Well we didn’t actually drive all the way back to Maine to re-register BaseCamp as an RV, like the Mexican border agent demanded — or did we? Well there was the additional detail of Maine summer employment, so we had ourselves a 2 birds/one stone journey north.
Here we were in January 2023 — one year later— back at the Mexican Border town of Piedras Negras, after a 6000 mile detour to clear up paperwork and earn some dollars.
New RV class registration in hand I climbed the steps to the Banjercito office to get our TIP (temporary import permit). I was pleasantly surprised to see no line, but my confidence wavered when I recognized the woman at the counter. It was the same mujer that sent us packing last round. “Never mind last time,” I thought as I handed her my paperwork, “we’re good now.”
There was a long uneasy silence as she analyzed the registration. She looked up at me — Did she recognize me, the dejected bus guy?
She spoke, “Voy a necesitar ver su vehículo.” Things were beginning to fall apart; she wanted to see the vehicle.
Marching down to BaseCamp, she climbed aboard, and pointed to the word “bus” on the VIN plate riveted to the steel paneling above the driver seat.
“No se puede tener TIP para este vehículo,” she said as she handed me my paperwork and stepped out of the vehicle.
Our hearts were ripped from our chests in that moment. What now? We weighed our options quickly. I had already paid for Mexican auto insurance, we had already exchanged some dollars for pesos, our ducks were in a row… “Let’s drive to the next border crossing at Ciudad Acuña,” Heidi voted. It was 1.5 hours northwest, and would throw us off our route and potentially off our “only drive in daylight in Mexico” rule. Everyone agreed that it was worth a try.
Fortunately the US let us back in, and we made our way to Del Rio, Texas, where we again paid our dually premium to cross the bridge spanning the trickling Rio Grande.
The layout at the Ciudad Acuña office was quite different, with single story buildings that we were able to pull right up to.
Fingers crossed and documents in hand, I entered the office, hoping Piedras Negras hadn’t called ahead…? The woman at the counter looked through my documents and began processing the paperwork for our TIP. At one point midway through she saw something questionable, and took it to the jefe (boss man) seated in a cubicle that was visible in the back. He looked out the window at BaseCamp, and gave her the “go ahead” nod. She processed my payment, just like that we were in.
I went out to the bus, TIP in hand, but still feeling uneasy, like someone was about to reach over my shoulder, and rip it from my hands. I called the family to join me in getting our FMM (Mexican Tourist Visas). Immigration stamped each of our passports, as I continued to glance back across the hall through the glass windows of the Banjercito office, where I was certain at any moment the call would come in about a school bus attempting to cross the border in an “if Mom says ‘No,” go ask Dad” manner.
The lesson here is, if at first you don’t succeed, go to Ciudad Acuña…
Here are some shots of the crew enjoying El Potrero Chico, Nuevo Leon, and Punta De Mita, Nayarit.
Finca El Caminante
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