Photo: Tourists were allowed on one of the Maya structures. This was cruising with the family and getting drawn into their zany fun... (what it's like to visit Mexican coast by boat)

Hoping to explore the sun soaked ambiance of Mexico’s Caribbean Coast, we landed near Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo, Mexico. The bustling area was full of tequila cheer and dancing tourists. It had been a short-but-long excursion to the Yucatan Peninsula. Sailboats typically cruise from November to April when there are firm winds and 80 degree F temps. Avoiding the overdeveloped resorts, we’d veered toward Playa del Carmen, which is 42 miles south of Cancun. Once a tiny fishing village, Playa is now a lively community, but without the clutter of high rises. Tiled walkways led to numerous shops, cafés and food stands. There’s a white sand beach and a ferry that takes visitors to the nearby Isla Cozumel. In Maya tradition and times, the fertility goddess Ixchel was honored in Cozumel, but today it’s a teeming tourist stop. In Playa, souvenirs are negotiable and after some friendly haggling, I bought sailboat-themed jewelry for 140 Pesos, or about $10 US, at that time.
Fascinated by Mexico’s history and natural beauty, we took a four-mile taxi ride south to Xcaret. The word is Mayan for “small inlet” and is pronounced ish’-car-et. It’s a 200-acre preserve and park that educates and entertains visitors with exhibits, museums, a large aquarium, and tours. We started with a snorkeling tour through the cool, clear freshwater subterranean rivers, known as cenotes. There were some sensible rules and precautions; the wearing of lifejackets and the absence of sunscreen. Sunscreen was not allowed, the concern being that the chemicals can harm the cave’s delicate ecosystem. We wouldn’t need sunscreen in a cave anyways.
Organized in a group, we swam through a mysterious maze of limestone and fossilized coral caverns that were illuminated by shafts of sunlight streaming through holes carved in the rock above. The clear, cool water was invigorating. Tiny fish darted over the sandy bottom near our feet. Underground rivers and cenotes were highly regarded by the Maya people. Artifacts, such as human bones, carvings, and ceremonial knives, have been found in some caves by underwater archeologists. The caverns were once a solid part of the seafloor and after the ocean level dropped about 1.5 million years ago, eons of running rain water had carved the cenotes into being.
When we were back on dry land, the steamy air eased the underground river’s mild chill. Nature trails allowed us to experience the lush depths of the tropical jungle. Heads swiveling at the wild splendor, we followed a narrow dirt path. Across the path there were a few black streams of aggressive-looking ants. Respecting their space, and their sharp mandibles, we stepped over them while simultaneously avoiding the robust thorns on some of the trees. In stark contrast with the greenery, scarlet macaws roosted in branches. Farther inland, unseen howler monkeys whooped, their primal shouts echoing through the distant green canopy.
The ruins of Pole’, a Maya settlement, can also be admired in the Xcaret. Tourists were allowed to climb one of the moss covered step pyramids. Pole’ thrived from 1400 to 1517 and by 1600, the Spanish had overruled the indigenous culture. Still learning about my own native roots, I was curious about Maya life. Unwilling to climb a structure that was once sacred, I sat on the base of a ruin and tried to imagine the ancient peoples who had once walked these grounds. Maya were renowned for their astronomy and the Mesoamerican ballgame was an important part of their society. It’s believed that the heads of loosing team members were sometimes displayed on stakes. After a reflective silence, I followed a group of giggling tourists while visions of a lost culture tugged at my soul. I could sense that in Pole’, the forgotten spirits were weeping.
The mood was lightened by a glittering blue lagoon where people swam with exotic fish. Framed by boulders, tropical palms, and white sand, the lagoon was a natural marvel of Caribbean elegance. Like the jungle paths however, this wild place had been tamed. The fish were so attuned to man’s presence that they panhandled visitors. Since I was empty handed, the rubber-lipped beggars tried to eat my bikini. They nibbled at loose threads and were actually yanking at them. I entertained an alarming image of the fabric being completely unraveled and falling off. No funny fish stuff here, this area was a family show. I tiptoed into the shallows to save my suit and sense of dignity. The bikini eating fish following in a rainbow swirl just below the water’s surface.
Near sunset, we taxied back to Playa del Carmen and hopped into a touristy place called Senor Frogs. I spied Carl, the sportfisher captain who had struck up a conversation, but shied away after learning that we were sailors. I trailed Carl out of the bar. “Hey!” I said, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Who gave you that funny idea about sailboaters and powerboaters?” Carl flashed a sheepish grin and shrugged. I guided him back into Senor Frogs. “We don’t care if you came here in a sub or on a flying carpet,” I said, waving my hand for emphasis. “Or use sails, motors, paddles, hands and feet, whatever! You’re partying with us.” Wearing the delighted expression of someone who just realized he’s unconditionally accepted, irregardless of his boat’s propulsion particulars, Carl blended right in.
Mexican soda, margaritas, and salty stories concluded an adventurous day south of the boarder. I don’t know who perpetuates that obnoxious us-against-them attitude when it comes to power and sail. Usually confined to a child’s playground, unproductive obsessions over people’s differences do creep into the adult’s world. Constantly. Unable to abide this human absurdity, I was glad to catch Carl that day in Senor Frogs. Besides, anyone with any sense knows that a power boater can party just as well as a sailor. Just ask Carl.