[captionpix imgsrc=”https://controlledjibe.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Burt-Reynolds.jpg” captiontext=”Luis Hernandez is even sexier than this!”]Months ago, long before we arrived in San Carlos, we heard legend of Luis Hernanadez, an engineer turned machinist who could mold 304 stainless steel into whatever a sailor’s heart might desire. He could bend one inch bars over his knee, drill holes in plate if he stared long enough, and polish steel to a mirror finish across his chest hair. We needed chainplates and we needed to find this man. Luis, however, proved elusive.
We asked the marina, we asked the juice vendor, we asked local sailors, and of course we googled. Everyone, google included, knew of the legend, but no one could give us an address or a map, or anything more than the vaguest verbal directions. At one point, on a tip from a bygone forum thread, we were even searching for a car sticking out of a second story window as a landmark. After three or four days of driving in circles through the port town of Guaymas, and many more queries of the locals, we happened upon a four wheel drive dirt road littered with huge boulders and open manholes (this is in downtown Guaymas, mind you) and at the end of that “road” was Luis’ shop.
Luis was not ten feet tall, nor did he breathe acetylene cutting torch fire. He was sharply dressed, a bright green shirt with creases from ironing was tucked in his slacks. A kind, quiet man that easily walked about his open air shop full of grand machining tools with American names. He was an immediate friend, he spoke in good English and we in broken Spanish as we discussed the intricacies of the pieces. We could not recommend him highly enough.
But back to the story at hand. Finding people in Mexico is challenging. Getting shit done in Mexico is slow and inefficient. Google does not, in fact, know all, and when Google fails us, we have to resort to the 20th century method of asking strangers on the street for help. It’s frustrating at times, but if Google had worked we never would have stopped to talk to the juice vendor and we wouldn’t have ventured so far afield into the backroads. And it’s the backroads and the people, and the exploration of both, that this adventure is all about.
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