Manzanillo To Cuyutlan

Van Life influencers in the US will tell you staying at Walmart is a good way to spend a night on the road. We prefer rest areas but finally here in Manzanillo we got to stay at a Walmart and it was a good spot for a quiet night, oddly enough. No one cared to even notice us. 

Rusty and I got up before dawn and took a walk. I could hear the huge Pacific Ocean swells crumping hard on the sand with a thump like thunder, from a block away. I passed a night guard getting ready to go home from a gated community he had been guarding all night. I had a few words of sympathy for him after my years of night watch at 911 in Key West. The sign we saw at the beach warned us not to interfere with hatching turtles. 

Manzanillo is only slightly tuned to tourism. Freighters were anchored offshore waiting to use the port facilities. The beach was empty as the sun came up around 7 am Central Time. By the time we got back Layne was awake and I dropped Rusty’s morning egg into the public trash cans before the city workers showed up to clear the trash, carefully separating cans. I wondered if aluminum is a tip for the workers. 

We liked Manzanillo and the neighborhood where we had done our chores. We determined to go back so we loaded with water putting thirty gallons into our 35 gallon tank. Google maps works as well here as it does in the US so we entered car wash (auto lavado) into the search and found one that had a good review and wasn’t far. Off we went down those neat, tree lined avenues. 

They wanted 120 pesos to wash the exterior of the van. We’d cleaned the interior at Walmart as best we could in the parking lot. The dust and sand from the beach was everywhere. Another security guard walking home paused, not to annoy us or move us on but to ask if we had a problem and needed a hand. 

We gave them 200 pesos ($10) and made three workers very happy with a modest four dollar tip. Our weekly budget in Mexico is $625. Our last week at Tenacatita we spent $205. This week we ended up spending $365. I’m not fussed about giving money away to people working in a country where $10 a day is the minimum wage. 

We drove by the roast chicken lady called Elizabeth who gave us curbside service handing over her aunts $1:50 home made cheese -queso blanco. 

Shopping in Mexico is Layne’s hobby in between walking neighborhoods of hunting swimming beaches. 

We made a final trip to the restaurant next door to Lavanderia MAR where the night before we bought pozole (hominy stew) and where the cook gave us a tasting of the best spicy grilled shrimp tacos we’ve had. He offered us ceviche in a glass and a ceviche taco which he described as in the Mazatlan style. 

Our lunch was delicious with Layne going for the shrimp tacos while I tried a meat roll up (rollo) with bacon and vegetables inside the roll. We left stuffed with thanks to Jose and Edelmira for their hospitality. 

We followed Google maps blue line out of the city. We tried to get Aristocort at a readers suggestion to deal with sea lice itching. The pharmacists knew of it but didn’t carry it. We found a cortisone cream in our first aid kit which has helped. In the end though we had clean clothes, a clean van inside and out, a full water tank and empty trash cans. 

We took the Cuota south paying not a single toll on the road and I don’t know why they were waving everyone through. I approached the toll booth in the car lane as that is what we rate and to my horror there were height restrictors over the car lane. We need three meters and they offered two and a half…the trucks in the right lane were stretched out in front and behind us. As I paused checking my options the truck to the right saw my dilemma and stopped to let me in. I waved my gratitude and it was no problem at all.  

The northbound lanes of the highway were jammed. For miles. Somewhere out of sight there must have been an accident. The jam, trapped by a cement divider sat quietly in line waiting. I was so grateful that wasn’t us…eventually the Guardia Nacional had a road block to divert traffic off the freeway. We pressed on in the afternoon sun passing ocean glimpses and coconut and banana plantations. Our plan was to stop at s wild camp on a beach road. 

The beach road was smooth as a billiard table lined with expensive homes most for sale of rent overlooking another endless beach. This was the wealthy street loosely attached to the little town of Cuyutlan. We were racing sunset to check the campsite would work. You never know if reality matches the Internet report and our alternative was another uninteresting truck stop on the toll road. 

We needn’t have worried. The turtle eco center at the end of the road was closed for the day and we found a tiny turn out to accommodate our modest 21foot home. The surf was huge so swimming wasn’t an option. Rusty and Layne and I went for a walk. It’s always tiring working your way around a strange city doing your chores. 

A couple of cars came by on a Saturday evening to watch the sunset. A smile, a wave, some red tail lights rapidly disappearing up the smooth road. We were completely alone watching the golden moon set over the silver ocean as night fell. It was lovely. 

This was the start of our Internet connectivity woes! We were slipping out of the Mexican coast dotted with towns and cities. We were going to Michoacán a stretch of wild empty coast with valleys filled with tropical plantations and cliffs dropping into the water like California’s empty Big Sur Coast of eighty years ago. 

Colima is a small relatively wealthy state with decent infrastructure including well paved roads. Michoacán is a sprawling mountainous state, a source of field labor in the western U.S. where farm workers will tell you this large poor state is their home. There are Indian tribes here largely ignored by the central government and resentful of that deliberate forgetfulness. 

To compensate for agricultural poverty Michoacán has a reputation for drug trafficking which holds back tourism despite the lack of connection between tourists and drug dealers. California has its emerald triangle on the Oregon state line but when it’s a Mexican issue there is joy in exaggerating dangers and dealers and all that pleasure in fear mongering. 

It will be an interesting drive on a winding mountain road between lonely beaches and small villages. Connectivity will be sparse until we reach Zihuatanejo so be patient and I look forward to showing you the fearsome and delightful Highway 200 through the land of the best ice creams Mexico has to offer. I can’t wait.