MEXICO | Overland Travel Documentary

MEXICO | Overland Travel Documentary

Over five months, we roamed more than 
9,000 kilometers through 20 diverse states of Mexico — not in search of the well-known, but 
instead the quietly extraordinary. What we found wasn’t in brochures or guidebooks, but down back 
roads and behind unassuming doorways … the kind of beauty you earn by simply showing up, by staying 
curious, and by choosing the long way around. We found a Mexico that defies expectation 
— not just in its towering volcanoes and jungle-wrapped waterfalls, but in its 
warmth, its rhythm, and its soul. The people welcomed us with open hearts. The food 
was as vibrant as the landscapes — from mountain pueblos to arid canyons and turquoise coastlines.
This is not the Mexico you see in postcards — it’s the one you feel in your bones. The one that 
reveals itself slowly, if you’re willing to roam. This morning we’re parked just north of the 
Nogales border crossing in preparation for   our entrance into mainland Mexico in a couple 
hours. We’ve crossed into Baja Mexico the last two winters, so the actual crossing doesn’t really concern us 
too much; however, we’ve chosen mainland Mexico to explore this time around and, admittedly, there’s 
a little bit of apprehension concerning that. We’ll be driving first through the state of 
Sonora and then into Chihuahua in search of a   route through the Copper Canyon, territory, we’ve 
been told, is frequented by the Mexican cartel. Well babe, you ready to go to Mexico? Yeah. Let’s go to Mexico. We’ll have to tamp down our apprehensions though,   because we believe strongly in finding out 
for ourselves instead of being stopped by the projected concerns and fears of others. Mexico awaits 
us and who knows what we’ll find there. Alright, babe, no turning back. Goin’ to Mexico. Well, what’s next, babe? We gotta get our Temporary Import Permit, T.I.P. for big-girl Betty. Yeah yeah, and look, we found some other overland people. That’s cool. Well, we did it. Well, the entire T.I.P./ F.M.M. process was actually pretty painless. Border crossing, it was all easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. Yeah, we crossed at somewhere around, I think 10 o’clock, 10-ish, 10:30? And I think it’s almost 12 now, so overall it’s just been an hour and a half. Yeah, easy, don’t mind it. We’ll be making our way through Sonora fairly 
quickly. There’s nothing in particular here   that we’re keen to see and our first pin 
on our map is Parque Nacional Basaseachi, which lies within the border of 
Chihuahua. We’ve got a long way   to go to get to the mountains and 
the sun is already high in the sky. After a long day of driving we found 
an unassuming gravel turn-off from   the main road, which we followed to 
camp for the night. We’ll only be staying the night with an early rise 
and quick push-off the next morning. Well, first camp in Mexico. That was a long day. A good night’s sleep and we’re back on the road once again. Soon after our early morning departure we 
found the foot of the mountains and began   to climb. The roads here are a level of 
winding that can set your stomach off in minutes. Our traverse through the mountains 
from Sonora to Chihuahua lasted hours longer   than we expected. We seemingly moved at a 
snail’s pace, between climbing steep passes and then descending equally steep roads on 
the other side. We never really topped 50kph. Then finally at the top of another long climb, 
the sign for Chihuahua appeared around the corner. With a quick sigh of relief we crossed 
into the new state and left Sonora behind. As a consolation prize, we rested 
that night beside the highway and   enjoyed this vibrant sunset. It had 
been another long day of driving, but we were stoked to be 
exploring mainland Mexico. Another day of driving later we 
had arrived at Parque Nacional   Basaseachi. This was to be the first 
of many places we’d discover in Mexico that you’ll simply not find on the travel 
brochures. No one told us that Mexico has its own version of Yosemite Valley 
just a few hours south of the border. The hike down to the frigid cold pool at the 
base of the waterfall was an easy 30-minute   descent. After three long days of driving,
we were both eager to stretch our legs and, at least for a brief moment, soak 
our bodies in some fresh water. After the falls, we pressed on eastward 
towards the town of Creel and, eventually,   the start of the Copper Canyon route 
we had chosen. For camp that day, we found a spot overlooking another impressive 
river canyon. It was quiet and peaceful, a good spot to recharge before possibly the 
biggest adventure during our time in Mexico. Bumping down this gravel road towards our spot 
for the night, we were excited about getting   some gravel under the tires and a little bit 
of twisty terrain as well. The steep descent in the final 100 meters left us a little bit 
concerned about our exit the next morning but, as we’d soon learn, this was nothing in comparison to what lay ahead of us in the days to come. Day 5, and we were already blown away, again 
and again, by what we were seeing. How had we never heard of these places? Why isn’t 
anyone talking about northern Mexico? We sat there looking out over these incredible landscapes 
and couldn’t help but wonder. But then it hit us: for years, much of Mexico has been overshadowed by 
a media-driven narrative of fear. It’s no surprise so few people venture here—they’ve been led to 
believe they’ll be abducted, robbed, or worse, because that’s the dominant story being told. Yes, 
there are risks here, just as there are anywhere in the world. Bad actors always exist, even in 
the most beautiful corners. But people still live, work, and travel here—just like they do in every 
other place that carries its own complexities. This morning, we’re heading for the town of 
Urique, nestled deep in the Urique Canyon, an off-shoot of Barranca del Cobre, or Copper 
Canyon. This area has been well known for a long time to contain a prominent cartel 
presence and, little did we know at the time, we had already been passing subtle 
indicators of the cartel along our   travels and we were about to get 
a lot more up close and personal. A little more gravel, some aired 
down tires and, a few hours later,   there it was…our first sight of the Copper Canyon. We’d seen photos of this 
route that looked impressive,   but even those left us massively unprepared 
for the spectacle that lay ahead of us. You know that feeling of being small 
in a grand landscape that we always   talk about? This right here is what we mean by that. We remained at this mirador for two days simply 
