The Boy and I purchased a vacation package in early May. At the time, we desperately needed a vacation – needed it right.then. However, as life often plays out, the first time we could take advantage of our get-away-from-it-all vacation was in September.
By that time, the US State Department had issued a travel advisory for much of Mexico making us (read: me) quite nervous about travelling to Jalisco state, in the interior of the Central Pacific region of Mexico.
However, after many phone calls, reassuring emails about the safety of Jalisco state and sleepless nights, we found ourselves on a flight to Mexico last week.
We soon found there was nothing to worry about when we were met at the Puerto Vallarta airport by a resort staffer. He bundled us into his four-wheel drive pick up and we headed west into the Sierra Madres.
The road to the resort was both familiar and unfamiliar. Rocky outcrops like Cheddar Gorge in the UK? Yes. Thick tree canopy like the Smokey Mountains? Yes. Massive potholes like Kenyan highways? Yes. Thin and curving tarmac like a British country road? Yes. Sharp cliff drop-offs like the Pacific Coast Highway? Yes. The road through the Sierra Madres was everything we’d ever seen before in our travels yet nothing like we’d ever seen at one time.
One thing I enjoy about highways in other countries is that there just seems to be “just enough” roadway. The road is enough to get vehicles where they need to go and not enough to encourage stopping in the median or destroying any more of the landscape than necessary. It’s a ribbon of pavement winding through the heights and the valleys, alternately bringing gasps of pleasure and of terror as you go.
When there’s a cliff beside you and gravel falling off the road beside you, you know that you just have to enjoy the journey and trust the silent driver. So that’s what we did: for two hours. Relaxing left us better able to gape at the scenery, people watch and laugh at the wide variety of “Watch out For” signs: armadillo, mountain lion, snake, coyote, rabbit, cow, people, people with jugs, children…
We finally reached Mascota, a small village in the middle of the Sierra Madres that is one of Mexico’s finest preserved colonial villages. It was founded sometime in the late 1500s and still features cobblestone streets and typical Spanish village architecture.
I’d read that the last 30-40 minutes of the journey to the resort was bumpy. As we drove through the cobblestone streets of Mascota, I foolishly thought that other guests were a bit soft to think that it was bumpy.
Then we left town and headed up the truly bumpy road to the resort. For slightly over half an hour, we drove up what could in any other circumstance be called a hiking path. Mostly rock, some minor concrete tire-width tracks to give traction, creeks and sharp cutbacks made up the road to the resort. Again, we trusted our driver and marveled at the “road” we were on. I figured if it was so difficult to get where we were going, it was definitely going to be worth it.
And was it ever. Sierra Lago Resort and Spa is a small boutique hotel – an eco-hotel – built around a crater lake, Lago de Juanacatlan. The facilities are limited, with just 23 cabanas plus additional support facilities (two restaurants, game room, restrooms, wedding chapel, stables, tennis courts and the like). My friends in Kenya will understand when I say that the resort reminds me of Brackenhurst, with a large dose of understated luxury.
At Sierra Lago, the point of the visit is the scenery, relaxation and enjoyment. The staff are totally focused on making sure you are comfortable and happy. With nothing to listen to in the evening but the splashing of fish and the quiet of the evening (we opted to leave our satellite-connected tv turned off), we were in for a week of relaxation and peace.
Tomorrow…more about Sierra Lago Resort and Spa.
It looks gorgeous!