We arrived in Mazatlan early today via the Star Princess. It was sunny and hot, hot, hot (mid-80s). We enjoyed a terrific excursion with Randi’s Happy Horses (it’s much more than a horse ride) and then had fun sightseeing around town. Here’s what happened:

I had heard so much about Randi (and her ever-lovin’ sidekick, Stuart) on Cruise Critics, I knew this was what we had to do in Maz. Here's her web page.  You can read lots of rave reviews about her excursion in the Mexican Riviera forum at Cruise Critic. When you’re ready to book, just e-mail Randi, and she’ll get right back to you. The 4-hour excursion is $45 USD per person, cash only, so remember to bring enough green stuff from home to cover your outing.

As promised, Randi met us at the pier at 8:30 a.m. We had 7 in our party + 8 other Princess pax to make 15 riders. A free shuttle transfers all cruise pax from the pier a short distance to the port terminal, where we met up with Stuart and the friendly and helpful Tony. The port terminal here is full of shops and light food and drink stands, but it’s pretty sleepy at this time of day. Randi assembled 3 open-air trucks with benches in the beds to take the group through town to the commercial fishing dock. The fish market "butchers" were leisurely cleaning up after making bait for the sport and commercial fishermen long gone out, and hungry pelicans were everywhere, hoping to grab a dropped chunk of fish. All sorts of utility vessels were moving about, and a big gray military ship was docked nearby. Across the water on a spit of land, we could see several good-sized bonfires. Were those boats being burned? Yup. Randi explained that, for no rational reason, the government destroyed boats confiscated from drug runners. This was an interesting place to see and smell!

We hopped in a long, open wood boat and donned life jackets for the 5-minute crossing of the waist-high waters over to Isla de la Piedra ("Stone Island"), which isn’t really an island, but a peninsula. It is a self-governing community owned by 36 families, including Tony’s family. The powers that be in Mazatlan have tried to entice the residents to bite on development that would attract more tourists, but the folks have always voted "no" in favor of preserving their simple, laid back life.

We were met by a gentleman behind the wheel of a big blue tractor pulling a long flatbed with more bench seats and a canvas top. We climbed aboard and rolled through town. There are thatch-roofed houses and chickens running around. There are pastel-colored stucco houses with tidy gardens and sun and moon motifs decorating the entries. Randi, Stuart and Tony exchanged greetings with many folks along the way. Randi moved down from the states 8 years ago and has obviously earned the affection of the locals. She puts her love of animals to good work—in addition to her care for the horses, Randi’s actively involved with the protection of sea turtles and their hatchlings.

When we arrived at the horse corral, there were nearly two dozen good-looking horses already tacked up and patiently waiting for us, with a fair number of young men standing by to help us. I stopped my group to apply sunscreen and gather items to be stored in the backpack and left behind. There’s a restroom here, too.

Randi had asked everyone about his or her riding experience and matched horses accordingly, although all of the horses were extremely gentle and well-behaved. When I walked over to my horse, I noticed that the saddle blankets were soft and long, so shorts would have been fine—Randi wears them all the time. It didn’t take long before we were all up and ready to set off.

I’ve seen Randi joke about this herself, online, in writing, so I will go ahead and say it: she’s a control freak! But in a very good way. Randi’s chief concern is the safety and comfort of all of her riders and the horses, too. So, she has a few rules, and you’d better follow them, or she’ll bark at you, and if you’re riding with Stuart or Tony, she’ll bark at them via walkie-talkie! However, Randi’s cautious ways didn’t make this a rigid or ho-hum ride at all—in fact, of all the tourist-oriented horse rides we’ve taken, and there’ve been a few, this was the best. The setting can’t be beat, and Randi’s take-charge yet fun-loving approach puts everyone at ease and eager to enjoy a delightful day.

The majority of the ride is spent in a coconut plantation. Every two months, the coconuts are harvested (by men who skinny up the tall trunks!) per a deal the 36 families made with a commercial grower, so the ground between the rows and rows of palm trees is relatively free of coconuts and makes a great trail for the horses to ride. The palm fronds overhead provide cooling shade. There are cacti and mango trees along the way.

