Departing from San Salvador we heard that the Russians were officially declared missing. We were bound for Tuxtla, Mexico which would mean crossing Guatemala giving us another three-country day, but this time it would also be a lot harder as not only would we have to drive 531 miles but we would have to do one of the Special Stages. When we came to it we realised that we would have to do the second Stage as well as it really was part of the route. Both of these were completed without trauma though we were held up by a town fête which jammed up the town square and slowed our progress. We were soon up to the Guatemala border which was crossed easily – lovely driving, the most memorable of which was along by the river through a huge gorge which finally led up to the Mexican border. This border crossing was also memorable, as the Mexicans seemed to have borrowed a system from the Argentineans. They had two sheds, one on each side of the road, and the papers had to pass between them three times! This was done individually for each of our vehicles in the scolding heat of the afternoon through the enthusiastic agency of a little lad who would run off with our passports together with a Mexican document, returning with them 20 minutes later. Our nerves were jangling as we waited for our carnet and finally our visa. It was most exasperating and some tempers were stretched, but finally in the early dusk we got our paperwork back and set off for Tuxtla. We were in Mexico. We had made it, London to Mexico, but the feeling of elation was soon to evaporate as the road deteriorated and would stay bad for almost the entire160 miles to Tuxtla where we arrived finally after a dangerous mountain crossing on gravel roads at the Camino Real Hotel by 9.30pm. It had been a hard day with a finish that left everybody thoroughly exhausted.
Just before departing Tuxtla we had the car washed and topped up the radiator again. The radiator problem seemed to be getting worse and when we stopped after a long hard drive, bright green foam would issue out of the radiator over-flow pipe leaving a similarly coloured foam-snake trailing behind us which little boys would stamp out into the dust. I was getting more worried about this condition and asked one of the AA men whether he thought it was the result of detergent being introduced or some other malady such as a leaking head gasket. He peered into the radiator filler staring at the mixture of green anti-freeze and detergent mousse and said it was either detergent or the Bentley was suffering from a severe case of rabies. I now pumped up the tyres again, 35 front 37 rear, having let them down to 20lbs front and rear at the Mexican border. We had nearly lost the car the previous evening when, attempting to overtake, we were forced to brake hard on tarmac and Hero skidded almost out of control as she wallowed on those soft pudgy tyre – frightening.
The drive to Huatulco saw us embroiled in the drama of another protest. The inhabitants of a local town blocked a bridge forcing us to either wait or take a detour round the back of their little town, some 5 miles in duration. The back of this Mexican town demonstrated the squalor equally as bad as any poverty-stricken area of Africa. In the high heat of noon, Alberto’s radiator was running at 135°C whilst, perversely, Hero’s ran at a cool 87°C despite the detergent additive. During that little 5 mile detour, Alberto’s Mustang consumed 2 gallons of oil and the army boys, having rushed the ford, sucked water into their engine bending their number three conrod leaving them with only three cylinders. It had been a memorable protest for some even though nobody knew what it had been about. We were very surprised that it had occurred as we thought that Latin American countries did not tolerate such liberal processes. That afternoon after arriving at the truly fabulous Pacific Sheraton coastal hotel in Huatulco, I flushed the radiator with the aid of the kitchen hose and never suffered any further threat from overheating.
