Dear Fellow Diver,
About a three-hour drive and a six-mile ferry crossing
from Cancun is a tropical little Mexican island where
restaurants serve pasta and pizza, and chips and salsa are
almost an afterthought. The small dusty village on the
island of Holbox (pronounced ólbosch) isn’t on anyone’s
itinerary, save for a few Texans and a handful of Italians
who, for reasons only they know, have settled there. The
central plaza features a Spartan basketball court, a small
white cathedral, and a few vendors. Each evening, someone
pulls the church bell rope to send riveting chimes through
the quaint village.Palm-thatched huts, some without
plumbing, contrast with brightly painted block homes.
Lobster and squid fishermen comprise most of the 800 inhabitants,
few of whom speak English. Locals walk, bicycle,
or use golf carts to navigate unpaved streets. It’s hotter
than hell, and just as humid during the summer (90+F
degrees), and mosquitoes outnumber the residents. And, for
as long as anyone can remember, the fishermen have tolerated
the scores of thirty-foot fish that ply their waters in
July and August, just making sure to keep alert so they
wouldn’t capsize their small craft. Besides, “Mexican
women are winky-winky about whale sharks,” I was told.
An Eritrean woman by birth, Ornella Alemanni isn’t
winky winky. Years ago, Onny married an Italian named
Carmelo Alemanni. While vacationing in Kenya, they went diving
in a popular destination for Italians, the Malindi Marine
National Park, where they had exciting whale shark encounters.
Years later, traveling from their home in Italy, they
visited Holbox, eventually returning to open a waterfront
posada with eleven thatched roof huts that they named
Mawimbi. Recognizing the value of the scores of whale sharks
that came to feed on upwellings of plankton each summer, Onny
began taking a few tourists to view them on her 25-foot
“launcha.” Soon, fishermen who couldn’t even swim were selling whale shark trips to the tourists and now,
just three years later, it’s on the verge of being
discovered. In fact, as an Undercurrent subscriber,
you’re among the first to know, because
no one else has covered this phenomenon.
In August, three friends and I visited
Holbox, and I was overwhelmed. Each morning at
7:00 a.m., I walked 25-feet across a white sandy
beach from my thatch-roofed hut. Wading knee-deep
into the water, I climbed over the gunwales and
into Captain Miguel Vega’s small launcha Buena
Onda, (“everything is good”). Our first stop was
the pier just minutes away, where officials of the
Yum Balam Reserve check each outgoing boat for its
permit (every boat must have a licensed captain
and a certified guide; 32 boats were granted permits,
but only 12 are active) and verified that
passengers were wearing life jackets (which we
doffed once out of eyesight). Miguel Vega then
revved up his single 150 hp engine to speed 40
minutes south along the beach, then turned east
for 20-minutes into the Gulf of Mexico. Using his
hand-held GPS, he homed in on the coordinates
where the whale sharks tend to congregate, joining up with ten other small boats carrying
off-the-beaten-path tourists who paid $80US in the plaza for a “tiburon
balleña” tour. Our guide Juan reminded us of the rules (written last year because
people were grabbing the whale sharks and speeding boats were frightening them): no
touching, only two snorkelers in the water at once, and only one boat per whale shark.
Suddenly, excited hoops and hollers echoed across the water. The surface
boiled, while as many as sixty whale sharks, moved slowly, mouths agape, through
the plankton rich waters. Entering the water directly in a whale shark’s path, I
peered into its approaching mouth. A few feet away, its eyes appeared to check me
out (though that may be anthropomorphic). Some fed in circles, giving me a second
or even a third encounter, where I could see attached remoras dining on parasites.
Schools of sardines, a frenetic bait ball breaking the surface, gobbled anything
escaping the gaping mouth. Cobia, playing the roles of pilot fish, kept pace with
the shark’s strong strokes.
Two of us would slide into the 79-degree water with one or two whale sharks
to observe and photograph them. Visibility ranged from 25-30 feet, enough to give
me a great view, but not enough to capture the shark’s full length with my digital
and video equipment. I made at least half a dozen entries, lasting up to fifteen
minutes each. As two of us came out, the mate helped us up a side ladder as the
boat idled. We never had to wait to find the next whale shark.
Viewing the whale sharks from the boats was almost as exciting. It was
thrilling to watch my buddies share this incredible experience. “Swim to your
left or right,” I shouted, if I spotted a shark heading in their direction or one
they could intercept.
As comfortable as the polka-dotted creatures -- the locals call them “dominoes”
-- appeared (they were barely moving), their strong bodies swept through the
water faster than I could fin -- the current from their sweeping tails often pushed
me forcefully through the water. After a tail hit my buddy’s leg, she wore her
bruise like a badge of honor. One whale shark snuggled along the side of the boat like it wanted to be petted -- could
I resist giving it a gentle pat?
