For those drawn to mythology, ancient natural phenomena, and the enduring presence of Mayan culture, Merida, the largest city in the Yucatan, deserves more than a quick pass-through. Often overshadowed by heavy tourist hotspots like Tulum, Cancun, Cozumel and Playa del Carmen, Merida—a city of about one million people—is too often overlooked. But if you’re a scuba diver, freediver, or someone captivated by the stories of the past, let me be clear: Merida is a destination that demands your time.
Unlike the congested beach towns in the south, Merida is serene, clean, and peaceful. In fact, it’s often regarded as one of the safest cities in Mexico. A cosmopolitan hub, Merida bursts at the seams with art, culture, and lively restaurants that buzz with energy late into the night. However, my focus while in Merida wasn’t on the city itself (as you may have already guessed). What truly sets Merida apart lies beneath your feet about an hour outside of the historic center. And there I would delve into something far more mysterious and alluring than anything an AirBNB or restaurant could offer me: the lore of the Mayan underworld.
As a diver, learning about the cenotes—the underwater sinkholes renowned in these parts—were enough of an excuse for us to reroute everything. This was no ordinary stop on our expedition; it was a chance to explore and better understand what it means to descend into the sacred bridge between the living and the dead. But before we dive deeper, it’s important to share a bit about Mayan culture to understand the significance of this place. What I share comes from conversations with locals who work closely with indigenous Mayan communities who have shared historical information with me. This is a recounting of what I’ve learned, not a holistic snapshot of Mayan history.
The Maya civilization emerged in Central America and the Yucatan Peninsula as early as 1800 – 2000 B.C., with its people establishing one of the most advanced ancient cultures the world has known. They built sprawling cities, developed a sophisticated calendar system, and excelled in mathematics, astronomy, and agriculture. The Maya were master architects, creating awe-inspiring temples, ceremonial centers, and complex irrigation systems that demonstrated their understanding of their home land and waterways. This flourishing civilization thrived for centuries, with its influence spreading across present-day Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, and parts of Honduras and El Salvador.
Between A.D. 800 and 1000, however, the political structure of the Maya civilization began to collapse. While the causes are still debated, many researchers point to a combination of factors, including overpopulation, prolonged droughts, resource depletion, and internal strife. This period saw the abandonment of major cities and ceremonial centers, which were reclaimed by the surrounding jungles over time (and have become some of the most popular tourism destinations in the world today). Despite this political decline, the Maya people themselves did not disappear. Their cultural practices, language, and traditions persisted, carried on by their descendants who adapted to changing circumstances.
Today, the legacy of the Maya remains a vibrant part of Central American life. More than seven million Maya descendants continue to live across the region, preserving their language, traditions, spiritual practices and beliefs. And there’s one piece of lore tied closely with the cenotes themselves: Xibalba.
Xibalba is the Mayan “underworld,” described as a sacred realm where gods, spirits, and the souls of the deceased reside. Far from a fiery place of punishment that one might associate with an underworld, Xibalba represents a transitional space between those alive and those passing on, often tied to the cycles of nature and rebirth. This mystical underworld was thought to be accessible through natural portals, also known as the cenotes—the very place I went to Merida to explore. The Mayans believed these openings were gateways that connected the mortal world to the divine and spiritual realms, serving as bridges to communicate with their gods and ancestors.
The underworld also played a central role in Mayan rituals, art, and cosmology. It was depicted as a complex, layered place where trials awaited the souls of the dead, overseen by powerful deities. These myths often intertwined with their daily lives, with cenotes acting as sacred sites for offerings and ceremonies. Archaeological discoveries of human remains, ceremonial artifacts, and evidence of sacrifices in cenotes further cemented the Mayans’ reverence for Xibalba. For the Mayans, these acts were not only tributes to their gods but also a way of ensuring balance and harmony between their world and the forces of the underworld. And I was set on finding a way to explore their underworld.
Now here’s the thing about the cenotes: they are far more than just beautiful sinkholes scattered across the Yucatan Peninsula. Formed by the collapse of porous limestone bedrock, cenotes expose vast pools of groundwater that are often interconnected through intricate subterranean river systems. These formations are categorized into four types based on their age and structure: open cenotes, semi-open cenotes, cavern cenotes, and deep pit cenotes. Open cenotes, the oldest, are exposed entirely to the sky, while semi-open and cavern cenotes have partial or complete rock coverings, giving them a mystical, enclosed feel. Pit cenotes are deep vertical formations, offering divers a chance to explore dramatic underwater depths.
