AWAKE AT SUNRISE, arise and drive west towards Morelia on FH 15, a federal highway which was built during 1926-1939 and winds it′s way some 428 miles between Mexico City and Guadalajara.

There are other, faster routes that traverse the mountains between Mexico City and Guadalajara, but Federal highway 15 is definitely the most scenic one to take.

After arising, I start the jammer and begin my travel west on FH 15, over the state line of Mexico, into Michoacán and continue through Zitácuaro. It rains this entire day but I still enjoy the scenic views along the way, better than most that I can remember ever seeing before.

Along this road, there are several view points, one which has a waterfall cascading down through the thick forest from over a hundred feet above. Nearby is an amazing place called Mirador Mil Cumbres with views that rival the best that I saw on the Appalachian Trail.

I know, when I walked the Appalachian Trail, I did not have a camera, but there remains in my mind the sights and sounds that I did experience while upon that majestic foot path and up unto this very year have I not seen anything even close.

Arriving in Morelia, a five hundred year old city, shortly before three in the afternoon, I quickly come upon an amazing piece of architecture, the aquaducto.

I keep driving and in less than and hour I find the Kingdom Hall located on a street that is shown in my map book. This book not only has the highways throughout México but has detail maps of all the major road in the primary cities. Since Morelia is the capital of Michoacán and it has over a million people living here, it has it′s own map in my book. I am so glad that I find the hall; the English school and service meeting is tonight at seven. I then drive back up the avenue into town because I saw a d-mart when searching for the hall.

I want to do some shopping to buy fresh vegetables and cereal. As I am walking the isles, I see a blond woman who clearly looks North American. I walk up and ask in English, "Do you speak English?" After she answers yes, I ask where she is from and she says Toronto. Then I say "May I ask one more question?" When she replies "Yes", I ask "Are you one of Jehovah′s Witnesses" to which she replies, "Yes." Her husband walks up and we become acquainted.

Then Timothy tells me that there is a meeting in an hour at the kingdom hall just down the road. I tell them that I am aware of that and will be driving back there in a few minutes. After returning to the hall, I change clothes and go into the hall for the meeting. There are about forty in this English congregation and meet many of them.

I ask a couple of the friends if they know of a place where I can park my van for the evening. One of the American brothers says, well why don′t you just stay at our home. I assure the Brother that all I need is a place to park, that I am all set up in my van. He says, "We have the extra room, it would be ashamed if it goes to waste." I concede, follow Fred and Sally home in my van and glad that I did. The room came with supper and a hot shower.

These are the finest of friends. (Day 15)

Driving east, I cover the same route I took last week, highway 15 when I drove here to Morelia. However, today it is sunny whereas the last time it was overcast and raining. The drive today allows me to get some better photos of the views, especially of the Waterfall and viewpoint.

Finally, I arrive at the butterfly preserve and begin up the park road after sunset when I come to my first sign but it is much too dark to read it.

As I approach the preserve after dark, I stop to ask for directions from a woman standing outside of her home. In only a couple of minutes, the whole family comes outside to see who has stopped at their home. After a short conversation the husband allows me to park in his driveway off of the narrow street which is barely wide enough for two cars to pass by.

I thank him, climb into the back of the jammer and set up for sleep. (Day 17)

The name of the park is Reserva de la Biosfera Mariposa Monarca-El Rosario. I awake long before dayspring and before six and to drive up the last kilometer to the parking lot at the entrance to the Monarch sanctuary. I am really tired and feel lousy this morning, like I ate something not so good, so I decide to sleep here in the parking area to revive myselƒ.

At nine this morning, a pickup truck marked Policía Federal arrives with a loud horn blaring. It has about seven armed men, most with machine guns. They jump out of the back of the truck and begin walking around in the compound to the different stands. I am not sure if they are here to eat or what, so I will stay down in my van and watch from the concealment of the rear area. Now I see some of the men drinking from Styrofoam cups; it must be a hot drink. They are all congregating at the food stand with the hot drinks. Just now, a second truck arrives, and a few minutes later, a third truck with at least another dozen men, all toting machine guns. There must be a convention of federal police here today because suddenly, two more trucks arrive, that is five total with at lest twenty-five machine guns and all walking around the compound. Then at nine-fifteen all the trucks leave one by one as if it was there fifteen minute break and I go back to sleep. ¹⁴

