Michoacán & Western Mexico

Almost.

Ed Fladung marks the passing of the rains with a post in his blog.

“Everywhere around me I can see the signs that the rain is done.

“The dust is creeping back and all of the locals have begun the process of clearing out the three months of intense jungle growth and I’ve started to see small brush fires which signal the beginning of the burning season.

“You can smell it in the air, the light smokey smell from a small burning fire, somewhere just out of sight.”

Nicely put, Ed. 

The acquisition of some 20,000 acres of land on the Pacific coast of Mexico south of Careyes by the billionaire financier and socialite, Sir James Goldsmith, raised local hackles in 1986.

The entrance to La Loma

Two decades on, the blue and yellow dome of the main house that rises up from the jungle floor still raises eyebrows from wealthy and celebrity guests.

Goldsmith commissioned the architect Robert Couturier to build an enormous home, Cuixmala (“Soul Haven”), beside a two-mile long beach in a coconut plantation overlooking the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean.

The result is unarguably one of the most impressive family estates of the 20th century.

The property was first opened for exclusive rental in December 2002.

(I’m told) the experience of staying as a guest at Cuixmala is very similar to the way it was when its creator was alive – like staying at a private residence.

Alborada living room

It is currently run by Sir James’s daughter Alix and her husband Goffredo Marcaccini.

There are four bedrooms in the main house and six guest bungalows at La Loma. The guest bungalows cannot be rented separately. The cost of a night here is US$11,000; in the December/January holiday period it is US$15,000, with a 14 day minimum stay at that time in all of the houses and the casitas.

This month, Richard Perry returns to the lake country of northern Michoacán for a detailed look at the extraordinary church front of Santa María Magdalena in Cuitzeo - a masterpiece of 16th century architectural sculpture by a local stonecarver. 

On the road between Sayulita and Punta Mita
Originally uploaded by Ed Fladung

At this time of year – with a long dry season looming – many small landowners choose to incinerate some of the lush foliage that has wildly accumulated during the rainy months. It it slashed away, gathered up and burned. “As I float on my [surf]board,” writes Ed Fladung in his blog, “…and look back at the shore and the town behind it, I can see hundreds of small plumes of smoke drifting up above Sayulita, as if the entire town and surrounding hills are on fire.”

Historically, the use of fire has been the tool of choice for reshaping the landscape in the tropics. By March and April, towards the end of the dry season, the combination of carelessness and dry tinderbox scrubland can result in localised burning escaping into forested areas causing wildfires and thick palls of smoke. Human activities cause 97 per cent of these wildfires.

Originally uploaded by Ed Fladung

This image captured my attention while reading Ed Fladung’s blog.

It was taken during a night out in Sayulita, a little Pacific fishing community an hour’s drive north of Puerto Vallarta.

Ed’s parents design-and-build vacation homes around the northern rim of the Bahia de Banderas.

Note: Sayulita, in Nayarit state, is in a different time zone (an hour behind) Puerto Vallarta, which is in Jalisco.

The Mexican tourism authorities are trying to steer more tourists to small towns through a new program called “Pueblos Magicos,” (“magic towns”). One of them is Talpa de Allende, a remote Jalisco town high up in the Sierra Cacoma, famed for the creations of its many gum artisans. Kevin Sullivan, the Washington Post’s correspondent in Mexico, wrote about Talpa yesterday [free registration may be required].

Talpa is also famous throughout Mexico for its colourful pueblo ambiance and the stately church that shelters the revered “Rosario de Talpa,” one of the renowned “Three Sister” virgins of Jalisco. It is visited by thousands of pilgrims each year.

The greatest of all Mexican novelists

The town is also the backdrop to one of Juan Rulfo’s most highly praised stories, “Talpa”, in which an adulterous pair – a man and his sister-in-law – carry the man’s plague-wracked brother, Tanilo, on a godforsaken pilgrimage to the Virgin of Talpa, trying to reach her “before she runs out of miracles.” This and other gritty but beautifully written stories became “Llano en Llamas” in 1953, translated into English and published as “The Burning Plain” by the University of Texas Press in 1967. All Rulfo’s tales develop in a dusty, desolate and sunburned rural post-revolutionary Jalisco.

Tapete – ‘carpet’
Originally uploaded by Greenery

Carpet of sawdust and cut flowers (detail) on a Patamban street.

More photos

Open road
Originally uploaded by Greenery

“For once”, Melanie Bateman tells me, “I was taking it easy being the passenger…”. This photo was taken on Monday, descending the Guadalajara to Colima toll road beyond Ciudad Guzman, Jalisco.

The main roads in Mexico are being upgraded all the time – the fact that I drove 24,716km through 17 Mexican states without ever suffering the indignity of a puncture is testament to this fact.

However, they do vary a bit: very good in Querétaro and Yucatán for example, poor in Guanajuato and Veracruz.

Toll roads are generally in excellent condition but are considered by many to be the among the most expensive in the world.

These “cuota” highways were planned alongside or near existing free roads (which often make an interesting detour), as Mexican law requires that there be a free, parallel alternative to each toll highway.

Most traffic (especially ‘muffler-less’ trucks) uses the congested, limited “libre” or free federal roads, dissuaded by the high tolls, placing less emphasis on timesaving than the toll roads’ engineers and developers had anticipated.

Almost one year ago I visited the Sierra Chincua butterfly sanctuary – a short distance from the small town of Angangueo, 110 km east of Morelia. Like most visitors, I took a horseback tour with a guide via the rough mountain trails.

From November to March, millions of Monarch butterflies, with their four-inch wingspans, cloak the trunks of the towering Oyamel fir trees and hang on boughs in clusters of tens of thousands in a sea of orange and black.

According to Monarch Watch, two colonies are present on Sierra Chincua this season. At El Rosario, which is always busier with tourists, there is one colony located to the NE of the sanctuary, so you will have to traverse the entire trail to see the butterflies.

In a repetition of the scenes in 1997 and 2002, a report this week suggests recent severe winter weather may have killed as many as 10% of the Monarchs.

Nevertheless, February is perhaps the best time to visit the area and our friend and pioneer of responsible tourism, Marlene Ehrenberg Enríquez, is organising a one-day tour of the sanctuary on 21 February. The tour will leave Mexico City at 07:00, returning about 17:00. The cost is 300 pesos – about $27 USD). Email Marlene, or visit her website for more information.

Funny, I wait at least 15 years before jumping up onto a horse I do not know and then two come along at once.

On Sunday I was persuaded against my better judgement to pay 100 pesos to ride on horseback to the entombed church at San Juan. We trod very gingerly through the lava field in sight of the Paricutín volcano.

Yesterday, more sensibly (at 10,000ft) we rode an exhilarating forest trail to witness the millions of wintering Monarch butterflies in the Sierra Chincua sanctuary. Being a Monday, we were almost alone, just like Prince Charles almost one year before… though he dropped in by chopper.

My mount on Monday was named El Vanidoso (“The Vain One”) but frankly I am only concerned that my backside recovers before the long drive to Puebla today.