The horses with more timid riders knew they were carrying special cargo and were happy to amble through the grove in single-file groups of 2-5, all within short range of Randi’s watchful eye. A few of us with some riding experience spread out and went ahead with Stuart and Tony. When we reached the far end of the plantation, away from the other horses, who might get a wild hair and follow, Randi radioed up to okay a short gallop. Horses and riders alike reveled in the freedom. Afterwards, we cut through a sweet potato patch to reach the beach and then went for a lazy ride back toward civilization along the water’s edge, with fabulous vistas off to the main part of Mazatlan where the ship was docked.

As we meandered through town to return our horses to the corral, Yvonne, a lovely woman and good friend of Randi’s who had joined us for the ride, pointed out the local sights and visited with several townspeople about the upcoming social event of the island, a double quinceanera, the festive celebration of a girl’s, or in this case, two girls’, 15^th birthday, for which the family prepares and spends as extravagantly as a wedding. Yvonne voiced what my friend and I were thinking: as special as this tradition is in the Hispanic culture, it’s a pity all that money isn’t put toward young women’s education and future. Indeed, she bucked the trend when her daughters came of age.

We dismounted, and Yvonne rewarded the horses with sugar cubes. She mentioned you can’t buy them in Maz—I wish we’d known. Randi said if anyone wants to bring a box of sugar cubes from home, she and the horses would be thrilled.

We walked to Victor’s beachfront palapa restaurant, where a table had already been laid for Randi and her bunch. Victor is in line to become the next president of Isla de la Piedra! He’s got the best spot on the beach and treats Randi like a queen. In turn, Randi treats all of us to the first round of sodas or iced cold cervezas, and our congenial waiter, Chris, an ex-pat from Canada, serves us some muy sabrosa chips and salsa rojo and verde. We kick back and sip our Pacifico beers, brewed only in Mazatlan. My husband pronounces the fresh pineapple-orange juice "delicioso," orders another and stretches out in the hammock. Randi had our backpacks delivered to Victor’s, and we change for a swim—the kids are ecstatic to hear Victor keeps boogie boards on hand for Randi’s riders, and they ride the waves the entire time the rest of us pig out and relax. Several of us try the famed garlic shrimp—it’s pretty wonderful. Strolling mariachis grace us with a few songs—for a price. The numerous vendors drive us a little crazy ‘til they pass the word that all we’re saying is "no, gracias," except for our daughter, who gets the obligatory hair braids ($20 USD whole head, including tip), and my oh-so-conservative-and-uptight-husband, who has finally reached that point of relaxation on vacation (it’s Day 5 and about time!) and succumbs to the henna tattoo guy ($7). On my return from a swim to find this spectacle in progress, the table relishes telling me that my husband looked way too long at the naked lady designs before settling on the conventional tribute to his gal. The hilarious thing is that the tattooist forgot to reverse the letter tracing when he applied my name, so the mirrored "N" looks like this: I/I. There are a few shots of us riding Randi’s Happy Horses and having fun at Victor’s  here. Randi’s conspicuously absent (she’s a moving target), but Stuart’s the handsome dude with the hat. See the second ship in the scene shot? That’s Royal Caribbean’s Vision of the Seas.

All too soon, the fun had to end. Randi handed out 8x10 certificates (kudos to Stuart on the design) to commemorate our day, and I couldn’t pass on the $8 tee with a sea turtle on the front and Randi’s logo on the back. With apologies to our fellow pax who had to wait while we dragged the kids out of the surf, we retraced our morning route via tractor-water taxi-truck back to the pier. It was 1-1:30 p.m. when we arrived.

Our aquarium-loving 9-year-old son had read that Mazatlan had one of the best aquariums in Mexico, so he and I grabbed a golf cart taxi and promised to meet up with everyone else before the gangplank went up at 4:30 p.m. Mazatlan’s oceanside drive and promenade, a 10-mile stretch often touted as Mexico’s longest malecon, is bustling with activity. We turn off just before Senor Frog’s about midway down the strip and pull up to the front of the aquarium. I pay the agreed $8 fare, and our driver offers to return for us later. I suggest 2 hours. He gives me a puzzled, "are you sure?" look, but I repeat "dos horas," and he promises to return. A short time later, I understand his incredulity.

