Epic Beach Trip: Puerto Escondido or Bust

It was 1:30 in the afternoon when I hit the main highway again. All of those detours were burning up the day.

Once you get past Pochutla, those curves and turns straighten out. Visibility is great. You can let the bike rip and ignore those silly 30 kmh signs just like everybody else. The downside of a straight highway, which I had never considered before, is the wind. The boogie board causes a bit of a drag to begin with and every transport truck or bus that came by gave a mean smack. I was forced to pull over and readjust my strap when the wind pulled the helmet right off my head. It doesn't work as well dangling off the back.

A little self-awareness can come in handy and I realize I am neither the best driver in the world or the smartest person. That's why I quickly faced the fact that my plan to document the scenic journey on video with the little Sony in my left hand was the worst idea I'd had so far that day and gave the whole thing up.

That is one video that will never be made. It wasn't exactly a matter of driving one-handed as one and a half-handed but that still didn't feel adequate. The wind was so strong. I wanted a tighter grip for those power blasts from transport trucks. At a certain point, it all becomes flat and bland anyways.


Well, well. I made it alive.
After all that travelling, turning around wasn't an option. I'd been forewarned that prices would have risen for Semana Santa but I hadn't realized how bad it would be. This is the place I stayed at last time I was here. It's not bad and I was prepared for a price hike but not triple. Sheesh.

It was the same all the way down Zicatela. What I brought with me wouldn't be enough so I headed into town for a bank machine. As it turned out, there were more affordable places on the hill. I'll check this area out again for low season. My first instinct is always to get a place as close to the beach as possible but it's really no hardship to walk a little way.

I ended up at Hotel Naxhielly for about what I'd been hoping to spend. Nothing spectacular but the people who ran it were very accomodating. He had no parking lot but he let me pull the scooter in past the gate before he locked up for the night. There was a small pool.

The day was still young. Time enough for another beach or two. I headed up the steep hill to Playa Carazzalillo. A horn tooted and I pulled to the side to let a taxi motor pass and his passenger screamed something angry and threatening in Italian at me. I smiled and shrugged apologetically; for what, I don't know but road rage has to stop somewhere and trust fund brats can get pretty mean and erratic with all the drugs and alcohol they can afford. Try to avoid their attention.

I met so many people coming up the stairs to the beach as I was going down, I thought the place was going to be vacant. Hardly. Great swim.

I was feeling so tired but I steered the scooter to a place called Puerto Angelito only because I'd never been there before. This was the heart of Semana Santa where the density of population was at its worst. I almost made it to the bottom of the driveway when I was scared off by the snarl of buses jammed in together and all the exhausted sun drunk people weaving up the hill. I was too tired myself to deal with that. Someone was bound to get hurt. Somewhere during the journey, the bike started acting oddly. The accelerator had gone quite stiff. I had to give it a much harder yank and, when I did, the bike had a tendency to jump ahead unpredictably. The worst thing I could have done would have been to take that bike any further.

The buses and camionettas at the bottom weren't all there was. There were more parking lots, mostly full, all the way up the drive. I parked at the top and hiked down a trail. I didn't stay. I didn't take a picture. It's a tiny beach. Too too crowded. When any place gets this crowded, it's a ghetto. Wikipedia says the color of the water here "varies from emerald green to turquoise blue." No surprise. I expect Semana Santa is the emerald green season and it eventually returns to turquoise blue after a few tides take out all the urine.

I was fading at this point. I felt as tired as everybody else looked. Time for dinner, a short walk along Playa Principal under a big bright moon and straight to bed. Back at the hotel, families were still enjoying the pool. Children were having such a great time, splashing and laughing. My room was right off the pool but they didn't keep me awake. They probably would have played there all night if Mom hadn't called it quits. I heard the first and last squawk of protest against bedtime and then complete silence for the rest of the night.

Holy smokes. That was seven beaches in one day.

Epic Beach Road Trip: Ventanilla

There are so many beaches along this coast. I decided to skip Mazunte for another day and pushed on to Playa Ventanilla, a place I had never been. This is the beach that offers wetland tours. It is the least developed beach of this area and it is huge. I had no idea. Not so many people go there so I'd assumed it was tiny. How about 70 kms long? That means I was on the same beach back in November last year when I checked out the crocodiles near Puerto Escondido with Fernanado, only at the opposite end.



With all of this wide open sand and ocean, I asked a local guide about the camping possibilities. He said no one had a problem with it. What about the crocodiles? If I pushed the Italika through the dry sand and motored down the hard packed wet sand about 10 kms and popped a tent, would crocodiles start crawling out of the jungle for an easy meal? No. Really? I needed to be sure about this. He said they never attack unless you touch them so have a good look at that log before parking your butt. That's quite reassuring but "never" is such an extreme word, I think I'll research a bit further before committing to the idea.

The waves were the best I'd seen that day for the boogie board. I was told they reach 9 metres in September. Yow. I didn't go in this time. I pushed on but Ventanilla is definitely worth a return visit. I want to take the crocodile tour some day and spend the night in the cabana with the panoramic ocean view.

The Epic Beach Road Trip: Zipolite and San Augustillino

By Semana Santa Monday, I felt like doing a little exploring and hit the road for Puerto Escondido and points along the way.

I handled the road with caution, pulling over every time I spotted someone in my mirror. There's nothing I can do about it on a stretch of sharp hard turns and that's usually when the impatient motorist shows up. It takes a maximum wait of two minutes to get through most of these patches but one guy just had to pass me on a sharp downhill blind turn. Usually these people aren't even going that much faster than I am. I have to put my brakes on to help them back in the lane on time. Madness.

