What do butterflies and Canadians have in common? Why, Mexico, of course!  (I say this with absolutely no disrespect. Some of my best friends are Canadian.)

Every year hundreds of millions of monarch butterflies undertake a great journey of up to 3000 miles in their annual migration from Canada and the United States to their wintering grounds in Mexico. Now, I don’t actually know hundreds of millions of Canadians (are there even that many residents to the north of us?) I do know that in the several years that Jeff and I have lived aboard El Gato in Mexico, Canadians seem to outnumber visitors from the US of A.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. Today I’m talking about the butterflies that migrate to and congregate in the oyamel fir trees of Michoacan and Mexico states.  Since El Gato was in Zihuatenejo during this migration time, (mid February), I got a few of my fellow sailor-girls together for a weekend road trip to witness it in person. And Boy Howdy, witness it we did!

We rented a car at the local airport for our adventure. Let me say this about rental cars in Mexico. They are either brand-new or real beaters. Personally, I prefer to rent beaters, because, have you seen the roads down here? First there are the topes, or speed bumps. They’re everywhere, and will catch you unaware at any time. They come in all sizes, from kinda-sorta big to steep foothills.  Then there are the potholes, livestock, dogs, drunks, falling rocks…well, you get the picture. I’m not keen on paying for the inevitable damage we inflict on rental cars, and if you get one with lots of wear, they probably won’t notice one more dent when you return it.

So the four of us piled into Betty Beater and drove most of the day to Angangueo, a charming little mining town that has changed little since colonial times. Well, let me tell you. We chicas had all been at sea level for many months, and spending the night at 8,500 feet was challenging, and cold! (No heat, lots of wool blankets)  Good thing we brought  warm clothes!

Early next morning, following a hearty breakfast and lots of coffee, we headed up the mountain for the El Rosario Butterfly Reserve.  (You can read more details about the migration on the link.)

Once at the reserve, we were given the choice of riding horses or walking a steep trail to where the butterflies are located. Sherri and I made the hike, while Nancy and Helen took the horses, and were waiting for us as we huffed uphill at 10,000 feet above sea level. (That’s over 3000 meters, for my Canadian friends.)  A bit more of a hike, and suddenly…

There They Were!

Upon first glance, to me anyway, it looked like a bunch of dead trees with dried leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. Upon clloser inspection, though, those trees were brimming with orange and black wings. The wings of millions of Monarchs! For a moment, we just stood, transfixed.

When you’re up there with the butterflies, you are asked to keep your voices low, so Explorer Jules is whispering and hard to hear. Sorry, but you get the gist. Blue skies and Butterflies!! You also have to watch where you step, because the monarchs lie in the dirt on the ground to keep warm.

These two were making their own heat. (They are lovers, not fighters).

We hung around and enjoyed the beauty and the silence while everything within sight was a dance of orange. It was magical, really. And everybody around us undoubtedly felt the same way. (Only about 15 people were there when we were.)

Our guide explained to us that deforestation is a real threat to the survival of the Monarchs, but with the help of entrance fees, donations and volunteerism, each year between 250,000 to 500,000 pine and Oyamel trees are planted in parcels in an effort to reforest these essential sanctuaries. I felt good about our contribution and am happy to know that conservation groups take this seriously.

If you are ever in the states of Michoacan or Mexico during the yearly migration (December to March, but check first), I encourage you to go! And now I’m super-curious if there are places like this to see the butterflies once they arrive in Canada.  I may be calling on some of my Northern Neighbors in the not-too-distant future!

Hasta Luego!