Adventure, Mexico, Sea Kayaking, The Great Adventure, Travel

How to Cross Mexico Safely

I was a stranger and this guy had a gun. He told me he took it everywhere so he could shoot whoever tried to mug him.

I told him I was camping out at the County Fairgrounds.

“You’re not gonna wake up,” he told me. “There’s stabbings there every night.”

But the police said I could camp there. They thought it was safe. He laughed.

“Go anywhere else. You don’t know this town. You’ll get robbed!”

I asked if I could camp in his yard instead. Of course not. So I went to the Fairgrounds.

It seemed really nice. I showered, I met the other campers and I slept all night in a windstorm. It was cold but the cold wind never did try to stab me.

That was in Mississippi. A white man named Whitman said I was going to die. He knew all the black people and how bad they all were. They all had knives. I only saw their kids learning to dance in the park and then some of the teens listening to music in cars. I guess they keep the knives really well hidden.

“They’ll cut your head off,” everyone says about Mexico. A lot of Americans tell me that. They sure know a lot about Mexicans.

But the dangers of Mexico are real. The top 200 miles of that country are a war zone. Foreign travelers aren’t really targeted but someone traveling alone on the highways would really stand out. Mexico is one of the safer countries I’ll cross on my journey—safer for an American than the US is—but parts of it are not safe at all.


I basically had three options for how to cross Mexico on my own power.

  1. Bike it. I can make 50-90 miles a day and if I reach hostels before sunset I can just tear through the danger zone. I think this would be a poor way to go because it’s essentially fleeing from one of my favorite cultures.
  2. Pilgrimage. I could join a pilgrimage headed toward the Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico City. We’d be on foot and I’d be in a large group, with a spiritual purpose, which is probably safer. I love this idea but it would also veer me away from my course toward Yucatán.
  3. Take to the sea.

Guess which one I chose.

Something like this.

Something like this.


Dawn lights up the waves like crowns on enemy kings. The weather report is clear—eat quick! Slam that coffee. Up, to the water, up!

The tide is going out and our little barks with it. We face the surf, those pounding walls of water diving into shore. They want to take us back; we are not going back. Paddles in the water, struggling from the hip, struggling from the back, arms taut and hair drenched in foam. Is this to trade one fomhór for another?

There is no other way: to reach the open sea we must break through the surf.

Out on the open, science is our concern; check the compass, point the bows, re-check the weather; are all heads present?

We go so far we cannot see land. Here the water is calmer. It is slow oliphants, not charging bulls and rams; it is the heaving shoulders of sleepy giants.

20 feet up on the swell; a glimpse of horizon, a blast of wind; drop back to the trough 20 feet below. A few paddle-strokes will do you but stay together mates, stay together.

We go like this for some time. There are snacks at sea, cameras come out of drysacks, distant boats are sighted and avoided.

Dolphins jump beside us. Did you know that dolphins will escort kayakers on the open Gulf?

Perhaps it’s sunset, perhaps the GPS says it’s time to make our camp. A hard starboard and we cut toward land.

Now the surf is with us, that hammering crashing wall will carry us to our beds—but it is not tame, no it is not tame. It is on the backs of bulls now, the churn of the stampede that we ride. Like Pamplona we make our run.

The final hundred yards. What speed! The beach looms pink before us, come in at an angle now, turn it to the side—there is no reason to rough up your boat.

Come aground, stow that gear; who’s scouting town and who’s making camp tonight? We need street food, we need cold agua. Welcome ashore, bold spirits, welcome ashore.


The plan is this: reach Texas. Get a sea kayak. Learn to use it. Kayak 1,000 miles from Texas to Coatzacoalcos (see map), stopping every night at a different town or beach.


  • I will be a fluent Spanish speaker before crossing the border,
  • I will cross legally and abide by the 6 month maximum stay in Mexico.
  • I will train extensively in sea kayaking before making the voyage.
  • Assume I will procure all reasonable navigational and safety equipment.
  • Some cartels have boats, however as one experienced Gulf kayaker said: “Kayak jackings are distinctly less common than carjackings.”
  • I would prefer not to go alone.

