
LA ISLA BONITA
By CHRIS BUNTING
January
16, 2007
--
THEY can be as long as 46 feet. Weigh more
than 15 tons. Grow up to 300 rows of teeth. And when their eyeballs roll
over to focus in on you, they’ll make your heart drop into your sigmoid colon.
Yet somehow, despite their rather disproportionate specs to my own scrawny frame, I’m surrounded by these mammoth, polka-dotted beasts known as whale sharks - so called because they can suck down 400,000 gallons of plankton-filled water per hour like whales, yet have giant gills and are silent like a shark (they’re credited as the world’s largest fish).
In the dark green water surrounding the 12-square-mile Isla Holbox, right off the northern coast of Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, I’m trying my best not to resemble a pink jumbo shrimp while swimming with a pod of 15 of the monster fish. They enjoy the warmer temps of the Gulf of Mexico.
I have no cage. No harpoon gun. Just flailing limbs, a fogged up mask, and nervous, waterlogged breath spraying out of the top of my snorkel (despite the fact that the 60 million-year-old whale sharks are one of the gentlest, slow-moving animals on earth).
Yes sir, it was quite the
experience.
Er, scratch that. It
would
have been quite the experience, had
torrential rain storms not cancelled all of the whale shark tours - reason
numero uno
tourists visit the isolated, fishing-focused island in the first place - while I
was there.
Compared with Hurricane Wilma, who just one year ago swept through the Yucatan, this storm was peanuts - raining kitten and puppy fetuses more so than cats and dogs. But it was enough to close down restaurants, shops and most everything else on the island (the narrow, sandy roads, which its 1,500 residents negotiate with golf carts, have deeply sunken potholes leftover from Wilma that flood rather easily).
So, instead of actually swimming with the whale sharks (assuming I would have made it that far-they ship out at 5:30 am, after all), I took shelter under the trusty thatched roof of the Xaloc Resort’s bar, listening to others relay their dramatic fish tales against the soundtrack of rain drops outside. After a few some odd Coronas and tequila shots, I felt like I was right there with the fish (or, at least drinkling like one): “Glug, glug, how many rows of teeth, glug?”
Xaloc has 18 circular palapas (TV-less palm-thatched bungalows-the plumbing gurgles a bit, but you get over it), two pools, the Maja’che restaurant (great tacos! better ribs!), surprisingly fast internet access, and a game room above the bar - perfect for the rainy days I had.
And Xaloc’s beach, like most of the beaches around Holbox, is white and clean and sparsely populated at its most crowded; making possible an activity long extinct the mobbed shores of Cancun, Cozumel, even Isla Mujeres: casually chitchatting with (as opposed to resenting) your neighbors.
But it’s Xaloc’s above-the-call-of-duty friendly staff (mostly composed of college coeds from the mainland) that most stood out: Just flip to any random page in the guestbook and you’ll see ravings about Yanina, who runs the front desk, as eager to fulfill whatever request, whenever, who’ll invite you to help feed Romeo and Juliet, Xaloc’s two cats.
It’s at the front desk where you can book any number of eco-tours, including the $90 whale shark expedition: Bird watching (in the neighborhood of 40,000 flamingos arrive over the summer), crocodile tours, night walks along the beach to watch as marine turtles lay their eggs. Or, if you’re all eco’d out, beach-bed massages and kite-surfing are on the menu, too.
Assuming you have a better forecast than I did, you’ll want to rent a bike or hitch a $1 golf cart taxi ride and see the 26-mile-long island. Holbox is separated from the Yucatan peninsula by the Yalahao Lagoon, home to a massive mangrove forest. It lies just at the cusp where the Caribbean Sea meets the Gulf of Mexico. You’ll not want to leave before having a lobster slice at Edelin’s Pizzeria, located in the center of town.
As evidenced by the “x” in its name - pronounced like a “sh” - Holbox, which means “black hole”, is very, very Mayan, like Apocalypto-era Mayan. Residents, mostly lobster and octopus fishermen, speak the ancient tongue more fluently than they do Spanish (for political reasons as much as a lack of education). The stucco dwellings are modest. Televisions and cell phones are rare. Cars are even rarer (I never saw one). The pace of life is in super slo-mo - they’re still cleaning up palm trees and making structural repairs in Wilma’s aftermath.
That’s precisely why Xaloc’s owners, Goncha and JuanFe, choose to leave the hustle and bustle of their homeland for tranquil Holbox - “And we’re from Mallorca!,” JuanFe said.
Rain or shine, the island’s a happy throwback to a non-spoilt Mexico that’s hard to find on the mainland these days. Just check the Weather Channel before you go.
THE LOWDOWN
Get there:
Nonstop February from JFK to Cancun starts at
$323/RT on JetBlue. A 5-day rental from Executive (kiosk at the airport) starts
at $482 with complete insurance, strongly recommended (www.executive.com.mx).Go
it alone: Unlike the labyrinthine
route from Merida, the roads from Cancun to the town of Chiquila are well-marked
(and paved). The trip takes approximately three hours. Unreliable car ferries
are theoretically available, but you’re better off leaving your wheels on the
mainland (mind the barefoot locals, who like to gouge for parking). Passenger
fare is just $2/RT; the last ferry leaves at 6:30 pm.
Take a tour: A day tour from Cancun to Holbox - including lunch, a boat trip and interpreter - leaves at 5:00 am and returns at 6:30 pm ($175/pp; cancuntransfers.com). Buses also leave from Cancun Bus Station at 4:30 am, 6 am, 8 am, 12:30 pm, 1:30 pm and 2:15 pm. They return to Cancun at 5:30 am, 7:30 am and 1:30 pm; fare is $6/pp.
Stay: The Xaloc Resort, located on the TK side of the island, offers rooms from $136 per night. 011-52-984-87-52160, holbox-xalocresort.com
More info: holboxisland.com
La Isla Bonita[NYP]