Beside the Lake

Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing on the breeze

There is a magical ride that takes you out of Patzcuaro along the lake around Janitzio Island. The road passes through farmlands and small adobe villages Tocuaro. We like to visit the workshop of Juan Horta Castillo and sons to see what new designs they have created each year. The village of Tocuaro specializes in fantastic original masks made using traditional Purepecha designs which are used in local festivals the most notable being the devil masks from the pastorelas. Horta's masks are ranked number one in Mexico and are faithfully selected for use by Mexico's world-class Ballet Folklorico. Sadly, we learned that Horta's tradition is now fully in the hands of his five sons as he passed on shortly after our last visit two years ago.


This hypnotic road continues to meander lazily past Tocuaro for a full 52 km alongside the lake to our base in Quiroga. Donkeys, herds of cattle, and horses provide more traffic than automobiles. For our last day of riding, the mists slowly burn off the lake, we munch our way through a market in Erongaricuaro, and I quietly slide into yet another case off empty nest as our gang slowly flys the coop back to their lives beyond the borders of Bike Mexico. It's nothing a serving of carnitas (roast pork) on the square in Quiroga can't soothe.

Pretty Princess Patzcuaro

At the bottom of our descent from Santa Clara, we are met with more cobbles which lead us through Patzcuaro's traffic laden squares and to our temporay home in Hotel Valmen. Red and white buildings topped with terracotta rooves ramble down to Lake Patzcuaro while the island of Janitzio floats dreamlike in the distance. There is a gentle charm to Patzcuaro that is reflected in the landscapes we have cycled through in the surrounding Meseta Purepecha.

Yellow Brick Road

Reaching the high point of the tour, just outside of Sevina, the group sailed down to Lake Zirahuen for a little rumble over some serious cobble-stone, some hand-made tortillas by the lake, and one of my favourite little stretches of road. In an attempt to lend a mystical quality to the ride, Basil calls it the yellow brick road. It's not yellow and it doesn't lead to the emerald city, but it does lead to a town specializing in something almost as precious.

Four tracts of handmade brick gently roll away from the cobbles of Zirahuen over emerald pastures that gracefully sweep away from the lazy morning mists of Lago de Zirahuen. At the end of this 12km traffic free journey you are rewarded with a visit to one of Michoacan's many colonial gems the copper capital of Mexico: Santa Clara del Cobre.

Copper use in the Meseta Purepecha has Pre-Colombian roots and this village has been a copper town for many centuries. Passing through the showrooms and workshops it is obvious that the talent has been fostered throughout the ages. Sinks, wall hangings, range hoods, head boads, bathtubs, intricate vases, pots, and jewelery, these hand-hammered pieces are individual works of art. I always leave wishing I had a home to bedeck with copper everything. It is not unusual to find foreign artisans studying the art of copper smithing and it is well worth a visit to the copper museum to view the collection of award winning pieces that this village produces

After the Party

When I was fifteen I participated in a student exchange that took me to Venice, Italy. It was a wonderful and overwhelming experience full of images and feelings that will stay with me for the rest of my life. One such image comes to me from a day trip I took to Verona, with guidebook in hand I wandered into the ancient Roman Arena and much to my surprise I learned that Pink Floyd had just held a concert there the night before. I was told that the place was a mess and perhaps not worth a visit. I peeked in anyway to behold a truly awesome sight; a living ancient place.

The aftermath of the concert left this otherwise stony monument littered with concert flyers, tickets, cigarette butts, food wrappers, cans, and bottles. Red metal chairs were still in place for extra seating on the floor of the theatre. The shadows of men backlit by the afternoon sun scrambled over elaborate scaffolding disassembling the stage. I could almost feel all the spectacles from across the history of this public place echoing within its walls. I was enraptured by the renewed magic of this place. Recent events always have an energy that lingers.

Seeing the cemeteries of Mexico bustling with family members cleaning and decorating tombs, and preparing food to share with relatives and ancestors, is a remarkable experience, but there is something resoundingly peaceful about passing by the jovial decorations left in these burial grounds after the celebration has passed and everyone has gone home. The gates may be locked, but the place still sizzles with the electricity of the lives and the dramas that made up the event.

Hermoso Huipil

When pedalling from village to village some of the most defining handicrafts we see are their textiles. Michoacan offers a rich selection in its traditional blouses (huipiles), shawls (rebozos), and blankets. Thankfully limited pannier space prevents me from buying everything I see or, by now, I'd be able to supply a small museum.