to absorb as much of the grandeur and beautiful light as possible. Sunset, sunrise, sunset, 
sunrise. Billions of these familiar cycles have happened over this spot and we were oh-so-fortunate 
to have borne witness to at least a few of them. Our third day in the Urique Canyon and 
it was time to descend to the bottom,   a drive that we will never, ever forget. At the base of the canyon, beside the Urique 
River, we made camp for the night. We looked up at where we’d come from and marveled at how 
the view was just as impressive from below as it was from above. As thoughts of our descent faded, 
we turned our attention to the ascent before us, a drive that would prove just as memorable as 
our recent descent, but in a very different way. But before we’d bed down for the night,   a very important lesson had to be 
learned: watch out for power lines! Well, this is the first look at the road up to Batopilas, or up and over, and this is getting to the upper limit of what we’re capable of. So, we’ll see if we can continue to make it. The ascent out of the Urique Valley would 
take us up steep switchbacks to a mountain pass   that would lead south east across the mountains 
and then down to the town of Batopilas. Rain from the previous year’s rainy season had dug deep 
gouges in the road and there had been no equipment   available since to come and repair it, making 
for an interesting and mildly trepidatious climb. Well, a mere five minutes up the road, we found a camp. … because we can’t just pass this up .. perfect platform right here, and we’re basically right at the top .. I can’t believe that we came from over there, I’m pretty sure. Well … Wait, oh, .. no, right there. Those are the towns above Quapalayna. Arriving in this seemingly perfect spot 
wasn’t quite as fortuitous as we had initially surmised. We were unaware that 
we had stumbled upon someone else’s spot, someone who was already, and had 
been for awhile, well aware of our presence. The one thing we noticed as soon as we got to this spot was this solar panel right here. And I walked over to it because I was curious, and I saw that there’s a charger right there for a Kenwood radio. While I was reading about this route and, you 
know, watching various YouTube videos and stuff like that, and like information online, a lot 
of people state very clearly that we’re going through cartel country. Now, from what we’ve read,
the cartels are mainly like marijuana cartels, I guess. But I heard people talking about how 
they’d be driving this route and there’d be guys just popping out of the road with radios, 
basically letting people know out ahead of them that so and so was coming and, I think that’s what 
that is over there because the viewpoint that we were at up there, there’s like tons of cigarette 
butts and then there’s a cooking fire right there, and there’s like food cans and stuff right 
there. So, it kind of makes you think that maybe this is like a spotting location or 
something like that. I don’t know for sure but we’re going to stay here a night and then I 
think tomorrow we’re just going to do a pretty good push and move through down to Batopilas and 
then yeah, kind of just start moving on a little bit quicker .. because, you know, I don’t know, 
it’s like the first real signs that we’ve seen, or maybe thought we’ve seen, of cartel 
activity … adventure and stuff. So presently, there is a gentleman who came by 
on a motorbike with two radios and he stopped off and we asked him if it was okay to camp here 
and if we could go to Batopilas. He said yes, but he’s currently up on the viewpoint with 
binoculars. Oh shit, there’s two guys up there. There’s two guys up there right now 
and only one came on a motorbike. And it looks like he’s radioing … and they’re looking at us, so … uh … I don’t know what to do. Well, he just drove off, so I guess it’s okay for 
us to camp here, but that other guy is still here so maybe they’re just doing 
like a meetup or something? So, it’s kind of disconcerting, everything seems fine and friendly because 
it’s the daytime, but if this guy is a cartel guy and now they have eyes on us, there’s 
a potential that they come back in the night, which would be really scary. But the 
problem is that, even if we move, we’re still on this road and there’s nowhere 
for us to go, other than to the next town, which is going to take us probably 5 
hours to get there, so, I don’t know. After some further deliberation we decided 
to move further down the road to somewhere   we were pretty certain no one else was hanging 
out. This spot had been marked on iOverlander so, at the very least, we had some sense 
of assurance that it was somewhat safe. Yeah, and thus far, no signs of a lookout. No solar panels. No radio charger. No millions 
of cigarette butts. No trail. It’s probably good. So, right over there is where we were parked last 
night and you can see the guy right on the rock. And it’s so quiet up here that I could actually 
hear his radio just a minute ago. So, after seeing the kid still there on the the hilltop and I got 
some binoculars on him for a second there, and I think that he was watching us come up the whole 
time, and when we got up to that parking spot and went up to the viewpoint and looked around, 
that he was just down the hill, out of sight from us.   I think the kid’s up there all the time and just like on a lookout for something – I don’t know what – but it’s just one of those things where you’re like, ‘Oh, we had lunch just down the hill and we were probably 
being watched the whole time?’ We later learned that we’d encountered 
what, amongst a few different names, is called a “puntero”, essentially a spotter 
that looks out for government, police or rival cartel factions. They’re stationed all throughout 
the mountains at viewpoints like we’d found the day before. Nothing particularly nefarious, just people looking out for their interests. Batopilas, here we come! We knew we had more cartel-occupied countryside 
to travel through, but our thoughts of that were quickly stolen away by the views that 
were beginning to fill our windshield. In our experience thus far on this route, it 
was totally worth it to choose our own path, traveling with caution but also with open 
minds. Luckily our recent experience was the first and last encounter that we’d 
have with the cartel in this area. It’s   now something we can look back on and shake our 
heads before saying, “remember that time when…?” This happy little furball who 
we affectionately named Sploot   is one of only two dogs that we very nearly 
invited into the van and then drove off with. It’ll happen one day, babe. Look at that cute little scruffer. 
