Searching for Panchito

Just before coming down to Mexico, I learned that at certain cenotes it’s possible to swim with Mexican crocodiles. Years ago, this wouldn’t be something I would’ve ever considered doing, but now, I’m intrigued by the idea.

Knowing that I have days of cenote diving ahead, I ask my dive guide if it’s possible to switch the location of one of them, hoping to get the chance to dive with Panchito — a Mexican crocodile frequently sighted at popular cenote. The guide agrees and knows that it’s because I really want to see the crocodile.

The cenote itself, Casa Cenote, is beautiful and popular. Both for divers and snorkelers. The cenote isn’t deep, and there are very few overhangs, meaning snorkelers can move around freely and divers who might be nervous about an overhead environment still have the chance to experience cenote diving. The colors, too, are truly incredible. Hit the place at the right time of day and the sunbeams dance in the water creating a magical effect.

About halfway through the dive, we surface to check and see if Panchito is hanging out. Turns out, she is! The moment I see her, my breath catches. Not from fear, but from awe. She is beautiful to witness in person.
As I slowly approach her I sense no agitation. No aggression. She’s peaceful. Of course, I approach slowly and cautiously. I don’t want to spoke her or make her feel threatened and illicit a bad reaction. She allows me to get pretty close, not so close that I’m right in her “bubble” but close enough. It’s amazing floating in the mangroves and watching this beauty.

But the peace doesn’t last long, at least not as long as I would’ve liked. Some snorkelers screaming and yelling make their way around a bend. They haven’t seen the crocodile yet, but are just being obnoxious and disturbing the calm. Suddenly one gets a little to close and screams. Flailing and splashing to get back to her group while screaming “there’s a mother Fu**king crocodile over there.” Of course this pronouncement causes other members of the group to panic a little. Now I should mention here that at the entrance to the cenote there is a sign that says there is a crocodile. Also, a few staff members let it be known when renting out snorkel gear.

All the noise has irked Panchito — not enough to get in the water and get aggressive, but she’s on her rock mouthing at us, letting her displeasure be known.

It takes some time calm down the snorkelers — when asked whether or not they saw the sign, they respond with “yeah but we thought everyone was joking about a crocodile.” Once the commotion stops, Panchito settles down herself. Returning to her peaceful laziness and sunning herself on a rock. The snorkelers, too, move on and return the way they came. We too need to continue on with our dive, which makes me a little sad. I’m so in awe of Panchito I’m not ready to say goodbye to her yet. I want to spend more time with her, but sadly it can’t be.

While I can’t say that I would actively dive with all species of crocodiles, or even most species, Panchito has definitely changed my perspective on them. I hope some day soon to return and spend more time with her.

Cenote Diving: Angelita and The Pit

It’s sheer happenstance that I’m diving cenotes Angelita and The Pit in back-to-back days. Angelita was planned, a dive I wanted to make long before coming down to the Yucatán mainland. It’s ethereal appearance drawing me in and making me want to experience it for myself. The Pit, on the other hand, was a happy accident. When making my dive plans, I was more focused on the fact that I would be able to get three cenote dives in for the day and wasn’t really paying attention to which cenotes they would be. The fact that it was The Pit was luck. Or universal intervention.

Angelita is just off the highway — further down the Yucatán coast, a little was past Tulum — and if you don’t know where the entrance is, it’s entirely possible to miss. Only a small sign marks the entrance. We pull up and set up shop at one of the designated areas for divers. There are a few other groups around, but it’s not nearly as popular as some of the other cenotes and the groups are spaced out a good amount. The jungle shades us from the Caribbean sun and a sudden deluge of rain makes for laughter. All reports indicate that the weather in both Cozumel and Playa Del Carmen is not great and that ocean diving has been canceled — in fact two of my three dive days in Cozumel were canceled due to weather. But that’s the beauty of cenote diving, even if the weather is bad you can still dive.

There’s a calmness to the atmosphere that’s hard to describe. With the jungle canopy and chirping of birds it’s easy to forget that mass amounts of civilization are just a hundred or so yards away. The entrance to the cenote sits underneath a thick awning of trees, adding to the illusion of remoteness. By the time we get into the water, we are the only group. One has already done their dive, the other is in the midst of theirs and will likely be surfacing soon so there’s every possibility that we will have the cenote to ourselves.

The blue hue at the surface is deceiving. The water is more green during our descent and grows darker the further we descent — any light that was able to penetrate through the trees lost in the first 20-30 feet of water. We finally hit the thick sulfur halocline around 90+ feet — it almost looks like fog — with ancient trees poking through. It’s beautiful and a little eerie. The cenote is almost feels like a religious experience, as though I’m diving in an underwater Gothic Cathedral — expect the the architecture is stalagmites and stalactites crafted over thousands of years.

