On Saturday, we vacated our room at the Casa de los Recuerdos in Zitácuaro, our base the first two nights, and took a taxi to the small town of Macheros, population 350. There, Ellen Sharp, co-owner of JM’s Butterfly B&B, arranged for her brother-in-law, Vicente Moreno Rojas, to guide us on an ambitious climb up Cerro Pelón. The “bald hill” was the site of the initial “discovery” of the roosting sites back in 1975.
We started on horseback and it wasn’t easy. A steep grade, rocky, slippery trail, and thin mountain air conspired to make the trek a serious challenge–even as Vicente prodded our horses. After an hour, we arrived at the Llano de Tres Gobernadores, a flat plain between two stands of Oyamel and pine forest. There, we enjoyed a picnic lunch packed by Moreno’s sister–ham sandwich, chips, apple and pedacito de chocolate, a small bite of chocolate.
Francisco Moreno Hernandez, an arborist for Butterflies and their People, AC
, a Mexican nonprofit started by Sharp and her husband to protect the forest and its inhabitants, sallied up on horseback. He advised that the butterflies were gathering another 45-minutes up the mountain, above 11,000 feet. CEPANAF Forest Ranger Javier Moreno was patrolling the area and agreed to lead us to the roosts after inspecting my permit.
Butterflies & Their People arborist Francisco Moreno Hernandez, Monika Maeckle, CEPANAF Forest Ranger Javier Moreno and JM Butterfly B&B Guide Vicente Moreno Rojas. And yes, they’re all cousins. Photo by Robert Rivard
Never have I endured a more literally breathtaking hike. Relatively fit for my 61 years, I panted like a dog on the rigorous 45-minute climb, stopping every few minutes to absorb the magical sight of an increasing number of butterflies flitting above. As I paused every few footholds to catch my breath, I thought of my friend Catalina Trail, the first Westerner to the roosting sites
. How did she ever find her way to this impossibly remote and majestic place? Ah yes, she had gone with a local the day of her momentous discovery.
The historic account by Canadian scientist Dr. Fred Urquhart, who spent decades piecing together the mystery of the Monarch butterfly migration with the help of Catalina and other volunteers, also crossed my thoughts. In a famous August 1976
A dreamy day I’ll never forget in Cerro Pelón–Photo by Robert Rivard
National Geographic cover story headlined “Discovered: the Monarch’s Mexican Haven,” Urquhart bemoaned his advanced years and leaden feet. “Our hearts pounded…” he wrote. “The rather macabre though occurred to me: Suppose the strain proved too much?”
By late afternoon, we arrived at the trees the Monarchs had chosen. Seeing them saunter and flit against the cottony clouds and bright blue sky somehow reassured me. I sat on the ground, removed my hat, leaned back on an Oyamel stump and enjoyed the natural spectacle.
That evening, we savored a delicious trucha en papillote, trout cooked in paper. Sharp’s mother-in-law, Rosa Rojas Sanchez, 56, harvested the fish that afternoon from the Moreno family trout farm. She and her husband, five daughters and five sons, their spouses and offspring number 23, and comprise more than 6.5% of Machero’s population.
Enjoy the flowers in Macheros, but watch out for street dogs. Photo by Monika Maeckle
The next morning before returning to Zitácuaro to catch our bus to Mexico City, I ambled up the hill from the B&B while one of the Moreno sisters gave Bob a hot towel shave. A champagne-colored Chihuahua mix approached me nervously, yapping loudly. I shooed him away. The ruckus roused his sleeping friend, a 40-pound mutt with a short white coat and black spots. The dog rose from his street slumber, and with no provocation or warning, charged me, sinking his jaw into my left calf. YEOW!
I kicked the beast and he retreated. Then I remembered “the cave man trick” Bob taught me when we lived in El Salvador years ago, where encounters with canines de la calle were common. Lean down and grab a rock. If no rocks are available, PRETEND you have one. Stooping in such a manner seems to signal to dogs a potential stone coming their way. They almost always retreat. The cave man trick worked when the spotted dog approached me again.
Dog bites are no fun. Use the caveman trick. Photo by Monika Maeckle
Sharp helped me dress the wound, which later measured 12 mm in a San Antonio hospital emergency room.
Researching and undergoing rabies shots consumed two days of my time upon my return. I agreed with the ER doctor who assessed the odds of me having rabies as “extremely low.” “But if you do,” he said, “it’s 100% fatal.”
I’m getting the shots. They’re not the horrid series of a dozen injections administered in the stomach with nine-inch needles of days past, however. That practice ended in the ’80s.
Now, the first round consists of four shots, including an intense injection of immunoglobulin into the actual dog bite. The thick liquid must be spread around the wound area—that is, the needle is inserted deeper than usual and moved in a circular motion under the skin—to deter the virus, if present, from migrating to the brain. All other shots are pretty routine.
Two days after arriving home, Bob received alarming text messages and phone calls requesting strange authorizations for luxury purchases. “Mr. Rivard, we’re calling to authorize the recent Neiman Marcus online charge for $5,370.47.” Someone had hijacked Bob’s Visa card for a luxury spending spree.
No permanent harm done, except for an interesting future scar on my leg. New Visa cards arrived yesterday and my sixth shot in the rabies series of seven is set for Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. I am grateful to have access to good medical care and insurance. And to have had the magical experience of seeing the Monarchs come home.
Future Monarch roosting site visitors, I encourage you to go with a local. You’ll have an unforgettably authentic experience. Keep an eye on your credit cards and save all receipts. And don’t forget the cave man trick. Buen viaje.
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