Stage 13: La Laguna de Santa Maria de Oro to Chacala via the Ruta de Tequila and Guadalajara
May 15 – 20, 2013
More than 7 hours on Libramientos and cuotas

I had been in Mexico less than three weeks, and this particular Wednesday was an all around bad day. I had spent the previous two weeks sleeping in a not-so-romantic cabaña on the beach followed by a tent on a secluded, pristine lake nursing my no-see-um bite riddled body in the cool water. I drove the non-toll road, the libramiento, from the Ruta del Tequila to Guadalajara. I was flat broke and had no money for the cuota (toll highway) so the scenic route was my only option. The libramientos are akin to the Blue Highways of the USA. It was very slow going but it was lovely. At first, I felt completely lost, until I realized I was on the beautiful Ruta de Tequila (Tequila Trail). Nayarit State is the #2 tequila producer, following neighboring Jalisco. It is similar to Northern California’s wine country if you replace wine vines with beautiful blue agave plants. They seem to be working very hard to recreate the wine country atmosphere there but it has a very distinct Mexican flavor.

Undecided about whether I would go to Sayulita or Guadalajara, I missed the Sayulita exit so Guadalajara it was. It was early in my adventure and I had not figured out my basic rules of travel, in this case, what is the size and population of my next destination, or what exactly is my next destination! It is really important to mentally prepare. I was surprised to discover that Guadalajara is a teeming megalopolis, the seventh largest city in Mexico, with a population of nearly 1.4 million people, and more than 5 million if one includes the suburbs. It is huge and beautiful and completely congested with traffic, pedestrians, narrow one-way streets, and sheer chaos. My half-page guidebook map was of little help negotiating Guadalajara. Every time I found myself near one of my desired destinations it was impossible to find a space to park. The parking goddess was definitely not with me that day.  Nor was any other god or goddess.

After a couple hours trying to find a place to stay, and more than four hours behind the wheel, I pointed the car back out of town. I had run out of patience, my tummy was rumbling, I was nearly out of gas, and I desperately needed cash. I discovered that even the minor tasks of finding money and gas were huge challenges. I was on the wrong side of the street, there was no place to park, the bank was obscured by a delivery truck, etc. I finally turned down a random side street and found both a bank and a gas station. I filled my pockets with money, my tank with gas, and stocked up on my go-to road trip food, Squirt and Frit-Os con Sal y Limón.  A few wrong turns later, I was finally on the Cuota, (toll road) out of town and on my way to Sayulita.

The sun began to set well before Sayulita, and everyone knows you never drive after dark in Mexico, so I took the exit for Chacala. The guidebook made it sound like a sweet little town. After more than seven hours on the road, I needed a little sweetness. Luna and I pulled up in front of a hotel, Quinta Mar y Selva, completely exhausted and desperate to pee. The friendly dueña and her daughter, who thankfully spoke English, greeted us and got us set up in a nice but expensive room. To my horror I discovered I had locked my keys in my car. Of course, my spare keys were also in the car. 

The daughter tracked down a locksmith who came to my rescue within the hour. He tried the driver door. Then he tried the passenger door. That failed so he fiddled with the back door and the sliding side doors, all to no avail. Back he went to the front door. By this time, I was hanging out in the hammock in the garage desperately trying to decompress, when I heard a small popping explosion. I didn’t think much of it, kids in Mexico love fireworks, and it was late-evening playtime. Ninety minutes later, the locksmith was able to unlock my Honda Odyssey. He hurriedly asked me for 250 pesos (about $20.00), hopped on his motorcycle, and was gone. One part of me was happy that my car was one of the most difficult cars to break in to; another part of me was pretty frustrated that it was so hard to get into; the final part of me was livid when I saw that the passenger-side sliding door shattered into thousands of pieces!. That popping explosion was not kids playing with fireworks, it was my pinche window!

That night, I wandered down to the town proper in search of food. It was 9:00 p.m. by this time and the only thing open was the greasy Surf Shack Pizza joint that didn’t sound compatible with my touchy tummy, and a cerveceria. I bought a six-pack of Negro Modelo, one bag of sal y limón Frit-Os, and one bag of regular potato chips. I returned to my room and cried into my beer while watching new-to-me reruns of CSI.

The dueña did allow me to pull my fully-loaded Odyssey into her secure garage, and promised to contact her insurance in the morning to see if my car was covered. All the next day I waited for a reply that didn’t come, until I had no choice but to stay another night for a mere $50.00, twice my budget. The next day was a similar scenario, with the daughter supposedly calling all over the area looking for someone who had the window I needed. While she was calling around, she sent me off with vague instructions on how to get to the secluded beach, a nice hike out of town. I was ready to work up a sweat and blow off some of steam.