Celestún has treated us well. We got to see flamingos up close in the wild and the town itself was much more charming than we thought it would be.
Like a lot of places on this journey, it would be nice to stay a bit longer, but we’re eager to settle into our next longer-term place and get the boys into a routine.
With all the information these days, Mexico RV parks and campgrounds still feel a bit uncharted. Information online is pretty minimal for most places (but this is changing), which still gives it a feeling of adventure.
Our Mexico-USA RV Journey 2024-25
Oftentimes, we roll into a place with expectations that are too high and are met with disappointment on arrival. Two weeks pass and we wonder what we were so hung up on.
Other places are love at first sight, only to find we’ve had a change of heart a few days later and are ready to head to the next place.
And then, there are places that are absolutely fantastic, but lack a few key things we need to make it our home for more than a couple of days. Lori’s work needs internet, so that’s a big factor.
We’ve got a Starlink dish, but even that needs a clear view of the sky and 120v electricity. Maybe someday we’ll install an inverter, but that would also require a battery upgrade and perhaps even solar.
After nearly a year on the road, we’ve made do without those things, so we’re not in any hurry to fork out a bunch of money for something we don’t necessarily need.
From here on up the Mexican Gulf Coast, it will be interesting to see where we end up and for how long.
We all were blown away by the weird and wonderful breakfast offerings at El Lobo. So naturally, we had to go back. Breakfast taco stuffed with eggs, Italian sausage, cheese, diner-style hash browns, and smoky salsa anyone?
With happy bellies, it’s time to hit the road.
I spent a significant portion of the last post talking about the sole road in and out of town, and how it’s not at all big-rig friendly.
So it probably won’t surprise anyone that I wasn’t looking forward to the return journey to hook back on to Highway 180 (the Gulf Coast Highway).
The night before, I studied the map and found a potential alternate route that would at least cut our time on this hell-run in half.
Rarely do I like to venture off the major highways with the RV (I do miss our 4×4 Montero for that). On the other hand, the road in and out of Celestún isn’t even a major highway. I figured nothing could be narrower or hairier than what we drove in on. How wrong I was.
About twenty minutes out of town, just before a police checkpoint, we took our right onto the mystery road. And, in fact, if you plot a route from Celestún to Champoton (our destination), Google Maps recommends taking this “short cut”.
For the first mile or two, the road seemed fine—better than the one we turned off, in fact. But then we turned a corner and could tell that the road-side brush had not been trimmed in many months.
The road narrowed until it was down to a single lane. Immediately, we started to lose our overhead clearance, with low hanging branches, until it was evident that if we kept going, we’d be stuck in a tunnel of dense vegetation.
Studying the map, we still had a good 40 km on this road. A 25-foot RV is not the easiest to turn around in the best of circumstances, let alone on a 12-foot road completely encased by dense scrub and jungle.
So, when an opening off to my right suddenly appeared—a small driveway to a gate—I didn’t hesitate swinging the rear of the RV in. Lori hopped out and assisted with pointing out big overhead branches, and a minute or so later, we were headed back toward the Celestún highway.
So much for that.
Forty minutes and two very sweaty hands later, we were back on the Merida ring road headed south towards Campeche and Champoton.
We thought for a moment about spending some time in Campeche. After all, it’s a UNESCO-designated city and sounds like it has a lot to offer. There’s even an RV park there. But the RV park is a bit out of town with narrow alleys to navigate. I wasn’t in the mood for dealing with all that, so we headed on to Champoton.
We like to save ourselves a taxi ride and provision on travel days when we can. But it isn’t always easy in Mexico finding a major supermarket that isn’t too far off the main highway and is accessible for our rig.
A lot of supermarket parking lots even have low-clearance bars, as if to say in no uncertain terms, “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”
When the Gulf Coast Highway reaches Champoton, it widens considerably, offering a couple of miles of elusive free parking for large vehicles. It was evident we were not the first to have this idea, as we spotted at least a dozen tractor-trailers parked along the waterfront as well.
From there, it was a 15-minute walk to the Super Chedraui and a short taxi ride back to the RV. In hindsight, it looked like we could’ve found street parking closer, but you just never know.
If you miss cheap eggs, just come down to Mexico. You can get a dozen for 39 pesos (US$1.90) at a major supermarket (or less, at a farm-direct fruteria).
