When we lived in Nayarit, I had little desire to visit Tequila, despite living just a few hours away and passing right by it on our way to San Miguel de Allende a few years back.
When we first moved to Sayulita, Lori and I had just discovered raicilla, a relatively obscure spirit similar to tequila. We later found ourselves taking advantage of the artisanal mezcal scene thriving in every major metro area in Mexico.
Tequila, as a drink, got thrown by the wayside. And the town of Tequila, sounded like a tourist-trap nightmare.
Our Mexico-USA RV Journey 2024-25
But here we were at the tail end of a five year stint in Mexico passing within a stone’s throw of one of the country’s most famous towns. Some time ago, Lori came across a distillery in town that allowed RVs to dry camp on the premises of the working agave farm for a reasonable fee.
We had no excuses this time. We were stopping in Tequila.
The entire region basically looks like this. Blue agave, tequila’s main ingredient, in every direction to the horizon.
Making our way from Santa Elena to Tequila meant transiting through Mexico’s Second City of Guadalajara.
Guadalajara’s a great city to visit, particularly the central districts. But driving through this metropolis is another matter. This would be my fifth time driving through the Guadalajara metro area and I was none too pleased about that.
I refused to drive through the heart of the city on the 90D, even though Lori’s map app claimed that it was the quickest way. “No freakin’ way!” I told her (or, the app, rather).
Ultimately, we opted for the Periferico Norte (North Bypass) and ended up saving 30 minutes in exchange for several new grey hairs. But it was still pure madness (not something you want driving an RV in Mexico).
To make matters more stressful, there were signs about large vehicle and weight restrictions on the periferico. But it wasn’t clear what the weight limit was or which lane I needed to be in.
Some of the signs appeared to point to the middle lane, but I’ve never seen that in Mexico. It’s always the right lane. The asphalt was fresh, so I chocked it up to a misalignment or outdated signs and continued in the far right lane.
Traffic picked up and we breezed through the northern part of town without issue.
Just when I thought the worst of it was behind us, I caught a glimpse of flashing red and blue lights in my rearview mirrors.
This happens fairly frequently driving in Mexico where a police car or motorcade sits in the slow lane behind you just cruising down the highway with its lights on. It rarely means they’re trying to pull someone over.
Suddenly, the police pickup started honking and motioning to pull over. Crap. This will be interesting.
There was no shoulder and really nowhere else for a 25-foot RV to pull off the expressway. Yet, the cruiser continued honking. Finally, an exit came up, and I was able to pull just far enough out of the 60mph flow of traffic to not get clipped.
A female officer got out and I noticed her uniform said Policia Vial (Traffic Police). Great, the only police branch in Mexico that can legitimately pull you over [usually]. All the others just wait to shake you down at checkpoints. These guys come looking for you.
I thought for sure it had something to do with the heavy vehicle restriction on the road.
As vehicles wizzed by at 70mph just inches from us, the officer approached the passenger window, asked where we were coming from where we were going (typical questions). She then asked to see my license and TIP (Temporary Import Permit) and I gave her my photocopies as I always do. She glanced at both, handed them back and told us we could go.
Here we are, 1,200 miles from the nearest international border and all this fuss so she could check out our TIP?
Passing through Zapopan, the fancy rich part of Guadalajara and apparently, the “City of the Children”). Aren’t they all in Mexico?
From the Guadalajara metro area we opted to get off the autopista and follow a secondary road on the last stretch into Tequila. Country roads, like night and day.
We rolled into Tequila at 3:30pm and headed straight for Casa Puntual, where a nice shaded dirt rectangle awaited the rig. Then, we made the somewhat long stroll into the heart of the world famous Pueblo Magico.
Our first stop was the iconic Boti La Capilla, the oldest cantina in Tequila and birthplace of batanga, a cocktail akin to a Mexico Libre (tequila, lime, coke, and a salted rim).
There was a sign on the door that we rarely see in Mexico: No Minors Allowed. Too bad, we thought.
Just as we were turning around to leave, the bartender motioned for us to come in. “No problem! No problem!” he yelled and led us to a table. Gotta love Mexico.
I expected Tequila to have a ton of world-famous distilleries and crowds. I was surprised by how charming the town actually is. I’m sure that’s a product of its popularity, but still. Lots of colorful photos to snap every where you look.
And during our stay in mid-May, the crowds were pretty minimal.
The town seems to radiate from the Jose Cuervo Distillery, a massive complex that encompasses the entire western half of Old Town. It’s only fitting, I guess, as the Cuervo family is responsible for popularizing the spirit starting in the 18th century.
Most distilleries these days are located outside of the town center, but Cuervo (and its sister, Sauza) very much dominate here.
Dinner and tequila at Portales del Cielo right off the plaza.
It was dark by the time we wrapped things up in Old Town and we were not looking forward to the 30-minute walk back to the RV. The taxi that took us back didn’t get there much faster due to the rutted out cobblestone roads, but our feet were grateful.
We climbed out of the cab, opened the front gate and headed to the RV. I reached into my pocket for the RV key, but nothing was there. Lori usually carries a second set, but she forgot to grab it today. Crap. It must have fallen out in the taxi. Over a year of doing this and I’ve never had that happen.
Without saying a word, Lori darted off into the night down the cobble stone road. I guess her thinking was that the taxi wouldn’t have gotten far on account of the rough road and she could catch up to it.
I sent Noe to keep watch from the front gate and worked on seeing if I could grab the second set of keys through the side window. If the keys aren’t in Lori’s bag, I keep them in a spot barely within reach from the side window if this should ever happen.
Unfortunately, the keys were in Lori’s purse, which was hanging over the passenger seat. I sized up Riley, sized up the side window, and had an idea. I didn’t think he would fit but thought it was worth a try.
I told Riley to watch out for the knives on the drying rack and hoisted him up on my shoulders to the small kitchen window. He wiggled his way through the window, clambered over the sink, and unlocked the side door.
Mission accomplished. But where’s Lori? I called her phone, only to hear the backpack at my feet ring.
After several minutes, I started to get a bit concerned. Should we go looking for her? Just then, a police car pulls up just outside of the front gate. That isn’t good, I thought.
The back door opened and out climbed Lori, smiling, waving goodbye and dangling the RV key in her hand.
She wasn’t able to catch up with the taxi, but came across a couple making out next to a motorbike and convinced one of them to catch up with the taxi (which was just out of sight at this point) and retrieve the key.
When the guy on the motorbike returned with the key, a police officer pulled over to ask if everything was okay. Exhausted from running, Lori asked if she could have a ride back to Casa Puntual.
We all thanked Mommy for retrieving key and made our way back to the RV.
“Hey, how’d you get the door open?” she said in disbelief.
“I’m not sure you want to know. Thanks again for getting the keys back!”
