Highway 200 goes all the way to Guatemala down the Pacific Coast of Mexico. It’s a libre two lane road winding through mountains and along beaches, and some of it resembles Big Sur winding along plunging cliff faces while in other stretches it crosses river deltas and finds its way through bucolic farmland.
We drove most of Highway 200 last year and I’d do it again if we didn’t have different plans. A decade ago the cartels had a turf war along the Michoacán stretch and consequently you’ll hear from endless numbers of critics who say it’s a dangerous drive. Maybe it is but for me it’s a scenic wonder. Our greatest peril is running into farm stock:
And yet having said all that I was not looking forward to Highway 200 to Puerto Vallarta. From last year I remembered terrible road surfaces, heavy traffic and lashings of rain all of which combined to make me dread the drive from our campground in Tepic to the big city.
As you can probably guess this year we had an easy drive in perfect weather. Which is not to say the traffic was light. Indeed we got caught up in one long line after another of slow moving vehicles.
And it kept happening as they are busy replacing the road surface even as they build a four lane bypass to speed traffic into and out of Puerto Vallarta. For the time being this is the main road. Indeed, the only road.
Puerto Vallarta is a pain in the ass. It’s a major port and center of commerce and tourism but it’s cut off from the rest of Mexico by a huge range of mountains, so far not penetrated by roads and perhaps they never will be, no bad thing in a world covered in cement.
However this means you are limited in your choices to get around the knot created by the city. So we took the bull by the horns. And because this is Mexico traffic flowed, slowly but easily as we took turns moving into and out of one or another lane restriction.
Layne started reminiscing about a family vacation she took forty years ago when she was the family chauffeur and they got pulled over for a traffic violation. Her father told her how he used to keep a twenty dollar bill when driving the mean streets of Chicago and he kept the money next to his drivers license to take care of any traffic violations he might incur. This is a common belief among North Americans driving Mexico even today but so far we have yet to experience any request for a bribe. Giant cruise ships, below, of the absurd size they want to bring to Key West:
Then Layne started talking about that vacation in old Puerto Vallarta a part of the city she made sound enticing, and then we came upon it:
It was actually prettier than I managed to capture in our few minutes driving through. Apparently there was a road closure and Google sent us through the old city.
It was a long slow winding drive, not unpleasant or stressful as traffic moved forward without drama.
The cobbles were a nuisance as they cause GANNET2 to bounce in a manner not much enjoyed by the occupants. This was a far call from the hustle and rush of the more familiar four lane waterfront.
This is decidedly gringo town. Everywhere we looked we saw non Mexicans on the sidewalks.
And then we were out of it and back on Highway 200 winding along the waterfront high above the ocean on a cliff lined with expensive homes and condos and hotels.
It reminded me of the French and Italian rivieras though perhaps if I went back there now I might see less of a resemblance. Who knows how developed those areas are now!
There are inclusive resorts and hotels and finally a freshly paved road ruined of course by innumerable topes!
In case you were in any doubt English is spoken here. Bring dollars.
And then it was back to Highway 200 south of Puerto Vallarta. Great scenery and food stops!
A pick up full of corn, you’d think there was a joke there:
We stopped for a jug of water to top off our 30 gallon tank in preparation for our week at the beach. The siphon system suggested by Bruce in Arizona, last year works a treat.
Layne went hunting for fruit armed with her camera, a long lens pocket Panasonic ZS200:
Boiled corn with chili peppers, below. I always ask for moderate peppering of my food, “estilo gringo” because I tell them I’m not a Mexican. I have to admit I can’t keep up with the levels of heat they enjoy. Boiled corn I find is much tastier than roasted.
Not Starbucks but delightfully rustic set in the pine forests at the top of the hill.
I took Rusty for a walk up the hill under the pines, my favorite kind of tree.
I love Mexican road food. It’s all a surprise but sometimes you get a good one. This was a toasted sandwich made of puff pastry more or less filled with ham, melted cheese and a slice of green pepper not too spicy.
Layne the intrepid hunter off looking for bargains. A nice break from the long lines of traffic.
We did finally find the beach at Tenacatita Bay.
