Mexico Day 93: Oh wow, that’s humid

San Jose del Pacifico to Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca //

You know the day’s drive will be an interesting one when the plan is to reach the sea and you’re starting at 8500’ in elevation.  For a couple of hours we drive along a sleepy, two lane highway that weaves its way through and down the mountain.  In that time, and over the course of 60 miles, our longest straight-away is perhaps 200’.  There are hundreds of tight curves.  Not once is Mark simply resting his hand on the steering wheel.  

What started as a high-alpine forest quickly turns to lush, dense jungle.  Various sections of dirt in the road and missing chunks of hillside imply mud slides.  They must be a common side effect of the rainy season.  We hardly go for long without seeing a small town, a smaller village, or some kind of inhabited area on the side of the road.  It strikes me how many people are living remotely here in the mountains with so few services.  I don’t see any medical clinics, emergency services, police stations, or municipal facilities.    It makes me wonder if every village has its own medicine man or woman who has an encyclopedia’s worth of knowledge about the natural healing remedies provided by the jungle.  

After descending about 7,000’, the steep mountains gradate into gentle foothills, the highway turns to four lanes, and jungle turns into dry (seemingly drought-stricken) shrubland.  And then, there it is, the Pacific Ocean, a sight we haven’t seen since departing Mazatlan two months ago.  Not long after reaching sea level we enter the town of El Tomatal and turn off the highway onto one of the town streets that leads to the beach.  Our plan is to camp on the beach, something we have yet to do in mainland Mexico.  As we approach the water, I watch for indications of whether or not this is a safe place to camp.  The first sign that gives my gut a thumbs up is seeing many kids in crisp, clean uniforms walking home from school.  We soon arrive at a dirt parking lot adjacent to the beach where two European camper vans are parked, another good sign.  However, once I step out of the truck, safety is no longer on my mind because heat and humidity has just consumed me.

Mark strategically parks the truck to provide us with as much shade as possible.  He pops the top on the camper and cranks the fan.  We immediately change into the lightest weight clothing in our possession and then head straight for the water to get wet.  The water itself isn’t even that cool but is still refreshing.  But by the time we make the hundred yard walk back to the truck we’re pouring sweat once again.  The inside of the camper reaches a toasty ninety-four degrees and is not comfortable enough to inhabit until after the sun goes down.  Mark tries various configurations of ventilation to get as much air flowing through the camper as possible.  When I get into bed I splay out like a starfish until Mark is ready to join me.  Not since a vacation to Cancun twenty-five years ago have I experienced humidity to this degree.

I knew this was what we were in for heading to the coast.  But it’s one thing to know it in your mind, it’s another thing to experience it first-hand.  With our plan to follow the coast for more than a thousand miles north, I wonder just how brutal it will get and hope that our spirit and senses of humor will remain in tact.  After two months spent inland and above 5,000’ in elevation it feels safe to say an entirely new chapter of this trip has begun.  

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