I leave New Orleans in late June, and will arrive in Corpus Christi, Texas around August 7. I plan to practice on kayaks until late 2013 or early 2014, then begin the voyage.

I invite you to join me. 

The Open Call

I believe the myths are real. I believe we can do great things.

Adventure is my path to that. Adventure tests me, frees me, shows me to shatter past my limits. We are capable of great things: to adventure is to breathe them every day.

It’s not always pleasant. It’s not always safe. The adventurer shies away from unnecessary risk, makes every precaution, but when risk is unavoidable—we grin into the wind.

But it is to live, it is to know, it is to know the self, it is to know the self triumphant.

Often I say: there is no call to adventure. There will be no owl with your invitation letter; no wizard will abuse your door.

Today I prove myself wrong.

I invite you to adventure. I’m giving you notice. The true call is silent, it is urgent, it is in the blood: you feel it if you have the call. You must decide for yourself.

But today, one adventurer is reaching out to you. Come with me. Meet me in Texas, we will find you a boat; we will train together; we will do something great. It may not set records, it may not change history, it will challenge every limit we have, we will throw ourselves to that challenge because—

To adventure is to experience myth.

If you feel a call don’t put it off. Email me to discuss it; whether it’s right for you, individually. We don’t need to make a firm plan just yet. Let’s just talk options.

I’m and I would like to adventure together.

If you’re a new reader you may enjoy the report on the adventure so far.


26 thoughts on “How to Cross Mexico Safely

  1. This is extremely tempting.

    But it’s also a minimum 50 day trip (based on 20 miles a day and no days off). Sure I can’t tempt you with a small catamaran? :)

  2. I am so clear that I do not feel a call to this adventure, but I am equally as glad that you are–and that you refuse to ignore the call! I’ve enjoyed keeping up with your stay in New Orleans but, truly, I love that you’re looking forward to the next leg of your journey. I feel inspiration in the anticipation of your story’s further unfolding. As always, thank you for sharing your life. xoMeg

  3. A. Waite says:

    The first thing I thought upon reading this was, “Amazing. How wonderful it is that he’s willing to break his own rules and issue the kind of dramatic invitation one always reads about.” The second was, “What if 100 people answer his call?” It doesn’t look like that will happen, but how would you have reacted if it did?

    • I will be very excited if that happens.

      If there are only a few of us, it will be a different voyage than if there are 15, and different again if there are dozens or a hundred. But if there were that many, I would…

      (a) make very clear guidelines about what to expect
      (b) expect people to show up for in-person training before making a decisions whether we are good companions, and
      (c) likely create a nonprofit to help fun the flotilla and help people afford gear, etc.

      I will love it if it becomes that big!

  4. JeninCanada says:

    I’m shying away from any and all adventures right now, as usual I suppose, just the norm, in order to try and keep surviving. My soul has wings though, and it goes with you every step, paddle, and push of the way.

  5. Damn it Drew! Even before the invite I was all, “I’d love to do that”, “that would be a great adventure.” Were I single and not a parent I’d do it in a heartbeat. As it is I have other priorities, to my family and I am okay with that. We plan to have our own various adventures over time and will be meeting up with an old friend again for a camping trip soon. Now that it is no longer winter I do my own adventuring within walking distance all the time, meeting new people and having new experiences. I hold open drum jams with the community and freely teach the kids how to play in the park. When ever I bring my own young one to the park I play hacky sack with a chainmail kick bag and when ever there is a curious eye I open an invitation and have fun sharing, meeting someone new and teaching with that. I enjoy my community and am becoming more involved over time as I “get to know the ropes” of how things are here. I am known for being out and about a lot (its weird to see someone doing that as most just drive). I’ve also been monitoring the local ecosystem and becoming familiar with the rhythms of the seasons and the plant life. With that I hope to be more successful at creating a food forest once we get a place (and have a growing interest in getting soay sheep and ducks as a holistic approach) – which we’re looking into getting within this or next year. So as awesome as that trip sounds, I’ll be staying here cheering from the side lines and helping in what ever way I can. Best of Luck and hope that you find a worthy crew. Adios Amigo!

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