Oh my goodness, he’s so cute! Hey you. Are you little Sploot? Hey buddy, are you the cutest thing? Are you the cutest thing? Yes you are, you’re so cute! Hey buddy, hey buddy. We’re going to miss you so much, okay?! Don’t you get all soft on me. You’re the only 
one reason we don’t have 10 dogs in the van, okay? Before reaching Batopilas we have a 
remaining descent that will plunge us   thousands of meters to the valley 
floor at a rather alarming rate. And then finally, Batopilas, a tiny colonial 
mining town colonized by the Spanish in the 1700’s and later officially founded in the 
19th century. This town has a colourful past as it changed ownership between several American 
companies and saw American, Mexican, Spanish, German and even Chinese fortune seekers grace 
its walls. For us, it’s the first significant colonial town we’ll visit and our first taste of 
some authentic northern Mexico culinary delights. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that 
while walking the streets of Batopilas we couldn’t shake the feeling of being 
momentarily transported back to Europe. Batopilas has only one main 
road in and one main road out.   A few years back the government paved 
the road but, since then, it has seen little to no maintenance. With the loose and 
crumbling mountain slopes on either side, this road is constantly pummeled by large rock 
falls, leaving the tarmac broken and littered with rock debris. A driver must use caution at 
all times to avoid punctured tires or bent rims. As Christmas was upon us, we chose this hilltop 
just outside a small town and settled in for the holidays. We spent two surprisingly chilly 
days here, watching the sun rise and then fall, taking immense pleasure in the painted 
mountaintops in the distance at sunset. With Christmas behind us we made a fast transit 
across Mexico’s central plateau, arriving in Nuevo Leon and Monterrey. We’d caught wind of 
a cool place to visit there with big mountains and pretty views. How that so quickly became a massive 
understatement still has our heads spinning. This is the La Huasteca region just outside 
of Monterrey, a popular climbing destination and also a pretty good spot to spend 
a few days and hike some mountains. After a couple days in La Huasteca, we 
traveled a little further south to go   see Cascada de El Saltillo, located 
just up river from La Huasteca. After a short visit to the falls it was 
once again time to continue moving south.   We had our sights set on the state of 
San Luis Potosi where we’d hopefully find some more waterfalls and this milky blue 
water that we’d been told so much about. But before reaching the border of SLP we’d 
need to cross over the Sierra Madre Oriental, a mountain range we’d find ourselves crossing 
numerous times in the following months. It’s funny the things you learn as 
you travel. One of our first lessons   while traveling in Mexico is to 
never fully trust Google maps, and, if you do, be prepared for some extra 
adventure. The route we had chosen to cross the Sierra Madre Oriental this time would prove 
to be a little spicier than we had anticipated. All of a sudden, we’re on a .. on a gravel route .. kinda gnarly gravel road from smooth pavement … boom, it ends. Admittedly, if it weren’t for Google Maps 
steering us into some strange routes,   we may have never passed through this 
region, or crept along this sketchy gravel road. We try our best to stay 
open minded and invite all adventures, both big and small. Google Maps seems to 
be making efforts to expand our horizons. Well, this morning was probably the coldest morning we’ve had in Mexico thus far. So we hit the road early and have been traveling for a little while, and now we’re stopped beside a prison and having breakfast, which is cereal. So welcome to a life of living in a van in Mexico. We are on our way to Real de Catorce. It is a town that literally every single person in the world has told us to go to. So we’re goin’. We are now on the road to Real de Catorce, and it seems that the whole way is cobblestone, which is cool but also totally sucks at the same time. I’m not usually claustrophobic but oh, that made me feel claustrophobic. This little historic mountain 
town in San Luis Potosí, Mexico,   is perched at nearly 2800m (9000ft) above sea 
level. Once a booming silver mining center, it was nearly abandoned in the early 20th 
century but has since transformed into a quiet, mystical destination. Its cobblestone streets, 
weathered and aged colonial buildings, and surrounding desert peaks make 
it a haven for artists, travelers,   and spiritual seekers. Our tour of the town was 
brief but sufficient. We dined on some delicious food at one of the restaurants in town, snapped 
some photos and then returned the way we came. Another drive day later and we’d arrived at the 
edge of the jungle-adorned mountains near the   eastern reaches of San Luis Potosi. This would be 
the first time I had experienced a real jungle. We expected to see temperatures climb rapidly, 
humidity to become stifling and our escape from it all would be the rivers and waterfalls. What we found was quite the opposite. We arrived in the Huasteca Potosina region just as 
a rather formidable polar vortex was passing over the lower United States and northern Mexico. 