Reaching the cenotes often involves traveling through rural areas or private lands, as many are managed by local families or communities. Some cenotes are easily accessible with stairs or platforms, while others require rappelling down into the depths, inching your body through small manholes and descending into the darkness. Diving these underwater systems is not for the faint of heart—it demands technical training, specialized equipment, and guides who are experienced in navigating their labyrinthine passages. The water is as clear as it gets on the regular, often offering breathtaking visibility, but the stillness and darkness can be disorienting. Divers must be certified for cavern or cave diving, depending on the cenote, and are typically accompanied by local experts who understand the sacred nature and unique challenges of each site.
With its endless network of what is said to be 8,000 – 9,000 cenotes (with many more undocumented and yet to be discovered), the Yucatan offers no shortage of guides and dive operators. However, finding the right team to explore these sacred spaces isn’t just about logistics—it’s about ethics, expertise, and respect. And we were seeking collaborators who were equal parts experts in their field, stewards of their communities, and champions of preservation. And after factoring in all of these considerations, my team and I chose to work with the Yucatan Dive Crew.
Their approach aligned perfectly with our philosophy of conscious exploration. They respect the training guidelines that keep divers safe, adapt experiences to match individual skill levels, and prioritize education, not just about complicated cenote diving, but about culture and community. Beyond their technical expertise in cavern and cave diving, they act as true stewards of the cenotes, fostering a connection between visitors and the local culture. With a week in Merida, we dove some of the most remote and untouched singles in the Ring of Cenotes. But more importantly, we spent quality time with some of the local families that own the cenote land and act as their custodians.
Welcoming us into their home, we met a man named Charly and his family, collaborators and partners of Yucatan Dive Crew, one day for a post-dive dinner. Of Mayan descent, Charly wanted to share his culture with us in perhaps the most classic way imaginable: with a traditional Mayan meal. Their dining room walls were covered with handwritten notes from divers and visitors from all over the map who had passed through, each one leaving a piece of their journey behind. Inspired to leave our own Edges of Earth mark, we first savored bowls of their sopa de lima (traditional lime and chicken soup), accompanied by homemade tortilla chips. The feast continued with two classic staples: Papadzules (a Mayan take on enchiladas) and Cochinita Pibil (slow-cooked pork with tangy, spicy and sweet flavors), all bursting with color and flavor.
The entire family gathered around for the meal, with their children excitedly pulling us into their world. They proudly showed us their backyard, introducing us to their livestock, pets, and trees. As they offered us fresh fruit, a chicken, a small turtle, and even a puppy, we politely declined their generous gifts, amused and touched by their enthusiasm to ensure we did not leave empty handed. Meanwhile, conversations with the adults turned to the sacred spaces we had explored earlier. Charly shared stories about the local community’s reverence for the cenotes and the very real fears that keep many of them from diving into these mystical waters.
Preservation is a collective effort here, integrated into the pulse of daily life. Charly explained how the community comes together to establish governing practices that ensure the cenotes remain protected now and always. Just as much as it is about keeping the waters clean or enforcing rules—it’s about upholding a sense of cultural identity and continuity. For the Mayan descendants in the region, these cenotes are more than natural formations. They are regarded as spiritual sites and vital resources that connect past, present, and future. The collective responsibility to safeguard them runs deep, creating a system of stewardship that binds the people to the land and water in ways us visitors will never truly know.
What began as a quest to dive into ancient underwater worlds became an opportunity to learn from the stewards who protect these sacred places and the communities that honor their significance. Sharing meals, stories, and traditions with the Yucatan Dive Crew and Charly’s family reinforced that preserving the cenotes entirely centered around protecting the cultural identity that these sacred portals represent. Leaving the Yucatan, the energy of the cenotes stayed with us, acting as a constant reminder that these openings to the Mayan underbelly are connections to something far greater.
If you’re planning a trip to the Yucatan, it’s imperative to recognize the cultural and spiritual significance of the cenotes, and the impact over-tourism places on the region. Choosing responsible operators, working with local experts, and respecting the traditions you encounter are small yet essential actions to ensure these extraordinary places remain. Whether you dive into the mythology or simply seek to skim the surface, how you engage can help to preserve the heart and soul of this region, which in our opinion, is unlike any other on the planet.
