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we had no alternatives to state highway 131 which would prove to be a real journey within a journey . The winding road crossed the massif that divides the central highlands from the ocean , passing through tiny native villages and the asphalt in poor condition was at times completely covered in mudslides due to the torrential rains . When , after about nine hours of riding the two hundred and fifty kilometres , we caught glimpse of the ocean waves , and felt like shipwrecked voyagers landing on dry land .
The name Puerto Escondido brought to mind books and films , milestones from our adolescence when the beaches of the Pacific seemed unattainable and wild . Today , when we parked our motorbike a few kilometres from Playa Zicatela ( one of the best known in the world for surfing ), the atmosphere we seemed to breathe
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