Temperatures dropped to around 10* celsius, thick grey clouds blotted out the sun and 
conditions became downright dreary. Certainly not what we had hoped for. The rivers that we 
had hoped would be our escape from the heat, although warmer than the air outside, were of less 
interest to us as we bundled up against the cold. Although, we did brave the water at least a 
couple times. Gotta get clean somehow after all. After a couple days in the cold and no promise 
of the weather improving, a decision was made   to go somewhere else that looked as though it had 
reasonable weather. So we left behind the inviting rivers and cascadas in SLP, turned our wheels northeast and headed for the state of Tamaulipas. The state of Tamaulipas is predominantly an 
agricultural state, however with a chunk of the border dipping well into the Sierra Madre Oriental 
we spied out a mountain top spot that promised an interesting experience and, if not that, simply 
a quiet place to rest for a couple nights. We found a narrow, bumpy and winding road that 
led up into the mountains and followed it for 5km, which took us a whopping two and a half 
hours to complete. When we reached the end, we found a place to camp in a farmer’s field on 
the outskirts of the small town of Alta Cima. We spent two gloriously quiet and 
peaceful nights there. The mornings   were filled with beautiful birdsong and 
during the day we wandered up to one of the peaks to get a little exercise and an 
aerial view of the surrounding mountains. As weather seemed to improve in the 
Huasteca Potosina region we wandered   back south to the sugar cane fields 
of San Luis Potosi in search of our first big waterfall in the region. What we 
found took our breath away. As two western Canadians we’d seen waterfalls 
before, but definitely nothing like this. Not being totally content with our short-lived visit to the falls, we wandered up   river and found a spot tucked away at the edge 
of a sugar cane field, directly on the water. We spent the weekend there enjoying 
temperatures of 30*C while taking   periodic dips in the river, all while 
being constantly attacked by no-see-ums. As things always seem to go, our time in 
paradise had to end. So, we pressed onward south. Weather was once again coming 
in and we had high hopes that   we could snag a few more waterfall 
visits before it got too cold again. Our route would take us deep into 
sugar cane country where eventually   every second vehicle passing us was a large 
and colourful sugar cane haulage truck. Being the gear head that I am, I quickly 
became obsessed with all the different forms   these working trucks took. When we reached Cascada de Micos we 
walked through a place that would   have otherwise been an absolute oasis, but instead of scorching sun overhead and high temperatures, the long-sleeve shirts we wore were barely 
enough to keep us comfortable. We didn’t   have it in us to swim, so we simply observed and 
then departed. As they say, you can’t win ’em all. The following days we saw temperatures 
drop to nearly freezing with light drizzle   falling from the grey skies. With no 
sign of improvement in the weather, we decided to depart San Luis Potosi once again 
and return when it had warmed up. So, back over the mountains we went 
into the state of Guanajuato. I had had Guanajuato City pinned on my map for 
years. All I really knew about it was that it’s a cool city with lots of colourful buildings. We’ll 
just add that to the list of massive understatements. What we found in Guanajuato City was a place 
bursting at the seams with colour, culture, food, people, history and pure, unbridled life. Well, we both got food poisoning. We’ve been up all night barfing. After a day and two nights of lying in the van 
with the sun beating down on us it felt like a better idea to simply go and find a little 
bit of solitude. With our stomachs still roiling, we set off for a lake spot near San Miguel 
de Allende where we found more heat, but at least it was calm and relatively quiet. Our next destination was Piedre de 
Bernal in the state of Queretaro. We still weren’t feeling back at 100% 
but we weren’t going to let that stop us. The giant rock monolith before 
us was begging to be climbed. Having completed our hike we continued 
into the Sierra Gorda on our return trip   to San Luis Potosi, making a brief stop-off
at the small town of Quatro Palos. At the base of the Sierra Gorda range on the 
eastern side we visited Cascada el Chuveje, which quickly turned into one of our favourite 
hidden gems amongst this massive mountain range. Then we’d finally made it back into San 
Luis Potosi, with our final destination   there being the massive Cascada de Tumul, 
but first we’d need to complete a long overland route to get there, which would 
take us through multiple remote villages,   smaller mountain ranges, more sugar cane 
fields and eventually back into dense jungle. As we wandered along this route we 
stumbled upon possibly one of the   best hidden spots we’d experience 
during our entire trip through Mexico. Here, we spent two days soaking up 
this out-of-sight jungle oasis. With our time at the jungle oasis over, we pressed 
on to complete our overland track to the falls. Cascada de Tumul to this day remains my favourite   waterfall in all of Mexico and I 
think you can probably see why. Onwards and out of San Luis Potosi. Having 
seen Tumul, we had completed our waterfall tour of the Huasteca Potosina region 
and were once again pointed south, this time to the small mountain town of Xilitla. We stayed just outside of Xilitla for a night 
before heading back west across the Sierra Gorda range. This drive would take us high through 
cloud forests along a narrow two-lane highway, lending us momentary views of the 
stunning mountainscapes that lay below. Two long drive days along the slow and winding 
105 and we had arrived back at the western edge of the Sierra Gorda, our next destination being 
La Gloria Tolantongo. But, as the trend goes, Google Maps had another interesting 
and adventurous detour for us in store. What should have been a fairly quick drive 
turned into a long-lasting adventure that   took us well into the late afternoon, so 
we made camp by a river just outside a small mountain village. We were immediately 
greeted by a local and his herd of goats, another memorable experience 
we’ll have to look back on fondly one day. Our adventure detour had only been paused 
for the night. In the morning we continued   our traverse along this mountain pass right into 
the craziest set of switchbacks we had ever seen. After an additional day of driving and the 
funnest overland detour these two Canadians could have asked for, we arrived at the prize 
