Travel

Piney Lakeside Retreat known as the Switzerland of Mexico

By Nancy Seeley

Valle de Bravo is a long day’s drive from Zihuatanejo but so different in character from our Pacific Coast fishing village that it’s sometimes difficult to believe you’re still in the same country.

Located about two hours west of Mexico City at an altitude of around 6,200 feet, Valle de Bravo -- a city of almost 50,000 frequently touted as “Mexico’s Switzerland” -- is the weekend playground of many wealthy business people from D.F., Cuernavaca, Toluca, etc. and an increasingly popular tourist destination for ex-pats interested in exploring more of their adopted country.

Our foursome decided to make a weeklong trip there late in January this year, spurred on by a great timeshare exchange deal and a desire to see the monarch butterflies which make the 2,500-mile journey to “Valle” (as those who live there call it) each November from Canada and the northern U.S. They stay for almost five months in pine forests now designated as sanctuaries both in the State of Mexico and neighboring Michoacán.

The best way for us to get to Valle was to accept a Mexican friend’s offer to take us as far as Morelia via new Highway 37 the first day. Tolls cost about $100 pesos, and first-class bus fare would have been $335 pesos apiece. We could have done it in four hours (mas o menos) but elected to enjoy the scenery at a much more leisurely pace and stop for lunch en route, making it about a six-hour journey. A night in Morelia is always a treat, and we spent it strolling along the aqueduct and admiring the rose quartz cathedral and the Tarascan fountain by moonlight.

The next morning we hopped a first-class bus for the $90 peso, three-hour ride east to Zitácuaro. There we found no first-class bus to Valle -- and no second-class bus either for another three hours! Instead, we bargained with the taxi drivers lined up outside the terminal, eventually negotiating a price of $500 pesos for a rather hair-raising 90-minute roller coaster ride south along the curving mountain road through Valle and 10 minutes further on to Avándaro. That’s where our three-bedroom, two-bath A-frame chalet complete with fireplace was waiting, nestled in a complex boasting an outdoor swimming pool, a carefully-tended lawn, and lots of plant life. One look at our accommodations convinced us that Avándaro, which means “a dream place” in the Purépecha dialect, was appropriately named.

Our week was a delight, beginning with the brisk mornings demanding sweatshirts and long pants for walks in the fragrant, pine-scented air; continuing through the warm, sometimes cloudy afternoons; and ending with chilly evenings where we sat outdoors chatting in the mountain ambiance until the dipping-down-towards 45 F. temperatures forced us indoors to the warmth of the fires Nick Dubeski, my significant other and a Canadian used to the rigors of winter, prepared for us each night in the “chimenea.” It was actually fun to NEED blankets when you went to bed.

The first morning, we decided to walk to Valle from Avándaro, figuring the route was primarily downhill. It was, but we had underestimated the distance and were sorely in need of sustenance by the time we sauntered into town 75 minutes later. Along the way, we saw magnificent views of Valle de Bravo Lake, a manmade creation WAY down to our left completed around 1950 when a dam was built to provide more water for the perennially parched D.F. region. Until that lake took shape and beckoned vacationers, the area was virtually isolated, depending on agriculture and horticulture for survival. Now, homes perched on the surrounding hillsides cost between $600,000 and $3 million U.S. dollars, we were told -- and they’re generally occupied only during weekends and holidays. Hijole!

We ate at a floating restaurant that swayed slightly in the breeze at the Embarcadero and enjoyed the local seafood. Trout from the five rivers emptying into Valle de Bravo Lake are a staple on most menus and proved to be delicious. Prices were reasonable, and there were lots of other choices to suit just about any budget. One night, Nick had what appeared to be an entire leg of pork slow roasted until the meat fell off the bones while I demolished a scrumptious chicken “molé verde” dish.

The zócalo was a daunting uphill trek on a cobblestone street. A landmark here is the church dedicated to Valle’s patron saint, San Francisco, with its 16th century bell tower, one of the city’s few colonial constructions. There were scads of vendors ringing the main square, and offerings ranged from wool capes and fancy embroidery to earrings made of fish scales and handbags in sizes from petite beaded models to jumbo cloth carry-ons. While we shopped, dozens of dirt bikes droned on by, dodging around cars on the narrow lanes climbing the hillsides surrounding the center of town.

A guided tour to a butterfly sanctuary near Piedra Herrada on the route to Toluca was definitely a highlight of our week, albeit a challenging one. When we booked the trip ($500 pesos for the four of us), our genial salesman told us the advantage of this place was that we wouldn’t have to climb very much. Wrong! Shaking their heads at the extent of the misinformation, our two guides (one was the salesman’s son-in-law) shepherded us up a dirt path that ascended 3,500 feet to a rather daunting height of 9,700 feet, eventually becoming so steep I was terrified of climbing further for fear I’d never be able to get down again.

Our traveling companions, Wisconsinites Rachel (our photographer) and Jerry Pavlic, are an energetic and young-at-heart couple who said goodbye to Nick’s and my “50s” age group several years ago but determinedly traipsed right up to within shouting distance of the top. Butterflies were hanging from the trees in clumps of hundreds, looking like Spanish moss and waiting for their wings to warm up so they could fly around and land on tourists. On the way back, we encountered the “butterfly police” who patrol the highway keeping vehicular speeds down to 10 mph so motorists don’t kill the droves of black-and-orange creatures that hunker down on the asphalt seeking warmth.

Another day we went to a “tianguis” (open air market) in Avándaro. The produce rivaled Zihua offerings, and I got two beautifully-crafted ceramic serving dishes priced at $8 and $18 pesos. Rachel, meanwhile, bargained with our maid back at the chalet and acquired an impressive collection of embroidered table linens, all blindingly white and pressed to perfection. Content to let the rest of us bustle about, Jerry sat outside admiring the view and smoking one of his beloved “puros.”

Yet another day found us trudging uphill AGAIN, this time to La Peña, once the geographical center of Valle that still contains the archaeological remains of an Aztec temple and has a well-kept shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe at its summit. Only a short taxi ride away from our chalet in Avándaro was “El Velo de Novia,” a spectacular waterfall in the midst of a dense pine, oak and fir forest. A manicured trail hugs the mountainside and descends to the lakeshore about two miles away.

On our final afternoon, we hired a six-passenger boat for $250 pesos an hour to cruise the lake and gawk at the nautical clubs, luxury homes and wooded landscapes. We saw hang-gliders, golf courses, and virgin forests as we motored along the surface of the deep water covering the valley floor with green-cloaked mountains rising majestically around us on all sides.

If you’re interested and want to know more, get online and do a Google search for Valle de Bravo. Among other things, you’ll find lots of hotel listings in the “moderate” to “quite expensive” categories. But if you don’t mind winging it, you can probably find no frills accommodations for two on the route from Zitácuaro to Valle beginning at $200 pesos a night and in Valle itself for around $425 and up. As is usually the case, the bigger your budget, the greater your choices.

Disfrutalo!!!

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