Riding a few end-of-the-year miles in the Puerto Vallarta area (and drinking margaritas and catching occasional glimpses of whales)

Around the Bahia de Banderas, for which Puerto Vallarta is the central city, you will find more English spoken than Spanish, or so it seems. Sad but true. I didn't realize the size of the occupational force of Californian and Canadian expats here. Wow. Add to that the "normal" tourists who flock to warm climes especially around Christmas time (and feel free to include me) and you have the perfect storm. Silly me, was I ever deluded to think that Cancun is as gringo as it comes.

Flying into Puerto Vallarta

Over the years (going strong on 45, to be exact) I have been privileged to travel all over the República Mexicana, by bus, by car, and in recent years more often by a combination of plane and bike. I've seen the changes (45 years ago not a single Mexicano would have worn shorts anywhere except on the beach) and the similarities (every tortillería still squeaks, and paletas de tamarindo are still as refreshingly tart as they were back then). Time goes on.

That's how you buy eggs in Mexico

Life is still the same in the small, out-of-the-way places. I observed this while exploring by bike the region where I stayed for eight nights. I realize that areas such as the Riviera Maya as well as the Riviera Nayarit, my most recent riviera, are not your "typical" Mexico. Why would it be different from the Costa Dorada in Spain? It's business, huge business.

One of the two trees just doesn't seem to fit ...

But this place seems different. Actually, it's bordering on gross, if you attempt to be a low-impact, blend-in traveler who tries to keep a low, sotto voce profile. When you go to a local restaurant and the server is a gringo hustler, when at the next table loud Americanos order another round of Coronas, when the checkout clerk at the corner OXXO addresses you right off in English—that's when you realize that you are NOT in Mexico but some foreigners' enclave.

Two grave dangers we all need to outsmart: COVID and crocs!

I had thought about going to Guadalajara, which would have been similar to Oaxaca or Morelia by virtue of being an old colonial city. But I had a hankering for waves and endless vistas across the Pacific, and American Airlines had some great award mileage availability for flights down to Puerto Vallarta. And that was step number one.

I couldn't have asked for a better view

The next one was finding a suitable place to stay. On the Riviera Maya my go-to place is one of the H-10 all-inclusives, because of my timeshare status. But there are no H-10s or affiliated resorts around the Bahia de Banderas. So I searched for an Airbnb and found something that promised to meet all of my expectations. Compared to what I had paid for my place in Buenos Aires the rent for this one was highway robbery, but let's not nitpick. The condo in the Alamar was exceptional and had a truly stunning view, and West Coasters are used to this price level while West Texans are not. 

Nuevo Puerto Vallarta as seen from the private beach at the Alamar

Hamming it up with a spectacular background

Private beach at the Alamar, 10 minutes from the condo

A grand and a half (and some change) for eight nights is steep to me as a single person and I don't want to set precedents. Eating out is expensive, by Buenos Aires standards (remember, I just came from there: they have real wine, real asado). But the weather is simply stupendous. Highs in the upper 70s, lows about ten degrees cooler. Humidity negligible. Can't quibble with that!

So, who can blame the fat cats for parking their money down here and create this enclava norte-americana?

I had a good time, but not the best time ever in Mexico because this just isn't Mexico. When I go to one of my H-10 resorts in the Riviera Maya I know that this is NOT Mexico. I simply didn't realize that there is a Riviera Nayarit and that I was going to be in the middle of it. My bad.

Daily sunset from my balcony; the private beach is located
just to the left of the row of palm trees

The marina in Cruz de la Huanacaxtle

I better get off the sour-puss horse. I had a good time in a beautiful place. The view from my balcony was amazing; I had brought my binoculars, and on several occasions I witnessed humpbacks breaching. Now, that's a damn fine vacation. And I got to ride my bike the way I wanted to.

Views aside (and they were hard to ignore!) my condo in La Cruz de la Huanacaxtle was about as  centrally located to bike forays as one could wish for. I rode a total of almost 220 miles, and despite some doubled-up miles because of a lack of roads in some areas I think I saw a good cross-section of what this part of the state of Nayarit has to offer. I had brought the Ritchey Outback, and using the fat 42 and 44 mm tires was the smart choice as much of my riding was on dirt, cobbles, or pothole-marked asphalt. That part was very Mexican.

