swimming lessons

I know how to swim. I'm not a fast swimmer, nor a talented swimmer, but I can hold my own through any body of water. It is important to my dad that his children (and grandchildren) know how to swim. From pools, to lakes, to oceans, I can tread along slowly through a breast stroke or a front crawl. Not many residents of the Yucatán can say the same.

This past week, I've spent every single day in the water. From the Gulf of Mexico, to the Cenote Ik Kil, to the Caribbean Sea, I experience joy every time I dunk my head beneath the water and come up for air. I just swim, without giving it a second thought. The cenote at Ik Kil is 150 feet deep, but I didn't even notice the sign. Instead, I jumped off the side of a cliff (the first time was scary) into the deep blue, and came right back up. I knew I would.

The deep waters of Cenote Ik Kil

This cenote (like all others) sells life jackets. When I first saw the booth for orange life vest rentals, I thought, "what a nice safety net for over-protective folks." As I jumped into the cenote, I saw lots of people floating in the life vests. I saw others clutching the side of the cave. I decided to inquire with these water-loving folks about why they weren't swimming over to the sunny (and warmer) part of the sinkhole. In Spanish, I was told every excuse for not swimming - everything from "I'm scared that I can't feel the bottom" to "I don't know how to swim." That's when I realized - the only people sans life jacket were American. So I asked again- and yes, none of the Mexicans (or Europeans) in the water could swim. But they wanted to enjoy the water. Kudos to them!

While in Honduras, if I was planning to actually go swimming, I would explain to my neighbors that I was going to the river (or lake or beach/sea) to "bathe" not "swim." I always thought this was a colloquialism. That is until I went to the beach with my new Yucateco friends. Just before Jessica got into the water in Progreso, she told me she couldn't swim. Then she ran into the water and hung out for a long while. When she came back I wanted to yell, "you swam in the gulf!" But Jessica didn't actually swim; there were no swim strokes going on. Instead, she went into the water and did what the Yucateco fishermen do before they enter the water every day to fish; they pray for permission to enter the water and pray that they don't drown. These fishermen wade into the water (as deep as they need to) and proceed to work hard to hopefully make their living. Most survive, but several fisherman do die beneath the waves every year.

Fishing boat taking off from El Corchito

These are the fishermen who bait fish and troll, by hand, with hook, line, and sinker. Some fly fish. Many drop nets, from both on land and on water (in their motor fishing boats). All go out to fish in the early morning, as well as at dusk, often times holding a Coleman lantern out over the side of the boat and scooping up squid. One thing's for sure - this is the way many families on the gulf coast of Mexico survive, and have survived, through tough times. In the 1980s, the marine industry exploded as farmers moved up to the coast after the collapse of the local henequen industry. Farmers are now fishers. But they're still not necessarily swimmers. Actually, they can't swim at all. But they enter into the water, no life jackets provided. To be this brave takes dedication, practice, and a little extra praying to the gods.

king of the forest

Yesterday, I had a chance to go where very few non-locals have ever gone. And I received a crash course in native species conservation.

Five rocky, hard to stay in your seat, kilometers outside of town of Cenotillo, Yucatan lies the entrance to the Reserva San Nicolás. Once we finally arrived to where we were arriving to, it was magnificent.

Many of the indigenous species of the Yucatan are slowly disappearing. From the jaguar, believed by local Mayans to be the king of the forest, to the meat eating vulture (which I had a chance to witness firsthand). Sadly, an ever increasing human population and the destruction of many animals' natural habitats cause all these species to face extinction. Kudos to those working with organizations like Pronatura, to protect and educate us on the local ecosystems on the Yucatán Peninsula.

A camouflaged vine snake in motion

Navigating our way through the acres and acres of land that encompass Reserva San Nicolás, we were actually on a mission. Spread throughout the terrain are seven cameras. These small devices, attached inconspicuously to trees, record video in the area in front of them on 10 second loops. The videos are recorded onto SD memory cards. What I love about this idea is the combination of nature with technology. Here we are, miles from anyone or anything else, using small recording devices and memory cards to capture nature. The video boxes are placed (logically) in front of small holes/pools. We'd grab the video cards out of each box, place them in a digital camera, and watch the animals come by. From agoutis to foxes, there were lone travelers, as well as packs of animals congregating by each watering hole. It was our very own nature channel, right there in the middle of the palm trees. I can't emphasize what it felt like to stand in the forest, sweating buckets, covered in insects, surrounded by orchids and snakes, and pull video chips out of little recording devices.

The video recorder, which currently runs on battery.

While the fauna of the Yucatán is different from anywhere I've ever been, the people and the culture are what makes it completely beautiful. When we arrived at Reserva San Nicolás, there were two amazing gentlemen waiting for us. These men live at the reserve, in the stone structure under re-construction, and work hard to build into a three hundred year old structure some modern amenities. When completed, the house-like structure will house students and teachers, scientists and researchers from around the globe. 

What Arial and Jorge have accomplished so far is gorgeous; it's of the earth, made by hand, and functional. 

Made by these two men, this stone structure will serve as an outdoor stove (grill).

There is no electricity out in Reserva San Nicolás. Both men have motorcycles, so they can easily travel back to town (Ariel has a wife and daughter he tries to visit daily). But when they're out there on the land, they are dependent on the sun, on the weather, on their arms and legs. Before we headed out of the reserve for the day, Cindy handed 2 solar lights to the men. Once placed in the sun for about 8 hours, each lamp will provide about 3 hours of light. I can't wait to check in with these guys and see how solar light has benefited them, if at all. The only way to truly know if something is working is to test it out and solicit feedback. I wonder if they will still go to sleep in their hammocks as soon as the sun goes down. Only time will tell.

If you'd like to see the videos of the wildlife captured by the Reserva San Nicolás cameras, they are constantly uploaded to the facebook page found here: https://www.facebook.com/SanNicolasCEAPY

To learn more about the company that provides solar lights, check out WakaWaka's website at http://waka-waka.com/

If you'd like to see all my photos from our visit to the Reserva San Nicolás, they can be found online here: http://flickr.com/gp/103121765@N06/R2KHPv/