When the afternoon wind picked
up, the plankton descended deeper
and the dominoes followed, so we
returned to shore. The next morning
we departed earlier to beat
other boats, but, damn, the sharks
were gone! When other boats
arrived, we all fanned out in
search of them. Miguel speculated
that they might have headed south
toward the uninhabited island of
Contoy, a bird sanctuary (flamingoes,
roseate spoonbills, cormorants,
pelicans, ibis and herons).
A seamount that rises to a depth of
5 feet five miles north of Contoy
also attracts the whale sharks.
But we had a problem. We didn’t
have enough gas to make the hour
round trip. When Miguel said we
could chance buying fuel from a
fisherman, without hesitation we
said, “vámanos,” let’s go!
As we headed south, the other
boats followed. Soon we were again
surrounded by whale sharks, so many
we could have floated in the water
and waited for one to swim by. We
were now 48-miles from Holbox.
Since we were flying to Cozumel at
3:00 p.m. that afternoon, around
noon we sadly departed. Luckily a
fisherman’s gas barge was near the south end of Isla Holbox. Siphoning gas into a
plastic container, Miguel passed over some money and refilled our nearly empty tank.
My whale shark experience was clearly worth “roughing it” in Holbox. At the
Mawimbi, only one room is air-conditioned. Onny has no confidence in air conditioning
because Holbox’s generator frequently shuts down. That’s a problem for the
few air-conditioned hotels, because some don’t have windows that open. Mawimbi has
the benefit of gentle ocean breezes. Its thatched roof huts have a rustic charm,
twin serape-covered beds, but no amenities other than small refrigerators, but the
place is immaculate with tile floors, wooden beams, and large bathrooms with painted
ceramic sinks. And the price is right; $50-90/night, and all rooms were taken.
(A word for the wise: reserve well in advance).
None of the restaurants is air-conditioned. At Cueva del Pirata, across from
the plaza, we sat at a table along the dusty road to enjoy the evening breeze.
The food was okay. Around the corner is Villa Zapata, an upstairs restaurant that
also serves Italian food. Across the plaza was a busy pizza place. Oddly, the
Ringling Circus was in town. Tents had been set up next to Mawimibi, so after
dinner I listened to blaring techno-music before drifting off.
While one can easily drive their ferry to Holbox, we had arranged a six-passenger Aero Saab charter
plane for $1200 round trip
from Cancun. We were to
be met outside customs,
but when no one showed, we
hauled our gear about a
quarter-mile in the heat
to the General Aviation
terminal. Though we had
explained in advance that
we each had 100 pounds of
luggage, the pilot took
one look at our dive bags
and said they were too
bulky to fit in the baggage
fuselage of our single
engine Cessna 206. We
rummaged through our baggage,
took what we needed,
and sent the remainder to
our next stop, Cozumel,
and the Hotel Cozumel
(Terrible place; the rooms
are dirty and mosquitofilled,
the staff has no
notion of service, and the
food is inedible. The
hotel is no longer listed
on any website so it probably
was going out of
business.). Thirty-five
minutes later we landed on
the 2000-foot dirt runway
in Holbox, where a golf
cart “taxi” met us. We
spent two days with the
whale sharks, just enough, I think, making it a nice extension for any trip to the
Yucatan. The airstrip was only a few minutes from the hotel. On the way out, our
taxi driver toured the village and was headed to the ferry landing before we
reminded him we were headed to the airport. He had never been there.
-- G.S.
Divers Compass: From Cancun, you can rent a car or cab. Highway
180 to Nuevo Xcan, turning north toward Kantunilkín and the port
of Chiquilá, a three-hour drive on a pothole-riddled road, then
park your car. It’s $2.50 for the 30-minute ride (passengers
only). The last ferry is at 5 pm. You can hire a launcha from one
of the men waiting around the dock for $20 ... .Posada Mawimbi;
telephone and fax 911 52 984 8752003 or mawimbi@prodigy.net.mx ... www.mawimbi.net ... Aero Saab: Tele 52 984 87 30804 or
www.aerosaab.com. ... www.holboxisland.com for information. ... Hotel Villas
Delfines ($70 to $150 double, depending upon the season)is a good upscale selection:
www.holbox.com/hotel.htm Tel:(984) 8752196; another is Xaloc:
www.mexicoboutiquehotels.com/xaloc ... Hotel Faro Viejo: www.faroviejoholbox.com.mx ... Hotel Los Mapaches www.losmapaches.com. ... Onny’s daily whale shark trip is
$120/person and includes a ham and cheese sandwich and water or soft drink. ...
There is plenty of bird watching to pass time in the afternoon. ... Hotels can
arrange trips or it’s easy to hook up with any of the fisherman in the village.