Mariposas. Monarchs, to be exact. Millions of them flock to the mountains here every year to have sex and die. Eight years ago Ali and I visited one of the Monarch Sanctuaries, and it was one of the coolest things we’ve ever seen. It was also quite an adventurous day. We took off early before the guides had shown up, and we just started hiking up the mountain. Trails went off in every direction, and we were hopelessly lost. But we just kept climbing, and eventually stumbled upon the butterflies. We sat for hours with them fluttering around us, sitting on our heads, falling in clumps of dozens from tree branches and landing right beside us. It was amazing. And we wanted to show this to our kids.

We spent the night in Zitácuaro. It’s sort of the classic working Mexico type town. No frills, but everything you need and more to accomplish whatever task it was that brought you there. Our only real task was to feed ourselves, and we found an excellent taco stand. Ali declared it one of the best bistek (steak) tacos she’d ever had.

It was just a short drive from Zitácuaro to the butterfly reserve. There are a few of these reserves in the area, but this one was supposed to have the biggest numbers of Monarchs, in part due to the tough two-plus hour climb to get to them.

We’d talked to some friends who did this climb recently and they assured us we could hike it if we wanted. As we were about to take off on the hike Lowe said he really wanted to ride a horse. We decided, what the hell, and plopped down the twelve bucks for a horse that they assured us both kids could ride together. That last second decision is the only reason we ended up making it to the top of the mountain.

Our guide, Manuel, kept us huffing along. Guides are supposedly mandatory, but I kind of wonder if anyone actually stops people from going on their own. Regardless, he was a nice guy, and the fee set at the ticket office placed him squarely in the same league as the horse.

The hike up was pretty brutal. If it had just been me and Ali it wouldn’t have been too bad, but we had the kids, and despite the horse, we had some breakdowns. Much of that was due to our not dressing them warm enough. We didn’t take into consideration how cold they would get just sitting on a horse. They were shivering, while we trudged straight up the mountain in t-shirts.

At the halfway point Lowe really didn’t want to go on, and we were super close to relenting. For some reason he just did not want to get back on the horse. He finally agreed to let me be the horse. I threw him on my back and started climbing. I felt like some Army grunt in training—hiking up the nearly vertical muddy path with a forty-five pound sack of potatoes clinging to my back with his arms around my neck.

Once we got higher up and a bit more sun was able to make its way through, things looked up. The climb got so steep at that point that the horse was left behind and the kids were on their own. It was about this point that I began emptying excess water bottles on the ground.

We made it. Three-and-a-half hours after starting out (this was supposed to take about two) we reached the butterflies.

Thousands upon thousands of them hung in the tree branches and fluttered around. But we were kept back. Not too far back, but far enough that we most definitely were not “among” the butterflies.

I get it. The guides are preserving the habitat, and keeping us from disturbing them. That’s great. Really. But oh man, what a different experience this was from the one that Ali and I had when we were on our own traipsing through the woods. For us, this amounted to about 10% of the awesomeness of that previous experience.

But we stayed positive about it. The kids got to see something truly unique. They learned a bit about migrations, about life cycles, and about preservation. And they had a cool adventure climbing a mountain on horseback.

So while it wasn’t the same great experience Ali and I once had, it was a great experience for Ouest and Lowe.

Spirits were high for the ride back down. The kids laughed and talked the entire way. Two hours of some of the best sibling bonding I’ve ever witnessed. I followed twenty yards back the whole way just listening and smiling.

While the kids played here, Ali and I tore off our shoes, massaged our swollen feet and sore legs, and popped Tylenol. That hike had been a bit more than we bargained for. But I have no doubt it was one we’ll be laughing about twenty years from now.