by Renée Huang

My head was in a fog and crisp, early morning mountain air whistled through my hair as we road the back of a banged-up pickup truck up through winding switchbacks into the towering forests of Michoacán, Mexico.

It was hard to believe we were even in Mexico, land of proverbial palm trees, sandy beaches and eternal sunshine. I was bundled up in two sweaters, long pants and a jacket and the cool, fresh air reminded me more of my native Canada than the warm tropics.

However, we'd come to the tiny mountain village of Angangueo, a cobblestoned mining town in the central state of Michoacán, not for the climate but to witness the amazing winter migration of many millions of monarch butterflies.
Each year at the first signs of frost, these beautiful orange and black winged creatures journey thousands of miles from Canada and the United States seeking the creaking forest shelters where they spend the winter months in a state of semi-hibernation until the warm spring winds call them home.

During the perilous trip south, a single butterfly can travel approximately 50 miles a day and log as much as 2,000 miles by the time it reaches one of five official monarch wintering sanctuaries in Mexico. The spring migration begins in February, with surviving butterflies mating and laying eggs along the journey back to the north. The Aztec, Mexico's ancient indigenous peoples, believed Monarch butterflies to be the incarnation of their fallen warriors wearing the colors of battle.

We'd heard that experiencing the monarchs was intoxicating and incredibly beautiful, but as we neared the summit of the mountain where El Rosario butterfly sanctuary lay in the crease of a sunny valley, I could hardly imagine what it would be like.

After an hour-long trip from Angangueo that took us past corn fields planted in the folds of the steep mountainside, we pulled into a parking area of matted down grass. A valley basin at an altitude of 10,000 feet strewn with wildflowers and overgrown weeds stretched out before us not far from where the pines and firs began their gradual ascent. (CONTINUE...)