Hogs at the Swimming Hole

When we came to the Yucatán three years ago, among the many things we saw, previously unknown to us, were the cenotes. Basically, a cenote is a cave in limestone rock, formed when so much of the rock is dissolved away by ground water that what remains collapses, leaving a domed bubble of air in the middle of the rock, with water at the bottom. They were sacred to the Maya, being hidden sources of fresh water, even in the dry season. To modernity, they’re just very cool.

Joe was wild about them, insisting that we visit every one with fifty miles of wherever we were at any given time.

Some things don’t change much. Before we left Ann Arbor, Joe learned of a cenote about twenty minutes north of Mérida, at Dzibilchaltun, the site of some Mayan ruins that we hadn’t seen last time. He’d been champing at the bit to get there since before we arrived.

Yesterday we went to Dzibilchaltun, only to discover that admission to the ruins and cenote close rather early, and that we had missed it. But we went back today in plenty of time to swim and to visit the ruins. Cenotes are unusual in that they’re underground swimming holes; this one is unusual in that its top is gone, and it’s exposed to the open air and light.

It was even more unusual today in that it was the site of a major gathering of Harley-Davidson owner/rider groups from all over the area. An official told us that around a thousand motorcycles were there. When we arrived, shortly before two o’clock, the bikers were in the process of heading out, although many still remained. They seemed to be enjoying the site as much as everyone else there.

The main difference was that they were attired a little more interestingly than most of the other visitors. And shortly after we arrived, I noticed that both Elizabeth and I were wearing black and orange, the official Harley colors, so we fit right in.