as to be able to return to the border to complete our paperwork the next day. A room at a Great Western, across from Walmart, with my “affiliate AAA membership” giving us a 20% discount (still expensive) was booked in quick time. Firstly I did my washing as everything I owned was now either sweat drenched or had suffered days of sweat whilst riding through the Baja. Paul ensured me he didn’t need to do any as he routinely rinsed his clothing at the end of each day and they were fine!! We then headed to Walmart to spy out what kind of people shopped there and what they bought. Paul also had to purchase some tools and bits and pieces to enable the readying of his bike for export to Australia. Whilst wandering around looking at the wonders of Walmart ( don’t know what the hype is, it’s no better than similar stores at home) we perused the magazine rack and were not disappointed when we saw titles such as: Be Ready – Stand Your Ground, World of Firepower – Concealed Handguns, Recoil – Gun Lifestyle, Stay Alive – Prepare now Survive Later, and of course: Cowboy and Indians plus Cowgirl Magazine.
11th July
Pack the freshly laundered clothes, put on the fresh smelling bike gear, well I did anyway, and it was off to get our import permit even though we are already in the USA! A roundabout route directed by Maps.Me got us to the security boom gate of the area we were to go to get the paperwork we needed. The security asked us if we had any guns as they needed to be left at security! Parked the bikes as directed then headed to another security booth where we were given badges and directed to the office we needed. After taking a number we patiently waited outside in the growing heat. Finally we entered the office and presented the paperwork and our story. Oh no, never heard of this and really you need to go over to Customs and Border Protection (where we were yesterday) as they deal with this. No, they don’t I re-explained! The officer then called his supervisor. The supervisor then proceeds to tell us no go, you have to go through a customs broker to import the bikes temporarily and we can find one up the road.
Out into the heat that has been steadily increasing we go. We visit the customs broker and they weren't familiar with this either as they dealt with trucks going over the border. We were given a number to call at the motor transport dept. to try to sort it out. This was becoming ridiculous! We stopped close by for a cool drink and spoke to a couple of truckies that had been over at the customs office we had been in a short while ago. They looked at the papers and told us not to worry about it and fill them in ourselves when it was time to export the bikes. They convinced us this was the best plan of action, we were desperate so convinced ourselves they were right.
It was now around 12 and very, very hot so back to the Great Western for the day, we would head off toward LA tomorrow. Paul went back to his new found favourite shopping area, Walmart, for a haircut and beard trim and I did very little. Paul returned from the barber at Walmart a little disgruntled as the woman that had attempted to cut his hair and trim his beard had almost turned it into a disaster. Her offsider had to step in when Paul intervened in the process fearing the removal of his treasured and hard won Santa look alike. Paul also decided that doing his washing may be a good idea!
After thinking our situation through, the truckies advice didn’t seem quite right and the shippers for both Paul and my bikes had been adamant about what was required so I rang the Federal Transport Authority. I was merely informed that they had done their bit setting out what was required and it was up to Customs and Border Protection to do the rest. They also informed me they were not responsible for CBC carrying out that which was stipulated by the FTA and on the Customs and Border Protection web site. Paul then rang Customs and Border Protection in LA to get a very arrogant officer who didn’t listen to what had happened and kept talking over the top of Paul not letting him get a word in edge ways. This merely got Paul’s backup! The person on the other end of the phone kept telling him we must import the bikes to export them etc. etc., take officers name and numbers for recourse, should know better after travelling through so many countries etc. etc. Finally he shut up then told us we had to come in to the office at Longbeach in LA and he would do the required paperwork.
12th July
We got up very early in the morning to beat the ever present heat to ride the short distance to put us about 120 km from Longbeach LA. The idea being that we could do another early start and beat the main traffic on the incredibly complicated network of roads that seemed to stretch their way throughout the entire region. Both of us were feeling quite a lot of trepidation in tackling this part of our adventure. Paul washed his bike In preparation for it’s transportation to Australia and we both repacked our bags and panniers. I had to remove some of the contents of mine to enable accepting the items I had given to Paul to take. I discovered that once again that my stove was corroding severely due to being soaking wet from being in Paul’s leaky old pannier for months. I cleaned it up as best I could but a reasonable amount of damage has been caused due to the corrosion. After cleaning the jet I managed to get it to fire up so all is not lost. I am not sure if I can stem the tide of corrosion though, it may end up a throw away. Paul has sadly cast aside his beloved sheep skin, it's a long way from Vilcabamba in Ecuador!
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