at the end of the road, La Gloria Tolantongo. La Gloria Tolantongo is the oasis of 
oases, a stunning natural wonder of epic proportion. Warm springs spilling 
out of the mountainside everywhere,   pools for soaking build into the mountainside,
and a warm milky-blue river crashing through the center. Now in the State of Mexico, 
we visited the ancient city   of Teotihuacan before heading towards Mexico City. Behind me? This is Instagram. But ahead of me? This is reality. Our plan was to street camp in Mexico 
City for a week, which of course required us to navigate the maze of roads complete 
with crazy traffic leading into the city. We survived the drive into Mexico city. That was pretty wild. We’ll be honest, we didn’t come to 
Mexico City for the city itself.   We came for the food, and food is what we found. But we also found a city full of natural spaces, 
community, art, music, culture, vibrant markets and a deep and varied history. We spent a full 
seven days in the La Condesa neighbourhood, but it simply wasn’t enough. Without a doubt we’ll return 
to Mexico City one day to see and explore more. In addition to our time spent wandering around 
looking for food, we worked in a new coffee shop   almost every day and eventually met up with our Canadian 
friends James and Briony from Vancouver Island. With a week of stealth camping on the streets 
behind us, we were in dire need of quiet and calm. Just beyond the limits of Mexico City lies 
Volcan El Popo and Izta. Popo is still somewhat active, having erupted as recently as two years 
ago. Today, you can watch as plumes of steam and smoke emit from the top of the cone. We stayed 
at the base of El Popo just long enough to let our bodies relax, prompting the release of a 
cold for me, which Meg inevitably caught soon after. As you may have caught on by now, 
we try not to let sickness hamper our experience. So, we decided to go hike Malinche, a 
volcano with a peak at 4461m, or 14,636ft. This perhaps wasn’t the smartest decision 
we’ve made, but, as we often say, “full send.” A short drive away we arrived in a pine 
forest that looked an awful lot like the   forests we knew from back home, eliciting 
a light episode of homesickness. We slept here at nearly 3000m (10,000ft) and then 
the next morning started up the trail. The hike, although it had a fairly soft start,   turned into a brutal slog as we passed 
3600m (12,000ft) and the air thinned out sufficiently enough to leave us 
gasping for air after every 10th step. If I could shed a tear, I would. But it’s too dry. Although a slightly self-inflicted 
struggle, hiking a 14’er while sick, is a struggle we welcome, oddly enough. We truly 
believe this kind of thing just makes us tougher, more resilient humans, and that 
perhaps is one of the primary,   underlying goals of this trip, right next to 
filling to the brim our bank of life experience. Because we hadn’t suffered enough, we made 
another rash decision and instead of sleeping   at a lower elevation to allow our bodies to 
recover, we drove straight from the base of Malinche to the base of Pico de Orizaba. For 
the next two days we’d camp at 4023m (13,200ft). Not particularly optimal for recovery, but a 
pretty epic place to sleep for a couple nights. As we had now traveled pretty far east at this 
latitude and sitting almost directly on the border of Puebla and Veracruz, it seemed to us a good 
idea to continue east to the Gulf of Mexico, a body of water neither of us had seen 
before. So the decision was made and we set off down the mountain, descending within an 
hour from 13,200ft to almost sea level and back into sugar cane country. If it wasn’t for 
the sugarcane fields hemming in the roads,   it was the sugar cane trucks that 
informed us where we had arrived. Soon the air became thick with humidity 
and the smell of salt water. Before us lay the Gulf of Mexico, the second 
Mexican coast line we’d seen. At this point, we hadn’t seen the ocean 
in many months so the excitement for   salt water and sea air was pretty high, let 
alone this being a new-to-us body of water. The heat and humidity were new things to 
us. As western Canadian’s we had rarely,   if ever, experienced temps above 30*C. 
Here, all day it was well above 34*C and at night temperatures only dipped as low 
as 25*C. We lasted only a few days here before we grew hot enough to drive 
us to go find some kind of relief. Although returning to the coast and camping at the base of sand dunes seemed like a pretty neat idea, the heat here persisted, although it was significantly windier, 
lending a meager cooling effect. But the wind opened the door to a new and rather interesting travel lesson: close your windows at night in the dunes. You can see that the whole dashboard is covered in sand cuz this window here was just a crack open. It’s all over everything. When we left the dunes early in the morning in 
search of a different place to camp further south,   we plunged ourselves into a full day of 
misadventure that led us to many dead ends, through container ports and eventually 
all the way out of Veracruz into Oaxaca. Days when you simply cannot find camp 
are inevitable when you travel like us, but we try to keep our spirits high and, 
in this case, our body temperature low. You want some juice? Orange juice, pineapple juice and a pineapple. Wow. So it’s been pretty much 30* the entire time we’ve been here. Probably more. I’m just being conservative. It’s so hot. These freshly squeezed juices are really becoming a thing. They’re so good. I was so parched. All my water is hot. Oaxaca is a Mexican state we’d heard a 
lot of very good things about. Crossing the border from the farmlands of Veracruz 
into the jungle-covered foothills of Oaxaca,   we felt a sense of relief as the promise 
of high elevation and cooler air lay ahead of us. But first, we’d enjoy a few days on 
this pristine and wonderfully cool river. As temperatures rose at sea level, we 
commenced our climb up into the Oaxacan   mountains, eventually reaching the top 
of this pass at over 3000m (10,000ft). A decent camping spot proved a challenge to 
find in the mountains, however after a few hours   of searching we squeezed into a spot well off 
the main highway. In the morning we discovered that we had entered into a different world here 
amidst the high-elevation mountaintops of Oaxaca. The forests here felt ancient in a way 
we hadn’t encountered before in Mexico. Clouds passed over the mountain tops and through 
the trees and utter silence blanketed the forest, the silence only being permeated by 
gusts of wind and distant birdsong. On the western side of the 
mountains lay Oaxaca City,   another place we’d been urged to visit. 
