Jalisco Adventure Rally

On the first weekend of October, three of us participated in this motorcycle event. Briefly explained, you are given a list of checkpoints (70+) to visit and provide proof of your visit (a selfie). Neil had carefully planned a route that hit some of these checkpoints while delivering incredible scenery and roads. We set a pace of “enjoy” rather than “win at all costs”. We aren’t as fierce as competitors as when I was a teen. Back then, a 10” plastic trophy was easily worth the very real risk of a trip to the hospital. I have many X-rays to prove it.

The ride to Guadalajara (Rally starting point) was green and flowery. But the last 90 minutes were brutal as we had to ride entirely through this city of five million people on the hot, pockmarked back streets. Seemingly, the entire network of major roads was under construction in preparation for next year’s World Cup.

The next morning, we were up at the crack of mid-morning and rode to the starting point. The point where everyone serious about this, had already left an hour earlier. We made our way north to Amitlan, the gateway into Tequila country. Our second checkpoint was east, overlooking an expansively gorgeous valley. Neat cornfields in the bottom, silvery sage agave fields carpeting the hillsides, and wildflowers anywhere they could squeeze in. We were off to an epic start.

Next up was Tequila, where at 10 AM, it’s well into drinking time. Any time in Tequila is drinking time. Obviously touristy but in a welcoming, warm way, a not-in-your-face way. It’s worth a longer visit someday. And did I tell you about that beautiful valley? Oh, and then there is the Volcan Tequila that towers above the town.

We now had a long stretch of riding beauty through agave fields (what else?), sugar cane, and cornfields on the way to the village of Ameca. Neil spotted an American-style barbecue restaurant on Google Maps, and we were all in. BBQ isn’t common in Mexico. Barbacoa, yes, but BBQ.

We arrived in town, and all five of Neil’s GPS guidance systems were in agreement that we had arrived. You know that look when you see somebody looking around for something, but is basically clueless? The clueless tourist look? Well, we didn’t have that look cause we’re cool motorcycle riders. But we certainly couldn’t see any restaurant, even while dripping with all that cool. A lady walked out of a business named Alaska Suspensions and strongly beckoned us to follow her. She said something about being at the right place. She turned her back after directing us to follow her... into the back of a mechanic’s shop.

Oh yes, of course, the BBQ restaurant was inside the shop. Getting off the bikes, we were greeted by a few folks with warm smiles gathering around and admiring our sparkly steeds. Customers, employees, and a smattering of hangers-on. There was an older gentleman behind a desk who looked like he might run the place. An employee in the car pit is doing an oil change. And our greeter, who directed us to the only table in the establishment. Seating for four. Yes, we had arrived at Robert’s Brisket.

Perusing the menu, it appeared that this might be the real deal. A delectable listing where one wanted to be sure to order the perfect meal, as the next authentic BBQ experience could be years away. Not everywhere can you find a Smash Brisket Burger.

While we waited for our food, we took a self-guided tour of the place. Sure enough, they did tire repair, welding, oil changes, ironworking, mechanic work, and a logical business extension, American-style BBQ. Everybody in the shop was having fun watching us having fun. All this time, the heavenly smell of smoked meats wafted through the air.

There was some serious talent in this shop. Somebody or some people were exceptionally talented metalworkers. Of typical note were two log splitters that should be patented. And the Michelin man was a riot. Not only could they bend iron here, they had a finely crafted sense of humor.

We moved on to the Smoker Museum, where several vintage smoke pits were lined up against the back wall. Again, masterful creative talent on display. It makes one realize that what Mexico might lack in capital, it more than makes up for with its rich human assets. Not usually the thought I would leave with, exiting a BBQ joint.

On the road again, we were headed to the night’s destination of Jocotepec, located on the east shore of Lake Chapala. We rode for kilometer after kilometer along a road lined with greenhouses. How big is this business, I asked myself? And I said, “Greenhouse produce in Mexico is a massive, fast-growing industry, with around 133,000 acres (over 53,800 hectares) under cover. The annual industry value is about $2.7 billion USD.” See, I told you, I saw lots of greenhouses.

Jocotepec has an impressive malecon (scenic promenade). The town is famous for its birria (goat, lamb, or beef stew). Our hotel was a cat house, with dozens of felines roaming the grounds.

For dinner, I tried yet another new Mexican dish on this trip, called chavendecas. It’s in the same branch of the Mexican food family as quesadillas, synchronizadas, and gringas.

We turned in early, and the rest of us fell asleep. But Neil couldn’t resist the temptation of having women on top of him the whole night. I guess I should mention that they wore heavy shoes and were a floor above him. But still.

Early on a Sunday morning walk, I spotted a goat being milked on a table. The night before, the table sat people at what was an outdoor seafood restaurant. It was a rather spare marisqueria serving ceviches out of an extra-large cooler. This place knew how to hold the line on expenses. But why the goat being milked here?

We rode on through villages headed toward Ajijic, a brisk chill in the air. Now, here was a cow tied up, being milked in the town we rode through. Not much further, and there are three cows in a row, along the roadside, also being milked. They were joined by some villagers standing around drinking their steaming morning beverage.

We entered a larger village and saw a dozen milk cows, with about three times as many people standing around. No, cow milking was not a spectator sport. I slapped the front of my helmet as it dawned on me that people were gathered to imbibe in the famous Jalisco breakfast drink. Yup, Pajarete! The recipe is freshly squeezed cow’s milk, chocolate, coffee, sugar, and grain alcohol, making for a scrumptious hot milkshake. Drink enough of them, and you can see God on Sunday morning without the inconvenience of traveling to church. I couldn’t get the guys to stop and enjoy one for the road.

Our next stop was the town of Arandas, the grittier little brother to Tequila (the city, not the drink). In the middle of agricultural country and a hub for some of the finer artisanal tequila distilleries. It was lively on a Sunday afternoon, with an informal parade of classic cars circling the Jardin, a Danzon band playing in the gazebo, and masses of Catholics on the streets. And a massive Neo-Gothic Church: The Parroquia de San José Obrero. As we walked to the rear of the church, we observed that it is still under construction, but is currently open for business. I subsequently learned that it has been under construction for over 100 years.

From the south, roiling thunderclouds built quickly, and that was our cue to head north...to Aguascalientes for the night. A city that is underwhelming, with miles of uninspired industrial architecture and bland churches. And Aguascalientes’ big hot springs are, well, not very hot. It’s best summarized as the height of mediocrity in Central Mexican cities.

But the rest of the trip? Hell yeah, Jalisco delivers.

October 5, 2025