The Chorro Steps

San Miguel de Allende meanders across the Laja River valley and creeps up the side of an escarpment. I live on the edge of the cliff, hundreds of feet above our most prominent church, the Parroquia. 

The streets in the Centro Historico are narrow and congested. Parking is difficult. Many of us find walking easier than driving. Since most any place you want to go is within a kilometer of wherever you happen to be, San Miguel is a walker's town. Except, of course, for that escarpment.

The most direct route from the southern edge of the Centro Historico to my house is via a walkway too steep for cars. Walking home means climbing stairs. My path begins at Juárez Park with fourteen inviting steps.

The ascent leads to the Lavanderia Público where some people still do their laundry.

From there the road—Callejon del Chorro—climbs. Automobiles labor up the cobblestone street; pedestrians use steps...

... and more steps. The path winds past elegant homes thick with plants and trees. The scent of lilies fills the air. This area is sometimes called the Beverly Hills of San Miguel.

El Chorro is so named for the spring that induced Fray Juan de San Miguel to found a town here. A fountain marks the spot.

I often walk down these steps to get to town. I climb up them for aerobic exercise.

My route continues past the Cultural Center where music often drifts across the path. Sometimes dancers rehearse under the arches, artists work at easels.

Climbing one more flight of steps, I reach an old church. For years I didn't know its name. One day a wedding party—six young men wearing black suits and their best piercings—were waiting outside. They identified it for me: Iglesia Santa Cruz del Chorro.

Santa Cruz—Holy Cross. A wooden one bears likenesses of objects associated with the Passion: the crown of thorns, lances, a scourge, nails and hammer, even the Roman soldiers' dice.

The forecourt of Iglesia Santa Cruz del Chorro contains benches. Some might welcome the opportunity to sit there and catch their breaths. I push on.

Just beyond the church, the Chorro Steps begin in earnest. They cling to the escarpment, steep and narrow.

Here and there stairs had to be cut away to make room for someone's front door. No automobile ever reaches homes like this one. Groceries, water, furniture—all must be carried up on aching backs.

A rider carries his stunt bike. Athletic people run up and down the steps: impressive at sea level, more so at our altitude of 6,400 feet.

Stairs at the inside of a curve shrink to two inches wide. Everybody walks on the outside, clinging to the handrail. At last a glimpse of sky signals the end of the Chorro steps and of the climb—for most.

But not for me. I cross the Salida a Querétaro where I look forward to climbing another ten stories.

Gone now are the elegant homes of San Miguel's Beverly Hills. My neighborhood, Barrio las Palmas, is mixed. Here many live in casas humildes: dwellings consisting of little more than rubble walls with blue tarpaulin roofs, curtains serving for front doors. Down a side alley, someone hung plants in tin cans: an attempt to soften raw concrete walls.

The steps here are fewer in number but the climb is no less arduous. Landings rise steeply between stairs. Hot sun replaces the shady cool of the Chorro Steps far below. I'm sweating, breathing harder.

Schoolchildren commute on this section. Midway, a vendor offers snacks: chicharones y tostadas con cueritos, galletas con mayonesa, gelatinas con ronpope (fried pork rinds, tostadas with pork skin, crackers with mayonnaise, and stiff, chewy Jello with eggnog).

Lipids and sugars restored, I walk another thirty steps to reach my street. Then it's just a level hundred meters to my door.

 

I collapse on my couch with an ice cold diet coke. My legs tingle. I'm high on endorphins. I've climbed 305 steps and ground up several steep streets. Why do I do this?

Six years ago I came to San Miguel and promptly suffered a heart attack. I was overweight and out of shape. I smoked. My heart was scarred and a defibrillator was implanted in my chest because my cardiologist didn't like the fascinatin' rhythm of my pulse. Clearly something had to change.

I quit smoking right there in the emergency room at Hospital de la Fé. Amazing how easy it is with good motivation. Since then I've lost forty pounds through sensible eating and exercise. Three hours a week at the gym and lots of walking around town keep me in shape. I haven't felt this good in decades.

But mostly I climb the Chorro Steps because I can. Many people with my history can't. So I find joy in taking my body out to play.

Comments

[Rick]

John, I have walked your route a few times and wow what a workout. Great way for you to stay fit and enjoy a wonderful walk.
Your beautiful pictures inspire me to huff and puff my way up there again.

Rick

[Jody]

Inspiring y punto.

[Cynthia]

I waked it once, by mistake, top to bottom. What a surprise!

[lynette]

I love this post. What a beautiful thing. I felt as if I were there, walking the path (huffing and puffing, no doubt) with you.