We had plans to meet up with our Canadian friends James and Briony there and link up 
with them for a couple weeks of exploration. It would seem that the Oaxaca City 
nightlife is just as lively, if not   more, than life during the day. We 
were afforded a brief look into this vibrant world before returning 
to our campground for the night. First up in our explorations with 
James and Briony were the markets,   streets and cathedrals of Oaxaca City. We ate, wandered through textile shops,   listened to the city speak, and watched tranquil 
moments amidst the perpetual rhythm of the city. And when we needed a moment of quiet for 
ourselves, we wandered into the cathedrals. The following day we left for 
the Oaxacan mountains once again,   stopping in at one of the small pueblos 
known for its textile production. There we learned about the creation of 
the natural dyes and fibers that go   into the myriad of different textile 
products sold by the Zapotec people. From the small towns at the base of 
the mountains we ascended all the   way back to up to 3100m (10,200ft) 
where we stayed for the night at an ecopark with a particularly nice 
view of the surrounding mountains. In the morning, we moved on to some of the 
other mountain top pueblos that dot the   Oaxacan mountainsides. These towns are well known 
for their large selection of edible mushrooms; however, due to them being out of 
season, we found none to consume,   at which point we turned to the second delicacy 
in this region, which oddly enough is trout. We parked for the night at this restaurant with an exceptional vista 
and waited for a meal of home-cooked trout   and vegetables to be prepared for us. We’ll 
have you know, it was hands-down the best trout meal we had ever eaten. Words simply 
fall short of describing how good it was. From camp at the restaurant we explored 
the mountains on foot for a while before   leaving town in search of camp somewhere in the 
wild, which turns out was a challenge here as well. After an hour or more of searching we found 
ourselves tucked away in the trees for the night. For the next two days 
we wandered from pueblo to pueblo,   stopping off at hacienda ruins that we found 
roadside and whatever else tickled our fancy. At least one of us in the group hadn’t had 
enough of off-road adventures for the day and decided to do a quick side mission 
that didn’t turn out as expected.  A quick and easy recovery later we were 
moving again, no damage to the vehicle, but perhaps a well learned lesson on the various 
forms of sharp drop-offs along Mexican roadsides. In this part of Mexico, if you’re not driving 
the main roads that follow natural ridges in   the mountains and you want to reach the 
pueblo on the other side of the valley, your only choice is to descend all the 
way from the top and then ascend all the way   back up. When possible we stopped to cool off in flowing rivers, a rarity during the dry season here in Oaxaca. To finish off our time in the mountains, we 
visited Hievre el Agua in the Sierra Madre del Sur before returning to Oaxaca City for 
some well needed van care and maintenance. Oh, hey there. Hey there. Onto side 2? Yeah, I’m getting quicker at this. Mr. Fix-It? That’s me. It’s a fix day. Fixing everything on the exterior and the interior … Before heading out of Oaxaca we had one final 
market stop to make, one that has existed for centuries and carries with it the weight of time. 
The Tlacolula market is a place where everything and nothing has changed. Likely the same wares, 
textiles, fruits, vegetables, food staples and livestock have been sold here for over ten 
centuries, the only addition being western technologies and caucasian tourists. Tuktuks 
continuously flow in and out of the market, while Zapotec abuelas advertise their offerings 
at the top of their lungs, repeating the same line over and over that they have likely called 
out tens of thousands of times over hundreds of market days. This place is beautiful chaos, 
a pinnacle of enduring culture and tradition. Our travels once again take us south, 
but this time through the Sierra Madre   del Sur mountain range to the Pacific coast 
of Mexico. We plan to make a brief stop-off at San Jose del Pacifico, another 
town well known for its selection   of edible mushrooms, but these ones 
aren’t necessarily the culinary kind. In the pueblo of San Jose del Pacifico they 
don’t try to hide the fact that they’re known for magic mushrooms. In fact, the consumption 
of the psychedelic fungi is an age-old practice that is now shared with a large variety of 
spiritualist travelers from around the world. And in the small neighbouring 
town of San Mateo Rio Hondo you   can find an even quieter and more tranquil 
existence as well as excellent kombucha. The last day of mountaintop tranquility 
and cool air passed us by and it was time   to descend all the way to the Pacific Ocean, where 
silence was exchanged for crashing waves, and comfort was exchanged for sweltering 
heat and constantly feeling sticky. It was at this juncture in our travels that we 
came across the revelation that we now sat on the Pacific coast, on a sandy beach that could 
be featured in one of those travel brochures we talked about earlier. But we hadn’t flown 
here, we had driven our home along thousands of kilometers of road, over innumerable mountain 
passes, multiple Mexican states and countless epic landscapes. It had been a long journey to 
get here, but it wasn’t over yet by any means. Over two days of camping on the beach we did 
our best to soak it in as much as possible. We attempted to stay cool with periodic dips 
in the ocean and remained in shade as   often as we could while consuming as many 
cold beverages as our fridge could provide. Once we had soaked up enough of what 
we consider resort life on the beach,   we went out in search of our own private spot 
along the coast. Some hours of scouring the satellite image had turned up some spots further 
east along the shore and it was just a matter of   wandering out to verify if we could camp at any 
of the spots. Unfortunately, we struck out on the first spot, but made camp at the second, where a 
hotspring-fed river met the ocean. In the morning, a herd of goats pranced into our 
camp spot and told us we were on their turf, so we vacated the premises and made 
our way further down the coastline. It’s always impressive what you’ll 
find when you follow a sand road out   from the main highway towards the coast 
here in Mexico. If you put in the time, you’ll often find something pretty great. 
