Friday, March 10, 2016

I guess we didn’t do so well sitting still. We left Tenacatita the day after the storm with predictions of 12-16 knot winds from the NW and swells 6-9 feet with 15 seconds in between. Not so bad if we were going any other direction than straight into the wind and waves. Normally, we would have waited one more day and leave Friday as we had planned. But we were ready to move on. And so we went.

It wasn’t the fact that it was dangerous. It was just a bit uncomfortable. So Mate Stan was right on in his predictions and we saw a steady 12-knot wind for a few hours. Then a steady 15-knot win for a few hours. And finally, just before arriving at Chamela, the winds were as high as 22-knots with no signs of letting up.

No one predicted that. And the seas were a good ten feet more often than not. It was a bit of a roller coaster ride, but I actually enjoyed it. The sky was a bright blue and the air was so clear. It was a picturesque day. Still, we were glad when we rolled into the anchorage at 1800. It took us eight hours to go 30 miles averaging about 3.4 knots on a motor sail. Needless to say, we were tucked in and asleep by 2000 hrs.

Today, it is a much calmer morning. There is only one other sailboat in the anchorage. They arrived late last night. I wonder where they came from.

Yesterday, when we arrived there were eight large fishing boats that we had passed on the way up. You know the weather is not conducive to boating when the fishing vessels tuck in. Five have already left this morning.

February 16, 2016

With all cruises of any length there is much preparation. The systems must be in order. Provisions have to be bought, carried onto the boat and stored. And research must be done. We need to know the weather, the wind and sea state. We should be in good health and rested. When all forces align, it is finally time to go. No matter how much forethought and work goes into the preparation for the trip, one can’t help but be apprehensive. In fact, I don’t think we would be good sailors if we didn’t approach every sail with a bit of caution.

With the boat ready and the weather projection good, we were scheduled for departure on Monday, February 15th. At 1300 hours, we left the safety of our slip and headed out to sea. Our destination; Barra de Navidad. Our first stop, though, would be Chamela, ninety-one nautical miles and an overnight trip.

Overnight cruises come with their own set of worries. Everything is magnified in the blackness of night. This night we were fortunate with a half moon that was quite bright. The wind was light. As we rounded Cabo Corrientes, we found some sloppy seas, hitting us mostly on the beam. Once this calmed down, it was a beautiful night cruise. I even got to see the southern cross.

One thing that helps alleviate stress on overnights is to go with a “buddy boat.” Our friends, Kathy and Jim, from Solar Flair, were also headed south so we joined forces and traveled together. Fortunately, nothing went amiss. Even so, it was a great comfort to have friends nearby.

Twenty-one hours later at 0900 we arrived in the bay of Chamela. We would anchor here for two nights. The following blogs will be entries from my journal as we continue along Costalegre or what is known as the “happy coast.”

February 12, 2016 – Mexican Road Trip, Part Three

Adhering to our ever-present schedule, we left the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary around 1:00 pm. We were to spend the night in Guadalajara and April wanted to arrive before dark, or as close as possible. Unbeknownst to us, she had brought a bag of oranges and some candy and as we headed down the mountain, she would hand them out to the children. These kids, having so little, were delighted in their unexpected gifts.

We left the state of Michoacan and arrived in Guadalajara not long after sunset where we wove through the bustling traffic. Guadalajara is the second largest city in Mexico and the capital of the state of Jalisco. It is known as a mecca of commerce and people come from miles around to purchase anything and everything from clothing to fine art to furniture.

Our next stop, The Hotel Malibu (Hah! It seems we’ve come full circle.), was in mid-city and conveniently situated next to a shopping center. After settling in our rooms we all met outside and walked over to the mall where inside there was an Italian restaurant that April had recommended. A little food, a little wine, some quiet conversation, and we were all ready for a good night’s sleep and excited for our next adventure the following day.

Morning arrived and we climbed into the van and headed for the much-anticipated ruins April had told us about. They are in a town called Teuchitlan, about an hour west of Guadalajara. On our way, we passed field after field of sugarcane. Sugarcane, along with corn, is a huge agricultural industry in Mexico.

Each Mexican village, although similar in nature, has its own personality or something that is unique. The one thing that struck me as we drove through the streets of Teuchitlan was that it was so clean. Within the village itself, there was no trash to speak of. We passed several women sweeping the streets. Even the dirt streets! Some litter began to appear as we headed out of town, but I was left with the image of a well-maintained village in which the inhabitants took great pride.

