The KiwiCampaign

It’s funny how your most powerful and memorable experiences usually derive from an utter lack of preparation and planning. It must be the complete lack of expectation that creates an experience in its truest and purest form. No previous visualization taints and subtracts from the actual event.I guess what I am trying to say is that the more we imagine an event in advance, the more we might be disappointed or merely satisfied by the actual experience.

I did not plan on diving at the cenote - a limestone sinkhole that expands into a network of underwater network of cave chambers and tunnels. Each adored with magnificent stalactites and stalagmites. After diving the Blue Hole in Belize, a cenote in the middle of the ocean, my assumption of the inland cenotes was a simple sinkhole with some limestone features along its walls. Wrong.

I entered the Cenote Dos Ohos (Two Eyes), outside of Tulum, thinking I would go snorkeling, but could not resist the lure of the dive shop at the entrance that was calling my name. Three minutes later I was sitting in a jeep wearing a wetsuit, and two tanks on the backseat. The deal was just too good to pass off.

We arrived at the actual cenote where roughly 50 divers were switching tanks, suiting up, talking shop and, to my surprise, smoked. This cenote diving thing was vastly more popular than I had anticipated. I seemed to be in for a good ride.

And it got better: Somehow I had to share my guide with only one other person for the first dive, and no one else for the second tank. What would be next? Mermaids feeding us lobster?

Anyone who has done some reef dives knows how fish are a major contributing factor to limited visibility, due to their constant bowel movements, exerting sand, coral, algae, and who knows what else. (Almost) no fish in the cenote meant absolutely clear water with unbelievable visibility. At no point could I decide what the actual visibility would be, since the underwater cave only allowed for straight views of maybe 40 – 50 meters, but I’m sure I could see for 200 meters in these conditions. At times, I almost forgot that I was surrounded by water.

We floated through large chambers, narrow passageways, tight keyholes and tunnels, around stalactites and stalagmites. The tiny air pockets amongst myriads of stalactites on the cave ceilings looked like mercury, dancing and quivering while reflecting our torches. At times, we killed our lights to marvel at the blue light entering the cave system in the distance from several small openings.

Diving in a cenote is the closest we humans will ever get to true weightless floating, I reckon. Not only is the water clear enough to create the perfect illusion of floating through space, but the strong vertical elements of the limestone cave give you a true sense of controlling both your horizontal and your vertical movements.

Once I fine-tuned my buoyancy, navigating through the maze of limestone formations got progressively easier. We sought tight spaces only to see whether we can control our breathing enough to never have our tanks, fins or hands touch the delicate environment. In the end, it was the combination of large open halls, vertical elements and narrow tunnels that made these two dives my most memorable ones so far.  Two hours of my life I will remember for the many years to come.

Cenotes (apparently there are hundreds of them throughout the Yucutan, and 18 famous ones for diving around Tulum) – I’ll be back!