Cenotes of Cuzamá (or: The Long Journey Into the Depths of Hell)

WARNING: This post is much longer than normal, but every detail just HAD to be documented. It might be worth a read.

Sunday seemed like a good day for a trip out to swim in the cenotes of Cuzamá. We had read in our guidebooks about the quaint horse-drawn rail carts, organized by locals to give visitors a scenic ride through the long abandoned henequen plantations, as they wind their way to stops at each of the three beautiful cenotes in the area. Even a local woman at the market had recommended the cenotes as a must see.

We should have taken it as a sign of the day to come when we stopped for gas at the Pemex station only to have the seemingly friendly attendant try to rip us off. He happily chatted to me about our destination as I handed him a 500 peso bill, attempting to distract me as he did the old switcheroo with a 50. I had seen what he did, and pointed out that I gave him 500; he looked at me blankly for a time, and I looked blankly at him, and finally he shook his head and handed me change. Fortunately, we've learned to be prepared when it come to gas stations. This type of exchange doesn't happen all the time, but occasionally a gringo can be taken advantage of if they're not on the ball. It's always best to pay close attention to EVERYTHING the attendant does down here.

Finally on the road, we journeyed through small villages like Kanacín and Acancéh before getting closer to Cuzamá. At one point on the open highway, we were mooned by one of the eight young Mexican men riding in back of a pickup in front of us. I guess some greetings are universal.

As we reached the entrance, the midday sun was blazing hot (surprise, surprise). We gathered our things (towels, cameras, bag of snacks, snorkel masks, small children) and headed over to see the man in the red cap who was overseeing things with his clipboard. Jennifer put our name on the list while I went to the nearby tent to buy a bottle of water. As I approached the stand, I became aware of a large number of flies buzzing around and the growing smell of horse manure. In fact, as I looked around the tent at all of the people sitting at tables, it was apparent that the flies were EVERYWHERE. The mostly Mexican crowd, awaiting passage to the cenotes, sat emotionless like zombies, all waving towels or rags around their heads in a futile attempt to clear away the flies. But the flies just kept coming back, over and over again.

An eternity passed while the woman behind the counter searched for my bottle of agua, and soon I was swatting away flies, twitching in some kind of tribal ritual dance, trying in vain not to be eaten alive. There was a little girl behind the counter looking blankly at me, flies landing on her face and arms. She made slight movements to shoo away the flies, but clearly she too had come to the realization that there wasn't much point to it. The flies were always there.

When I finally got my water, I pretty much ran out of the tent. I found Jenn and the kids huddled together at a table out in the sun, positioned between a large horse plop and a bucket of cans stewing with more flies. We waited and watch as men loaded and unloaded rail carts from the tracks, hitched up horses, and shuttled off passengers. There was a large crowd of people waiting for a ride on the rails, and we began to wonder if maybe the weekend might not have been the best time to come on this adventure.

The sun beat down brutally, and still we waited, swatting flies, dripping with sweat. The only shade was either under the tent (filled to capacity with people and flies) or outside the bathrooms. We positioned Emma and Lukas by the bathrooms for a time so they could get some much needed relief from the sun. After more than 45 minutes of waiting, Jennifer approached Señor Red Cap to see where we were on the waiting list. He told her we had about another 30 minutes to go. Wha-?

Jenn took the kids to sit in the car for a while, and then I did the same. After another 35 minutes, I talked to the clipboard guy and was told we'd be up in maybe 20 minutes. "But you told us last time...?"

By this time, I was mentally and physically drained. We were all getting irritable, the smell was sickening, and Emma was on the verge of tears. We talked of giving up and leaving to visit another cenote about a half hour away, but Lukas refused to leave. He wasn't going to miss the horse ride we had told him all about. That quaint, scenic ride through the plantations with the promise of crisp, cool refreshment at the journey's end.

Like gluttons for punishment, we waited. Again. The 20 minutes passed by and the men at the cerveza stand motioned us over. They asked why we were still there and what we had been told. They spoke Spanish, but they seemed to think that something wasn't quite right here. Were we being taken advantage of?

We watched as a large group that had arrived after us were seated on the next trolley cart. What the-? Jenn marched right up to the clipboard dude, demanding to see the list. After some back and forth, it turns out there are two lists: the regular list and Señor's 'personal' list. It seems you can buy your way onto the personal list. So much for going the honest route. If I had KNOWN about the personal list...