At the end of this one, we arrived at a   sand dune that gave us real Baja California 
vibes and an epic sunset to prove its point. With the thunderous crash of waves somehow 
lulling us to sleep at night but also acting as an alarm clock in the morning, we enjoyed 
two nights here on this sandy shoreline. We watched in wonder as pelican fighter groups 
skimmed the waves as if on an attack mission, the waves reaching up to them like 
anti-aircraft ordinance. This kind   of spectacle will forever remind this sci-fi 
nerd of a certain well known hollywood space battle involving a certain large 
round object that’s definitely not a moon. The state of Chiapas was next on our list of 
Mexican states to visit. Along with Oaxaca, we had heard a lot from others about 
the wonders that this southern state   contained within its borders, and we 
were eager to find them for ourselves. Right out of the gate, Chiapas had our lips 
mouthing the words “wow”. Cascada el Aguacero provided a well-needed cool-off as temperatures 
from the coast had chased us inland and our thick Canadian blood hadn’t quite thinned enough to 
really allow us to be comfortable in the heat. The next place we visited is a place that 
is so important to Chiapan culture that you’ll find it on its coat of arms. Sumidero 
Canyon is an impressive sight to behold. From the viewpoints at the top, you look down 1000m to Rio 
Grijalva below. And if you’re keen to see it from another vantage, you can take a boat ride to 
see it from below, something we highly recommend. From the water you’ll spy a variety of wildlife 
including approximately 100 species of bird, spider monkeys, iguanas and crocodiles, believe it or not. It’s still quite hot so we do our best to stop 
off at water sources wherever possible. Cascada Chorreadero is an exciting opportunity to both 
cool off and do some impromptu spelunking. Then we were climbing once 
again back into the mountains,   into the clouds and cool temperatures with 
some more town exploration ahead. San Cristóbal de las Casas has a colourful 
history of mixed and clashing cultures and rebellion. In its later and calmer years it’s 
a place where you can find excellent food, vibrant Mayan, Tzotzil and Tzeltal textiles 
along with an inviting year round micro climate. This is chicken covered in a poblano sauce. And Alex has crispy pork taquitos. Only twenty minutes out of town you’ll find 
the peaceful nature reserve of Arcotete,   a geographic formation of karst caves speared 
through by a calmly flowing river. This spot provided us with a well-needed place to recharge. 
Barely anyone passed us during the day and the nights were almost chilly, allowing us 
a full night’s rest in blissful comfort. A few hours southeast we were rolling through the 
city of Comitan de Dominguez and, shortly after, approaching Cascada El Chiflon. We made camp 
beside the river flowing down from the waterfall, took a dip in our temporary private 
pool before making the hike up to   the falls. What we found at the top of 
the trail was nothing short of magical, and left us questioning if what 
we were seeing was really real. As Semana Santa approached, we made a quick 
excursion out to the town of Uninajab. The public area where we camped for the night 
has a series of pools ranging in size,   all built into the hillside. The 
town’s water supply comes from a spring further up the hill and if you look 
into the backyards of many of the houses   you pass in town you’ll notice that almost 
everyone has a pool fed by this same spring. As the public area was filling up 
quickly with Semana Santa celebrators,   we got in a quick dip and headed out of town. But we weren’t finished with the waterworks yet. Up the hillside on our way back to Comitan, we stumbled upon a place that we were certain was mentioned at some 
point in a Tolkien or C.S Lewis book. What this place taught us was to 
follow our nose. Ojo de Agua was not planned and we had already passed 
it earlier on our way to El Chiflon,   Meg just happened to notice it while mapping us 
further into Chiapas and we decided on a whim to venture off our path to explore, a decision 
that paid off in the riches of memories made. Heading back east, we made our way to the 
Lagos de Montebello region, a series of lakes within limestone craters found along the border of 
Guatemala. There, we rolled into another camp spot that we can now fondly refer to as one of the best 
in southern Mexico. We stayed here for three days, attended to van maintenance, caught up on work and 
enjoyed a chance to slow down for a little bit. When we emerged from our lakeside hideaway 
we made a quick visit to Lago Internacional, a small lake perched directly over the 
border of Mexico and Guatemala. We walked across and made our unofficial first 
visit to Guatemala, a fun and unique experience considering the contrasting 
ramifications of doing the same back home. After making our brief visit to 
Guatemala we explored the other   lakes for a few hours before heading 
east along the border towards the outlands of Chiapas where hidden 
waterfalls and milky-blue rivers abound. By chance we steered off the main road 
through a small village after spying a   promising spot on the satellite image. A bumpy 
gravel road led us to this locals hangout where we found masses of friendly Mexicans 
celebrating Semana Santa. We stayed a night, enough time to thoroughly 
cool off before continuing on. Further east on the 307 and down another gravel 
road we arrived at Las Nubes, where lies a unique cascada. Aside from the obvious flow of water over 
this cliff, much of the water actually travels down through the rock from a little further 
up the river and exits below the waterfall. That evening we found camp alongside Rio 
Ixcan, a spot we should have stayed at a little longer but, unfortunately, didn’t have the 
foresight then to decide otherwise. With the morning came further progression 
east along the laser straight section of the   307 that parallels Guatemala. This road, although 
straight, demanded total concentration as it was full of potholes, topes and the encroaching foliage 
attempting to reclaim its stolen territory. All the way out here, even though we were surrounded 
on all sides by palm groves and agricultural land, it felt really remote. These are the borderlands 
of Mexico’s southern regions where there is little to no governance or authority, and life 
goes on without the watchful eyes of the world. As Semana Santa came to a close we found 
a beach alongside Rio Chixoy where we thought we might find some solitude for a few nights. 
