On the road again

In the last five days, we've driven about 300 miles along the Pacific Coast through the states of Guerrero, Michoacan, Colima, and Jalisco. In some parts, namely Michoacan, the coastline is so winding and hilly and you average about 20mph. But the name of the game isn't covering ground, it's keeping your jaw shut as you look at the incredible shoreline of virtually empty beaches -- some white sand, some rocky with crashing surf, mostly with coco palms, and always beautiful.

The first night out of Zihuatanejo we camped outside of La Saladita, a town so small it's not even in Guia Roji, our very detailed map book of Mexican roads. We had gone to Troncones, a beach about 40 miles north of Zihua, where we'd beach-camped previously, and there we met a couple raved about a place just north of there called La Saladita. So we pressed on in that direction, following their instructions for what turn to take off coastal Highway 200, anticipating another nice beach-camping night.

We turned too soon, however, and found ourselves on a dirt road that got narrower and narrower until brush was scraping the sides and top of the RV. Terri wanted to go back to the highway, Gary wanted to press on.

We kept going, through a little ... could you call it a village? A few shacks, pigs in the road, three men drinking beer on their stoop in the hot afternoon sun. Soon the road dead-ended. We turned around, came back to the guys on the stoop, and asked them the way to La Saladita. They pointed to another little spur road, and we headed down that. We came upon a wide creek, almost a foot deep, and Gary drove the rig across it. More winding around on a narrow dirt track until we rounded a corner and saw .... the highway! Just a few yards down the highway, and there was the actual turnoff to La Saladita.

Just before the town, we turned onto another dirt road toward a restaurant the Troncones couple had mentioned called El Mirador (The Viewpoint). It's all by itself on the beach, and the owner said we could camp there if we had dinner at the restaurant. We walked a long way in both directions on the beach to stretch out after the driving escapade, and that night we feasted on lobster and the best huachinango (red snapper) ever while watching the sun sink into the sea. The next morning we were treated to a gorgeous sunrise as well and had more fish for breakfast.

Some people ask why we're so fond of Mexico, and one of the many answers has to be: the fruit. At times we almost live on it, so it's worth a few words here.

In particular, we are mango nuts. The ones we prefer are the smaller, thinner, yellow ones that I've seen labeled in the store as Ataulfos but the fruit vendors call them "manilas." They're sweeter than the reddish ones we see in U.S. grocery stores, and in southwestern coastal Mexico, you see miles and miles of mango orchards producing this type of mango. The other type grows here too -- along one beach access road, Gary climbed atop the RV to pick a few low-hanging red ones from a tree, and we're waiting for those to ripen up.

We also love bananas, and along with the familiar kind, we've sampled some shorter, fat ones whose flesh is very creamy and what we call "finger bananas" because they're about that big and super-sweet.

Inland there are places where the cash crop is berries -- the city of Zamora is a hub for producing blackberries (in Spanish, blackberry is "zarzamora") -- and those are brought out to the coast for sale, just as mangos and bananas are sent inland.

All along the highway are stands where people have giant piles of coconuts, and for 8 pesos (about 70 cents), they'll whack the top off it with a machete and put a straw in it so you can drink the coco milk. This must be an acquired taste, however, because it doesn't taste like coconut as we think of it; it's watery and without much flavor. (Gary thinks it needed rum.)

As you motor down the highway, the landscape gives way from one fruit crop to another, it seems -- the coco palm plantations, the banana palms, the papayas, the mangos, the limes (the city of Tecoman, north of Manzanillo, calls itself El Capital Mundial de Limones -- The Lime Capital of The World). An aside: It takes 4 small limes to yield enough juice for one margarita, which has become our drink of choice on this trip, so as a result we are huge lime consumers. We buy them by the kilo! They are the little limes, the size of key limes, although the juice tastes like that of the bigger limes you buy in U.S. grocery stores.

We stopped yesterday at a wonderful fruit stand on the highway and, along with our usual favorite fruits, bought some citrusy starfruit and a mamey. Mamey is the size and color of a Russet potato, but the skin's texture is more like an avocado, only harder. The fruit stand owner told us to wait a few days for it to be "listo" (ready), then to cut it in half and spoon out the custardy flesh. Stay tuned for a full report :-)...