How to…travel around Mexico

Mexico is all about buses. There are no trains - apart from the Copper Canyon Railway from the desert mountains of Chihuahua to the Pacific coast at Los Mochis and something called the Tequila Express, a tourist special that we are yet to find - but the buses are good and many.

The roads in Mexico have tarmac and bus journeys are pleasant. There are various classes of bus and hundreds of bus companies to choose from, often departing from different stations across town. The list below is based on experience, of first class buses, minibuses and collectivos, and hear-say, about second class buses. Not that we usually travel first class, but we were advised by many that travelling first class greatly reduced the risk of thievery and highway robbery because these buses use the toll roads. So far we have been lucky, but apparently it does happen.
First class buses are more direct, stopping less and using the faster toll roads. There is no lunch or toilet stop unless there is a major town on route. The buses are hideously over air-conditioned, so even in the hottest of climes take a jumper or two. Luggage is checked into the hold and you are given a receipt. First class buses vary:
*Luxury - the crème de la crème. With only eighteen seats these buses are more like a lounge than a bus. The seats are like plush arm chairs, there is a non-stop showing of recent films with personal headphones, a packed lunch is provided, tea and coffee are available throughout the journey and the toilets on board are clean and usable.
*Executive - more seats than the luxury bus but they are still large and soft. The film selection is good and drinks are sometimes provided. The quality of the toilets is more variable.
*Primera - more like your standard National Express with comfy, reclining seats but not as much leg room as luxury or executive buses and the film selection is much more dubious. The toilets are okay.

Second class buses are, apparently, reminiscent of an old National Express or Greyhound bus. Less comfortable, less direct (not using toll roads) and stopping more often, therefore making for a longer, less predictable journey.

Minibuses - some routes simply aren’t suitable for large coaches, such as Highway 175 between Oaxaca - Pochutla, so smaller minibuses take the direct route leaving the larger buses to take a detour on the larger roads. It’s a minibus, so fellow passengers are few and leg room is limited. There are no films, no toilets and no frills. But the driver will stop whenever you want/need to get out for the loo, to eat etc.

Collectivos - are large shared taxis. In cities they are normally minibuses, on the coast they are open back vans. They pootle along picking up and dropping people off where they want. You just have to flag one down and clamber on the back. They’re cheap and usually connect to larger transport hubs for onwards travel.

Buying a bus ticket can be an ordeal. Buses do book up in advance, especially around holidays when we were travelling, so it’s best to book ahead. The easiest place to do so is at a bus station. Here you can compare timetables and prices between the different companies ploughing the same route. Some companies, such as Autoexpres Atlantida between Oaxaca-Pochutla (951 514 70 77) and ADO/OCC in Pochutla (958 584 0274), allow you to make a reservation over the telephone and then pick up and pay for your tickets an hour before departure. Some companies also have provision for booking tickets on line including http://www.ticketbus.com.mx/, ETN and ADO.

If you cannot book in advance, you can just turn up at the bus station and hope for the best. As we did at 2am in Los Mochis. The bus station staff couldn’t tell us when the next bus to our destination would turn up, nor if we would be able to get a seat on it. You just have to wait and hope. Luckily at 4.30am we got some returns and took the last two seats on a bus to Mazatlan.

Having taken the advice to travel first class to stay safe we have, so far, had no problems. Naturally don’t leave bags open or unattended in the bus station or onboard. We were also advised against travelling at night, as bandits are more likely to work at night (either posing as passengers, boarding on route or in the worst instance forcing the bus to stop). However, based on our one night bus experience it was comfortable and trouble free. We’re taking another one tomorrow (for 11 hours) and fingers crossed we’ll be ok on that one too…
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From the highlands to the lowlands

From the American flavoured cowboy desert states in the north, to the sprawling colonial Mexico City built on Aztec ruins in the mountain heartland, to the nudist wave machine beaches on the Pacific coast. In travelling through Mexico we have experienced the highs and lows both in attitude and altitude.

The most extreme journey, to date, was from Oaxaca city to Zipolite beach. This journey took us from a height of 1,455 metres up to 2,750m and back down to sea level. It is one of the windiest journeys I have ever taken and I now understand why the large coaches take a six hour detour to avoid the route we took. But we opted for the ‘direct‘ route in a minibus along Highway 175.

Highway 175 is a spectacular 245 kilometre stretch of road that takes your stomach and breath away as it chicanes its way up and down forested mountains. The road up from Oaxaca is dry, dusty and flanked by cacti. At the highest settlement, San Jose Del Pacifico, the sun sharply cuts through the cool, crisp, pine scented air to illuminate magnificent valley views. It gets cold up here, or so we surmised, given the number of local women selling thick hand-knittted woolly jumpers, ponchos, hats and socks. As well as being naturally high (2,750m) this village is also known for its natural highs in the form of magic mushrooms.

On the winding descent - more stomach lurching and leg rolling - the slopes became greener, still pine forests but more lush and with undergrowth. Then signs started appearing advertising coconuts for sale and banana plants started to pop up amongst the trees. The further we went down the more tropical it looked. Four hours into our five and a half hour journey the minibus driver turned on the air conditioning.

Down and down we wound until we were dumped in Pochutla. An unremarkable transport hub of a town that links travellers to the beaches. Relieved to be out of the roller coaster minibus, our taxi driver gave us a fairly similar experience. His style was, however, more Grand Prix. He chose not to see corners and bends and speed bumps were considered prime overtaking ground. After ten more minutes of being thrown around in a moving vehicle we spotted our first glimpse of the Pacific since we disembarked from MV Hugo in Long Beach.

We were left on the hot, sweaty, windy (not windy) Playa del Amor in Zipolite. Sea level at last. With cowboy boots and jackets packed away we wandered about dazed for the afternoon. The beach was lined with palm trees, hammocks and thatched cabanas and there were scores of naked people (mainly men), try-hard hippies and Mexican families playing and strolling on the sand. Our hostel was filthy in a seaside manner - sand blasted floors and barnacle encrusted bathroom taps that looked like something out of Pirates of the Caribbean. All very laid back. A far cry from the grid patterned streets, pillars and plazas of Oaxaca with its high society dinner and theatre scene. It all felt very odd indeed.
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