First stop, Zipolite. Almost there. Uh-oh. Road obstruction. Looks like it came down completely on termite power.

Driving strategy: come to complete stop and check for oncoming traffic. Average vacationer strategy: pull out immediately and accelerate. I hope someone moved this out of harm's way before too long.

It was early enough that Zipolite didn't feel too crowded but that can change in the blink of an eye on Semana Santa. One minute I was the only customer at this beachside restaurant, enjoying a second breakfast, when, boom, 30 people descended on the panicked solo waitress all at once.

The yellow flags must have been left over from the day before because I didn't feel good about that water. It was too rough for my my boogie board but I needed to get wet. I splashed around in strong sandy waves near the shore for a bit and moved on.

Next stop, beautiful San Augustillino where the water was calmer but still rather high. I was content with another refreshing dip. Got some of the sand out of my ears this time


And onwards.

Beach Barbecue

Semana Santa has begun. One week of sleeping in and following where ever whims lead. Most of my friends and co-workers have hit the road to distant points of the country and won't be seen again until it's time to punch the clock on Monday.

We had a great barbecue on Saturday morning at Playa Organo with Mike serving up tender steak sandwiches, Matthew caramelizing chicken wings to perfection and Asa providing a huge fish for the vegetarians amongst us. There is always too much food at these events. Somehow it all gets eaten. Most of us have learned to pace ourselves and save room for the best stuff so my lazy contribution of chips remained untouched.

I could barely move, all flopped out in the shade from where these pics were taken. Eventually I forced myself up and staggered in to the water for a long lazy swim\float. The water isn't chilly at all these days and in another month it will be soup again. By the time I drifted back, everyone else was up tossing frisbees.

Playa Organo has become "The Beach" for several reasons. It is onefot he few palapa free zones remaining that doesn't always attract huge crowds and the currents are benign.

We didn't have the place entirely to ourselves but it wasn't too bad for Semana Santa. I decided to linger with my book when the rest packed up. That lasted for about 15 minutes when a man from a huge clan further down the beach came up to regale me in Spanish about his religion. So much for personal space. I was surprised how much I understood. But I wasn't interested. His daughter stole my water bottle when I went behind the trees to change. Time to go. The best part of the day had ended with the party. Except for two independents, probably blood relatives, the faithful all had their heads bowed in prayer when I left.

Back to Life

Random pictures throughout this post.

The lookout point over Playa Entrega and Santa Cruz.


Because of the tsunami warning, I chose to bail on the camping expedition at Playa Organo this Saturday past. Other people decided the risk was small and went anyways. They were right. I was wrong. I had my backpack sitting by the door filled with essentials for an impromptu race up the mountains and the locks off the Italika so nothing would slow me down. I was ready to roar out of this town with a moment's notice. So I missed out this time. There will be other opportunities.

So the weekend wouldn't be a complete write-off, I rode the Italika to Zipolite for a day trip. That's always fun. I enjoy the road. If any cars or trucks get behind me, I pull over to let them by as soon as possible and take all the sharp turns at the appropriate speed. It's a lot less nerve-wracking with a helmet. I don't miss the wind in my hair at all.



Playa Entrega


There was so much sand at Zipolite, more than I can remember ever before. The Shambhala cove and the tiny one beyond were accessible without even getting your feet wet. Read a novel. Splashed in the waves. I might have had too much sun but I'll recover.

I wanted to be back in Crucecita before nightfall so I headed out around 4:30, shook the sand out of my towel, found an invite to a party on a text message - that was nice - and revved up the scoot. That's when the day went from pleasant to incredible and amazing.



Beautiful Barra de la Cruz


I ran into Marguerite on the main street so I had to stop and "Hola. Como esta?"

"Edward, Lee is here" Or was it "... esta aqui." I understood even if I couldn't believe my ears.

"Donde?!"

"Nice Place on the Beach."

Not that anyone would lie about something like that but I had to see for myself. What are headlights for anyway if not for night driving?

You see, I and several others have thought Lee was probably dead for a year and a half now. Towards the end of my teaching stint in Korea, I was getting emails from people I'd never met because Lee had essentially disappeared. He sent out a brief good-bye message to everyone on his email list and then canceled his account. Messages to him bounced back. Everyone was left wondering what happened and no one found out until recently.

Lee is this great guy I met years ago on vacation. Conversations were always interesting with Lee. We met again and again on later vacations down in Mexico. He's an interesting and genuinely cool guy, respected by everyone who knows him so his disappearance was not shrugged off lightly. The Lee hotline continued for a while. By the time I left Korea, I was convinced the last time I saw him really was the last and I raised my farewell toast to him one night in Zipolite. I was premature.



A giant pencil from one of last semester's students. Cool


Sure enough. There he was, working away on some bamboo for stairway railings. It felt like a UFO sighting. I took his picture right away in case he disappeared.

Surprise.

Look who I found.

Here's the scoop. Lee decided he didn't like his email service anymore and shut it down to switch, first writing down all of his friends' addresses. Well, things happen, days go by or, as in this case, six months, by which time all of those addresses had been lost. The craziest thing of all is that Lee found out, when somebody looked up his social security number for a job, he has actually been declared legally dead by relatives he lost touch with. Wow. It's a strange and wonderful world sometimes.

It was just so good to see him. I wish I could have stayed for a longer chat with beer and tacos and the works but the road beckoned and the work week was beginning early in the morning. I'll see him again before he heads north. Excellent excellent ending to a great day.

Grubby and tired, I arrived home just before sundown, gassed up the Italika and stopped in at Theresa's to ask what time the party started. I was already late. Some people had gone home to bed but there was a warm welcome and food and drink, typical of Theresa's legendary hospitality.

What a great life.