Admission is $5 for adults, $2.50 for children, and our ticket reflects the show schedule. Because it’s siesta, nothing’s scheduled for a while, so we start on the indoor exhibits. In 30 minutes, we’ve viewed everything, indoors and out. We were the only people there! It’s nice enough, but pales in comparison to every other aquarium we’ve toured. (We later learn that corporate and other philanthropic underwriting is so vital to such fundamental things in Mexico as education and healthcare that museums, aquariums and the like don’t receive much in the way of charitable funding, and because admission prices are not affordable by the average resident, tourist money is the primary source of financial support for such operations.)

With regrets to the cab driver who surely kept his word and returned for us 1-1/2 hours later (but who couldn’t have waited long—we stuck out like sore thumbs, so I’m sure the young lady up front would have told him we were long gone), we begin walking up the strip in search of a restaurant for my son, who’s complaining of hunger because he was too busy playing to eat at Victor’s. We hit a residential zone and are hot and a little tired. I see telltale golden arches at the far end of the boardwalk and think it’d be a hoot to drive thru McDonald’s in a golf cart cab. As soon as I suggest it, my son steps off into the street and sticks his hand in the air, and a golf cart pulls out of the line of traffic to pick us up. The driver displays the compulsory scowl over my offer of a lower fare, which he agrees to accept, but he’s young, and we’re friendly, and when he learns we’re Texans, he lights up—it turns out he lived in Fort Worth for a while. From that moment on, we have a ball. I buy him a nugget meal at McDonald’s, too, and we whiz back toward port jamming to one of those nasty-but-catchy Eminem songs I never remember is inappropriate until it’s almost over and I finally comprehend the lyrics—I’ve become my mother.

As if on cue, a cliff diver soars off El Mirador just as we drive by. Opposite the striking seaside monument to the Woman of Mazatlan is an escarpment with the remains of marker, "______ del Diablo." I know it’s "devil" something, but between his broken English and my limited Spanish, Beto has a devil of a time (pun intended) getting me to figure out the missing word, which I finally realize is cueva, or cave. (I later read it had historically served as an ice locker for fish storage but was used during the Mexican Revolution as an armory, with the gated opening providing an escape hatch to the sea for the soldiers guarding the ammo.) I think our successful interchange inspires Beto to play tourist guide, as he veers off to the left and up a winding hill to a fabulous dual lookout, first toward the Pacific, and on the backside down to old Maz. We stop at each vantage point, where Beto proudly tells us about the various landmarks of his hometown. I’m sure he’s still wondering how I could’ve beat him to the punch when he pointed to the Pacifico brewery. Thanks, Randi! (My later studies further reveal that we were atop the cave on Cerro de la Neveria, or "Icebox Hill," at the site of a lookout fort that was the target of a 1914 air bombing during the revolution, except that the biplane bombardier missed and dropped the bomb in the street, killing two civilians. This was the second air bombing in world history, the first occurring in Tripoli. Odd historical tidbits….)

On our way to the port, we pass El Faro, the world’s second tallest lighthouse (only Gilbraltar’s is higher). It’s a 30-minute hike to the top—too bad we’re out of time. We pull into the terminal, and I give Beto a good tip and thank him for showing us around. He tells us to return in February and look him up to celebrate Carnaval (Mazatlan claims its Mardi Gras is the third largest behind New Orleans and Rio, and they’ve been celebrating it since 1898!).

When we rejoin the group for sailaway, my husband reports he and his mother enjoyed a similarly pleasant taxi tour. For $15 USD, they had an hour-long tour of all of the statuary, cliff divers and other attractions along the malecon, plus made brief visits to the El Cid resort and the pergola on top of the city’s most famous scenic lookout, Cerro de la Vigia, which offers sweeping views of all of Mazatlan.

It was another great port day! We liked Mazatlan—it’d be a fun place to return and explore.