We dip below the sulfur cloud, planning to stay under for only a moment, and once we slip below all light except that coming from our flashlights, is lost. It is an almost spiritual experience. After a few minutes we head back up through the sulfur cloud — an act that must be done slowly (any diver knows not to ascend too fast). During the ascent, I loose sight of my fellow divers lights, I know they are above me but my 360 degree view is of white cloud. Within a single heartbeat a several thoughts race through my head — but the one that I keep at the forefront is to remain calm. It’s an act of faith, ascending through the sulfur cloud to find my fellow divers on the other side.

Back at the surface, my fellow divers chuckle at the massive grin on my face. They know what I am thinking. That dive was amazing and felt like a religious experience. One that while looking at the beauty of the natural world also made me look inward. I want to dive it again, I’m not ready for it to be over.

Ironically I’ll get to have a similar but opposite dive the following day. We are set to dive The Pit. The first of three cenote dives scheduled for the day. Much like Angelita, The Pit is a deep sinkhole, though much more popular and well known. At the surface, the prep area is much larger and almost every single spot — far more than at Angelita — is taken by divers readying their gear. It’s apparent we are not going to be the only ones below the surface.

A steep wooden stairwell leads down to the entrance and I’m not up for navigating the uneven steps in my gear, opting instead to have it lowered directly into the depths where I can put it on in the water. It’s something of a novelty watching my gear be lowered by rope and pully. The entrance is small. Even so, it’s packed with divers. There are even more beneath us under the water. It’s misleading, however, with the cavern opening to a mindboggling size just 15 feet below the surface. Unless underwater, you would never know this giant cavern exists.

The true depths of The Pit are deeper than divers can go —- hundreds of feet down but we are going no further than 119 feet (the deepest depth that has been explored is 390 feet). After we get deep enough, I take a look around the cavern and am immediately in awe.

Because there are so many other divers — all shining their flashlights in various directions — we are able to see the true scale of the cavern. It is immense. For the first time in my life the sheer scale of a place has me feeling so small and insignificant. As though I can see myself in the grander scheme of the universe. It’s a humbling feeling, realizing your inconsequential. But it’s not a negative feeling, rather one of wonderment and serenity.

Much like Angelita, the dive is over too soon and I’m not ready for it to be done.

The feelings Angelita and The Pit are both similar and opposite. Angelita making me looking inward while The Pit making me look at the world as a whole. Both bring up feelings of existentialism and awe at just how beautiful the planet can be.

Please, For the Love of All Things Good, Listen To the Dive Brief!

In nearly fifteen years of diving, not including the two years lost to the recent pandemic, I’ve never had a divemaster cancel a dive mid-dive. I suppose there’s a first for everything, and I’d much rather have a dive called and everyone safe then let a dive continue and deal with consequences afterwards. But this was shocking and very frustrating.

On our way to the dive site after the boat briefing.

Our first dive was supposed to be easy. Six total divers — myself included — and all of us have previously dived in Cozumel. All of us had experience, knew our gear and knew what to expect. Cozumel is known for drift diving and it’s abundance of life means that no matter which site your at — a shallow reef or deeper wall dive, you’re almost guaranteed to see something good. We decided on a shallow reef dive, it had been a few months since they other five, a group from Canada, had been in the water and the divemaster wanted to make sure everyone’s skills were still sharp. They said they would be ‘ok.’ They’re familiar with the diving and knew the procedures. We were briefed by the divemaster none the less. Expectation of no more than 65 feet for 45 minutes to an hour. Slow decent and when it was time to come up, slow ascent. Pay attention to air and dive computers (for depth), stay together and follow the divemaster. Not hard. During the briefing though, I noticed the group were all talking amongst themselves.

Immediately upon entering the water, we had issues. One woman was having a panic attack at the surface, her significant other — who had more experience — kept swimming to her and interfering with the divemaster who was trying to calm her down. Another diver in the group was having problems descending. I was hanging out in midwater, about 20 to 25 feet, while the remaining divers were down on the bottom. Eventually the panicked diver called it and returned to the boat. The diver struggling to get down was still having issues and had to be pulled down by the DM.

Once we were all down, no one in the group of five paid attention to where the divemaster was. One diver flew past everyone, causing us to miss our intended dive site. Another went towards the wall and ended up hitting 85 feet. The divemaster continually was shaking his noisemaker to get their attention and get them to come back to him, and giving up once he realized no one was heeding him. After chasing the divers down, about 15 minutes into the dive the DM signaled to go up. It was clear that the dive becoming dangerous and the others were at risk.

At the surface, our divemaster was deeply disappointed in the group of five and called them out. They argued and had excuses — but the reality is if they had just listened on the boat all of this could’ve been avoided.

I’ve been diving for a long time, have logged many dives and have been in a lot of different conditions. Each time I head out on a boat, I always listen to the briefing. Why? Because I don’t know the conditions as well as the divemaster. I don’t know the reef as well. I don’t know the secret locations to find the best sea life or which section might have a ripping current. I don’t know if the wind is going to play a factor on the surface. You know who would know this? The divemaster. The one who does this every day, for a living.