What we found was quite the opposite. Well, tell me what just happened. We were just hanging out in the river, and there was a family celebrating the last day of Semana Santa. And the gentleman walked over with this to give to us, just because they’re the nicest people ever. Shrimp. Unbelievable. Wonderful. People around here, I swear. Yeah. So kind. As per the norm during our travels, we’d 
stumbled upon another locals spot and as it was the weekend, we were soon surrounded 
by families there to enjoy the river. So, tell us what happened. We got whistled out of the water again to be hand-delivered a platter of food. Just ridiculous. Look at this. Oh my gosh, it looks so delicious. And we were just talking about being hungry. She read my mind. What we’ve also learned during our 
travels is an acceptance of a culture   we don’t entirely understand. Although 
we are two Canadians who seek out solitude, Mexican culture and custom is made up 
of strong community and family values. When we try to get away from other people, 
Mexicans get out and enjoy time together, which in this day and age is really quite 
special and something we’ve grown to appreciate. With the end of the official week of Semana Santa   it was time for us to start making 
our way northwest towards the exit from Chiapas. On our way out, we stopped off first at 
Cascada Welib Ha and then Cascada Misol Ha. And to top it all off, we made the 
extra drive back south to Agua Azul,   a spot that is legend – wait for it – dary. Although Agua Azul is quite the touristy place,   the cold water and cascading pools 
more than made up for the crowds. We’d return here in a heartbeat if only to 
get one more hour in this beautiful water. After leaving Chiapas, we made a quick transit 
back to the Gulf of Mexico and north into Yucatan. As we traversed the peninsula in the 
direction of the coastal town of El Cuyo,   we kept our eyes trained on the skies and 
eventually as the road led underneath the dark clouds brewing overhead, the skies opened 
up and we were gifted with the first heavy   rainfall we’d seen in almost six months. The feeling was incredible and so very welcome. Approaching El Cuyo we crossed a salt water 
lagoon which we later learned is a protected area for the flamingo mating season. 
We hadn’t expected to spot flamingos until the Altiplano in Argentina, 
so this was a pleasant surprise. In the beach town of El Cuyo we 
connected with our friends Daniel   and Josefine of PRJKT.unbound who we’d 
be traveling with for the next week. Three days spent on the beach and we were 
once again ready for new things to see.   As we were in the neighborhood of one of 
the current seven wonders of the world, we pointed southwest and headed 
for the Mayan city of Chichen Itza. Chichén Itzá is a major ancient Mayan city found 
centrally in the Yucatan peninsula. It flourished between the 7th and 10th centuries as a center 
of politics, religion, and trade. Its most famous structure, El Castillo, is a step pyramid that 
aligns with the equinoxes to create a serpent-like shadow. What are you doing, ya goof? Other highlights include the Great Ball Court and the Cenote Sagrado, used for rituals and offerings. I actually came here for the lizards. Blending Maya and Toltec styles, 
the site reflects a rich cultural exchange. Today, Chichén Itzá is a UNESCO World Heritage Site 
and one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. As many people well know, the Yucatan peninsula 
is rich in cenotes, large holes in the bed rock carved away by water over millennia. Some 
are open to the sky and others are in the form of caves. We were keen to explore the 
latter form, so we made camp at Cenote Xnuuk. Just down the river, we found another cave 
cenote, one that was far larger in comparison. The phrase, “other worldly experience” comes to   mind when considering what we 
found here beneath the earth. Then with the advent of cliff jumping,   a poor decision was made which resulted 
in a memory I would rather have not made. How you doin’ Alex? Not so good. Well, phew, that was a drive. Big day. We are here in Cancun, parking up beside the hotels. We’ll see what tomorrow brings. Having arrived in Cancun we were once 
again reminded of the fact that we had driven our home to a destination most 
of the world takes a plane to get to. Then before we knew it our time in 
Mexico was rapidly coming to a close,   as we made our way towards the border of Belize. Our time in Mexico was special. Not only was 
it the first Spanish speaking country with a vastly different culture that we visited along our 
Pan American Highway journey, it also represents the first time we have truly left our comfort zone 
and opened ourselves up to international travel by vehicle. It’s a major inflection point on a trip 
that will inevitably change the people we are now into the people we want to be. What we have shown 
you exists within the borders of Mexico is only the tip of the iceberg. We merely passed through 
only 20 states in this massive country, with 11 remaining there is a lifetime of exploration 
still to be had in Mexico. We feel immensely fortunate that the border of this beautiful place 
is only a short drive from home and that we can return to revisit places we loved and explore 
deeper into the places we wished we saw more of. We want to say a massive thank you to the country and people of Mexico for the hospitality that we experienced during our travels and the memories we get to carry with us. Mark our words, we’ll be back to see more. If you want more, or a far more detailed and in-depth look at our travels throughout Mexico, you can check out our Mexico playlist which features 
weekly films from our travels throughout mainland Mexico as well as our time on the Baja 
peninsula during the two winters previous. Thank you for being here with us on 
this journey. We hope our stories and   experiences spark something in you—maybe 
a bit of curiosity, maybe the urge to get out and explore this big, beautiful world 
for yourself. Now go chase that next adventure, and make the kind of memories that stick 
with you. And until next time, keep on roamin’. If you would like to see 
behind-the-scenes content,   get route and camp-spot information, 
or if you’d just like to help support us by putting some gas in our tank each 
month, you can contribute on Patreon. Oh, hey there bud, and before you go, don’t forget to go on over to slowroamers.com to get yourself some rad Slow Roamers merch. And for additional 
photos and commentary on our journey,   you can follow along on Facebook and Instagram. Alrighty Mexico, we love you dearly. We’ll miss you. But gosh darn it, we’ll be back. Hasta luego.

Over five months, we roamed more than 9,000 kilometers through 20 diverse states of Mexico — not in search of the well-known, but instead the quietly extraordinary. What we found wasn’t in brochures or guidebooks, but down back roads and behind unassuming doorways, the kind of beauty you earn the right to see by simply showing up, by staying curious, and by choosing the long way around. We found a Mexico that defies expectation, not just in its towering volcanoes and jungle-wrapped waterfalls, but in its warmth, its rhythm, and its soul. The people welcomed us with open hearts. The food was as vibrant as the landscapes — from mountain pueblos to arid canyons and turquoise rivers, lakes and coastlines. This is not the Mexico you see in postcards — it’s the one you feel in your bones. The one that reveals itself slowly, if you’re willing to roam.

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