Ghosts

After spending a few weeks getting reacquainted with friends in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, we took a vacation from the boat.  We flew to Mexico City and rented a car to drive to the UNESCO Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve.  

The 560-square-kilometer area of protected land is the destination of millions of Monarch butterflies every November-through-March.  Each year, the butterflies migrate between eastern Canada and central Mexico—a journey that takes multiple generations of butterflies.  The reserve covers land in Mexico State and Michoacán State, and it includes four public sanctuaries. 

Vacancy Sign On

The first stop on our mariposa tour was Zitácuaro Heroica, a small but bustling town that has played a part in Mexico’s political history, which included the city being burned to the ground and reviving three separate times.  For its role in history, it was granted the ciudad Heroica title.  It sits on the border of Mexico State, not far from the Cerro Pelon Sanctuary. 

After a surprisingly luxurious stay at a small hotel in Zitácuaro, a lot of good street food, and some people watching in the main plaza, we took a day trip to Cerro Pelon.  We pulled up to the welcome center, but found it closed.  A few people were standing outside of their home across the street, and they informed us that the butterflies were not there this year. One of the people had been a guide in the sanctuary, and I asked if we could still hike the trail up the mountain, which I had read to be a beautiful but strenuous hike up 2,253 feet over the course of 3 miles.  

The guide affirmed and we clambered along behind him, while he wisely rode his horse.  He told us that he has witnessed the butterfly numbers declining over at least the past 20 years but that this was the first year he has seen no butterflies. We stopped at the spot that millions of butterflies usually inhabit, forming a huge colony on the branches of the oyamel fir trees.  But the branches were vacant.  

After a frank conversation about climate change and the impacts that go beyond the butterflies, the three of us tromped back down the trail.  In an attempt to appease our feeling of helplessness, we—including our guide—picked up plastic trash along the path back.

100-Peso Views

Our search for the mariposas next took us to the small former-mining town of Angangueo.  Named a Pueblo Mágico, the town has pivoted away from its oppressive past of mining toward environmental perseveration with a focus on tourism and agriculture.  It sits nestled in a small valley with its precarious streets and colorful homes crawling up the sides of massive mountains.  And up those mountains, with a slightly higher elevation and therefore cooler climate than Cerro Pelon, is where we found the butterflies.  

Hundreds of thousands of butterflies filled tree branches like overcrowded leaves and they exploded into the sky as the sun warmed them and they stretched their sleepy wings.  We visited two sanctuaries near Angangueo, in the state of Michoacán—Sierra Chincua and El Rosario.  In each, visitors must hire a guide and hike up the steep and beautiful mountain terrain.  The exertion is worth it.  The butterfly colony is impressive and the views in general are noteworthy.  In fact, they are 100-peso-note-worthy, as a vista view from Sierra Chincua adorns the 100-peso bill.  

The Monarch butterflies arrive in Mexico each year in early November and depart by the end of March.  Because their arrival lines up with Día de Los Muertos, when dead relatives and family are said to visit the living world, folklore identifies the butterflies as souls of the departed.  Whether they are insects or friendly ghosts, witnessing them in that number, and in those clean green mountains, feels spiritual.  

When the Crew is Away…

We returned to La Cruz after our week-long excursion to find our boat engine running.  After searching for the attempted-thief, contacting the marina security, contemplating poltergeists, and notifying a few of our buddies, one friend told us that he had heard of Yanmar engines starting themselves.  We laughed at the implausibility, then did a quick check of our Yanmar engine.  

Salt water had sprayed from our newly installed exhaust elbow onto our engine compartment during our passage.  Rob had remedied the issue and cleaned it up, but he did not see that some salt remained on the engine’s starter solenoid.  The salt permitted electricity to arc between terminals, essentially hotwiring the starter, which powered on the engine.  We determined from the history on our battery monitor that Mapache had been happily humming in her slip for 24 hours before we got home. 

The bad news was we needed a new starter because, just as would happen if you held the key in the on position of your car starter, it burned out.  But we have a lot of luck! Maybe some is bad, because this is an extremely unusual, requiring just the right circumstances to line up.  But a lot is good, because: (1) a fire did not start; (2) this happened in the marina slip, where the boat remained safe while we could not turn her back on without a new starter; and (3) we were able to order the new starter via Amazon delivered to the marina within a week.  We enjoyed the extra time we got with friends in La Cruz, and we installed the new starter.  Good to go.

Changing Plans

After that, we moved to anchor just outside of Marina La Cruz, waiting again on a weather window to continue our trek south.  Before we weighed anchor and raised our sails, we made a new plan.  Because of this season’s delays, we are not pressing on to Panama this season.  At this point, it would require us to rush.  Instead, we will make it halfway down the Central American coast to the last stop in Mexico—Puerto Chiapas.  That will allow us to leisurely explore the countries between Mexico and Panama next season, and then carry on into the Caribbean.  You should know by now not to rely on any of our plans, because it’s really up to the boat (and her ghosts).