The Guadalajara Reporter
Guadalajara's Largest English Newspaper
It’s 7 a.m. at Rancho El Zapote. The air is full of early morning sounds. Loudest of all are the roosters, just meters from my tent, who have been trying to wake me up since 4 a.m.
You are likely to see more horses than cars on the cobblestone streets of Navidad, Jalisco—a pueblito nestled among the high mountains above Mascota, some 130 kilometers west of Guadalajara.
In Nahuatl, it’s known as Citlaltépetl, the Star Mountain, a shimmering snow-covered peak that dominates the horizon for hundreds of kilometers.
A small initiative that began as a summer research opportunity for Mexican undergraduate and graduate students has grown beyond the wildest dreams of its founders.
At age 83, I had serious doubts about whether my driver’s license would be renewed.
Though born in Veracruz, Professor Miguel Cházaro (R.I.P.) was numbered among Jalisco’s best botanists.
In 2000, a “cloud forest” was unexpectedly discovered in a remote area of western Jalisco at around 1,600 meters altitude (one mile high).
