Sayulita in a quick view is colorful, eco, surfer, touristy, hippie, off the grid and way too much fun.
I rode down into Sayulita with Juan and Mark from Mazatlan, that morning when I almost missed them due to overzealous direction givers that had me going back and forth on the Mazatlan malecon looking for their hotel.
The ride down was again jungle and twisty. Fantastic. We stopped for lunch at a small economica comida and were back on the road heading south to Sayulita.
I had earlier suggested maybe heading to camp in San Blas and I was told by both Juan and Mark that Sayulita was much better. I think they said something like, “You will like this place. Just wait and see.”. I was so happy my suggestion was ignored because San Blas kind of sucks in comparison. In comparison, not overall.
As we rode into Sayulita I could tell this place was unlike any I’ve visited. We weaved our way through town and we pulled up to a closed gate in front of a place behind a wall and this chain link gate. Mark hopped off his bike, opened the gate for us and I followed the pair down a dirt path that wound its way past a camper, a van used as a camper and some palapas that could be rented although they blended in so well with the natural jungle foliage, I didn’t even realize they were there until later that evening.
We rode all the way through this jungle village behind a wall until the ocean appeared in front of us and the dirt path we had been riding on soon turned to beach sand. The guys pulled up on the left just before hitting beach sand and said this was going to be our spot. Just off a few few away the palm trees stopped and the beach officially began. This is where we set up our camp.
That night we met an interesting, older guy that lives in the camp 10 months out of the year, inside his van transformed to home. Starting that night when we met him walking his dogs onto the beach, we would cross paths with him and he would introduce us that night to the volcano. Enough said about that. We finished off our night at the bar that was next to our camp, drinking beers, talking about the day’s ride and watching the sun set over the Pacific in those bar seats nearest the beach.
The following day, after eating at the best, secret breakfast/desayuno spot in Sayulita we took it easy until that evening. We headed up the the zocalo, a busy, colorful place with buildings and houses that climbed the nearby hills giving this place a feeling of being surrounded by both city and jungle. We found ourselves at the busiest bar in the plaza that evening, meeting everyone, buying way too many drinks and my own personal struggle with getting back to camp, stumbling with Juan down dark, cobblestone streets until voices in our camp yelled us from the dark to keep the noise down.
The next day both Mark and Juan left camp to try and get Juan’s passport fixed in Puerto Vallarta. Mark was slowly heading back to his home in Mexico and Juan was going to continue on to places further south, possibly meeting up with me along the way.
That day before Mark and Juan were to leave another rider came into camp. Steven from California. He was taking months off to just explore Mexico off the beaten path, keeping it on budget and camping when possible. We also would become friends and after Mark and Juan left I decided I was going to stick around camp a little.
Once the space even closer to the beach opened up after a family occupying the prime camp real estate departed, Steven, Schlomo an Israeli transplanted to Vancouver and I all decided to move our camp closer to the beach. The remaining days I spent there were quiet, peaceful and full of doing nothing. Exactly what I wanted. One day in particular I recall spending about 10-12 hours at the bar next door milking three or four beers while just watching the beach life pass by. It was perfect.
Eventually, both Steven and I decided that we would both move on with him and his buddy heading south to some remote surf spots and me heading south to El Tuito to see my dear friend Denise.