Collette Lilly photographed* this musician decades ago after moving to Mexico in the 1960s with her husband John and while living with the Huichol people for 17 years. She curated an amazing exhibit at the Zacatecan Museum which displays the art, crafts, religious objects, rituals and spiritual journey of these fascinating people.
Every year Huichol shamans and some families walk from their tropical mountain homeland near the Pacific, stopping on sacred hilltops, gathering peyote, until they reach their sacred Huiricuta land above the Tropic of Cancer hundreds of miles away, and then they walk back. The ancient journey of their ancestors takes months, and last year UNESCO recognized 20 sites along the route as a world heritage site, helping the Huichol people to protect their land and culture.
I visited the museum and the easiest site in Zacatecas city, taking the teleférico to Cerro de La Bufa. From there you can see another hilltop site at the south of the city. Zacatecas is in the middle of the route, and the colorful Huichol artwork can be seen in the local artisan shops in this delightful world heritage city center.
I also visited Real de Catorce, a remote mining town accessed by a ridiculously long cobblestone road and long narrow tunnel, which marks the northeastern end of the journey. The route passes through town on its way up to Cerro el Quemado in the sacred Huiricuta area, best reached by guided horseback trips easily arranged in the town square. Real de Catorce is only one long day’s drive from Laredo, Texas.
* My photo at top is an edited section of Colette Lilly’s exhibit photo. Several photographers have their photos on exhibit, including her late husband John Lilly, who also invented the isolation tank and wrote the book Altered States.
I’ve looked at Zacatecas from both sides now, from up and down, and still somehow I can’t believe this beautiful historic city doesn’t have more foreign tourists. I know the US State Department has the whole state of Zacatecas as ‘do not travel’, but the city of Zacatecas is safe, as even the State Department acknowledges—if you fly. Well, I don’t fly, so I drove the short toll highway from neighboring Aguascalientes without any trouble, and I passed a tour bus from Mexico City. Plenty of Mexican tourists were enjoying the world class art museums, the UNESCO world heritage designated historic center and more.
I think the city is at least on par with Guanajuato, with similar features including a silver mine tour, a teleférico (much better than a funicular), historic places, and lots of museums. Perhaps due to silver wealth, both cities had battles for both Independence and Revolution, with Zacatecas’ hill above being the site of Pancho Villa’s decisive victory.
But, especially due to the lack of foreign tourists, walking around feels much more like travel was decades ago, with that immersion into a centuries old Spanish style neighborhood with local culture but without distractions. I enjoyed the low price hotel with a fabulous location, inexpensive delicious local food, and uncrowded galleries and shops with reasonably priced handmade local crafts. At Eden Mine, they even provided a personal English speaking guide for no extra cost (Alan got a decent tip though). In the photo above on the far left you can see the teleférico from where I took the photo below looking back down at where I took the photo above.
Zacatecas is my favorite city to visit in Mexico. Here are my road trips to Baja and to Mexico City.
See January, February, March, and April. May is a great month to visit many parks, especially river and forest parks that are full of life in spring. I recommend Congaree, Cuyahoga Valley, New River Gorge, Olympic and Yosemite.
Congaree is a great place to kayak, so high water may allow you to roam more. But May is also when the fireflies all blink together. Recreation.gov holds a lottery in early April for evening passes during the week long synchronous firefly event mid May.
Cuyahoga Valley is popular in May as the Brandywine Falls are awash and the trails are surrounded by spring greenery. I like biking there, and the tourist trains run a full schedule in May also taking bikes.
New River Gorge may be best in May as the wildflowers are out on the trails, the temperature is just right, and the river runs fast for rafting.
Olympic for me is all about the rainforest. Go early, wear good hiking boots, a thermal layer and rain gear, but try to visit Hoh Rainforest and hike the Hall of Mosses when it’s wet and green. Visiting the rainforest is a unique national park experience, unlike mountain hikes or beaches. The park is beautiful during the summer, but it gets very crowded at Hoh beginning Memorial Day weekend.
