SAN LUIS POTOSI, Mexico – Imagine if you took a giant bottle of Champagne, shook it up, popped the cork and let the bubbles rush all over your body. Now imagine you’re 60 feet beneath the surface and strapped into scuba gear when it happens. That, in essence, is the joy one experiences when floating above a geothermal spring.
I’ve discovered this while swimming past one of the springs that feeds a prehistoric lagoon in Mexico called Media Luna. Lost in its whirlpool of bubbles, I watch in awe as they tickle their way around my skin.
Swimming through Media Luna’s crystal-clear waters, I pass a petrified forest and cavernous subterranean corridors en route to a spot where, in the 1970s, underwater archaeologists discovered the fossilized remains of a mammoth. Its head lay on the bottom alongside hundreds of pre-Hispanic offerings deposited in this oasis by the region’s ancient settlers, who used it as a center of worship.
Not only is Media Luna one of the most intriguing underwater archaeology sites in Mexico; it’s also a haven for beginner divers. Ossiel Martinez of Dive School Media Luna told me after our dive that explorer Jacques Cousteau once named this lagoon among the best spots on the planet to learn the techniques of cave diving. I can see why.
What I can’t understand is why I’m one of the only foreigners here. Perhaps it’s because this undersea labyrinth is nowhere near Mexico’s famed coastline.
Most tourists visit the United States’ southern neighbor for its lavish beach resorts and towering Mayan ruins. I’ve come for adventure. I’ve based myself in the central state of San Luis Potosi, halfway between Mexico City and Monterrey. It has neither beaches nor Mayan ruins. Instead, it boasts turquoise rivers, still-thriving Wixaritari and Teenek cultures, and a terrain riddled with deep sinkholes.
Safe or not?
San Luis Potosi has been a fast-growing destination among domestic tourists for several years. The U.S. State Department advises Americans to “reconsider travel” to this part of Mexico, citing crime and gang activity “in parts of San Luis Potosi state.”
However, the global think tank Institute for Economics and Peace rates the state well above more touristed areas such as Mexico City, Oaxaca and Baja California Sur on its latest Mexico Peace Index. Having traveled extensively in Mexico, there was nothing in San Luis Potosi that put me on edge.
The region has atmospheric places to stay, such as the colonial-style Hilton (rooms from $115). Three dozen more hotels are in development. Tourism officials predict an additional terminal at the international airport in the state’s namesake capital will more than double annual arrivals from 500,000 to 1.2 million once it’s finished later this year.
My journey through this burgeoning adventure travel hub began, in earnest, two days earlier in a different landscape: the wilds of the Wirikuta desert.
I hiked five hours from the small colonial town of San Antonio de Coronados and up to a hilltop sanctuary known as Ameyaltonal, held sacred by the local Wixaritari community. When I arrived, a shaman cleansed my body with smoke and aromatic herbs.
I also took a harrowing ride on the roof of a 1961 Jeep Willys high into the Sierra de Catorce mountain range to visit the once-glorious 18th century silver mining outpost of Real de Catorce. This former ghost town has been repopulated and revitalized for the tourist industry.
Then, I traded the arid high plains of the state’s western corridors for the subtropical forests and sinkholes of the Zona Media, home to the Media Luna lagoon.
‘Cellar of the macaws’
I traveled with Miguel Galarraga, one of the founders of Corazon de Xoconostle Tours, a new agency that’s made a big name for itself pioneering novel adventures across San Luis Potosi. The offerings include half-day visits in abandoned mining towns and hiking expeditions.
Galarraga, a former economist, got into tourism as a way to share his love of climbing. He even met his two co-founders in San Luis Potosi’s climbing community. So perhaps it was only a matter of time before we’d find ourselves peering over the edge of a 1,500-foot sinkhole known as Sotano de las Huahuas (“cellar of the macaws”).
Hundreds of parrots and parakeets swirl around its perimeter. We wait for them to finish their mesmerizing morning show and then take a leap of faith over the edge.
I have no rappelling experience, but Galarraga insists it isn’t necessary. Overcoming anxiety proves the biggest challenge as he and his team lower me like a swinging tea bag into a giant earthen cup.
Some 600 feet below, we reach the cave’s first chamber: a primordial world of moss-covered rocks and thickening air. We walk along its spongy terrain to peek into the depths of the second chamber. It’s two hours before we’re pulled to the top, just in time to catch the btropical rainforests and river canyons of the Huasteca Potosina region. This easternmost section of the state is home to the Teenek dancers Voladores de Tamaletom, who “fly” around a pole while suspended upside down. My main objective was to take a canoe into the Tampaon River, whose green waters radiate in the sun. My destination: the 345-foot Tamul Waterfall.
It takes nearly two hours of paddling to reach the base of this cascade. I break up the journey with stops at water holes along the edge. I also ditch the canoe on my return journey and instead float back (thanks to my safety vest) through its small – though body-jostling – white-water rapids.