Then at about eleven, the state police arrive and the noise of their arrival awakens me again. Just like the federal police, no one in the compound seems to be upset, they just go on in their business. So, I stay concealed in the back of my van. Despite the constant interruptions of my sleep, I awake at noon feeling much better and then I immerge from my van, don my hat but not my camera and walk into the butterfly preserve. I pay the entrance fee, about $4.00 US and I am assigned a guide: a young man in his late teens. He speaks no English and only walks with me up to the sanctuary to view the butterflies and back down, so I only tip him ten pesos. This view site is accessed by a long series of steps and switchbacks and I have to stop to rest several times. After returning to the base, I buy a book entitled ′Danaids: The Marvelous Monarch Butterflies′ for forty pesos. The word Danaids is the scientific name for the Monarch butterfly. Then I return to my van, get out my stove and heat water for lunch consisting of coffee and oatmeal. As I arrive, a troop of young boys show up and ask in Spanish if they can wash my van. I have found a good reply to these constant barrage of requests from the locals to do some work for me. I say in Spanish, No Hablo Español, Habla Inglés which means "I don′t speak Spanish, do you speak English." It works almost every time and they leave.

I set up the stove, light it and as the water starts to heat, the young boys gather closer around to watch me in order to see what I am doing. When I open the lid and they see the water boiling, they all let out a gasp of surprise. I eat my lunch, clean up the dishes but don′t put everything away because that would give the boys an opportunity to see into my van and what I have inside. I would prefer that they don′t see in despite the fact that several have tried to leaned in to look. Instead, I close the sliding door, walk around to the driver′s door with my coffee cup in hand, say "Adios" and then drive off the mountain, first through very narrow streets.

About a half mile down, I stop at a wide spot in the road where there are only a couple of burros and then straighten up the inside of my van. As I continue down the mountain, I see a young man repairing the roof on their out house. A little further down, there is a woman smiling large while doing laundry in a stream. Like life in this country, especially in the rurals, this is the simple life I wish to live.

Then I drive down from the mountain towards the city of Zitacuaro where I drive slowly in the right lane of the highway and scan for an unsecured WiFi hot spot. It is not until I am almost all the way through the city that I find one.

I turn my van around and then stop in a convenient parking spot in front of some kind of religious building, connect to the internet and begin working. I am here for several hours and get so much done, especially in uploading my journal. Still, I am not entirely caught up with the text entries and will need to return in a day or two. Also, I fear I will never catch up with the photo uploads, nevertheless, I will keep trying.

I might have to take a couple of days off when I find a good parking spot near to a baño. Finally, the last thing I do is to drive up to the summit truck stop in the Bosencheve National Park. (Day 18)

Today, I drive through intermittent rain to the last two of the monarch preserve, both in the state of México. The first one is in El Capulin, in the state of Mexico near the border with Michoacán and this preserves has it′s front gate right on the road. However, the butterfly site is a four kilometers walk from the entrance. There are suppose to be horses available but that doesn′t matter because this butterfly park never opens. I arrive here at eight this morning and talk to a couple of locals. They are also here to work as guides if the park opens. Some time after midday, I make some hot coffee and share it with the four men. Then I say adios and head for the next park. This would be a nice one to visit if you don′t mind riding horses or don′t mind the eight kilos (five miles) round trip. (19.349000, -100.284300)

The second butterfly preserve is a bit north near the village of La Mesa. I drive off the highway up a long climb onto a flat tabletop of a mountain with an elevation of over nine thousand feet. The concrete road continues for another mile toward the sanctuary and then the concrete ends abruptly. The sign says there is another six kilometers to the sanctuary and I continue for about half of that distance before I turn around. At the location where I turn around, the elevation has already reached more than ten thousand feet. Also, for me to proceed any further toward this butterfly preserve, I would need to have a four-wheel drive vehicle. On the drive to the second monarch preserve, I see several locals with their animals.

By the time I drive back down the mountain to the highway, it is dark and I follow the same route I used this morning to return to the Bosencheve National Park. Actually, the location where I park to overnight is in a small town at the pass of the mountain where there is an excavated area used by truckers to park at night.

As I am driving back to the park, my brake light comes on. I think about what it could be and finally, determine that it could only low fluid in the reservoir, so, tomorrow first thing, I will go to a gas station and check the brake fluid. (Day 19)

It rained again most of last night but it stops early this morning and I watch the sun ascend into blue skies. It is pleasant to finally get out of the rain, especially since the severe cold front which inundated all of the United States has even been felt in south central México causing the rain here. Now, I must needs wash not only the jammer but my clothes as well.

