We packed up our beach camp and carried on down the coast. We drove through the mega touristic Puerto Vallarta, past all the resort compounds that really could be anywhere, as could you when your inside by the pool. We cut inland for a bit, absolutely bombarded by the heat, the Land Rover ‘air conditioning’ was battling. Note that the air conditioning means driving with our door tops, all well and good when a breeze blows through, but the second we stop, or the breeze turns to dry, hot dust, the sweat instantly prickles on our skin. We stopped for a break, coincidently at the same place as Katie, Damon and Kyle, and were greeted by the ice cream man. Feeling cooler we all drove to the beach to find our own camping spot. We spent two nights resting by the sea, having beach bonfires, cutting coconuts and swimming. We made a plan to stop by a place called Pascuales, known for its big waves (but also camping with wifi). We drove separately but with the plan to meet there. Hayden and I found a car wash and paid a local 80 pesos to throughly clean Maggie, she was having some bad reactions to all the salt. Back on the road we headed through the town of Tecoman and to the beach. It was our first encounter with tourists from somewhere other than Canada and America. There was a group of French bodyboarders and a few Aussies (one suitably named Banjo) and a couple of kiwis. There was a small spot to put the tent, a rickety old watch tower to check out the big waves and pool to cool off in (thankfully as the waves were so big I wouldn’t dare put my big toe in!) There was a lot of talk about how big the waves were going to be, but not a lot of surfing. Nevertheless we were up early with all the surfer kids and sat watching the waves in a hypnotic fashion, pretending we knew what we were looking out for. Occasionally one or two surfers would man up and take the plunge, providing entertainment for those of us left on the black sand. The young locals definitely showed up the tourists. Our few days progressed in a similar manner – watch the surf, gasp at surfers getting smashed, eat, use the Internet, eat, check out town, use the Internet, swim in the pool, use the Internet, wait for the ice cream cart, watch the surf, wait for the donut cart, use the Internet, eat and sleep. Tough going. The Californians left a day ahead of us, but we figured we will no doubt see them in Puerto Escondido. We spent one more morning watching the surfers battle it out before heading further south with the plan to stop at La Ticla for lunch. Well, who did we see camped in a little free spot? The Californians. They had some minor car trouble on their drive yesterday so by the time Hayden had a little look at it, it was past lunch time and we joined them for the evening. La Ticla is another popular surf spot so our morning routine of drinking coffee watch surfers get smashed was repeated. We were given a hot tip that there was a much calmer, beginner break further south at Saladita. Hayden and I were keen to give some long boards a go so we headed off south. We spent the night in Neixpa, more big waves and more surfers who don’t seem to actually surf, rather they talk about their surfing. We were beginning to get a it sceptical.
We found Saladita to be a little haven of tourists with a small longboard break. Saladita is a not far from Zihuatanejo, so for any Shawshank Redemption fans, this is where Andy was planning to escape to.
“It’s a little place maybe twenty miles from Playa Azul and Mexico Highway 37. It’s a hundred miles north-west of Acapulco on the Pacific Ocean. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific?”
According to Andy, the Mexicans say that is has no memory.
To us, it provided plenty of memories, but if it’s good enough for Andy and Red, it’s good enough for us!
Camping seemed to be in the yards of restaurants, all cramped in to small spaces. We drove just out of town and along the coast road until we found an empty lot without a ‘for sale’ or ‘private property’ sign and made our own camp, nestled amongst huge beachfront mansions. A few residents walked by in the evening giving friendly waves and we settled in to our beachfront home with a driftwood bonfire.
We have surfing a shot. The waves were lovely but we encountered a few problems. Firstly, the break was about a million miles out. Seriously. I would paddle and paddle and paddle for what felt like an eternity. Knackered, I would stop for five seconds only to have the current pull me back about half a million miles! When we did eventually reach the break, we had to contend with no less than 40 other people. As a complete novice, I was too scared to get in the way so caught about one wave in two hours. We both managed to stand up on a few, and managed to get seriously smashed on plenty of others, but the whole paddling and waiting thing got a bit tedious. With aching arms, we called it a day and headed back to our private beachfront.
The Californians had caught up with us and we planned to drive the the ‘warrior state’ of Guerrero in small convoy. Apparently it is one of the most dangerous states in Mexico.
We woke early and hit the road a little after sunrise. We drove and drove, sticking to the toll roads as suggested. Truth be told, we did not feel unsafe for a second. We drove past people waving at us, asking us where we are from and saying ‘welcome to Mexico!’. Perhaps the Cartel had the day off. After a long drove day we found a spot by the beach and as we were setting up camp a local appeared. Worried that we may have been on private property we stood still and waited for him. It turns out he was just wanting to suggest to us where to pitch our tent. Scary guy. Another early morning and we drove one, into the safe tourist destination of Puerto Escondido. We had a much needed swim and a beer, 35 degrees plus 90% humidity was almost a killer. We found a small campground on top of the hill above the beach and began to sweat. The sweating would not stop for about a month.
