The Mexican Carribean Landscape

Posted on October 11, 2006
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Beyond Cancún and the booming Riviera Maya, adventurous travelers to the Mexican Caribbean find lush landscapes, empty beaches and traditional ways of life.

People say they want to get off the beaten track, but they really don’t,” said Hilario Hiler, a self-described “Mayanist” who leads custom tours of the ruins and villages hidden in plain sight around the fringes of Mexico’s burgeoning Riviera Maya coast.

“But the farther south you go, the more beautiful it gets, and the people are nicer.”

I met Hilario, a longtime friend of my traveling partner, photographer Macduff Everton, during a late lunch in Puerto Morelos, a fishing village just 10 minutes south — but a world apart — from Cancún. The two men originally alighted here at the end of the ’60s when there was no beaten track, just coconut plantations, virgin sites to free-dive, villages and mystical ruins that had not yet become attractions for bussed-in tourists. They lived on the beach in Tulum and in forest villages, caught their food on the reef, learned the ways of the Maya and became family with them. Macduff even worked his way around the Yucatán with a traveling circus, playing the surreal role of Commandante Macduff — grandson of Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley, leader of a NASA frogman team. “We had the time of our life,” said Hilario.

While we devoured an endless stack of warm corn tortillas with black beans and stewed chicken, washing them down with cold beer mixed with fresh lime juice, the two amigos reflected on the changes that have occurred along their beloved coast. Cancún’s first hotels sprouted up in 1974 and have multiplied to total 27,000 rooms, with a local population of 750,000 dependent on tourism. A recent burst of development along the Riviera Maya — the 73-mile stretch from Cancún south to Tulum — has given rise to another 24,000 rooms. And several whopping resort projects are in the works, ensuring the boom will proceed at mach speed.

Which is why we were talking about getting off the beaten track. The more the coastline becomes parceled out and built up, the more challenging it gets for visitors to experience the environment and its culture in their undisturbed states. This swath of Mesoamerica is second only to the Amazon in terms of biodiversity, yet the barrier reef, the mangrove littoral and the underground rivers are highly vulnerable to contamination from runoff, waste and overuse. Conditions are just about perfect for an ecological nightmare.

There is, however, a formidable roadblock to runaway development. In a remarkably prescient conservationist stroke, a former governor of the state of Quintana Roo proclaimed the country’s largest nature reserve here 20 years ago. The Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, includes 68 miles of coastline in its 1.3 million acres of dunes, bays, wetlands and forest. Home to some 2,000 people, the reserve was established as an experiment to see whether conservation could be compatible with human residents’ social and economic well-being. Lobstering is the main livelihood, but tourism is a growing industry.

Try to get here before sundown, so you can see what it looks like,” said Cameron Boyd, founder of CESiaK (Centro Ecológico Sian Ka’an), one of a few small lodges located in the reserve. So after lunch, Macduff and I barreled down Highway 307, past the construction sites of sprawling Playa del Carmen and the funky-but-chic hotel zone in Tulum, and onto the sandy road that led through the park gates. Before we even checked in, Macduff bolted up to the rooftop terrace, wound a spool of film into his hefty panoramic camera and started shooting as intently as a photojournalist covering breaking news. Which, in a sense, he was: There would never be another sunset precisely like that one.

Our vantage over the shallow treetops revealed that we were on a long, thin strip of bush- and palm-covered dune that separated a big lagoon from a steely mass of dusky sea. The western firmament appeared grand, dramatic — worthy of the name Sian Ka’an, which means “gift from the sky.” The dropping sun was obscured at first, but its radiance emanated from within bulky gray cloud clusters. Descending, it blossomed in a final blaze of glory that threw a deep orange wash over the glassy surface of Laguna Campechén.� CONTINUE

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