After a short night's sleep in the garbage ridden railroad yard, we awoke to the crashing and banging of locomotives slamming into cars, moving them around, and the hiss of air hoses being disconnected after the move was made. Ultimately a locomotive attached itself to us and moved us into position to drive off the flatbed which had been our home base these last five days. Since we were the last rig in line (that seems to happen to us a lot on this trip - much seems to be done in alphabetical order) we had lots of time to observe the process and worry about passing between each of the rail cars between us and solid ground. One of our colleagues hit the gas instead of the brake and found the back wheel of his truck hanging in mid air. The resourceful train crew knew what to do - doubtless this was not the first time someone had made this mistake - and they jacked him up and got him on his way. Ken did a beautiful job bumping his way over six rail cars and except for the smell of burnt rubber, we were none the worse for wear. The whole operation, taking 23 rigs off the train, took almost three hours.
The grounds of the train yard were under extensive renovation and we wound through small lanes deep with muddy ruts, under low hanging trees, and around corners much too sharp for rigs our size. In doing so we pretty much shut down the local traffic from all directions. Two of us missed a turn and the wagon master grew a bit frantic as he tried to locate and rescue our missing brethern, because the area was too narrow for him to turn around in. Our CB radios ultimately helped us to find each other and after a short drive, we ended up in a campground with water, electricity, and sewers and enough space for us to open our slide outs. Our home away from home felt luxuriously large once again.
The afternoon agenda was light and much vaccuming and scrubbing could be heard throughout the land as we pulled ourselves together after our train voyage. We all put on our Sunday best and went downtown for a delicious very fresh shrimp dinner and a chance to stroll around. Los Mochis is not a tourist town, but the standard of living seems quite comfortable and it was fun to see happy, prosperous people going about their business. The temperature is perfect and we have stuffed our filthy parkas in the back of the closet, hopefully for the last time this winter.