I love Mexico. On my first trip - Acapulco in 2005 - I was introduced to scuba diving, awed by the cliff divers I'd watched on television as a child, and interacted with the most friendly, helpful people I'd ever met. Subsequent journeys to Playa del Carmen in 2006 and Cozumel in 2011 exposed me to sacred cenotes, beautiful beaches, even better scuba diving, and more of the welcoming people who call Mexico their home. While access standards in some parts of Mexico lag behind what I am accustomed to in America, Mexicans display a can-do spirit where anything seems possible, even for someone who uses a wheelchair. So when I inquired about the possibility of swimming with whale sharks off the northern tip of the Yucatan Peninsula, I was not surprised to hear that the challenges I presented could be overcome.
Mom and I took a non-stop flight from Dulles Airport to Cancun, where we were transported by van to our hotel on Friday, August 2. Our home-away-from-home was the Villa del Palmar Cancun Beach Resort and Spa, which is located about ten miles north of Cancun in Playa Mujeres. The all-inclusive resort was nearly perfect. It had impeccably landscaped grounds that I could easily negotiate in my wheelchair. Our suite was clean and spacious with modern amenities, the swimming pools were enormous, and there were at least five restaurants (including room service) we could choose from for our meal plan. In spite of the fact that access around the outside was so good, there were, of course, issues in the room - a low toilet made for difficult transfers; there are no shower benches in the wheelchair accessible rooms, which meant I was unable to shower for the week we were there; and a decorative wooden faceplate on the bathroom sink scraped my thighs when I rolled under it. These flaws were more than made up for, though, by absolutely fabulous employees who cheerfully carried me down the steps from the pool deck to the lounge chairs on the beach, served us nachos and pina coladas, and tolerated our feeble attempts to converse with them in Spanish.
Our itinerary for the week started with the whale sharks on Saturday morning. We were picked up at the hotel lobby at 8:15 and driven to the dock at Flamingos Restaurant, about ten minutes from Villa del Palmar. Seventy people were evenly distributed onto seven small boats, and ours - with Captain Isaac and crew members Manuel and Stephanie - was last to leave the dock. On board were seven other patrons, none of whom spoke fluent - if any - English. Stephanie told us it would take about an hour to get to the place where the whale sharks gather to feed, so while everyone else got comfortable on a seat, I sat in my wheelchair and clung to a pole as our little panga bounced, rocked, and rolled over the sea's hostile waves. The jarring ride was made tolerable thanks to plenty of Bob Marley tunes (which everyone, regardless of native tongue, could sing), stunning views of Isla Mujeres and the Yucatan coastline, and my fervent belief that the pain was temporary and would be followed by incomparable memories that would last a lifetime.
Whale sharks are the largest fish in the sea, and although they may grow up to 40 feet in length and can weigh up to 20 tons, they are docile creatures who pose no threat to humans. Or so I like to believe. They swim near the surface of the warm, tropical waters in which they live, feeding on plankton, and their unique pattern of spots - similar to a human's fingerprints - allows for easy identification. Although whale sharks are considered a vulnerable species, the opportunity to swim with them is an emerging market in the tourism industry, and each year from May - September the waters around Isla Contoy and Isla Holbox provide a healthy feeding ground for these gigantic sharks.
As we neared the one hour point in our journey to find the whale sharks, Stephanie told us that the other boats had located the sharks and we would reach our destination in another fifteen minutes. Finally we could see them - about 40 boats positioned haphazardly over the space of a half mile, and as we looked closer, large dorsal fins occasionally peeked up above the water's surface. Behind the dorsal fin followed the whale shark's rear portion and its tail, and they swam close enough to the boat that we could almost reach over the gunwales to touch them. Isaac yelled instructions and rules as we scurried around the boat taking pictures and preparing our gear, and within minutes a manta ray swam past, too. This was nothing like the videos I'd seen on You Tube - a single person swimming beside a solitary animal. Whale sharks were everywhere, and all you had to do when one swam past you was turn around and look for the next one. She may have been coming from a different direction, but she was coming. And she was hungry.