When we got back to RV, we were surprised to find 20 retired-looking gringo tourists milling about the waterfront. Seems a random bus had pulled up and dumped them off for a while. Champoton isn’t exactly a big tourist destination, so the whole thing is still a bit of a mystery.
We left Champoton with the sun low in the sky and 20 minutes of driving to a beach camp called Costa del Sol, our destination for the night. If I had blinked, I would have missed the driveway off the highway, but made the turn in the nick of time.
We followed the long, palm-lined driveway until it turned completely to sand. A guy came out to tell us where we should park.
The property has a generous stretch of coastline, but for whatever reason, RVs are only allowed to park in a very narrow area that would accommodate no more than three rigs parked side by side.
Fortunately, we were the only ones here this particularly evening.
The guy who met us at the gate wasn’t terribly friendly or helpful. He seemed pretty agitated, in fact.
Apparently, an RV had left that morning and dumped their sewage water around a palm on the edge of the property (they do not have sewage dump facilities here). This seemed to color his view of RVers and we were the lucky first recipients of his ire.
We knew that the place didn’t have pedestals, but we were led to believe we could get a water fill and hook up to electricity. Neither turned out to be true, which was nuts given that this place is double per night what we have been paying for full hookups.
I left our fresh water tank at about 1/3 before leaving Celestun (as I often do for weight and fuel economy), but it looked like I would need to get creative about water for the next few days.
The next morning, we were greeted by beautiful blue skies and a nice little stretch of coastline all to ourselves.
Lori had a pretty nice early morning perch for working.
And this is what the boys and I awoke to in the morning:
There’s a turtle hatchery next door, but it’s not turtle hatching season.
It was just windy enough to dig out the kites and get them airborne.
The beach wasn’t the prettiest we’ve seen (the Mexico Gulf Coast doesn’t exactly compare with the Pacific Coast in that respect).
The entry into the water was a shallow reef of very sharp volcanic rocks for miles. I tried to find an easy entry point, but wasn’t successful. But there is a pool.
And a family of pigs.
On our afternoon beach walk, Noe and Riley collected driftwood for a beach fire. It’s about as perfect a place for one, so we didn’t pass up the opportunity.
It was also a perfect place to finally break out the tent. Noe, of course, volunteered to do the first night. I’m not sure we’re going to get him back sleeping in the RV after this.
We enjoyed our first two nights at Costa del Sol so much, we thought we’d go ahead and stay a third. Which meant, we get to spend the day relaxing and enjoying the place. At least, that’s what we thought would happen.
The boys found a small mangrove and spent hours upon hours going Robinson Crusoe on it. We really only saw them when they got hungry and decided to try out the pool (which wasn’t the warmest in recent memory).
This is the life…
At around 1pm, Sr. Grumpy Pants was back for payment, which we had ready for him. This certainly didn’t make him any happier, as he insisted we had to pay much more for the kids.
Lori had confirmed the rate on the phone beforehand, then again with his son when we arrived. But suddenly the price had become astronomical—in short, it would have made this the most expensive place we had ever stayed at in the 25 or so RV parks and campgrounds we’ve stayed in Mexico so far. And it’s dry camping!
With heavy hearts, we decided to cut our losses, pack up and leave. Fortunately, our next stop—Isla Aguada—was only a 90-minute drive down the highway.
We stayed in Isla Aguada for 9 days over Christmas a couple of months ago. It’s nice to roll into a place where you know what to expect and where everything is.
Turns out, we hadn’t uncovered all the hidden gems in our previous visit. On our first evening, we ended up at La Kazota on the highway, and would end up returning multiple times over the next couple of weeks.
Their menu is what we’ve been wishing we could find for months: Burrotes, Gringas, Costritas, and a full complement of tacos.
This is a Costrita: Basically a steak-filled quesadilla without the tortilla wrapped in a covering of fried cheese. It’s as delicious as it looks (if not better).
Mobile Tacos Pastor!
On our first night back, Riley—like his older brother the night before—tried his hand at sleeping in the tent. It didn’t quite go as plan.
At around 2am, I heard screaming and ran out to find poor Riley sobbing in the tent. “I don’t like the tent! I don’t like the tent!” I collected his things and brought him inside. Poor guy.
Don’t think Riley will be doing the tent anytime soon. Of course, Noe didn’t waste any time moving back in the next day—and would end up sleeping the next four nights in the tent until a storm front moved in and we took it down.