Jennifer demanded that we be seated on the next cart (you don't want to incur the wrath of a blond white woman from Jersey), and so we were on our way within the next 5 minutes. Finally, some relief in sight!

The rail cart has room for four in the middle under a canopy, while two more can sit on the rear and another can sit up front with the driver. We shared a cart with three girls of maybe college age, one of which spoke English. She explained to us that they had been on the tour to the cenotes before and that access to the third cenote was quite treacherous. It wasn't recommended for the children. The driver was willing to take us all to the first two cenotes and allow us extra time there so we could bypass the more dangerous third cenote. We agreed that would be the wisest choice for us, and then we were off.

While in theory a ride on the rail carts might seem like a pleasant idea, it actually has two major problems. The first one is that it is drawn by a horse. And with the horse comes HORSEFLIES. We spent most of the journey clattering along, flailing our arms about, swatting flies off ourselves, each other, and the children. At one point, Jennifer was swatting flies with Lukas' hat, and in the confusion, hit the driver across the face with the strap. Ooops.

The other problem is that there is only one set of rail tracks to and from the cenotes. That means if you're traveling in one direction and other carts are going back in the opposite direction, someone has to get off the tracks to let the others through. That, more often than not, was us. This entails stopping the cart, unloading all the passengers, unhitching the horse, and manually lifting the cart off the tracks to let the other carts pass. Then load the cart onto the tracks again, hitch up the horse, load all the passengers, and then finally proceed. Although novel at first, this gets tiresome after the fifth time.

The ride is bumpy and at times there might be a sharp curve, which means hold on tight or you're going to lose your camera, your hat, your child. After banging along endlessly, swatting flies, holding on for dear life, we finally reached the first cenote.

When you finally arrive at the cenote dripping with sweat, the only thing you can think of is GETTING IN THE WATER. You are about to DIE if you don't. You don't CARE what it looks like, it could have trash floating in it, you just need to be wet. Thankfully, the cenote is pristine and the water is crystal clear. This is TRULY an OASIS! The water is icy cold, but you just slip right in without a thought because you are just that hot. Finally, relief!

The cenote was beautiful, in a huge cavern with fresh water bubbling up from deep underground. We swam across to the other side of the cave and back again while the kids took turns catching fish in a snorkel mask.

After our swim, we headed back to our cart to hit the rails again. Things were looking up when it was finally time for another cart to clear the tracks for US to pass instead. The ride was much more pleasant now that we had cooled off.

We arrived at the second cenote and began descending the long staircase into the cave. The elevated platform at the bottom was quite crowded with visitors and there were no railings, so Lukas and I hugged the cave wall while Jenn navigated down to the shaky platform below. As she helped Emma climb down a rickety ladder into the water, I thought for sure there was no way Lukas was getting down there with all those people. It just seemed way too dangerous. But eventually, the crowd thinned out and we managed to get him to the water below. Soon we had the cenote mostly to ourselves before another cart of visitors arrived.

One of the girls we were now traveling with dove into the cenote from the platform above, so Jennifer wasn't going to be outdone. It must have been a drop of at least 25 feet or more into the pool below (You can see her jump in the video clip posted at the bottom). Of course, since Jenn jumped, there was pressure on me to do the same. Thankfully, that was not recorded because an involuntary groan escaped loudly from my mouth as I leapt into the water. It was a pretty long drop.

With the pleasant cenote visits behind us, the torment could now begin again. As we boarded our cart for the return journey, the horseflies resumed their assault. Then, thunderclouds above dumped a deluge of rain. The canopy provided no shelter whatsoever, but at least the showers were washing away the horseflies. Could it get much worse?

Sure it could, because our driver had to remove our cart from the rails FIVE TIMES on the journey back to let other carts pass. That meant all of us standing on the sidelines up to our ankles in mud, buffeted by driving rain, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. (My video camera was still in its water case, so you can see a clip below. Not the same effect though, without hearing the thunder and the rush of the rain.) We were soaked through and through, our bags full of water, and the kids were shivering. As they say, when it rains, it pours.

It had been a two hour wait in the blazing sun, followed by a three hour trip on the rails. As we pulled back up to the entrance, huddled under dripping wet towels, Señor Red Cap asked, "Jennifer...how you like? Are you quiet now?"

What was there to say? It certainly was a day we will never forget.