The Pacific Ocean is not far away from us here in Oaxaca, Mexico. About 125 miles. Yet we have not visited often since arriving four years ago. The reason has been that the old highway to the coast led us around the city and then over the Sierra Madre Mountains on a harrowing two lane road that could make a person sick from the twists and turns. About a seven hour trek.
Everything is different now that the long anticipated and awaited highway 175, a sleek asphalt “autopista” is newly opened.
With a desire for adventure and a celebration on the horizon, my beloved wife Amy and I embarked on our journey to Puerto Escondido, a coastal gem on the Pacific shores. However, this time, the route took an exciting twist as we drove the new highway, cutting our travel time in half. Gone were the days of perilous journeys over the Sierra Madre Mountains, with their treacherously winding paths. Instead, we found ourselves cruising along the smooth asphalt of the new highway, marveling at the picturesque landscapes unfolding before us. The reduced travel time not only ensured a safer passage but also allowed us to immerse ourselves in the beauty of our surroundings without the constant worry of hazardous roads.
After a seamless journey, we arrived at our coastal haven in Mazunte: Casa Ofelia. The small but famous town attracts a diverse crowd that includes hippies, yogis, spiritual seekers, and those interested in animal conservation. It's laid-back atmosphere, eco-friendly practices, and focus on yoga, turtle conservation, and spiritual activities make it a popular destination for alternative travelers. Bohemian vibes abound, which is fine for Amy and I⏤both former hippies. We enjoyed people watching: men with tanned, muscular builds, beards and “man Buns”; that is long hair tied up in a bun atop the head. Women sauntered scantily dressed. Many go topless on the beach.
Greeted by the salty breeze and the rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves just outside our bedroom door, our accommodation in Mazunte provided perfect sanctuary, offering a tranquil escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. We stayed three days then headed back to Puerto Escondido for two nights.
In Puerto Escondido we lodged at Hotel Santa Fe, namesake of our former hometown. It offers a mix of colonial elegance and modern amenities. Furthermore, it is set directly opposite Zicatela beach, providing guests with sweeping beach views and stunning sunsets.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on the final night of our retreat, we gathered to commemorate a special occasion—the 71st birthday of my beloved Amy. With laughter, love, and gratitude in our hearts, we raised a toast to our togetherness and the adventures yet to come.
Our getaway to the coast was more than just a journey—it was a testament to the joy of exploration, the importance of cherished moments, and the power of love. As we bid farewell to the coastal paradise, we carried home to Oaxaca with us memories for our lifetime, forever etched in the sands of time.
For the first time since we moved to Mexico almost three years ago my daughter Sarah is visiting us. Our house has plenty of room and we are happy to be together. Yet we are somewhat removed from cultural activities since the location is in a pueblo outside of Oaxaca. Sarah asked about going to the ocean, so we decided to make the seven hour drive through the Sierra Madre Mountains to the Pacific. Amy and I had visited Mazunte about 2 years ago and liked it. It has an international reputation as a hip and laid back spot along the coast. Young people especially like it as a counter culture place to forget the world and re-center in harmony with nature.
To drive from Oaxaca with our puppy MaliNalli, we followed an infamously winding road through mountains that makes some sick to their stomachs. The dog threw up! Near the coast, earth gave way to sand. Our fabulous hotel, Carpe Diem, took us in with open arms and made us feel at home on a tree laden hillside above the ocean. Sarah participated in yoga sessions on the roof veranda with sparkling and astonishing views.
Mazunte beach is not for swimming because the ocean is too strong with powerful waves hitting the steep shoreline. We drove 7 minutes to nearby San Augustinillo where swimming is perfect. Amy sat contentedly by a table under a big beach umbrella. Sarah and I dove in and played in the surf. MaliNalli streaked around with joy but was afraid of the water. She dug holes in the sand . . . just like any child.
I followed the bird in flight. It came from where the sun had risen along craggy cliffs at Mazunte, Mexico on the Pacific coast. Breakfast had just been served. Amy and I sat on a patio overlooking the sea. The air felt soft in early morning, heating up moment by moment with a playful breeze caressing everything it touched. Thunderous ocean waves crashed below, rushing in and out along the coast while making bellows from the deep.
The blackbird, just a few meters away and close to where we sat, soared gracefully on the currents and took my eyes with it sweeping across the sea vista. The bird settled on the top of a post jutting from sand further from our cabanas. My eyes continued to where waves crashed on rocks, casting white spray in the distance. I could see a couple of dogs playing tag, happy to frolic early in the day—before the heat. A family walked together, scampering to evade the rushing waves, laughing when someone was knocked over by the force of roiling water.
I took a sip of fresh squeezed orange juice in a tall glass carafe, Amy beside me, and simply gave in to the perfection of the moments.
A funny thing happened last night. This is the story leading up to it: We had arrived in the afternoon from the Sierra Madre Mountains where we spent a night in chilly fog among the clouds in a village known for magic mushrooms used to alter consciousness. Hippies still go to San José del Pacífico. Most of the time clouds float among mountain peaks. The town sits above them. We needed jackets to walk after dinner in the cloudforest and slept under heavy blankets.
To get to the coast, we drove on a small winding road, called highway 175. At the start, we spotted a village with brightly painted church. It had stunning views and Amy pointed out in the distance a cemetery high up. We went there and walked among the graves. Many of them, even old ones had fresh flowers.
Highway 175 has so many sharp curves that we were warned in advance to bring medicine for motion sickness. We both got dizzy, and after a couple hours, I really wanted to get free of the snake.
We arrived at the ocean—and it is hot. From the road I could see the ocean, and stopped the car by some beach shacks to take a look. Amy and I walked to the beach at Zipolite, and soon engaged in a conversation with a man named Israel, a Mexican who offered to take us out in his boat to see dolphin and turtles. A man walked briskly by, stark naked. Then a few more, followed by a woman with her bare boobs bouncing. I thought, “We must be on a clothing optional beach.” Ten minutes later we were at our hotel to stay two nights and three days.
It is hot and humid. Typically around 90 degrees during the day and near 80º at night. We like our room. It is high up, with a king sized bed, nice bathroom, big sliding doors with screens that go out to a terrace that overlooks the ocean and beach below. Last night, we set a fan by the open porch screen and directed air currents in the direction of our bed, then lay naked and watched a movie. Lights out to go to sleep, even with the fan we sweltered. I managed to fall asleep. Amy flipped directions so her head was closer to the fan. She flopped around uncomfortably, but noticed a wide, squat box over our bed, easily missed because it is white like our walls. “Is that an air conditioner?” she wondered.She did not want to wake me up, but fortunately I woke anyway. “I think we have an air conditioner over the bed.” Indeed.