With my mask and snorkel on, I was helped out of my wheelchair and onto the boat's gunwale. I sat on the edge and looked at the three foot drop I had to make, and when I pushed myself away from the boat, I fell into the comfortable blue water. Manuel gave me a life ring to hold onto, and I had barely cleared water out of my snorkel when I heard him say, "Here comes one!" I looked to my right and there it was - grey with white spots, cavernous mouth open, sucking down whatever was in its path. The shark swam past us, turned to the right so we could see a small remora attached to his gills, and I was nearly struck by his tail. Even though the Mexican government regulates how many people can be in the water at a time (two swimmers and one guide), how close humans can get to the whale sharks (two meters), how close boats can get to the whale sharks (10 meters), it was sometimes difficult to follow the rules. There seemed to be more sharks and mantas than people and boats, and suddenly the middle of the ocean felt as congested as a shopping mall on Christmas Eve.
While mom, Manuel and I were in the water, the other swimmers with us watched from the boat as they waited for their next turn in the water. A rotation system had been arranged ahead of time, and each pair of swimmers was given two or three ten-minute turns to swim. Never before had I been in water so blue, and as I watched a parade of manta rays gracefully swimming up from the deep, their wings spreading 10 feet across, I wondered what it would feel like to have all these people watching me eat. The animals didn't seem to mind our presence, and I can only hope that the relatively recent interest in whale sharks leads to greater knowledge about and appreciation for them and their ocean-dwelling companions. I wondered if our presence had any negative effects on the habits of the whale sharks, and I wondered what the long-term consequences of such close encounters with humans might be. I wondered how many of us would still go out to swim with the whale sharks if, in exchange for fulfilling this bucket-list adventure, we had to make a donation to an organization conducting research on the animals to offset any negative impact we inflicted.
After the final swimmers completed their last turn in the water, we returned to the boat and headed back to the northern tip of Isla Mujeres. The group was more subdued after the excitement of swimming with whale sharks, but the ocean waves were as unforgiving as they had been earlier, and the constant slamming and pounding of the boat tossed my wheelchair - even with the wheel locks on - from port to starboard. I realized then the irony of my situation - the most dangerous part of this venture was not being a paraplegic in the open sea with a bunch of hungry fifteen ton sharks, but surviving the boat ride without being thrown out of my seat. My right hand ached from the continuous pole-squeezing I had to do to remain in my chair, but I consoled myself with the notion that whatever happened for the rest of the week didn't matter. We'd been swimming with whale sharks, and that was the point of the trip.
At Isla Mujeres we anchored the boat and floated in the shallow water while Isaac and Manuel prepared ceviche for lunch. The sky was clear, nearly cloudless and perfectly blue, and the sun shone brightly above us. Manuel told us that this beach (Playa Norte) on Isla Mujeres is the finest in all of Mexico, and there was no reason for me to doubt him. It seemed perfect to me - no rocks, shells, seaweed or other debris, warm, clear water with gently rolling waves, and an unobstructed view of Cancun, Playa Mujeres, and miles and miles of Yucatan coastline to the west. In that moment in time - floating off the coast of Mexico, eating ceviche off of a life-jacket posing as a table - it was hard for me to believe that life itself was not perfect.
Our whale shark adventure ended on Saturday afternoon when we returned to Flamingos, transferred out of the boat and into a van, and were driven back to our hotel. For the rest of the week we lounged on the beach, watched the morning sun rise over Isla Mujeres, and went scuba diving with Scuba Fred's in Cancun. Cozumel may get top-billing as Mexico's best dive destination, but in Cancun we saw a small green sea turtle, a stingray, a lionfish, two eels, spectacular midnight parrotfish, and numerous angelfish larger than any I've ever seen. When we swam along in the middle of giant schools of schoolmasters, yellow tail snapper, and grunts, I felt like I'd been dumped into a fish bowl. We saw more colorful corals, tube sponges and barrel sponges, we held a brittle sea star, and we took turns having our knuckles bitten by an aggressive and territorial two-inch-long damselfish. Although we never dropped to a depth greater than 50 feet, these dive sites (Chitales, Santaremedia, Herradura, and Grampin) were some of my all-time favorites. Hell, this vacation was one of my all-time favorites. Pristine beaches, exceptional diving, friendly people, palm trees and whale sharks. Why wouldn't I love Mexico?
