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.

Searching for Hammerheads at Gordo Banks

The day is much nicer than the last time I made this trip. Four years ago, it was overcast, windy and giant swells continuously sent me flying into the air before landing on the hard bench again. We were the only boat in the area when we finally arrived at the undersea mount. The dives were . . . disappointing, only because we saw nothing but endless blue — no hammerheads were found.

This time, the skies are a clear blue and though my skin is constantly wet from the sea spray, the sun quickly warms me up. There’s still good size swells and I’m still sent flying into the air, but this time not nearly as high or as often. There are several other boats — both diving and fishing — in the area and we have to wait some time for the other divers to descend before we get into the water. The second the first diver hits the water, it’s clear that we’re going to have a strong current on the surface to fight against.

I’m hoping beyond hope that this time I’ll see Hammerheads. Talks with other operators from the previous day give me hope — according to them, most trips out to Gordo banks has resulted in Hammerhead sightings. They can’t really guarantee it, but suggest there’s a high probability that we will.

As we descended into the blue I am . . . once again disappointed. While the water is crystal blue and underwater visibility is incredible we see nothing. No sharks, no turtles, we barely make it to the top of the sea mount. We don’t even see any fish. We’re sure the sharks are around, but currently hiding from us divers. I’m disappointed, naturally. But it’s not like the sharks will show up on demand.

As it stands, Gordo Banks: 2; Me: 0

Maybe next time.

A Day With A Blue

A rare time of day when there are no other boats in front of the famous Los Arcos of Cabo San Lucas

It’s a nearly perfect day as we leave the Cabo San Lucas marina and head for open ocean. The six of us that make up this “tour” are hoping to see big pelagic sharks. I can’t contain my excitement, I don’t know what to expect and I’m hoping to see Blue sharks. They’re beautiful and a little hard to come by. Of course, I’ll be happy seeing any shark. While, I’ve spent time in the water with lots of reef sharks, this will be a totally new and different experience. No cage — which doesn’t concern me — but these sharks are curios. We are repeatedly told that we might be the first humans these sharks have ever encountered.

Six to seven miles off shore, the boat stops and the crew starts to throw chum in the water. Finding open ocean wanders is like trying to find a needle in haystack — there’s a lot of open ocean and those sharks could be anywhere. But the wind is good and the currant strong, the chum will travel a good distance and hopefully, attract some sharks.

After sometime, we get our first visitor. A small and somewhat shy Smooth Hammerhead shark. The shark is skittish and bolts before we have the chance to get in the water. So the chumming continues. He returns, but again, only one of us manages to jump in before he fleas. It’s a shame because I’ve been hoping to see Hammerheads for a long time. We all get in the water anyways, hoping that maybe he’ll return for a third time. But after a solid 15 mins of hanging on the surface line, being dragged like rag dolls in the surge and currant, we know the Hammerhead is not coming back.

After another long interval sitting on the boat and swapping stories, a beautiful Blue shark appears. He’s maybe six or seven feet long and very chill — no signs of aggression. We were told before leaving the marina that Blue’s are inquisitive and will come in real close. It’s apparent as the fist of us get in the water that is the case. He makes incredibly close passes and at times it’s necessary to use my fins as a buffer so he doesn’t get too close.

While in the water, it’s necessary to track him because Blue’s can be opportunistic. There are birds here hoping scavenge any scraps they can from the sharks. I’m paying such close attention to the Blue shark that I don’t notice a bird that’s floating right next to my head hoping for fish bits. Suddenly, the shark turns on a dime and comes towards me with his jaws open — he’s taking a snap at the bird I haven’t noticed. I scramble out of the way as he makes a very close pass near my head — but the interaction is exhilarating and only makes me appreciate the Blue shark more.

All too soon it’s time for us to leave him. We fling the remaining scrapes over the side of the boat and start to move back towards shore. The entire experience has me craving more time in the water with these magnificent animals.

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.

The Magic of Surface Intervals

Sometimes, just sometimes, surface intervals are more wonderful than the diving itself. It only happens once in a blue moon and please don’t misunderstand me, surface intervals often provide amazing experiences, but rarely are they better than the diving. Recent diving off of Cabo San Lucas in the Sea of Cortez showcased just how amazing they can be.

Not the world’s greatest picture, but you can see some of the numerous rays underwater.

Not the world’s greatest picture, but you can see some of the numerous rays underwater.

Day one of three days diving. The sun is hiding behind some clouds, but it’s warm. The boat is moving swiftly along to our first dive site and lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat on the smooth surface of the water, I doze on the bow. The boat idles and the sudden smack of a large body hitting the water jolts me upright. We’ve stumbled across Mobula Rays, launching themselves from the depths to the surface. Only a few leap at a time, but I’m enthralled. So enthralled in fact that my fellow divers tell me to look down just below the water’s surface. I immediately understand why. Just below the boat there are hundreds of rays gathering.Of course, I’ve seen this happen before on nature documentaries but to see it in person, well, sight is unbelievable to witness and it’s impossible to not be fascinated by these massive animals jumping feet into the air, as though they are attempting to fly.

Day two and it’s grey and cloudy. The weather is still warm but the sea is rocky. It’s two hours by boat to an underwater sea mount in the hopes of finding hammerheads. Sadly, no such luck. The waves have gotten worse during our few hours out in the open ocean, causing the boat to rock tumultuously and creating a similar effect to a roller coaster. It’s tricky getting back into the tiny boat from the water. A

As we start our two hour boat ride back from the remote sea mount, we are joined by whales. At first just one or two. Then after a few minutes, more appear. Suddenly, we’re accompanied by more than 5 whales. And they’re curious. They are very close to our small boat, and every few minutes one will spyhop —- stick is head/upper body out of the water to check us out.

Pretty soon, they’re breaching with a bit of frequency and we’re treated to our own private show. Time and again we watch in awe as the whales throw their whole bodies out of the water —- each breech for spectacular than the last. This goes on for sometime until finally, they head off into the blue.

All thoughts of the less than stellar dives have been pushed from our thoughts, replaced by the humpbacks that just left us.