View of Lake Patzcuaro from el Cerro on a non-cloudy day

View of Lake Patzcuaro from el Cerro on a non-cloudy day. Photo by Tracy Novinger.

Pátzcuaro is a city with infinite colonial charm and one of Mexico’s most popular destinations for November’s Day of the Dead celebrations.

Centuries-old buildings steeped in history, cobblestone streets reminding you they’ve been here a lot longer than you have, el Baile de los Viejitos (Dance of the Little Old Men) performed daily in the main square, the lake dotted with fisherman gracefully wielding their butterfly nets the same way their great-great-grandfathers did…all set against a backdrop of mountains at an altitude of nearly 7,500 feet. Just breathing reminds you you’re not at sea level anymore!

On a recent visit I was lured by the extinct volcano named Cerro del Estribo, meaning Hill of the Stirrup. Four of us took the 8 a.m. Parhikuni first-class coach from Zihuatanejo as far as Uruapan (4 hours and $315 pesos) and dashed into the station long enough to buy second- class tickets (1.5 hours and $48 pesos) on one of the buses leaving every 15 minutes for Morelia, where we got dropped off near Pátzcuaro Lake before 2 p.m.

Besides being an ecologically more gentle way to travel, the bus gives everyone a chance to exclaim about the gorgeous scenery you see along the way. The new highway built about five years ago has cut hours off travel time from here to there, but the green valleys, darker green slopes, plowed fields, occasional sparkling bodies of water, fruit orchards, and changing terrain as the altitude climbs still offer plentiful picture-taking opportunities.

After arriving in town, we spent a pleasant afternoon doing touristy stuff around our hotel on Plaza Vasco Quiroga, the main square, followed that with a good night’s sleep burrowed under mounds of blankets. In the morning, after a quick cup of coffee, we headed off on our adventure.

From the southwest corner of Quiroga Plaza, we walked west on Ponce de León. Don’t worry about street names after that, just keep going straight until you cross the highway and start heading up El Estribo. There are signs, but if you don’t happen to see any, ask someone and you’ll get steered in the right direction.

The route follows one of the many cobblestone streets mentioned earlier. It’s not terribly steep, but it does keep going relentlessly uphill at a gradual incline. The websites and guidebooks I used couldn’t agree on the distance to the top. All I can say with assurance is it’s somewhere between 5-7 kilometers from el centro (downtown).

We planned on a very aerobic workout when we started out but kept getting distracted by what was going on in neighborhoods along the way. Our youngest hiker, an inquisitive 14-year-old equipped with a high-tech digital camera, videotaped schoolchildren during their early morning patriotic drill, complete with drums, flags and marching. This is also a wonderful hike if you’re into bird-watching and naming trees. But do wear comfy shoes and bring along a big bottle of water.

After nearly 90 minutes, we leveled out at a large grass-covered clearing dominated by a spacious gazebo built in 1936. Featuring tables made of wooden slabs supported by imposing-looking rough hewn legs with seating on concrete benches ringing the circumference of the structure and an area for grilling picnic fare a stone’s throw away. A few feet further on there’s a sheer drop off down to a picturesque plateau. No railings, of course, which would make safety inspectors north of the border shudder in horror.

BUT…we weren’t finished yet! To reach the summit of this extinct volcano, you must climb another 400+ steps. Figure on resting half a dozen times to catch your breath and keep soldiering on till there are no more stairs left on which to plant your feet. Once you’re at the very top, what a spectacular view! You can see Pátzcuaro, neighboring towns and if you’re lucky, the lake. The day we went, that island-dotted body of water was completely obscured by a heavy cloud layer, which is pretty common.

After returning to our hotel, I checked out more websites on Cerro del Estribo, learning there are similarly-named sites in Panama, Peru, and Chile. And when I happened upon a blogger who claimed “this arduous climb makes San Francisco’s hills look like child’s play,” I congratulated myself on a good day’s work.