Day 21 - Romano Palace, Acapulco

Having had a day off the bikes so that we could check out Acapulco and in particular, see the cliff divers, which was a massive highlight, we knew we were in for a really big day. Doing a trip like this in the very limited timescales that we have given ourselves (just 6 weeks), means that there are limited opportunities to chill out as we need to get the milage done. The distance to Puerto Escondido is about 250 miles, much more than we would normally take on in a single day, particularly as google suggested that it would take around 7 or 8 hours to complete. Having looked at the map and potential locations to stop about halfway, there really weren’t too many options that took our fancy, so we decided that we would put in a massive day and reward ourselves with an extra day off in Puerto Escondido. So, we were up early to make a good start out of Acapulco on what promised to be a brutal day. Leaving Acapulco was a bittersweet experience. It has always been a bucket list destination for me, maybe because growing up in the 70’s and 80’s, Acapulco appeared to be such an exotic location, so far away from Cape Town. However, following the hurricane of October ’23, and just the general lack of clear up that I would have thought would be an easy win for the local authority to try to bring back as much tourism as soon as possible to try to boost the economy, just doesn’t seem to be happening. Be that as it may, we pulled over on our way out of Acapulco to do a quick video and say our goodbyes, and then it was on for the big push to Puerto Escondido. The weather was brutally hot, just absolutely draining. Some of the roads were great, with awesome twisties and great sweeping bends that the motorbikes loved, but generally the landscapes were pretty boring compared to some of the scenery we have seen along this southern coastline of Mexico. As we had left so early, that we hadn’t bothered with breakfast, or even a quick coffee before heading out, so after about 2 hours on the road, we pulled off in a tiny little town at a roadside vendor to grab a bite. The coffee was like tar and whilst I thought I was putting in creamer, it was actually really fine castor sugar, which made the coffee way too sweet for me. Breakfast was a huevos al Mexicana with tortillas, and wasn’t too bad, considering everything, including the coffee was cooked up over an open fire. As we pulled off from our roadside breakfast stop, there was clearly a foreigner hitch hiking with sign for Pinotepa, so I pulled over to say hi and see what he was up to and where he was heading. It must have been a bit odd for him talking to me with my helmet and sunglasses on and just a white beard sticking out. He sounded German and said he was just cruising around Mexico going where the road took him. He did actually think that I might give him a lift and as I was saying good luck to him, he still asked if he could jump on the back with all his gear (and of course mine) so that I could take him the 100 or so kms down the road. I explained that that was simply not going to happen, but we left him in good spirits with his thumb stuck out looking for the next ride. It was a very long and very hot ride. My ass hurt like there was no tomorrow. Actually, it is not so much my ass as the tops of my legs, just below my ass. The saddle, whilst giving a much better riding position, is a little wide and it leaves my legs and ass hurting after about 3 or 4 hours. Anything more than that and it really does become uncomfortable. I can usually zone out the discomfort, particularly if the scenery is great and roads nice and twisty. In addition, as we knew we would be doing a lot of milage on Highway 200, the main highway along this stretch of South Mexico, we had decided to skip the comms for the day, and I was able to put on some tunes to help the time pass. It worked a treat and I even enjoyed some of the time lost in my helmet and my own thoughts. We stopped just before we arrived in Puerto Escondido, absolutely knackered and blown out by the heat, so that we could get the comms back up and running and chat about what the plan was. In simple terms, we would ride up to the main drag along the main beach, Zicatela, and find a beachfront bar, grab a beer and a mezcal, and ask where the best place to stay for the most reasonable sum of money would be. We missed the main beachfront road on our first attempt and ended up riding down to a junction where it was evident that the beachfront road was a one-way arrangement for the majority of its length. As such, we headed back up to the main road and then traced our steps back to a sensible place to turn off and approach the beach from the correct end. There were clearly more hotels, bars and restaurants, along this stretch. Nothing too fancy from what we could see, but definitely what we were looking for. The first decent looking hostel that we came across, called the Selina, looked like it had a good vibe about it, and there were a bunch of bars across the street from it right on the beach. We found parking right outside one of these bars, which looked like it also had a gym and a small boxing ring above the bar area. It helped that there were a few fit birds doing their workout sessions to the rear of the bar