The Guachimontone Museum lies on the outskirts of town and sits on a hill, but below the ruins. It is relatively new and impeccably clean. The exhibits are informative and clearly marked. Inside there is a theater where we were given an overview of the discovery of this site. After the film, April gave us some time to look around on our own while we waited for our guide, Saggi.

Saggi used to be a full-time guide but found she could make a better living as a kindergarten teacher. From time to time, she still takes on tours (especially for her friend, April) and today she called off class so she could meet with us here. She is a young Mexican woman, maybe in her early thirties, who speaks excellent English with a slight accent. She has a fiesty spirit and enthralls us with her tales. She enjoys making people laugh and makes fun of herself and her corny jokes. “It makes me happy!” she says, “This is what I tell my daughter when she laughs at me.” Not a bad attribute to have and we couldn’t help but fall in love with her as she told us about the Guachimontones who, perhaps were her ancestors, in this place she calls home.

We were standing outside the museum when Saggi pointed up the hill. “See that mountain? The ruins are up there in between two mountains. But you cannot see them from down here. But from up there, you will see, you can see everything.” We followed as Saggi led the way up the hill. “Agh! Another steep climb.” We all chimed in laughing, begrudgingly.

She was right. From the top we could see for miles in every direction, making it an obvious look-out for approaching enemies. She explained how, when a threat was perceived, the high priest would call the people up from the village below. Slowly, and in an organized procession, the villagers would leave their homes and walk up the mountain to safety. There they would stay, hidden, until their enemies would leave.

The community that lived in Teuchitlan was complex and occupied the area from around 300 B.C. to 900 A.D. This pre-Columbian society and its archetecture is sometimes referred to as the “Teuchitlan Tradition.” This is due, in part, to the circular and conical step-pyramids that are “…unique to the Mesoamerican archetectural repertoire and indeed are not found anywhere else in the world…” says Phil Weigland, the man who rediscovered this site in the 1970s. In fact, it was Phil Weigland and his wife, Celia Garcia, along with their team who began excavating in the 1990s, bringing to light an entire civilization, thus adding another chapter in Mexican history.

Now on the top of the hill, we stood staring at what was once the center of the Teuchitlan Tradition, a very large pyramid, maybe 60 feet in height, circular in shape, with 13 layers – think wedding cake – then a platform that held another tier with four more layers. At the very top is a hole where it is believed a pole would have been erected. The high priest would climb this pole, where he would move back and forth like a bird, performing the sacred ritual to the wind god, Ehecatl. (We all smiled at the thought that April had brought us to this particular mountain where homage was paid to the wind god, Ehecatl, something us sailors do quite often; pray to the wind gods.)

What is particularly interesting about the pyramids (There are more than this one central one and all follow the same format), is that the numbers are thought to symbolize the calendar year. Thirteen layers times four layers equals fifty-two. There are fifty-two weeks in a year. Four weeks in a month. Four seasons in a year. Four elementary gods: wind, water, fire and earth.

Surrounding the pyramids are other platforms, each with four steps to the top. This area, Saggi says, is thought to have been sacred and generally only for the elite. When ceremonies were performed, the villagers were invited to watch and some would dance around the pyramid holding hands in a circle. In the museum there are artifacts, sculptures made of clay, depicting this very dance ritual. Taking our hands, Saggi showed us the steps and we re-enacted the dance together.

We walked around the compound as Saggi explained how the Guachimontones buried their dead in shaft tombs. Vertical tunnels were dug many feet deep and then housed chambers, big enough to stand in, in all directions. This is where they would bury their family members. Many of these shaft tombs were directly beneath their home dwellings, allowing them to not only protect their ancestors, but visit them, if so desired. Saggi found this practice touching and she shared with us how she wished shaft tombs were still used today.

We continued along until we stopped in front of a long, rectangular field, not unlike a football field, but not as wide. This was one of two ball courts on the premises; one to use for practice, the other was for the official games, as the ball courts were used as a means of judicial legislation. For instance, if there was a land dispute, it was brought to the judges and they would make a decision, not based on legalities or merit, but by the winner of the ball game.

The opposing teams would arrive at dawn and play until sunset. The game was a little like soccer in that they could only hit the ball with their hips. But unlike soccer, the ball was a large stone wrapped in rubber and was quite heavy. After twelve hours of continuous sport, you can imagine what shape these men were in. In fact, during the excavation, many male skeletons were uncovered with broken hips. The winners were presented with a drink (to ease the pain, I suppose) and were given an honorable death. The losers were taken far away to die, without the drink and without any honor. Given this harsh penal system, I would assume it was a fairly peaceful society that found ways to settle their grievances privately.

