Mexico Day 108: An expensive day

El Tuito, Jalisco to Sayulita, Nayarit //

We began the day with no clear direction as to where we were headed from here. In scoping out maps and camping options yesterday, nothing in particular jumped out at us. We were only an hour south of Puerto Vallarta, and everything from there north within the states of Jalisco & Nayarit was more crowded and expensive than anywhere else we had been in Mexico. However, we were covered in bug bites from only a short time spent outside last night, and so staying put was our least desirable option.

Seven hours to our north was Mazatlán, where we would board the ferry and make the trip back to Baja. However, we didn’t have a reservation yet, and the only way to make one was over the phone. This morning, we either needed to solicit a Spanish-speaking individual to make us a reservation or make the decision to drive to Mazatlán, show up at the port, and see if they’d give us a spot. While the second option was tempting, being denied and then having to find somewhere to stay around the tourist mecca of Mazatlán didn’t sound like fun. I decided to message Bonnie, the host of the ranch where we camped, and ask if she would be willing to help us out. We were both thrilled when she said yes.

After Bonnie got back from her horseback ride, we walked up to her house on the hill. We explained our objective, gave her a few notes, and sat with bated breath while she connected to a TMC agent. To our surprise, she was told that payment was required in full to hold a reservation. This was not the case for our reservation three months ago out of La Paz; they simply asked for a name and phone number to reserve our spot. Further, Bonnie was told, they did not accept credit cards.

At this point, I thought there was no way we were getting a reservation. However, Bonnie went on to get detailed instructions as to how we could go to a bank and make a deposit to the ferry’s bank account. The agent told her that if they received the money by tomorrow, we’d have a reservation.

Bonnie got off the phone, explained these details, and told us what bank to go to in Puerto Vallarta. From there, the conversation evolved organically into US and Mexican politics and the perceived danger of Mexico vs. what it’s really like to live here. An American, having spent most of her life in Mexico, Bonnie was a wealth of knowledge and could have held our interest for hours. Unfortunately, we had to cut the conversation short so that we could get to Puerto Vallarta before the bank closed. We thanked her profusely before heading off to pack up the truck.

A twisty-turny road led us down the mountain and into the tourist mecca of Puerto Vallarta. In our 2.5 months in mainland Mexico, we’d never seen anything like it. Big-name hotel chains rose high into the sky and lined every inch of beach as far as the eye could see. Americans and Canadians outnumbered Mexicans, and Mexico as we knew it disappeared from our rearview mirror. Traffic was hectic, and lanes swelled to six wide as we approached the city center.

On the north side of the city, we located Banregio, the bank we were instructed to go to. With our 8300 pesos ($415 US) in hand, we walked inside feeling skeptical that we’d be able to communicate what we needed to do. The teller could not be more kind, even speaking a bit of English, and was able to easily complete our deposit in a matter of a minute’s time. Our last step was to take a photo of the receipt, email it to TMC, and hope that we now had an official reservation.

It was now 3:30 p.m. and we hadn’t a clue where we’re staying for the night. Though we both knew we wanted out of Puerto Vallarta as soon as possible. Mark pulled back into traffic with the plan to continue north out of the city, then would pull over somewhere so that we could regroup and look into our camping options. As we inched our way along in slow-moving traffic, we neared the 200D toll road onramp and decided that would be our fastest way out of the congestion. Of the hundreds of cars piled up in traffic, we were the only ones to turn onto the toll road. A four-lane highway unfolded before us and there wasn’t a single car to be found. Fresh asphalt, construction equipment, and thousands of traffic cones made us wonder if we somehow got on a highway we aren’t supposed to be on. We felt like we’re flying at warp speed on our own private highway, which was great and all, but we really wanted to stop and figure out where we were going. The problem was, there was nowhere to exit. At the first toll booth, both our jaws dropped at the 483 peso ($24 US) fee. Maybe this is why there’s no one else on this road.

An exit finally appeared, wherein lay another toll booth. In a bit of shock, we handed over another 239 pesos ($12 US). 20 miles on 200D cost us $36. An unexpected and expensive ticket out of the city.

Finally, we were able to pull over and regroup. With shadows growing longer and evening approaching, we decided on the closest option, an RV park in the popular town of Sayulita.  Thirty minutes later we arrived at a campground chalk-full of long-term residents where we snagged the second-to-last available spot. With the driveway into the campground being occupied by a bocce ball match, we interrupted the afternoon activities in a place that seemingly does not see the likes of us travelers.

With relief, we settled into a narrow site surrounded by trailers. When we got out of the truck, the strong scent of incense and weed filled the air. Intrigued by the very different vibe from Puerto Vallarta, we set out on foot to find food and see what Sayulita was all about. Trendy little boutiques and modern restaurants lined the streets. The only thing that maintained the authentic Mexican vibe we’d come to know were the street dogs and chickens that roamed about town. The beach was filled with surfers and sunbathers, many of whom donned bright pink sunburns. If Puerto Vallarta is for families and honeymooners on their all-inclusive vacations, Sayulita is for surfers, free spirits, and college kids looking to have a good time. We felt completely and entirely out of place.

The day concluded with us having accomplished all that we could to hopefully result in a reservation on the TMC ferry. That reservation, however, was a week out. The next step in our Getting Back to Baja Adventure would be to find a cheaper and more desirable place to call home while we wait for our reservation date to arrive.

Where that place was, we still didn’t know. Perhaps by morning, we’d have an idea.

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