Probably my favorite rides took me into the flood-plain of the Valle de Banderas, a pastoral area with farms and small ranches. The traffic was local, and the terrain was mostly flat in this area that depends on artificial irrigation provided by a vast network of small canals. There were times when I thought I was riding in the California wine country, except there are no vineyards. But somehow that feeling never went away. When I arrived at the small square adjacent to the church of the actual town called Valle de Banderas I finally felt that I was indeed in Mexico—the nativity scene, babies with knit hats in the strollers, the ice cream vendor, the old men sitting in a shady spot under the trees, waiting for the world to pass by, the stray dog taking a shit in the enclosed nativity scene. That's the quintessence of Mexico.

My first ride had led me toward Punta de Mita, the northern-most promontory of the Bahia de Banderas. The map clearly showed a road paralleling the coastline from my Airbnb for at least half of the 12-mile distance to the cape, but after less than a mile the road started to resemble a wartime minefield with huge chunks of asphalt piled up, making riding impossible in most places. Not wanting to turn around on my first day of exploring I trudged on, for close to three miles of more-hike-than-bike. Eventually, civilization returned in the form of a small track, and from there things became better. Needless to say, I never tried this route again.

Working on the day's oyster catch

Punta de Mita and the accompanying Corral del Risco appear to be a popular spot to visit for the holidays. Mexican families were hanging out at tables that had been set up on the beach by entrepreneurial restaurateurs who understand that colorful umbrellas and buckets of ice-cold Coronas will attract the masses. The higher-paying norte-americanos were undoubtedly frolicking in the many access-controlled resorts of the area. Unless you have a boat or are a guest in one of these places you don't see much of the coastline.

Plaza de toros just outside of Punta de Mita

A few days later I went back north, but this time I followed the rather busy MEX 200 across a challenging ridge to the pueblo magico of Sayulita. The "magic villages" are smart ploys by the local authorities to draw attention to a small town's tourist attractions, and I have occasionally run across them. Sayulita greeted me with much color, many flags, an unprecedented armada of golf carts that appear to be the preferred mode of transportation on the cobbled streets, and an inordinate number of tourist shops hawking t-shirts at the irresistible price of 3 X $10. Sayulita is situated in a beautiful, small bay with a marvelous sand beach, and apparently the waves are good enough that dozens of surfers are awaiting the right swell. I always love the way they're all sitting on their boards, waiting for a Great White to nibble off a limb, only to start the frantic paddling action to catch that wave. I had some fish tacos while watching the life all around me, and then rode on. I didn't get to drive a golf cart.

On Christmas Day I decided to take advantage of the very low traffic volume and rode all the way down to old Puerto Vallarta's malecón, or boardwalk. At 48 miles it was the longest ride of my stay, but there was not much elevation change and the lack of traffic allowed me to motor along on some nicely paved sections of road. From my Airbnb I had seen at night the lights of PV in the far distance, and I had really wanted to ride there and get a firsthand look. Well, I tell you, the malecón is really impressive. Somebody has put a lot of money into creating a pedestrian (and cycling) friendly promenade that is dotted with many nice sculptures, plenty of benches to sit down, and bustling shops that are inviting and attractive. On this Christmas Day morning people were out in droves, enjoying the masked freedom that has become a sign of the times. I'm really glad I decided to venture that far.

My Airbnb was located on a small hillside maybe 130 feet above sea level. I was on the third of ten floors, but because of the location of the building I had a wide-open view. The tower had an inviting infinity pool with a partial view of the coastline, and condo owners and guests enjoy access to a private beach area (with another private pool, chaises, and umbrellas) just a 10-minute walk away. There are two other condo towers, but I think the Amura tower, where I stayed, had the most unrestricted view of the bay. Oddly, my balcony did not feature a small chair or two or a table. For two people the existing sofa/chaise lounge contraption would have been anything but uncomfortable; by myself, I made the best of the situation. Thanks to the glass balustrade I had an unobstructed view of the water, and I made good use of my binoculars. The bay attracts migrating humpbacks, and I spotted several of them from my perch, and twice I got a good view of them breaching. That was truly spectacular.