“See that mountain over there?” Saggi said. “That is where the Guachimontones would mine obsidian. Obsidian was used in making tools among other things. The mine isn’t in use anymore, but you can visit and take a tour. You should come back some time and go there. It is definitely worth a visit. Also, see that over there? That is a volcano. That one is sleeping. It could wake up at any time.” Saggi nervously giggled. “I have a funny story.” She continued. “I was teaching my kindergarten class about the volcano Tequila when one of the little boys interrupted me, ‘Does that mean when it explodes, a bunch of tequila will come out?’ he cried out excitedly. ‘I can’t wait to tell my papa! He will be so happy!'”

Overlooking the valley, I tried to imagine what life was like here so very long ago, while Saggi continued to paint a picture. She explained how Laguna de La Vega, at the base of Teuchitlan, also played an important role in their economy as it was used for irrigation and growing crops on small man-made islands on the water.

So much has already been learned about the Guachimontones and yet they have only scratched the surface. Unfortunately, Mr. Weigland has passed and as of now, there is no one heading the research or continuing with the excavation. What more lies beneath these stones we walk on is yet to be discovered. Hopefully one day someone will take the lead and add new chapters to this fascinating story of the Guachimontones and the Teuchitlan Tradition.

Before leaving Teuchitlan, April took us to a restaurant along the lake that sits at the bottom of town. It was there that I saw my first white pelican. She was a large bird, regal in her beauty.

Tummys full, we loaded into the van for our last leg of the trip. We crossed the mountains back into the state of Nayarit. I watched the dry, arid terrain turn back into the lush green tropical jungle I love so much. I commented on this and was surprised to learn from April that the Puerto Vallarta area is the only part of Mexico that supports such an eco-system.

With the sun setting, we finally returned to Paradise Village. Our backpacks strapped on, we crawled out of the van and headed for our boats. In just three days we had driven through three states, many villages, up and down mountains, and across many fields. We saw the precious Monarch butterflies in their natural habitat and we visited the site of the Teuchitlan Tradition where we learned much about the history of the Guachimontones. It was tiring, but great fun, with great people, and well worth the trip.

See Photo Gallery.

February 12, 2016 – Part Two of our road trip.

The town of Angangueo sits high in the mountains, in a small canyon, just a thirty-minute drive from the sanctuary at about 8500 feet. It is not very old, founded in the late 18th century after finding a large mineral deposit. Although there is little to no active mining any longer, tourism has been revived by the butterfly reserves in the area.

Our overnight stop was at the Hotel Don Gabino. A small, colorful building located on the main road in town. The outside was painted with orange, blue and some red and bougainvillea flowers decorated the exterior walls. Like most hotels in the smaller towns in Mexico, the rooms are quite spartan, but comfortable. Clean too. All too much, I am afraid as we were overwhelmed – to the point of nausea – with the scent of Pine Sol as we entered our room.

The sun was lowering fast, so after a quick check-in, we went on that walk April promised, up a steep hill, to acclimate our lungs to a higher altitude. We passed several markets and small homes made of adobe with red tile roofs. Bright red Geraniums were neatly arranged in flower pots amongst many of the buildings. It was around 5:30 in the evening and the streets were sparsely populated, due (we would find out later) to the fact that most residents were at church – most likely confessing their sins – as it was Fat Tuesday, the day before Lent.

At the end of the main road lie, not one but two churches. They call this area the Plaza de la Constitucion. One of the churches, The Immaculate Concepcion was built by one family in the image of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Here, there are also several underground tunnels connecting the buildings. Evidently this is not uncommon in mining towns.

We stopped for a cold cerveza. Cute, little Mexican children peaked in at us from the outside. Their very young mother looked at us with pleading eyes.

“They’re begging.” April said, watching them from afar. After a few more moments she got up from the table, “I’m going over to the store to see what I can find for them.” Jay handed her fifty pesos to help out.

“I got a couple of cans of tuna and some hot dogs and bread. They didn’t have any lunch meat. That should help anyway.” She said as she returned. I turned around to glimpse their fleeting smiles as they ran off, coveting their treasure.

While having our beer, Jay asked April what the name for candle is in Spanish. “Vela.” She said. “Why?”

“Oh, that’s why they couldn’t understand me.” Jay had been shopping at various tiendas looking for a candle. He said it would help alleviate the Pine Sol aroma in our room. “I kept asking for candelaria!” We all got a good laugh out of that one. Keeping us to schedule, April checked her watch.

“Okay. Let’s go. They’re going to have dinner ready for us when we get back.”

The sun had set and the air was getting colder. Church had let out so we noticed much more activity in the streets. The girls got ahead of the boys and by the time we got back to the hotel we had two candles. One Jay had bought and one April and I found.

