Nina and I recently returned from an unusual trip to the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. Unusual in that we never drank a single margarita nor put so much as a toe on a Caribbean beach. We had only a momentary glimpse of saltwater and a passing view of the tourists’ corridor. We landed in Cancun, and were immediately met by friends of 35 years, who recently retired to Mexico. They drove us five hours south to their home in the town of Bacalar on the shore of Lago Zlake[ Bacalar, just 25 miles north of the Belize border. Lago Bacalar is the second largest lake in Mexico, a few miles wide and 35 miles long. Although connected to the Caribbean, it is fed by a series of cenotes or underground rivers. The water is sweet, crystal clear, and 80 degrees. The bottom is white and the depths vary from quite shallow to 60 feet, creating brilliant gradations of light green to electric blue. Varying ecosystems team with birds, small fish, an occasional crocodile in the mangrove swamps, and tapir, a large pig-like jungle browser who often spends time in the water.
Our hosts have developed a habit of buying old sailboats dirt cheap, less then $1,000 with trailer, site unseen from Craig’s list. Then driving five days each way to the USA, and hauling them home. They currently have a Venture 22 and a Venture 25 and will soon take delivery of an old MacGregor 25. The boats sail well, and with their swing keels are ideal for this lake, as the shore line is 3 to 5 feet deep for several hundred yards. During our stay, the winds would pick up to 10-20 knots on most days. There are probably another 10 sailboats on the lake, some of which would come out and join us on windy days. With the warm water, consistent winds and pristine beauty, the sailing was good!
When not sailing, we explored monumental Mayan ruins in the nearby jungle. These Mayan sites were as extensive as any I have seen but since they are off the general tourist routes, we shared our visits only with working archeologists and Howler monkeys vocalizing in the distance. Other times we would walk to town to practice our Spanish and get a bite to eat at local restaurants. Then we’d relax in a hammock under the palm-thatched palapa at the end of the dock. But soon the wind would pick up and a sailboat was waiting, ready to go, just a one-minute swim away through 80-degree water. Who could resist that temptation? We may need to make this a yearly family tradition.
Roy and Nina Douglas, Gray Seal