Monarchs of the mountains

A migrating Monarch butterfly sits on the branch of a tree.

The people who live in the dusty villages in the central highlands of Mexico regard the annual arrival of vast numbers of monarch butterflies in their lonely corner of the world as souls of the dead returning to the sacred mountains.

The butterflies' appearance usually coincides with the most famous of Mexico's national festivals, Los Dias de Muertos (The Days of the Dead) on November 1 and 2.

Scientists attribute the annual pilgrimage to the less romantic concept of magnetic fields. Either way, the sight of millions of what are arguably the most attractive members of the insect world has been widely deemed a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

This odyssey has baffled and entranced spectators for decades. As many as 250 million butterflies travel from North America every year to spend their winter months 3000m up in central Mexico's temperate, fir-topped Sierra Madre mountains.

It is an extraordinary undertaking, and those that arrive in November are generally the great-grandchildren of those that left the previous March, as it takes several generations of butterflies to complete the 4000km commute.

Rising early at a rural hacienda in the heart of the state of Michoacan, west of Mexico City, we drive past rippling lakes and sweeping mountains towards the easternmost edge of the region.

At Sierra Chincua, one of two butterfly sanctuaries open to the public, a gaggle of sparkly-eyed young children clutching boxes of sweets and butterfly-adorned trinkets run up to greet us, crying, "mariposa, mariposa".

There is not a tourism booth, information kiosk or ticket office in sight. Instead, a row of single-storey wooden huts, their bright paint faded and peeling, marks the way to the start of the butterfly hike.

Alfredo Valdez Cruz gravely steps forward to greet us. He holds the respected status of former head of the local ejido - the communal agricultural co-operatives that cover the region. After donning mouth masks for protection against the dust on the route, we follow Cruz as he begins huffing his way up the steep path on foot.

Our early morning ascent is steep and - perched at least 3500m above sea level - quite literally breathtaking. In between puffing amid the plumes of dust raised by the stream of passing horses, we listen to Cruz.

The indigenous communities, which are as remote as they are poor, share a complex relationship with the butterflies. Locals may well have known about the butterflies for centuries, but their existence was only shared with the outside world in 1975, when the zoologist Fred Urquhart ended his 37-year search for the winter resting place of the elusive monarchs, stumbling across their Mexican hideaway.

Though conservationists have successfully battled to preserve the area, which is now a government-protected reserve, locals have found it harder to adapt. Farmers have traditionally cleared areas of woodland for farming, and illegal logging has affected 60 per cent of the area, prompting high penalties, guard patrols and frayed tempers all round.

Pausing to inspect the pointed leaves of an oyamel fir tree, Cruz says: "Things have changed for people in the last 20 years since the area was discovered by the biologist. We have had to change our ways. Five months ago, 250 guards were sent to the area to patrol for illegal logging. Unfortunately, this is the only solution to protect our future."

We reach a clearing that gives way to a sweeping vista of jagged mountains, their silhouettes layered in a pale pink haze. A flame-coloured flicker catches my eye and vanishes through the trees. We are approaching the Holy Grail of our journey.

Another pair of orange butterflies dances across the path, guiding us towards the centre of the butterfly gathering. Standing rooted to the ground, surrounded by millions of butterflies is an overwhelming sensation.

Although they each weigh less than a gram, it becomes clear how their collective weight can snap branches off trees. Orange flickers fill the sky as far as the eye can see. Tree-trunks are cloaked in layered clusters of what appear to be dense orange flowers. When the sun emerges from behind clouds, thousands more butterflies spring to life, joining the whirling blizzard of amber confetti.

The only sound, aside from the gasps of tourists and the click of their cameras, is an otherworldly, gentle pulse, the collective beat of the wings of millions of butterflies.

Reluctantly, we return to reality. Back at the huts, the hospitality of the residents is heart-warming. We eat piles of blue maize tortillas cooked on a makeshift stove along with fried cactus-flower nopalitos (pads), and smoked meat washed down with pink bottles of flavoured soda called "Boing" and thick coffee.

Maria Domitila smilingly sells us her hand-made rugs. Children sell postcards and trinkets adorned with butterflies. It is clear that, despite the tensions in the area, communities are starting to adapt to a presence that is guaranteed to pull in more and more visitors every year.

Butterflies, which visit between November and March, are only one of a number of attractions in Michoacan, however. Amid its strikingly rugged terrain lie hidden colonial cities, lush avocado plantations and a string of colourful villages. Evidence of the Purepecha culture among the indigenous communities of Michoacan, descendants of the pre-Hispanic Tarascos, is highly visible throughout the state, in language and costume to cuisine and artefacts.

Morelia, the state capital, is the prototype of the colonial dream town. Small but perfectly formed and charmingly preserved, it is filled with low-rise colonial buildings, baroque facades and pink-hued walls.

Cafes of students sipping coffee fill the colonnades lining the streets of the historic centre, which is home to the grand cathedral, and a Unesco World Heritage Site.

Every Saturday night the grandiose cathedral, the heart and soul of the city, becomes even more magnetic as its lights are turned on.

This event attracts hordes of over-excited children clutching balloons and dribbling ice-cream alongside their well-dressed and chattering parents. It is one of the social highlights of daily life in Morelia.

After a suspenseful delay (or perhaps just normal life in this part of Mexico), a grand overture of classical music fills the night sky before dramatic lighting slowly inches its way up the majestic edifice, culminating in a noisy firework display.

Surveying the pomp and ceremony around me, I recall the butterfly show. It becomes clear that the most fancy of human fanfares may never be able to compete with nature, but they can at least give it a good shot.

Checklist

Getting There
There are regular flights from Mexico City to Morelia with Mexicana for around $300 return. Alternatively, buses leave Mexico City hourly and take around four hours, from around $25 each way.

Accommodation
Local options include Morelia or Hacienda Cantalagua, Contepec, Michoacan( see links below).

Butterfly Viewing
The butterflies are present from November to March.

Sierra Chincua and San Rosario, both in eastern Michoacan near Angangueo, are the only two "Santuario Mariposa Monarca" open to the public.

Drive directly to the sites or travel by bus to Angungueo and complete the journey by hiring a camioneta (truck) for up to 12 people.

Further Information
For information about the butterflies and the local communities see Michoacan Monarch link below.

- INDEPENDENT