Mexico, Part 7: Isla Mujeres

On the day of our final opportunity to make the snorkel trip to Cozumel, the bus from Scuba Cancun showed up early at the hotel. Of course, anyone who knows me and Claire would know that we were already waiting when the driver pulled up. Unfortunately, the skies were cloudy and the wind was aggressive...so the driver suggested that we wait until the honcho scuba goobers had issued an official proclamation regarding the day's activities. Well, it wasn't long before he got the call announcing that they were cancelling our excursion. Bummer. There would be no exotic snorkeling adventures today.

So what were we to do? Well, let's see--we're staying in a spectacular resort hotel strategically placed next to a long and gorgeous beach...and it was warm enough that a little rain wouldn't cause undue discomfort. How about a nice little walk along the shoreline? Splendid!



We probably walked a mile or so to the south of the hotel (the opposite direction from that shown in the photo above.) Once beyond the hotel property, the shoreline remained pretty rocky until we reached some small private beaches. Some of the properties appeared to be residential, and some were apparently lobster farms and associated restaurants -- though the dilapidated state of the buildings suggested that they were out of business. Or at least not prosperous. The Villa del Palmar is isolated from the standard resort hotel zone, so I'm guessing that adjacent businesses didn't get a lot of tourist traffic.

Claire was game to keep walking clear into town, but eventually I talked her into turning around before we were kidnapped by drug cartels or eaten by giant mutated crustaceans. (I was later informed that my cinema-based assumptions about radioactive ocean monsters were probably unfounded. Hmm.)

When we returned, the hotel area remained largely unpopulated. We could see the Isla Mujeres ferry pulling into the Punta Sam ferry dock, which was just north of the hotel. So we walked over there as well.



As we enjoyed the beauty of the semi-stormy weather, we discussed the idea of taking the ferry over to the small island that was visible some 5 kilometers away. Maybe tomorrow.



We spent the remainder of the day in the hot tub, swimming pool, restaurant, and then back in the hot tub. We also rented "Fantastic Four" on the room's giant TV while the rain came down. (Verdict on the movie: meh.) Despite the disappointment in missing the snorkel excursion, I'd still rate the day as a complete delight.

The following morning (our last full day in Mexico) was beautiful, so we packed our goggles, snorkels, and fins for a boat ride over to the island. The ferry was not expensive, but did feature the ubiquitous vendors selling carvings, shells, and sombreros.



It was hard to tell for sure, but the coloring in the water (along with the channel marker buoys the ferry followed) suggested that parts of the sea were not very deep at all. But the blue was incredible, and the view of the resort in the background was worth the cost of the trip all by itself. We spent most of the ride on the boat deck, soaking in the splendor of the sea.



Isla Mujers (literally "Women Island") is a narrow strip of land that's about four miles long. In addition to the opportunity to buy carvings, fish, and timeshares, there were a few million vendors renting golf carts and scooters for local transport. We declined, figuring that we could easily walk from the ferry port down to the main beach, and that would be enough. As I had observed in Coba, the standards we expect to be enforced in the US are not necessarily respected in Mexico: I saw a woman driving a scooter with 3 children (on her back and in her lap) while holding a cup of coffee in one hand. I hope that was really good coffee.

It took us about 20 minutes to walk down past the military naval base to the beach on the north end of the island. At that point, we could still see the ferries coming and going.



We took turns swimming in the crystal clear water, using our snorkels to looks at...well, at the sand underneath the water. I did see one tiny fish during my time with my face in the water, but otherwise it was just sand. Pretty sand, to be sure, but nothing else. The water was noticeably lacking that fresh chlorine scent I expect from my swimming venues, and the waves caused the depth to vary significantly even if I wasn't moving.



Did I mention that I'm not really a "beach" kind of a guy? I wonder how many people who grew up in Kansas do think the salty ocean is the place to be. Probably the same number that think seafood tastes better than a slab of sizzling beef, I'm guessing.

Anyway, after swimming for a while, we trekked down to the north tip of the island and started back up the east shore, which was completely different. Rather than the shining sands and gentle surf, that side of the island featured crashing waves smacking up against volcanic rock. It was starkly beautiful in its own way...but nobody was swimming over there. I noticed that the view back to the south looked exactly like one of the cheap paintings you find in Best Western motels, so I took a picture and applied the oil paint filter. I'm rather proud of the way it turned out. (Click to embiggen for full effect.)



We explored our way back along that side of the island and continued south past the ferry port, keeping a close eye on the time we needed to be back at the boat. We had neither the time nor the energy to make it all the way to the other end of the island, even though we had been told there were beautiful artifacts and snorkeling ponds down there. Some other time, perhaps. Regardless, we had accomplished a pretty fair day of walking -- and by the time the boat arrived we were ready to head back to the hotel.

The ferry boat for this crossing turned out to be the major transport of the day. Instead of the returning on the passenger- and automobile-carrying boat we had taken on the morning trip, we ended up watching them load the lower deck with semi trucks and heavy equipment (including a giant crane that stuck out over the tail end of the vessel.) While the blue water was every bit as gorgeous as it had been on our trip to the island, the overall aesthetic was somewhat diminished by the presence of a roof-less garbage trailer that stunk up the entire boat.



It makes sense. You'd have to get the trash off the island somehow. Isla Mujeres isn't a big enough chunk of dirt to have its own landfill, and I can't imagine that anyone would suggest dumping refuse into the sparkling waters of the resort neighborhood. I just hadn't anticipated that my particular journey as a ferry-boat passenger would coincide with the daily stench-barge schedule.

And that pretty much concludes the adventure. We returned to the hotel for another lovely dinner and our last restful night before returning home. I took a few more pictures: If you click on this, you can see Claire standing next to the hammock on our room's balcony. It truly was a lovely place.



The next morning, we boarded one more shuttle van to head back to the airport. We waved goodbye as we went through the security gate for the final time.



Well, OK, we didn't really wave goodbye. And I think we were actually pretty satisfied with the trip, and had few regrets upon our departure. I had looked at the weather report for Denver before we left and was a little distressed that the forecast was for a frigid 9°...and Claire let me stew about that for a while before she pointed out that the forecast had been in Celsius. Duh. We'd actually be plenty comfortable in our light jackets upon our arrival at DIA. Rookie mistake for a first-time international traveler, I guess.

So, that's my report. Thanks for sticking with me through the extra-long travelogue. In the coming weeks, we shall resume our inane coverage of TV, movies, training, politics, and all the other nonsense you usually expect to come spewing from my demented mind. I'm looking forward to it, and I hope you'll join me for the fun.

Have a great day!