I still need to check my brake fluid so I drive from the National Park to the first gas station, park and open the hood. I find that the fluid is low so I grab the fluid and begin pouring but see that the fluid going in the reservoir is red and so immediately and look at the bottle. What, power steering fluid! Knowing that I can not leave this oil based fluid in the brake reservoir, I think out loud, "How am I going to get that out of the reservoir?" I don′t have a tube to siphon it out so I grab a handful of napkins, begin sponging the fluid out and putting the soaked napkins in the empty can left from the beans that I ate last night. After a lot of napkin dipping, I begin using a long neck screwdriver to push the napkins to the bottom to wipe the reservoir clean. Once this is done, I walk to the gas pumps and asked "por favor, liqudo de frenos" and the attendant opened the case and handed me a bottle of brake fluid. I ask, how many pesos? and he says "Trente" which I have learned to be thirty pesos, or in US currency, almost three dollars. I would think that if I had gone to the mart-store, the fluid would be veinte-cinco pesos (about $2.00).

After filling the reservoir, I call my mechanic friend Joe and ask him if this repair will be alright. He says that because I got all of the fluid out of the reservoir and since I had not driven it before removing the red fluid, yes, the brakes will be fine. Then I told him, "Well, that′s the brakes."

Leaving the gas station, I drive into the city of Zitacuaro, return to the WiFi hot spot that I used Monday evening and continue working on my journal. As I sit in my car on the east side of town, along the side of the highway, there are a lot of interesting people walking along the sidewalk, but one in particular catches my attention. It is a man crossing the street wearing a large sombrero designed to hold his shopping purchases.

While I work on my journal this morning, a family in a 1968 Volkswagen Beetle parks in front of me and the engine does not sound right. They all get out and walk over to sit in the shade on the sidewalk. About an hours later, the man stands up, walks to his car, crawls under it with some tools to work on it. In any other place I would have offered to help especially since I have owned similar cars, know a little about them and I am even carrying a floor jack and tools. However, I have learned that while in México, that as a traveler from the US, I need to keep my possessions out of sight, not allowing anyone else to see what I have in my vehicle. The reason why I feel this way is that people here have very little in the way of possessions and for me to seemingly flaunt mine could only result in increasing the chance someone will break into my van to steal them. No, I still have not let down my guard.

It is a little after six pm, having been here since eight this morning. Earlier while working on my journal, I had put up some cardboard across my windshield to block out the bright afternoon sunlight, but now, as I looked up, I realized that the sun was close to setting and there was gorgeous sunset happening. Too, I notice that all the clouds are back and thus make for the great sunset. Too bad I am right in town and there are no good spots to take a photo, but I will take a photo of the sunset anyway. I leave my van running with my computer on the front seat because I am charging the battery, but I retrieve the spare key and lock my van. Then I walk about a hundred feet down the road to take some photos.

Good thing I did what I did because when I look back, there is a man who had been standing nearby who walks over to see if the van was locked. "Ha Ha!" I said out loud to him as he walks away when he sees me coming back.

At about eight o′clock, I complete the text part of my journal. This means that I have been sitting here on the side of this highway for twelve hours. Also, my computer is fully charged, I have checked and answered all my email but now when I want to upload this journal, the hot spot is not active. Therefore, because I am hungry, I will have some supper before trying to access the Internet again.

Then later, I decide to forgo driving to the national park to park and just stay right where I am for the night. I do however put up towels and blankets to cover all the widows and block the city lights. Also, putting up the curtains prevents anyone from seeing inside. Asleep by ten. (Day 20)

I awake before sunrise, about six o′clock, go through my morning routine and then drive to a service station to use the baño. I find that those ones in the cities are not as good as the the ones on the highway outside of the cities and Except for one time, I have always had to bring my own paper. Too, I bring my toiletries into the baño to freshen up. Once I am done, I walk into the adjacent store and buy a small bag of peanuts for eight pesos.

Upon returning to my van, I drive west toward Morelia using the same federal highway 15 that I have driven previously. After a couple hours, I arrive at the waterfall, stop in the parking and get out to fetch water for washing my van. As I begin washing, I wonder who also might stop here.