The hotel restaurant was now open and dinner was well under way. There were a few other patrons, but not many. We picked out a couple of good bottles of wine and sat at at table by the fireplace to warm up. In small hotels like this one, it is quite common that they serve only one set course, or maybe a choice of two items. No menu. You eat what you get. Hopefully it is good.

Ours started out with a small salad which consisted of a slice of ham rolled up, a piece of cheese and a slice of tomato and avocado. The main course was either chicken in a peanut sauce or meatballs. Except they were running out of chicken left so two of us had to have the meatballs. I had the chicken only I couldn’t taste the peanut. Jay offered to have one of the meatball dishes. Desert was flan. It wasn’t a fabulous dinner but it was good. And inexpensive. That always helps.

The following day we rose for another meal and by 9:45 we were finally on our last leg to the butterfly sanctuary. It was a steep, one lane road. It was very precarious at times when we would look straight down off one side or the other. There were no rails, no berms, just straight down. We passed many houses perched on the hills. Angangueo was much larger than I had thought. On the way, we ran into some young men who had put a rope across the road. April stopped and she and the Mexicans had a conversation. After a few minutes, they dropped their rope and we went through.

“What did they want April?” I asked.

“They wanted me to pay a “toll” to go through! Can you believe that? I told them this is a national park road. They can’t do that. No way, man, am I going to pay them to drive on this road.”

Not much later, we found ourselves at the base of the butterfly sanctuary. We paid our entrance fee and they assigned us a guide. She was a young woman who spoke only Spanish, no problem with that, but offered no local knowledge unless asked. Mostly they are there to make sure we stay on the path and do no harm to the butterflies or their environment. For these Monarch butterflies that travel down here are not just revered because they help with the tourism, they are honored guests who, some believe, are their ancestors returning to bless their crops.

It was quite a walk up the mountain. 620 steps some woman counted, and that was only half the distance. The rest was dirt. It was a very steep climb arriving at 10,000 feet. Having lived at sea level for most of my life made the walk doubly hard. Every so often (more times than I would like to admit) we would stop to catch our breath and slow our hearts down. Meanwhile, April would use this time of rest to interpret the signs and tell us about the sanctuary.

The arrival of the Monarch Butterfly migration begins in October but the mass arrival seemingly coincides with a very important holiday in Mexico; Dia de los Muertos, or The Day of the Dead. It is said if one of the butterflies lands in your field, it is good luck.

The forests are populated with Pine, Juniper, Cedar, and Oyamel. Oyamel is a type of fir that only grows at high altitudes. Unfortunately, due to global warming, the oyamels are seemingly headed for extinction.

Like the trees, Monarchs, too, like the cool and moist air that comes with this high altitude. In fact, it is this balance of climate: not too hot, not too cold; not too damp, but not too dry, that draws the butterflies to this particular area.

From time to time, as we walked along the path, we would come upon a dead butterfly. The guide would remove it from the path and, ever so gently, sit it down in the forest. It is disrespectful to step on them and they ask us not to, even if they have already died.

The higher and higher we got, the more butterflies we would see on the ground. Eventually we came to a clearing that was roped off and there were thousands of them lying all over the grass. It was still too cold for them to move, but as the sun got warmer, they started fluttering about.

When we arrived at the top, or designated area, we found about fifty tourists in various states of awe. Some were shooting photos, others pointing out the hive-like bunches that hung from the trees. And others were quietly watching. Signs were placed strategically, encouraging visitors to whisper.

There were millions of Monarch butterflies all around us. Some were lying on the ground, still, waiting for the warmth of the sun to fill their wings with energy or simply taking moisture from the earth. Others began the mating ritual. And others woke slowly and took flight. Yet most were still hibernating, hanging from the trees.

The hive-like bunches were the most amazing. Tens of thousands of butterflies were clumped together to stay warm. This is how they survive during their hibernation period. Some of the bunches were as large as three feet wide, two feet around and five feet long. When you think of the delicacy of each butterfly, this cumbersome cocoon is an awesome visual. I stood there, imagining what it would be like to be present when the sun warmed the hive, or the wind woke them up, en masse. I hear the sound causes quite a stir in the forest.

Monarch Butterflies have four cycles of life in one year. Three generations live from four to six weeks. The fourth generation lives eight months, long enough to fly from Texas to Mexico in October and November, then hibernate until February or March when they wake up and mate. The males will never leave Mexico, but the females return to Texas where they lay their eggs on the milkweeds. It is the cycle of life…and it never ceases to amaze me.

See Gallery for more photos.