Mom and I took a non-stop flight from Dulles Airport to Cancun, where we were transported by van to our hotel on Friday, August 2. Our home-away-from-home was the Villa del Palmar Cancun Beach Resort and Spa, which is located about ten miles north of Cancun in Playa Mujeres. The all-inclusive resort was nearly perfect. It had impeccably landscaped grounds that I could easily negotiate in my wheelchair. Our suite was clean and spacious with modern amenities, the swimming pools were enormous, and there were at least five restaurants (including room service) we could choose from for our meal plan. In spite of the fact that access around the outside was so good, there were, of course, issues in the room - a low toilet made for difficult transfers; there are no shower benches in the wheelchair accessible rooms, which meant I was unable to shower for the week we were there; and a decorative wooden faceplate on the bathroom sink scraped my thighs when I rolled under it. These flaws were more than made up for, though, by absolutely fabulous employees who cheerfully carried me down the steps from the pool deck to the lounge chairs on the beach, served us nachos and pina coladas, and tolerated our feeble attempts to converse with them in Spanish.
Our itinerary for the week started with the whale sharks on Saturday morning. We were picked up at the hotel lobby at 8:15 and driven to the dock at Flamingos Restaurant, about ten minutes from Villa del Palmar. Seventy people were evenly distributed onto seven small boats, and ours - with Captain Isaac and crew members Manuel and Stephanie - was last to leave the dock. On board were seven other patrons, none of whom spoke fluent - if any - English. Stephanie told us it would take about an hour to get to the place where the whale sharks gather to feed, so while everyone else got comfortable on a seat, I sat in my wheelchair and clung to a pole as our little panga bounced, rocked, and rolled over the sea's hostile waves. The jarring ride was made tolerable thanks to plenty of Bob Marley tunes (which everyone, regardless of native tongue, could sing), stunning views of Isla Mujeres and the Yucatan coastline, and my fervent belief that the pain was temporary and would be followed by incomparable memories that would last a lifetime.
Whale sharks are the largest fish in the sea, and although they may grow up to 40 feet in length and can weigh up to 20 tons, they are docile creatures who pose no threat to humans. Or so I like to believe. They swim near the surface of the warm, tropical waters in which they live, feeding on plankton, and their unique pattern of spots - similar to a human's fingerprints - allows for easy identification. Although whale sharks are considered a vulnerable species, the opportunity to swim with them is an emerging market in the tourism industry, and each year from May - September the waters around Isla Contoy and Isla Holbox provide a healthy feeding ground for these gigantic sharks.
As we neared the one hour point in our journey to find the whale sharks, Stephanie told us that the other boats had located the sharks and we would reach our destination in another fifteen minutes. Finally we could see them - about 40 boats positioned haphazardly over the space of a half mile, and as we looked closer, large dorsal fins occasionally peeked up above the water's surface. Behind the dorsal fin followed the whale shark's rear portion and its tail, and they swam close enough to the boat that we could almost reach over the gunwales to touch them. Isaac yelled instructions and rules as we scurried around the boat taking pictures and preparing our gear, and within minutes a manta ray swam past, too. This was nothing like the videos I'd seen on You Tube - a single person swimming beside a solitary animal. Whale sharks were everywhere, and all you had to do when one swam past you was turn around and look for the next one. She may have been coming from a different direction, but she was coming. And she was hungry.