Yosemite’s waterfalls all flow strong in May, and Bridalveil, Sentinel and Yosemite Falls are spectacular at peak snowmelt. Wildflowers bloom on the valley trails, the temperature is pleasant during the day, and it’s not as crowded as summer. Glacier Point viewpoint usually opens to vehicles in May, earlier now that there’s less snow.
You may notice that my recommendations on when to visit are often a little earlier than common advice, and that’s usually to avoid crowds, to take advantage of planning and because the climate is changing. Planning ahead is particularly important for saving time and money, as a simple campground reservation made six months in advance can put you in the best possible location at the best time for $30. Summer used to be the best time to visit most national parks, but many parks are now too crowded and too hot in July and August. But stay tuned, because I’ve got more national parks recommendations coming on the first Friday of each month.
This UNESCO World Heritage Site in Mexico is a large complex of Native American buildings dating back over 1,000 years. Set on ancient trading routes, these Casas Grandes (large houses)—or Paquimé in the native language—thrived for centuries in the Chihuahuan Desert, trading goods between communities like Casa Grande, Chaco and Mesa Verde, in what is now the US, with Tenochtitlán and the Yucatán in Mexico. Culturally the natives here are considered Mogollon, like those who built the Gila Cliff Dwellings.
Paquimé is built on the ‘Chaco Meridian’, the same north-south longitude line with the great kivas—holy sites—of Chaco and Aztec Ruins in New Mexico. Why build cultural centers on the same longitude beyond line of sight? That’s a good question. Also, how?
Latitude lines (west to east) are relatively easy to calculate by measuring the angle of the apex of the sun or the North Star against a calendar. But calculating longitude to this degree of accuracy (~108.95º West) requires a time piece. Line of sight techniques might explain Chaco and Aztec being built on the same meridian, but not Paquimé, which is 400 miles away over rough terrain. So, like the Ancient Greeks, the ancient Native American original builders here must have been able to calculate time to within a minute or so. Perhaps, like the Greeks, they used a water clock—which works like a large, stationary hourglass—, as the natives here were extremely sophisticated users of irrigation systems, as well as calendars and geometry. That would explain how.
If you sat outside your home all night to watch the stars on the same day every year, the stars would rise and fall at the same time each year. You could even tell stories about Gods or great people moving through the heavens, like the Ancient Greeks did about constellations. And if you knew the day’s story well, you would be able to name which constellation would rise first. But if you tried telling the same stories on the same day but in a different town or state, the timing would be different. Only if you are on the same longitudinal north-south line does the timing stay the same and keep your narrative aligned with the movement of the stars. If the ancient people told such stories about the stars, that would explain why they built these kivas on the Chaco meridian.
Some Americans wrongly view Native Americans as separate tribes that were always at war with each other and didn’t build anything. I think it goes back to the US War on Native America, where the military used ‘divide and conquer’ as a tactic and spread misleading and demeaning descriptions of Native American culture. I was told by a docent at Hopewell Culture quite confidently that there was no evidence that parrots were traded as far north as Ohio despite obvious signs they were. And I was repeatedly told in the Midwest that natives never built any permanent structures, even nearby the native pit dwellings used by early settlers or near giant ancient mounds of a native city larger than London at the time.
Paquimé offers proof that parrots and macaws were traded from the jungles of southern Mexico to people in the north, as the birds could not survive the desert and were kept in pens and bred here. Bird shaped sculptures & mounds, elaborate feather designs, parrot & macaw bones, and aviaries have been found here. Despite being burned, Paquimé rebuilt and thrived, demonstrating that peaceful trading was the norm. A complex system of dykes, irrigation canals and cisterns were built here to sustain folks in the harsh dry climate.
This is a fascinating and important site that can easily be visited by Americans on an overnight trip. The excellent on site museum has information in English on every exhibit, as do the signs throughout the site. Fees were waived on the day I visited, and I found an atmospheric hotel with a good breakfast just a few minutes from the entrance. Without a single delay, I crossed and got my TIP at Santa Teresa, charged once and returned by Tornillo the next day. (There’s also an Evergo charger at the Sueco intersection, but you need the app and an adapter). The town of Casas Grandes is quite safe and quaint, and everyone I met was friendly and welcoming.