The first people who stop are two men in a new pickup. They get out and look at me strangely; methinks they have never seen a gringo washing his own car, and then they walk toward the water. I say to them in Spanish, "good day" and then they smiled and returned the greeting. After taking a few photos of the waterfall, they walk toward me and ask me in Spanish, "Where are you from?" Recognizing the words from my Spanish CD tutorial, I reply, "Soy del estato de Washington." They respond, "Ahhh!" I tell them in Spanish that I only speak and understand a little Spanish and one of the men begins talking in broken English. They tell me they are from Guanajuanto, the state north or Michoacán, that they are on a day off and they had just come from the hot springs southeast of here. I get out my map an they show me where it is.

Also, I take the opportunity to tell them that I am one of Jehovah′s Witnesses and give them the Spanish Do you want to know the Truth track. We talk a little while longer and then they get back into their truck and drive west.

Some time later, two men stop for a drink, not from the water but from their own bottle. Again, I greet these two men and one offers me some Mescal. I tell them I will have just a little and get my cup. After one sip I take a gasp and they laugh. It is strong but I just pretend that it is stronger than it really is. We talk for a while and I learn that one of the men works for the state and is checking out the area to build a hotel. He also tells me that he had lived in Georgia where he learned his English. The second man spoke no English but I find out that he is an engineer. Then the state worker begin talking to me about how Michoacán needed to change in order to get more tourist from the US to come here to see how beautiful it is. (And it truly is beautiful!) I respond that one of these changes is that the machine gun toting police need to be more friendly.

Too, I venture to give my opinion about how I feel about all the garbage along the highway and the state worker tries to explain why that change is not going to happen anytime soon, saying that it is in their culture to throw the trash on the ground to decompose, a practice that began long before the plastic bottles came into use. After these two finished their Mescal, they go on their way to continue in their work and I go back to washing my van.

Next, a state police truck drives slowly past, stopping one hundred meters down the highway to set up an inspection site and this immediately brought some concern to me. Soon, one of the machine gun toting police, an older man with gray hair begins to walk towards me and I get out my papers and prepared for an interrogation. However, he stops about half way and walks up into the woods, I suppose to use the baño. Wow! Methinks, what a close call!

I finish washing my van and begin washing my underclothes, keeping an eye on the police all the while. Later, three of the police men begin walking in the roadway directly towards me so I stick my left foot in the soapy water and begin washing it. When they arrive, they walk right alongside my van and one asks "Es el agua fría?" I look up and all three have an empty water bottles in their hand and thinking about what he just said, I realize that he just asked me "Is the water cold?." I reply "Sí, muy Fría!" and begin washing the other foot. After filling their bottles they walk back past me and one of them says, "Hola" as they walk past. I can not believe it, I was all upset over nothing. Maybe the police here are friendly. ¹⁵

It is nice to feel clean once again but it starts to rain, so I retrieve all of my wash, still not dry and hang them in the back of my van on the clothes rack. This makes it really damp in my van but later, I will have to run the engine to recharge the computer and I will also turn on the heater to dry out the inside of the van.

Sometime during the afternoon, a helicopter flies over. This is not such a strange event to me but since I have been in México, this has been my first sighting of any air vehicle. Then soon after a large ten wheel truck pulls into the parking area and backs up to the water. The driver gets out, puts on a pair of overalls and then he begins getting out buckets and brushes in order to wash his truck. I guess I am not the only one who uses this stop for washing, only this is a very large truck. I greet him and we talk for a short while but I can tell he wants to get busy washing his truck. However, throughout the afternoon we exchange pieces of conversation.

Some time after he begins washing, the police officer with the gray hair walks back up from their inspection post to check out how the washing of the big rig is getting along. I walk up to him and say "Hola, buenas tardes" which of course is "Hello, good afternoon." He replies in kind and asks me where I am from. I point to my license plate and tell him "Soy de Washington." I tell him in Spanish that I have been washing my things and he smiles; I am not sure that his smile is because I have to wash my own stuff or because of my broken Spanish. Meanwhile the machine gun is shoulder strapped which means that he is not alarmed, nor am I.

Then I tell him that I am going to sleep in my van here tonight. He shakes his head yes and then tells me that I have compadres at his truck if I need them. I say "Muy gracios!" and think "What a nice guy!" Looking up, I see that the truck driver is now working on the second side. I go back into my van and begin to filter some water that I collected here, making about five liters of "aqua puro."

