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Published: October 22nd 2011
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We’ve decided to visit the Cenotes de Cuzamá on our way back to Merida. We’ve read and heard that these are not-to-miss plus the mention of horse-drawn rail-carts in our guidebook piques my interest even further.
We exit the main highway and drive through multiple small towns, diverted by road construction in multiple places, and get briefly lost when the excellent signage we’ve come to take for granted here fail us. We notice that we keep following a couple of cars one these backroads and country highways and determine they must be headed to the same tourist attraction. Sure enough they are and sure enough the parking lot for the Cenote-tour start is hoppin’. But luckily not crowded. There are a few large tent structures set up with food and chairs, a decrepit but functional cement bathroom building, and lines of small rail-carts with circus-striped canvas roofs and double-facing seats. Small, raggedy ponies (they’re tiny!) munch on the abundant bright green grass, determinedly ignoring their owners, most of whom are congregating under one of the tents. This tour is run by another Mayan collective. One younger man comes up to us, asks us how many in our party and arranges
for our guides.
I smile as Kurt folds his large (for a Mayan) frame into the railcarts. These things are decidedly cute and would be gimmicky if they weren’t purely functional. Turns out these railcarts run right alongside the cenotes and we see turn-offs headed other places as well. What were these narrow, impermanent rails for originally? Mining? Quarrying? The driver, an older man with a rope whip looped around the back of his neck, grabs the leadline for one of the less rib-skinny horses and hooks up the horse to the front of the railcart. A teenage boy jumps on as well. And we’re off!
The railcart vibrates and shakes my entire body with a steady, unremitting rumble. Our pony reveals itself to be rather recalcitrant, prompting the driver to continually urge it on with the rope whip. He sometimes just holds the whip out to his left so that the pony can see it on its periphery but if that doesn’t work, he’ll crack it making the pony kick out and trundle a bit faster. Then the rope goes back behind the neck, blonde-white against dark red-brown. Whenever there is oncoming traffic, the boy and driver
assess how many are coming to see who has right-of-way. Whichever side loses out unhooks the horse and picks the entire cart off the track. There are wide, well-maintained open spaces on either side of the rails but I’m still amazed at how flimsy and small these rails seem to be. Our driver actually straightens them out at one point! Again, I wonder how long these have been here for and what other purpose they must have served. On either side is constant green jungle, twisting and curving with trees and vines. Butterfly clouds burst up around us, a flurry of pale yellow, a dust-devil of lime green. I like the ride almost as much as I enjoy the cenotes.
Loch Ness Cenote
We descend to the first cenote down a gorgeous old wooden and stone staircase. There is a deep-looking cavern, almost frightening since here there are no guide ropes. It’s hard to see the back of it since the ceiling slopes down away from the entryway. I try to squelch the idea of a Loch Ness monster in this calm, bat-filled cave….but what about monster cave fish? But the serenity of the cave pulls me to
touch and see and push myself beyond the comfort zone of the entry platform where every other tourist but me and Kurt remain. Eventually our guide walks down and searches for us. We’ve overstayed our time and it’s on the next.
Sunbeam Cenote
This cenote is a circular, light-filled place, easy to see all crevices and often the bottom. The easiest way to get in is via a jumping platform that’s about eight feet high. I swim the entire perimeter, touching the walls, feeling the impersonal coldness of stone and twining my fingers, gently, through the occasional wooly root system. Kurt and I take turns swimming into the great beam of light that illuminates this cenote. I swim over, take a breath, and sink down. This disconnected beam of sun blinds me to all but the sight of my body suspended in light. Worlds within worlds. Coming up to the surface, I have to re-ignore the two men who are impressing their womenfolk (young and old) by climbing up the major tree root hanging down and leaping twenty feet back into the water. I unwillingly overhear their conversation and I immediately hear the Texan twang. Well, this Texan
wants some peace and quiet so we move on.
Temple Cenote
To enter this cenote, we climb down a long ladder and sunblindness prevents me from even guessing at how long this ladder is at first. We get down and lo and behold, we are the only ones there. This is a true blessing. For the first time, a brief glimmer of what “discovering” a cenote might have been like flickers into our minds and bodies. It is a reverie.
Quiet, serene, elegant in its dark and beams of unbroken sun. Smoothness of melted walls that show the movement of the earth, a pace that no human will ever truly comprehend. There is a pool of light that clearly shows the bottom of the cave. This one is larger than the sunbeam cenote and darkness catches along most of the edges. There are larger bats in this wing, large enough so that I can make out their brown wings better. They fly more quietly, with less squeaking too.
The families descend and the temple of fresh water, underground creation, and bat sanctuary shrinks to the edges of perception. It retains its beauty but now resembles a
public bath as more and more shouts, cannonballing children, and teenage explorers fill its spaces.
And onwards
Back on the railcart, back to Merida, drop off the car, hop on a bus, and we’re off to Celestun, our last weekend destination before our conference.
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