One time in Saskatchewan, I had to turn back when I realized I would not make my destination, due to the cold. The winter storm that buried my car the day before was still blowing arcticly, so I had been carefully watching my mileage. EV batteries must keep themselves warm, and regenerative braking is less efficient in cold weather. I still should have been fine, but the rural washboard road turned to mush in a sleet storm. (At the time, I didn’t know that my front struts were broken, thus causing friction on the insides of the front tires on bumpy roads). My range was dropping considerably faster than my miles passed, even as I slowed to a crawl.
So, I turned around and headed back—while still in range—to a charger I’d used recently. And then I took the long way around. I no longer have range anxiety; I have contingencies.
“It may be taken for granted that, rash as the Americans are, when they are prudent there is good reason for it.”
— by Jules Verne in Around the World in 80 Days
This was a wake up call that my battery just doesn’t have the range it did when I started four years ago. Let’s face it, using up to six superchargers a day while crossing the continent repeatedly isn’t common use. Ever since I drove through clouds of locusts on a hot day in eastern Oregon, I’ve noticed the car struggles with heat. (I’ll have to get my radiator checked more thoroughly, too). And I’ve driven through all four major deserts in the contiguous US many times, including getting stuck in traffic south of Vegas mid-day in the summer. Extreme cold requires extra energy and slows charging, but it’s extreme heat that damages batteries in the long run.
For most folks, the decline in battery range wouldn’t matter, as it’s not quite bad enough to be covered under warranty. My Tesla 3LR can still drive further than most EVs (or RVs). But I’m going to the Yucatán, and there’s a gap in the supercharger network in Tabasco. So I need every mile of long range.
While supercharging on Route 66 above and consulting with Tow Mater—“average intelligence”—, I decided to get a new high voltage battery. TSK (TeslaService.LA) gave me a good price on a lightly used battery. Turns out that since most folks treat their batteries much better than I do, the collision repair shop has plenty of used high voltage batteries in stock. They did a great job, including a thorough cleaning and minor fixes, so, next stop, Mexico!
On 12 March 1928 there was a tall new dam across this canyon from the high point on the left. Shortly before midnight, after leaks were inspected around noon, the dam collapsed catastrophically. Over 400 people were killed as the water rushed south towards LA and then west to the Pacific. While not as lethal as 19th century Johnstown, this was one of the worst man-made disasters of the 20th century.
The dam was built over an ancient landslide, so when enough water saturated deep enough, the dam broke. William Mulholland, who designed the LA Aqueduct, took responsibility for the disaster. There were some problems with the concrete, the height and the design, although it was likely impossible for him to know about the unstable geology beneath the site. He had inspected the dam at noon, saw leaks, but did not raise the alarm.
While folks sometimes complain about the lack of signs at this US Forest Service managed national memorial and monument, if you take the path up to the top of the hill, you’ll find 8 large plaques detailing the early history, LA’s water wars, Mullholland’s career, issues with the dam construction, descriptions of the flood, the aftermath, the lives lost, and the canyon geology. And you get the view above, plus a view of the wing wall. Park at the north end of the old San Francisquito Canyon road, where it’s closed to traffic, and hike back down the road along the pretty creek. Look for signs on your right for the trail up the hill to the viewpoint.
Here are my visitors to all NPS parks in California.
Some folks think switching to electric vehicles and renewable energy would be inconvenient and costly. But they’re not considering the cost of inaction. Doing nothing puts us on the path for high carbon emissions. Let’s consider just one predicted consequence: a ten foot (3 meter) sea level rise. We don’t know when exactly, but melting ice and warming seas are accelerating rapidly. And the seas will continue rising until we fix our carbon pollution problem.
Much of the most expensive real estate in the US is just above sea level in places like California, Florida and New York, so let’s consider just a few examples.
San Francisco International Airport runway 10R ends at about seven feet above sea level.
So much for the convenience of flying.
Highway 101 south of the airport is often between zero and ten feet above sea level.
Even a super-duty pickup truck can’t drive through that.