Then, another car drives up and parks next to the concrete overflow channel and turns their music up loud but it is pleasant enjoyable Mexican music. Meanwhile the truck driver is cleaning his tires and rims. I continue writing in my journal trying to get caught up. After working for a long time, I notice that it is getting close to sunset so I go outside to see how the truck driver is getting along and notice that he has sprayed tire-wet on his tires just like I have done to mine. Yes, now his truck is looking "muy limpio," that is very clean. He still has a little wiping down of the water to prevent spots, just as I did and then I go back into my van to keep warm because the temperature has begun to drop rapidly now.

Earlier, when talking with the truck driver, I notice a nice aroma and realize that the family with the radio has been barbecuing. Methinks how much nicer barbecue would be instead of the two cans of cold beans I have on my menu for later this evening, but then I thank God that I do have nourishing food to eat. I retire once again to my keyboard and about fifteen minutes later, I see someone walking up. I open the side door and to my surprise, the man from the cookout offers me a plate of their food. There are three kinds of meat, beans, rice, two tortillas, hot sauce and a half of a lime. What a treat! I tell him "thank you very much." Later, I get out of my van, walk over to the family and thank them again. While I am walking back to my van I see that the truck driver is also eating barbecue and tell him in Spanish, "Esta bien, si" It is very good, yes. He says, "Sí muy bien!"

While I am getting back into my van, the truck driver gets into his cab and starts his engine, he has been here for over six hours cleaning his truck and it shows. I turn and tell him "adios" and as he waves as he drives off. Then I return to the warmth of my van and to the pounding of the keyboard again when someone knocks on my door. I open up the sliding window in the door and this time it the man with his wife bringing me some dessert. I had been thinking about what I could give them in return for their kindness but could not think of single thing, however, before they leave, I do give them one of the Spanish Would you like to know the Truth Bible tracks. After they leave, methinks to my self that I couldn′t have given them anything better. What a superbly wonderful day this has been for me and what amazingly wonderful people these Mexicans are, especially those who have crossed my path here at this watering hole. ¹⁶

So much so that I must stop and give praise to my heavenly father. Interestingly, in all the many miles of travel throughout my entire life journey, I have found this to be always true, that when you stop at a watering hole along the way, and spend time there, you are bound to meet some nice and interesting people. I just never imagined or expected that this truism would apply here in México. I hope to return to this waterfall on yet another day. La vida es buena! (Day 21)

It′s now six-twenty this evening and the sun will be setting in just a few minutes, so I turn on the engine for some heat and to charge batteries while I finish my comments in my journal about the joy of stopping at this watering hole.

One thing that I have thought about several time since being in México is that the Silences have returned. I particularly was reminded about it last night while sleeping at the waterfall when all I could hear was the soft gurgling of the water. This silent time gives me much time to pray, think and make decisions about the path ahead of me. Too, the hollow where I was parked at last night had no lights whatsoever which made it extremely dark, totally unlike the previous night when I was parked on a street in the city of Zitacuaro which were so very bright all night long. At about nine last night, I stepped outside of my car and could see nothing at first but after allowing a few minutes for my eyes to adjust, I could then see into the distant places south of here, with lights stretching across the valley far below. Also to the south in the distance, I noticed the flashing′s of lightning which were prelude to a storm that did arrive last evening at about eleven bringing with it a downpour.

At first light, I awake for a moment but return to sleep for a bit longer. When I do finally get up, the sun is shining brightly and I begin my drive towards Morelia. I stop at a service station and use the baño to clean up and then continue into town arriving at the hall by nine-thirty. I had wanted to make the ministry meeting but the traffic was much worse than I had expected and upon arriving, the friends were already gone.

Leaving the hall, I drive to the d-mart to buy some groceries and here find the new vegetable that I have been eating raw, which is called a Jimaca, or the Mexican yam and looks like a potato but has a sweet juicy taste.

Too, I find that this store is one of the very few businesses in México that stocks it′s baño with both types of paper. Further this d-mart is open twenty-four hours and staying overnight in the parking lot makes for a good choice while here in Morelia. I spend the rest of the day sitting in my van at the d-mart with the constant tooting of whistles outside. There is a entire troop of parking attendants working for tips, blowing whistles and waving red flags. It is funny, many of the whistles are similar to the ones I sold in my vending machines. I do some studying for the meeting tonight, nap for a while and also watch the goings on outside of my small motor home. (Day 22)