Finding a New Path

I suppose I knew I was pushing our comfort too far, that I was deliberately setting us up for discomfort, choosing the more difficult route. I knew this and went ahead and did it anyway.

There’s a distinct ‘end of the road feel’ when you reach Manzanillo. Whether you’re inspecting the map, researching through blogs, or just trying to find somewhere to stay, there’s an obvious change approaching. Up to this point, you could reliably spot a gringo who had either dropped in by air or motored down the coast – it was a well travelled way. The Michoacán coast – for all its hype in the guidebook – promised to be something wilder.

Of course, this was part of the lure. I wanted to test us, to get a dose of something pure, maybe. It might also have been stupid hubris. I’m not quite sure. As I read it, this was the last bit of rugged, Pacific coast complete with empty windswept beaches, steep jungle dropping into the sea, big surf, something like Big Sur or, closer to home, the beaches around Tofino except, you know, not frigid. On the far side of this lay the resort of Zihuatanejo, which I really needed to see (yes, because of Shawshank and yes, I knew it would be nothing like that in reality). The alternative, was heading inland sooner, accepting our time at the beach was over for now and getting on with the next stage of things.

When planning, I lightly passed the idea by Sarah: ‘What do you think about getting a little more adventurous…?” Of course, she had no context didn’t know what to expect or how adventurous she would be required to become. The thing was, planning at home is exactly that. It is names on a spreadsheet, dots on a map, words read and understood, but words from another traveller, another perspective. It means nothing until your cell signal drops, the road narrows, the jungle pushes in, and a band of young hooligans in masks try to hustle you for money as you pass through their town.

There were a few things working against us. The first was that it was right at New Years and Mexicans were still vacationing. This was exacerbated by the fact that we didn’t have anywhere booked. The towns along this stretch of coast are small and largely unconnected. This is a place for beach camping, for cabins, and basic hotels generally not set up for reserving in advance through your standard Booking(dot)coms. My original four nights was cut down to two – we just had to keep our eyes open for a place to stay.

What we found was too unsettling for us to stay. The beach town I had eyed was full (and I mean full – beaches crammed with tents kind of full) and nearby cabins too basic. Had the circumstances been different, I know we could have done it, but the whole place just felt weird. These desperate towns along this winding road did not feel friendly. After passing through the third one where citizens would slow you down with a rope across the road the better to ask for handouts, some kind of levy to pass through, it becomes difficult to feel at ease. Did we take a simple hotel just to get off the road, or did we push on?

In the end, we settled for a chain hotel in Lázaro Cárdenas – the dull, industrial city at the end of this stretch of coast. Silver lining: it was possible to use this as a base to visit a nearby beach (which turned out as a decent day) and we treated ourselves to the conveniences of a more standard hotel, something we had not had since the US (a weight room, pool, hot breakfast, and next door Little Caesar’s Pizza).

We had two nights and then moved on to better things. Nothing bad happened, yet an odd feeling lingered. It was the feeling of being a long way from home, of tugging at the limits of our comfort. I also felt my own hand in all of this, being the one who planned it all. Like my original intent for camping, what I imagined in my head and on paper, did not jive with who we were. Now I was thinking about what was to come. Were there other places that would similarly affect us? What were we doing here with our feeble Spanish, our little car overloaded and two people too soft to spend a night in a less than optimum location? It was only a slight hiccup, yet it felt weightier.

Zihuatanejo was lined up. On to another state we weren’t supposed to be in, because apparently that’s how I planned it.