Have Guitar will Cycle

The collection of personalities that come together to tour with us is second only to the actual experience of cycling the lesser known roads of Mexico. Travelling through Paracho, the guitar making capital of Mexico, this time we were blessed to have the company of two guitar aficionados. Carrying guitars with them on their bikes certainly peaked the curiosity in the small towns we made our way through.

Layers of the Onion

Markets are a passion of ours and this year Basil did a lovely job of arranging our tour to pass through several towns on market day. We always enjoy revisiting old flavours and discovering new ones and it never ceases to amaze us how something new always reveals itself to us that is absolutely everywhere, but that, somehow, we have never taken notice of. Our wise host Alfred, of Macan Che Bed and Breakfast in Izamal, once expressed this phenomenon as "peeling away of layers of the onion". The whole onion may be visible, but there are many very fine layers to savour. This is exactly what travelling or living in a foreign place can be. The beautiful thing is that, if you are open to it, it applies not just to browsing through markets, but to all aspects of the life that surrounds you when you are away from the confines of what is familiar to you. A person can only absorb so much new information at one time and new layers seem to reveal themselves only when you are ready for them and what an honoured treat it is to discover the layers of the onion that come together to make Mexico.

The markets of Michoacan are a wealth of flavours. Some of our favourites are in Paracho, Tarecuato, and Nahuatzen. All for very different reasons. Paracho is large and lively and we have come to look forward to their very popular atole de cajeta, prepared fresh fruit, and simple, but hearty coarsely ground blue corn cookies .




Tarecuato is small. Black and blue shawls abound and the variety of atoles (corn based warm beverages flavoured with an incredible combination of fruit, nuts, seeds, and other tasty flavourings) changes with every visit. I hope to one day find myself in the area for their Atole Fair that is held there every year on the Saturday before Palm Sunday.




Nahuatzen is another market favourite of ours. Part of it might be the rolling pastoral vistas that carry you to this peaceful little town, an part of it might be the gentle sweetness of the vendors, but mostly it is the sheer quality of excellent fruit and veg and other edible options. One of my favourite fruit choices this visit was mispero an exotic, small, round fruit that grows on trees and is known in asia as loquat or chinese plum. It is best when the thin skin is peeled off and the light orange grape-like fruit is sucked off the four smooth pits tucked away inside it.

Popsicle, Popsicle

Mexico has the BEST popsicles in the world. A chain of refreshing popsicle shops called Michoacana can be found across the country. The beauty of these popsicles is the fresh fruit and milk they are made with. Any fruit that grows in Mexico is mixed with water or milk and turned into a popsicle. Mango, papaya, tamarind, pineapple with chile, lime, mandarin, strawberry, guava, thankfully the list seems endless.

Mega Pots

With the Volcan de Paricutin as a backrop, the tiny village of Cocucho, Michoacan teeters atop a steep ascent from any of the three directions you approach it. After your long climb the town doesn't seem like much until you zero in on the massive earthenware pots that grace the doorways of many roughly hewn Cocucho homes. Behind these homes are simple workshops, with no potter's wheels or elaborate kilns. The stunning pots that emerge from these workshops can stand up to 1.5 meters in height are shaped entirely by the hand and are fired individually in a wood pyre that is heaped on top of it. Originally used to store corn, valuables, and (it is rumoured) the dead, many of these pots are collectors items fetching up to US$1500 when purchased outside the village.

Diablitos de Ocumicho

Well above the strawberry fields of Tangancicuaro, but barely at the beginning of a lengthy climb to Cocucho lay the steep streets of Ocumicho also known as Purepecha inferno. The town specializes in fantastically painted hand-shaped clay devils in any situation imaginable. Our favourite is, of course, the cyclist devil, but they come in elaborate scenes from the last supper to the dentists office.

Rebozo Purepecha

High cheekbones, broad mouths, long slender noses, and tall slender frames wrapped up in cobalt blue and black striped shawls are the sure mark of a Purepecha woman. The shawl or rebozo is a critical multi-use tool. It carries everything from children to firewood, keeps you warm, hides missing eyes, and looks elegant.

Dance of the Little Old Men

One of the most hilarious folkloric dances of all Mexico comes from the Meseta Purepecha.

As Europeans settled in the Americas the original inhabitants, in this case the Purepecha, were astonished by the rate at which they aged. A popular mask was quickly developed representing the face of an old white man. This mask was adopted into a pre-conquest dance in which young athletic dancers pretend to be little old men intermittently taken over by the spirit of music and dance.