Did I mention I am afraid of the water? Especially dark water?
And most especially dark water that has no known end to it?
You know, the kind that has never been explored and is rumored to be the entrance to the underworld.
That kind of water does exist, and I did go scuba diving in it, and believe me, getting in wasn't easy.
We drove a mile or so down a dirt track through Mexico's Yucatan jungle in a jeep until we reached the entrance to a cave system called Dos Ojos. Dos Ojos means two eyes and the cave entrance carries the name for the two separate openings to the fathomless labyrinth below.
The Yucatan peninsula harbors at least 6000 caves, including the longest underground river in the world. Only half of the caves have been explored and many people have lost their lives in the confusing waters deep underground.
My good friend and our dive leader, William, is full blooded Mayan and has done archeological diving in the caves across the peninsula. He said we would not really be cave diving, but only cavern diving. The difference being the ability to always see the light where you came from so, in case of emergency, you can backtrack and find your way out again.
That’s what he said anyway…
We carried our dive gear down steps caved into stone and sat at the edge of water so clear you can’t even tell it’s there. William had very bright, big flashlights for all six in our little party and I clung to mine as I slipped into the cool water.
The cave opening wasn’t very pretty. Most of the stalactite tips had been broken off and the rock was dull and grey. The water wasn’t very deep, probably only twenty-five feet. I adjusted my weights and sunk to the bottom, testing my buoyancy, which would become very important in the journey ahead.
Then I followed close behind William—and I mean RIGHT behind William—into the cave.
The world transformed.
I felt like I was flying. There is no current in the underground river and the visibility is over two hundred feet, making the water literally as clear as the air. We turned on our lights and an ancient and all natural cathedral of shining limestone stalactites and stalagmites immediately stripped away all my fear. I have never seen anything so beautiful.
As we descended into the cave, the light behind us grew dimmer and dimmer until I could no longer see it at all. Water filled the cave completely. If I ran into any problems, there would be no way to surface. William carried an extra air-tank on his back and in several places along our route more emergency tanks were secured. We followed a thin line that ran the entire length of our dive just in case someone inadvertently stirred up the silt below and our vision became completely obscured.
At the half way point, there was a Y in our path and a sign with a skull and cross bones that warned divers from taking the wrong path.
A flicker of the seriousness of what I was doing brushed my thoughts like a butterfly and only slightly disturbed the yoga-like trance that had come over me with the sound of my rhythmic breathing into my regulator and the pulsing flow of bubbles that floated toward the surface—my escaping breath.
The cave closed in on us.
The jagged stalagmites on the floor below rose up and I rose with them until I realized the ceiling was descending, the two becoming like the ancient jaws of a long forgotten sea monster. I steadied myself becoming aware of my buoyancy in an intense fashion, understanding that a scrape against a pointed giant stalactite tooth might dislodge my air hose from its life-giving tank.
Space closed in until I had maybe six feet of room in which to move forward, carefully keeping William in view at all times.
Then the cave opened up again and a pocket of air appeared above us. We surfaced and, in the damp room, William instructed us to all shut off our lights.
Have you ever woken up in a strange room on a starless night somewhere out in the countryside where not a streetlight could be found? Have you lost your sense of direction and even wondered if you were awake or asleep or maybe dead? Have you struggled out of bed to find the light switch and patted down the walls more and more frantically, trying to maintain your composure and not panic at its inconceivable loss?
Then you know how it felt there in the dark, in the damp, in the Mayan underground.
A flick of a switch and the return of the light brought on an intense feeling of returning to life again. Cave diving? Cavern diving? I think we crossed a boundary that may not have just been a boundary of definitions but rather a boundary of eternity.
Flashlight firmly in hand and very much lit, I sank beneath the water again and back into a world of weightless calm. Soon, disappointment had its bitter way with me as we came into view of sunlight again and the end of our journey.
Given the chance, I will dive the cenotes again—especially under the safe guidance of my scuba-shaman friend. After all, there are many more other-world portals to be discovered.