Butterflies by the million

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


The alarm goes off at 6 am and by 7 am we are on the road again.
The traffic is not too bad and without any trouble Ramiro drives the car out of Morelia onto the highway north and then east direction Mexico City.
No, we’re not going to Mexico City, we’re going to Angagngueo to see the butterflies . Yes, we did drive for 9 hours just to see a bunch of butterflies.

Since we left this morning without breakfast we decide to stop at the Pemex for coffee and muffins.
After a good stretch of highway we turn south at Maravatio, where we enter the mountain road to Sierra Chincua Monarch butterfly sanctuary.
It’s a good 3 hour drive altogether but we make it there before noon.

As soon as we enter the gate children approach us, they want to look after the car.
A young woman with her hair tied up, wearing a crisp white apron asks us if we want to eat. We need to think about that. When we see the large rectangular, grassy sloped area lined with wooden buildings and hand painted signs we wonder if this would be a good place to eat.
We see souvenir shops and stands with refreshments. There are children playing everywhere. There is no running water and no electricity here. We’re in another world.

Once we hear that the walk up the mountain, to see the butterflies takes an hour we decide it may be a good idea to eat something affter all. Others approach us for food but we decide to go to the young woman who approached us first.
She offers us quesedias which she heats on the metal sheet which sit on a half barrel inside which a nice fire is burning.
She invites us to sit down at the long wooden table, lined with a variety of soft drinks and beer. A she cooks we talk and I look around. I see a pot with raw beef and another pot with corn and a dish with peppers. It is safe to eat here? Mom looks at me and says: “We do have food in the cool box don’t we?”.
It was her clean white apron that gives me reassurance.
Her young son watches us very carfully as we eat. I ask the woman about the boy’s name. She tells me it is a Japanese name. I ask “why Japanese?” She explains that when her son was born she wanted to name him Kain. But the lady at the registry suggested that may not be such a good name. So she looked in a book and found the Japanese name.
The children, with their dark skins and rosy cheeks look Mongolian to me. I recall seeing a program on TV where they traced back the genes from Mexican Indians to Tibetans. We did learn abou the treck via the Berin Strait. I find it very interesting and wouldn’t mind staying here for a while and learn more about the people. But without running water and no electricity? How will I curl my hair, or charge the battery for my camera. And what about my daily shower?

We find the bathroom away from the other buildings and I just can’t resist taking a picture. A curtain provides privacy. I need to take large step up and another step and there is the toilet.
I look down and see a slanted concrete basin running along the edge of the building.
Where on earth does the stuff go, I wonder. I investigate outside and see holes in the top of the concrete and concrete lids on top of the basin. Interesting, really interesting. See, I may need to stay longer to see how all this stuff works.
The sinks are there, with plumbing for drainage, but no taps. When I leave, the ladies point to a large barrel with water. I can wash my hands there. I smile thank them and pull a wet wipe out of my bag. That will do the trick.

We buy our ticket which allows us to go up the mountain. A slim native woman with a beautiful smile accompanies us for the walk. As we walk further op the trail, a dozen young men come up to us with their horses. “The walk is too long, you’ll need a horse por las Señoras” they say. We decline, but after a few steps, Mama figures that a horse may be a good idea. I’d rather walk, but don’t want to let her go alone on the horse. The guys walk behind us with the woman as a guide. Her name is Eugenia and she is very quiet and gentle. The horsemen and the woman know where to find the butterflies.

It’s a rough ride up, but the horses are very calm and at least the saddle stays in it’s place.
We reach the view point where we are treated to a beautiful view. There are millions of Monarch butterflies. They are huge and all have the same orange and black colours. We learn that they come from as far as Canada. They are here to find a mate and fly back to wherever they came from to lay their eggs. Many die before they complete their journey. Their babies however, migrate to Mexico once they are adults and the cycle starts all over again.

The guys decide to go back on horseback. We are covered with dust. What a coincidence, the kids down at the square are ready with brushes to wipe our pants and shoes. Some as young as 4 make some money dusting us off for a Peso.

Outside the park we spread our blanket and dig into the cool box once again and manage to make a lovely lunch with sausages and cucumber.
The drive back to the main road, takes us over a terrible road. Not only is it winding back and forth and up and down, it is full of potholes. We’re happy to see the toll road below us and decide to drive west, direction “home” as far as daylight allows us.

We find a Posada in Cuitzo, just west of Morelia. We drive north, over a long land bridge, which takes us into town. There are two Posadas here. The first one is rather poor and has no private bathrooms. We walk to the second one, which is much nicer and is owned by a young American from Chicago. From the street it’s hard to tell it is a Posada, but once we ask, we are taken to the large gate, which leads onto a courtyard with a fountain and lots of rose bushes. A path leads to the building which has a large patio with a lovely seating area. The large cold looking hall, and high ceiling, typical here in Mexico, has rooms on both sides. The rooms are very clean and have a nice size bathroom. Many rooms have metal doors, the locks usually don’t work and they are noisy. Metal and concrete lasts a lot longer here. Wood, just rots away with the heavy rains during the summer season or it gets eaten by the termites.
The price is only 250 Pesos per room. ($25.00) No, not by the hour.
While Ramiro and Joe walk back to get the car, Mama and I walk down the street to the wine store and pick up a nice bottle of Chilean wine and some snacks. We learned our lesson.
What a relaxing way to enjoy our last evening on the road. We sit and talk about our experiences and go for a walk before we turn in for the night.

All shops are kept very clean in a similar style as Patzcuaro. It seems like the entire town is under construction. We learn, that they are fixing everything up, hoping to attract more tourism. Being so close to the water seems to be the only attraction, other than the lovely walk by the three different churches which are very close together.
I may like to come back here one day.