and as soon as we peeled off our gloves, helmets and jackets, most of which were wet with sweat (nice), I walked up to the bar area to have a chat. There was a youngish chap sitting at the bar with a beer, who was clearly not Mexican, and a young Mexican lad behind the bar. I asked for 2 beers and the chap sitting at the bar said that I was welcome to Jackson’s Bar, he was Jackson, and that at his bar, the special is a beer and a shot of mezcal for MXN90. So, 2 specials ordered, I introduced myself whilst Jorik was walking up to meet me. Jackson explained that he was originally from Manchester but had been travelling for some years and managing hostels in Vietnam and now Mexico. He had owned the bar for a year, and he had a business partner who ran the gym and workout area. We chatted whilst we had our specials and asked after the best hotel arrangement in town. Both Jackson and the young lad said that the hostel across the street was a bit pretentious and that we would be better off going a little further down the street to see what we could find. I still went across the street to see a bit more about this hostel arrangement, which did look very nice. It had a great bar, a pool and a little coffee shop right next door, all we could need. The chap behind the desk was less than helpful and whilst his English was fine, his attitude was a bit off. Maybe because I looked all of my 50 years old, scraggly grey hair, and sweat stained t-shirt whilst still wearing my riding trousers and boots. He said that he only had 2 beds available in a 10-bed dormitory and for only 1 night at a cost of MXN450 each, and that if I was interested, I should book online. I asked if we could keep the bikes within the hostel area overnight and he said that was not possible. I got completely the wrong sense of the place, so headed back over the road where Jorik and Jackson were firmly engaged in conversation. Jackson advised us that his sister, or a friend of his sister’s, or someone he knew, had stayed at a little spot called Hotel Las Olas. It was only about 4 minutes’ walk from his bar, and we could see a gate secured the driveway, so we went over for a look. It turned out, the manager, Migual, had a single room, with 2 x double beds, a perfectly good pool, our own balcony overlooking the main road and the beach on the opposite side, and very few guests. He was also more than happy for us to park the bikes off the street in his secure driveway, which we both immediately noted, was under a sunshade. All of this would cost us the princely sum of MXN500 each per night and we could stay as long as we liked. Massive result. We dragged ourselves out of the rest of our riding gear, changed into swimmers, and shot straight down to the beach. The beach is beautiful, but the sea was another story. They don’t call it the Mexican pipeline for nothing, it was pretty strong. We only lasted about 10 minutes, and after such a long day in the heat, we were both wiped out. After a refreshing and very gently swim back at the hotel, we went in search of some food. Freshly showered and wearing my cleanest evening shirt; actually, my only shirt, which I had just worn on both evenings in Acapulco because we couldn’t find anywhere to buy colourful shirts that were even half way decent (Jorik’s swim shorts are evidence of this), I was waiting for Jorik on the street when a young foreign girl walked past with her headphones in. I asked if she knew any decent restaurants to eat along the beachfront and she stopped and suggest an Irish Pub called the Black Rose and a place called El Cafeteria up the street in the opposite direction from Jacksons. There were plenty of options around with loads of great looking restaurants with reasonable prices, so we both felt that an Irish Pub was definitely not what we were looking for. Abot 200m down the road we turned off the beachfront and headed down a side street to a great authentic Mexican place. They didn’t even serve beer, so proper Mexican! They were cooking up what looked like a giant tortilla folded in half with loads of filling, cheese melting out the sides, and massive. The tortilla was almost like a very thin pizza base. I hadn’t seen this before so asked the server what it was, and she pointed to the menu as showed us the tlayudas section. I had no idea about this so we both ordered, and it was ridiculous. It was pretty much 2 full meals each. Anyway, the leftovers would be breakfast taken care of and as we had a fridge in our room, we could keep it fresh, alongside the cheap beers from the OXXO. Dinner done, breakfast in the fridge, it was time to pop down to Jackson’s Bar for a catch up with the man himself, particularly as he advised of us an absolutely wicked accommodation set up. We ordered 2 specials and were promptly informed that he had a different special on now. Rather than a beer and mezcal for MXN90, it was now a mezcal and a beer for MXN90. He only did 2 specials, and we were lucky enough to be there for the 2nd special. It was a fun evening, but after such an early start, a long day riding in the heat, dinner, and now a few more of Jackson’s various specials, it was time to hit the sack and we would be back for round 2 the next evening. It wasn’t too late when we got in and we were out cold before long.