El Lago De Camecuaro

To celebrate my mother-in-law's birthday, I suggested we take a family day trip to El Lago de Camecuaro (Camecuaro Lake), a national park in the neighboring state of Michoacan.

You might wonder why we bothered to drive six hours round trip to go to ... a lake, when we live about 50 feet* from one. But then I would remind you that our lake is super polluted and nasty and that raw sewage runs straight into it, and then you would stop wondering.

Lake Camecuaro, though, is pretty. The water is super clear. I was in deep enough that I couldn't touch the lake bottom, but I could still see every stick and rock down there. I was happy to enjoy the water without worrying about emerging as a mutant.

The trees are beautiful. Their thick trunks grow in twisty turning angles, and the roots are a jumble both on the land and in the water. If anyone knows what those trees are called, please let me know.

The water is cold. Not everyone wanted to get in. I summoned the shreds of my Oregon pride and dove in. The water was delicious.

This was actually my second time there. We went last August, too, while my sister was visiting. I wish we were closer, because it's so nice to get in the water!

I will say that the place is a great deal more park-like than I anticipated. I guess I think of "going to the lake" to be a very natural experience. This place is definitely A Park. If you go, you'll probably encounter gads of people, almost all Mexican, many probably from Morelia. Many will be playing music, quite possibly a certain song you hate. There are vendors that walk around molesting you to buy a statue of Jesus on the cross. Hordes of children will scream as they run right over your picnic blanket. One side of the lake has restaurants. Another corner has a sizable playground.

Speaking of the playground... yours truly got a stern reprimand for playing on the structures. I took Hanix for his first slide ride. Then we got crazy and I sat down on a swing with him in my lap. Well, not five seconds later, a terribly serious-looking guard came over and made me get off the swing. At first, he wouldn't even talk to me. He just wagged his finger at me and looked at me like I had just spit on baby angels with acid monster saliva. So I got up. But I stared at him, because, seriously? I can't take my baby on the swing? But he had been giggling! Who stops a giggling baby?

So then he said (in Spanish) "No, no. No. Only kids. No." Alright. I get it. Bad dog. I'm a sore loser, so I gave him a dirty look and then laughed at him, to show him that, you know, he is without joy in this world, and I took my nephew and my baby and his adorablitude away.

So unless you have your heart set on swings, I recommend the lake for a pleasant afternoon.

True story.


* I'm a terrible judge of distance, so it might be more or less than that, but basically it's right there, you know. So don't mock me if you know that I'm wrong about this.