Miles of sea walls are being built in places like Foster City California to protect against a three foot sea level rise, but other vulnerable Bay Area cities are doing far less.
If you pay taxes for a sea wall, but the neighboring town does not, where will you move?
Many farms in the Sacramento Delta are already below sea level, behind levees first built by Chinese laborers in the 1850s. California is working on a tunnel there to protect and transport freshwater, but the intakes are around Hood California, elevation 7-10 feet.
We’re going to need a longer tunnel.
The traffic tunnels in Manhattan are just around sea level, and they can be closed in advance of storm surges. For now, they can be reopened after the storm passes. But lower Manhattan lies around five feet above sea level.
Maybe New York City will be renamed New Atlantis?
Miami is around six feet above sea level, but its fresh water aquifer lies between 2-6 feet through porous rock below the flat land.
No more beach is bad enough, but no fresh water?
Critical systems at Turkey Point nuclear power plant near Biscayne Bay are at 20 feet elevation, so you might think a ten foot rise would still be safe. But the hurricane surge in 1992 was 16 feet, and storms are getting bigger and more powerful.
Anyone remember Fukushima?
We already have a housing affordability problem. What will happen when some lowlands disappear? Well, tens of millions of Americans may have to move by the end of the century, driving up costs in inland areas. That seems inconvenient and costly.
And infrastructure is just one of many different problems being caused by our carbon pollution (see January, February and March). April is supposed to be Financial Literacy month, but our government has stopped even discussing the coming crisis, let alone funding research, mitigation or prevention. Seems pretty stupid to ignore the costly consequences of doing nothing about the climate crisis.
Yep, that’s a bobcat hiding amongst the rocks. I saw him on the Switzer Falls Trail off the Angeles Crest Highway, which I recommend as a moderately challenging hike with several stream crossings. Presidents Obama and Biden protected these mountains just north of Los Angeles, and they’re managed by the US Forest Service within the broader Angeles National Forest. Hiking up here is a great way to get out of LA for the day.
I’m finally caught up on my trips to Canada! Altogether I’ve visited all 16 world heritage sites in over half of Canadian provinces, so I can check off my first goal of the year.
Next week I’ll explain why I stopped in Los Angeles. Here are my visits to all NPS units in California.
These two Prairie Provinces have a world heritage site, a tentative WHS, and two biospheres (plus the Int’l Peace Garden). Far from featureless, the boreal forest, First Nations cuisine, huge flocks of birds, polar bears, and even the sight of giant combines harvesting at sunset, indelibly mark my memory. While the transcontinental highway is comfortable, I pushed my electric vehicle to its limit, driving hundreds of miles to remote locations even on unpaved roads, digging out of snow and charging at places few EVs ever use. But it’s worth it.
World Heritage Sites
Pimachiowin Aki WHS is a First Nation area east of Lake Winnipeg encompassing forests, rivers and lakes with exceptional wildlife.
Wanuskewin tentative WHS is a First Nation cultural interpretive center and preserve near Saskatoon.
Biospheres
Redberry Lake is an important migratory bird sanctuary for whooping cranes and many other birds.
Riding Mountain is a wildlife management and environmental cooperation zone centered on the eponymous national park.
Bonus: Churchill is the best place to see wild polar bears.
This tentative world heritage site in Saskatoon Saskatchewan offers a broad view of northern plains indigenous culture. While there are other sites that focus more on specific cultural aspects, like Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump or Writing-On-Stone, this site includes these elements and more all together. The exhibits here cover art, celebrations, ecosystems, language, and oral traditions, from ancient to contemporary, history and current creativity. I saw an original treaty #6 on loan here, one of the land agreements signed by the Canadian Crown and many First Nations in 1876. And the place serves as a community center, holding regular events, private and public, helping the culture continue to thrive. Walking the trails in the peaceful valley along opimihāw Creek, I felt connected to the place, the people who have lived here since pre-history, and their traditional way of life. Looking up at the sharp bluffs where bison were hunted, seeing the clearings, canoe launches, medicine trail, and out over the reintroduced bison paddock, you learn more from the experience than from reading. And the bison stew was delicious too!
