Filmmaker Dale Johnson

I had finished my Junior year in college. Getting restless. My roommate said, “Let’s go to Mexico after Christmas!” “OK by me,” I said.

We would leave after Christmas, spend the winter and spring there. I had little money, but wanted to shoot movies of this trip. I managed to get together about 30 rolls of 8mm film and purchased a used 8mm camera for $6. This would be my first travel film, even though I sure didn’t think of it in those terms.

John backed out at the last minute, deciding to continue his studies. I was committed to this adventure, and determined to go before the Draft Board would capture my services.

After Christmas, I acquired a decrepit ‘50 Chevy and drove to Laredo. Crossed the border with $50 dollars in my pocket. Wasn’t going to live too high, but at 21, I was resilient. Gasoline was the equivalent of 10 cents a gallon back then. Less than a peso, which was worth 12 cents against a greenback. I marshaled my funds carefully. I had visions of traveling a long way.

In Acapulco, I ran out of money.

Various people would offer me money for my old car. Some offers were substantial and tempting. But the vehicle was both freedom and home in that situation. I clung to it. But I did sell the radio—for $20. Maybe that would be enough to get me home. It was now late in March.

I remember, though, that I drove north up the coast from Acapulco, and the road turned into a two-lane cattle trail in just a few miles. I kept following it. Eventually I crossed a small creek on two logs laid side by side to come to a secluded beach surrounded by coconut trees.

Still without food in my car, I was elated to find hundreds of coconuts. I ate them for much of the day. On steep rocks at the ocean’s edge I found snails larger than my fist. With the snails and coconuts I feasted.

As a native Texan who had grown up in the semi-arid center of the state, I didn’t have much experience with water, especially tides. I had decided to park my car on the beach to spend the night sleeping next to it, as had been my practice so far.

I awoke in the middle of the night with water washing over my sleeping bag. Panic! Water is already up to the hubcaps of the car! Threw my few things into the car, cranked up and driving in ever-deepening water, just managed to retreat to the edge of the trail.

On the way back to Mexico City, I permitted myself an unaccustomed luxury. I stayed in a hotel with a gigantic room and a huge bathroom. Quite an opulent hotel. A shower! My first. I had been bathing in creeks and streams for three months now. It cost me $3.

In Mexico City, I encountered three other young fellows who had hitchhiked across the U.S. from their homes in New York, and down into Mexico. They too were on their way home.

By pooling our funds, we thought we could make it to the border at McAllen, Texas. In Texas, they split for New York, and I continued on toward home at Abilene.

I knew that I had ceased to dream of girls and sex, and was dreaming of barbecue every night, ALL night.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I weighed 119 pounds. I was literally starving by degrees.

I eventually was able to process the 8mm film from my $78-a-month Army pay, and I still have that footage. A precious record of the first adventure into another country.

The writer is a prize-winning cinematographer who made his first ‘travel-adventure’ film with an 8mm camera.