Above the last painted rooftops, the slopes of the Sierra de Guadalupe go quiet, with oaks, prickly pears and a breeze fit for a place named windy hill. From up there the valley lies flat toward the old lakebed, and the red cabins of the Mexicable drift silently over the houses.
Down in San Cristóbal, an old Dominican church faces the main plaza, and the Casa de Morelos keeps the skeleton of a mammoth found nearby. A colonial dike, the Albarradón, still runs beside the Pachuca road. Days are mild and sunny, and summer afternoons bring the rain. A Local Friend can show you a favorite rooftop mural and tell who painted it.
