The Guadalajara Reporter
Guadalajara's Largest English Newspaper
For over 400 years, English sailor David Ingram’s account of his trek from Mexico to Canada was considered either fanciful or phony by historians.
Matteo Volpi is a project leader for Senderos y Caminos de México A.C., which was founded in Ajijic in 2014 to help people find their way along Mexico’s vast network of rural trails, and also to rescue, rehabilitate and preserve these ancient footpaths, some of which were in use long before the arrival of the Conquistadores.
Colima is one of Mexico’s smallest states. In size, it falls between the U.S. states of Rhode Island and Delaware, but harbors enough delightful outdoor sites “to fill a book,” according to local guide Sergi Gómez.
If you love nature and outdoor adventure, you’ll find the state of Nayarit irresistible. Along the Pacific Coast, you have the popular Riviera Nayarit, a budget-friendly stretch of relaxed fishing villages and laid-back beaches. Just to the north, there is Playa Novillero, Mexico’s longest beach, where you can stretch your legs over 90 kilometers of shimmering sand. At the same time, to the south of the Riviera lies Mexico’s biggest bay, La Bahia de Banderas, one of the best places in the world for whale watching.
In 1979, Scotch-Irish Englishman Graham Mackintosh was “bitten by Baja.”
While visiting friends in Los Angeles, he had taken a bus to Ensenada and then could not resist hitching another 1,400 kilometers further south to see the rest of the peninsula.
In his book, “Into a Desert Place,” he says:
My first glimpse of Bahia de los Angeles, a fisherman’s paradise on the shores of the Sea of Cortez, was unforgettable. I thought it was a landlocked lake studded with deserted islands. The sea was warm and beautifully calm, the bluest of blue. Monster stingrays shuffled around in the shallows. Huge fish chased smaller fish almost onto the beach. Dolphins skipped around the bay. Friendly fishermen invited me out to try my luck. With each fish I hauled aboard, I became more hooked on Baja.
U.S. entrepreneurs called it “sisal” (because it was shipped from the port of Sisal in the state of Yucatán). The Mayas referred to it as ki or jeniquén, and the Spaniards settled on henequén.
The popular Mexican saying “¡Ni con chochos!” hints at a cultural faith in the improbable: if something can’t be done even with the help of chochos — those tiny, sugar-based homeopathic lumps or balls — then it truly is impossible.