I had hoped to get a closer view of whales, and on my last full day in Cruz de la Huanacaxtle I went on a day-long whale watching excursion on a large motorized catamaran. The tour was supposed to start at 9 a.m., but several vans with guests didn't arrive until later so we didn't take off until about 10 a.m. No problem, as my timely arrival had given me a chance to find a choice spot in a chair overlooking the entire front of the cat with a 180-degree view of what lay ahead. The $85 tour included a fruit and banana bread breakfast, guacamole and chips, and later a heaping portion of tacos—plus an open bar all day. We motored for almost an hour-and-a-half straight across the bay; once close to shore we anchored in a tiny bay to let those so inclined swim, paddle board, or frolic on some of the provided water toys. After an hour of that we moseyed on to another bay just around the corner, to the small fishing village of Yelapa. This village doesn't have any access to the rest of the world via a road, so anything is coming in by boat, including the tourists.

The Kaleidoscope, our vessel

It's obvious that the denizens of Yelepa no longer make their livelihood as fishermen. Tourism has changed that. We were not the only excursion vessel to have arrived, and numerous water taxis ferried visitors from the larger boats to shore. One of our cat's dozen or so crew members served as a guide and we walked a quarter of a mile through tiny streets to a very beautiful waterfall at the end of the canyon into which part of Yelepa has been built. You can take photos with the local iguana, buy more Coronas, or purchase fabric prints of Frieda Kahlo or Indian-looking elephants—I never quite understood the connection of the pachyderms to Yelepa. Maybe the most exciting part of the excursion was getting in and out of the dinghies without getting our fingers smashed.

On the return trip we finally saw some humpbacks, actually very close to our marina, within view of my condo. I had brought my binoculars on this excursion and was able to see in clear detail the tailfins and impressive backs of these leviathans. All those of us onboard came out of our alcohol-induced stupor and there was much oohing and aahing. rightfully so. I'd recommend such an excursion with the Kaleidoscope, run by Chica Locca's American skipper and owner Gil.

Whale and condo tower in one photo

For my last night I had planned to go out for one final dinner, the way I'd done every night. But something on the Kaleidoscope had played havoc with my intestinal system, and instead of visiting a restaurant I perfected the roundtrip between bed and bathroom. No big deal, as I had pretty much exhausted my choices of restaurants in the week I had been in Cruz de la Huanacaxtle. All of the places where I had eaten offered seating in the street, which suited me just fine. The dishes that I ordered varied from typically Mexican to fish to pizza to Greek souvlaki! All the meals were good to excellent, and the margaritas were strong and tasty. Price-wise there was quite some sticker shock compared to the capital of Argentina where a nice meal would cost me $10 to $15, including a decent bottle of wine. Here I spent an easy $25 to $30 with a couple of margaritas. Well, I don't want to go back to the gringo sing-song....

To close this down with a very happy thought I need to mention the absolutely stunning oysters that I ate on two occasions in a small road-side cevicheria about a mile from my apartment. Cruz de la Huanacaxtle has a thriving fishing industry, and there is a fish market right at the marina. At Punta de Mita I had seen divers clean freshly harvested oysters, and so one day after my ride I stopped by the small restaurant and ordered half a dozen oysters; the next day, I went back for a full dozen! It was so interesting to see how they are prepped to be opened and shucked, and they were so much fresher and meatier than any oyster that I have ever had. I added just a bit of lime to them, and they were so big that slurping an entire oyster at once was practically out of the question. And at a price of $7.50 for a dozen of these beauties I had finally found what I considered a deal! I hope this link takes you to my Degoo account where you can watch this one-minute video: Oysters being shucked 

With four days left in 2021 it was time to leave Mexico yesterday. Fortunately I was not affected by the thousands of flight cancellations that have been occurring over the holidays, and my trip from PVR via PHX to LBB was smooth and comfortable. For now, I have no upcoming personal travel plans, but knowing myself I wouldn't be surprised if this didn't take long. Let's hope that 2022 will bring the long-awaited return to normal. I for my part am tired of all the paperwork, restrictions, tests, and other hurdles that we have to clear whenever venturing out into the world. Maybe "normal" will not return, just as my hip will never be "normal" again. There are times when I could easily throw a pity party for myself because of what happened back in March, but I know better. Reversal doesn't work, and we will need to live with what is thrown our way. I feel lucky that 2021 brought me so many wonderful memories and exciting experiences, and I try to disregard as much as possible all the crap that has been part of my life as well. Here's to a Happy New Year to all of you!

Jürgen