With my mask and snorkel on, I was helped out of my wheelchair and onto the boat's gunwale. I sat on the edge and looked at the three foot drop I had to make, and when I pushed myself away from the boat, I fell into the comfortable blue water. Manuel gave me a life ring to hold onto, and I had barely cleared water out of my snorkel when I heard him say, "Here comes one!" I looked to my right and there it was - grey with white spots, cavernous mouth open, sucking down whatever was in its path. The shark swam past us, turned to the right so we could see a small remora attached to his gills, and I was nearly struck by his tail. Even though the Mexican government regulates how many people can be in the water at a time (two swimmers and one guide), how close humans can get to the whale sharks (two meters), how close boats can get to the whale sharks (10 meters), it was sometimes difficult to follow the rules. There seemed to be more sharks and mantas than people and boats, and suddenly the middle of the ocean felt as congested as a shopping mall on Christmas Eve.
While mom, Manuel and I were in the water, the other swimmers with us watched from the boat as they waited for their next turn in the water. A rotation system had been arranged ahead of time, and each pair of swimmers was given two or three ten-minute turns to swim. Never before had I been in water so blue, and as I watched a parade of manta rays gracefully swimming up from the deep, their wings spreading 10 feet across, I wondered what it would feel like to have all these people watching me eat. The animals didn't seem to mind our presence, and I can only hope that the relatively recent interest in whale sharks leads to greater knowledge about and appreciation for them and their ocean-dwelling companions. I wondered if our presence had any negative effects on the habits of the whale sharks, and I wondered what the long-term consequences of such close encounters with humans might be. I wondered how many of us would still go out to swim with the whale sharks if, in exchange for fulfilling this bucket-list adventure, we had to make a donation to an organization conducting research on the animals to offset any negative impact we inflicted.
After the final swimmers completed their last turn in the water, we returned to the boat and headed back to the northern tip of Isla Mujeres. The group was more subdued after the excitement of swimming with whale sharks, but the ocean waves were as unforgiving as they had been earlier, and the constant slamming and pounding of the boat tossed my wheelchair - even with the wheel locks on - from port to starboard. I realized then the irony of my situation - the most dangerous part of this venture was not being a paraplegic in the open sea with a bunch of hungry fifteen ton sharks, but surviving the boat ride without being thrown out of my seat. My right hand ached from the continuous pole-squeezing I had to do to remain in my chair, but I consoled myself with the notion that whatever happened for the rest of the week didn't matter. We'd been swimming with whale sharks, and that was the point of the trip.
At Isla Mujeres we anchored the boat and floated in the shallow water while Isaac and Manuel prepared ceviche for lunch. The sky was clear, nearly cloudless and perfectly blue, and the sun shone brightly above us. Manuel told us that this beach (Playa Norte) on Isla Mujeres is the finest in all of Mexico, and there was no reason for me to doubt him. It seemed perfect to me - no rocks, shells, seaweed or other debris, warm, clear water with gently rolling waves, and an unobstructed view of Cancun, Playa Mujeres, and miles and miles of Yucatan coastline to the west. In that moment in time - floating off the coast of Mexico, eating ceviche off of a life-jacket posing as a table - it was hard for me to believe that life itself was not perfect.
Our whale shark adventure ended on Saturday afternoon when we returned to Flamingos, transferred out of the boat and into a van, and were driven back to our hotel. For the rest of the week we lounged on the beach, watched the morning sun rise over Isla Mujeres, and went scuba diving with Scuba Fred's in Cancun. Cozumel may get top-billing as Mexico's best dive destination, but in Cancun we saw a small green sea turtle, a stingray, a lionfish, two eels, spectacular midnight parrotfish, and numerous angelfish larger than any I've ever seen. When we swam along in the middle of giant schools of schoolmasters, yellow tail snapper, and grunts, I felt like I'd been dumped into a fish bowl. We saw more colorful corals, tube sponges and barrel sponges, we held a brittle sea star, and we took turns having our knuckles bitten by an aggressive and territorial two-inch-long damselfish. Although we never dropped to a depth greater than 50 feet, these dive sites (Chitales, Santaremedia, Herradura, and Grampin) were some of my all-time favorites. Hell, this vacation was one of my all-time favorites. Pristine beaches, exceptional diving, friendly people, palm trees and whale sharks. Why wouldn't I love Mexico?