Club Náutico

What do you get when you cross The Shining with Gilligan’s Island? The Club Náutico y Deportivo de Campeche.

Our hotel in the city of Campeche being indifferently comfortable (the Maya Campeche Hotel: clean and convenient, but cramped and dark), we decided to hit the road. Through a web search, we discovered an RV park not far from Campeche that seemed to accommodate camping. We couldn’t tell much from the website, but now that we are experienced campers, we knew we could make do if it didn’t work out. We loaded up Rocinante and set out.

We passed through the busy city. The road grew winding and the scenery forested. Sooner than we expected, we arrived at the whitepainted entry gate to Club Náutico. Sure, we could camp with a tent, the gatekeeper said, No problem! We paid the entry fee and drove in.

A gracefully curved drive led us past a baseball diamond and tennis courts. As we rounded the last curve, the Gulf of Mexico sparkled below us, and we saw a long, low, bright white building with a circular drive and carefully tended landscaping.

Just beyond the club building was a long, broad expanse of asphalt RV parking slots, interspersed with grass and waving coconut palms. There must have been at least 30 slots, and all but a handful were completely empty. The few RVs that were there were closed up, gear stowed, and clearly not in use. The grounds were immaculate: there were no fallen palm leaves, no stray candy wrappers, no rotting coconuts; the lawn was mowed. We picked a spot near the trees and far from a streetlight and parked.

Before setting up the tent, we wandered over to the clubhouse to have a look. It, too was immaculate, with gleaming tile floors and a tiny atrium garden. Large faded photos of 30 years of Club Náutico beauty queens decorated the walls of the entry. Beyond was a huge game room, with perhaps a half dozen each of pool tables, ping pong, bridge and poker tables. Some were clean and well-kept, but others were covered in plastic. The tables were there, but the games were not; we couldn’t find any balls, cues, or paddles.

In the lounge area, decorated with giant leather sofas and fake tropical plants, we found the sole occupant, a man, totally occupied with the huge flat screen television on the wall. He waved at us in a desultory way and went back to the tv. We figured out later that he was the caretaker.

Beyond the lounge were the restrooms. The men’s was indicated by a picture of a captain’s hat with the letters “WC,” while the women’s had a picture of a mermaid. I pushed open the door to the women’s and entered a huge echoing room the size of a school gymnasium. Its contents: an enormous mirror with an ornate frame, an 8’x10’ rug with a bright geometric pattern, a set of rusty lockers, and a flowered sofa. Off to the side were rooms with showers, toilets, changing rooms, and a sauna. All were dark, dry, and empty.

In the back was a terrace overlooking the gulf. Tables, chairs, and chaises longues surrounded an absolutely gorgeous pool with iridescent tiling and in-water seating areas. A broad set of stairs beyond led to a sandy playground with a swing set and slide, and a tiny beach with sugary soft sand. Cabañas and lounge chairs dotted the sand. Again, everything was spotless; the plastic chairs were new and unbleached by the sun, and all abandoned.

We spent a very pleasant night there, without catching sight of a soul other than the caretaker. Joe swam in the pool, and we spent some time throwing rocks at the coconuts in the trees until we realized there were a couple of ripe ones that had already fallen. For dinner we had a cold collation with fresh coconut for dessert.

The caretaker told us it was busier on the weekend, which must be true, because how else could the place stay afloat? It was such an odd combination of dereliction and luxury.

In the morning, while I was brushing my teeth in the mermaid restroom, a cleaning woman came in with a wide broom. While I attended to my morning routine on one side of the dividing wall, I could hear her on the other side, sweeping back and forth, back and forth, in that empty, spotlessly clean, cavernous room.