My quest to circumnavigate the Caribbean began in 1978. That quest – which was not designed to be a quest, in point of fact, had no design. The driving motivation was borne out of a need for peace and solace during a time of great turmoil and pressure. Little did I know it would become a true quest borne out of an absolute obsession with the Caribbean!
Having grown up land locked in Texas, my only sea adventures had been to Galveston and the muddy Gulf of Mexico. I had blue water for the first time on a trip to the Pacific at age 13. That was a “wow”. During the 1970’s, while restoring the Paramount Theatre in Austin, Texas, I needed to find a respite from the all-consuming process at breathing life back in to a stunning theatre that had been on a respiratory for two decades. People told me stories about the Caribbean – white flower sand, pristine water so clear you could see 50’ to 100’ below, a perfect temperature, palm trees and the like. The island of Cozumel, Mexico was to be the destination. As we approached the island I strained my neck to peek out the airplane window when I first experienced the visual awe of that emerald and cobalt blue water – one color separated by the other – like Hemmingway’s Islands in the Stream.
Suffice it to say, that trip set the hook for a lifetime of future adventures to islands throughout the Caribbean – Jamaica, Grand Cayman, St. Thomas and St. John (U.S. Virgin Islands), Virgin Gorda (British Virgin Islands), St. Bart and St. Martin, the Bahamas, Cuba, Roatan, Honduras, Costa Rica, Panama and all up and down the Quintana Roo coast of Mexico between Cancun and the biosphere Sian Khan.
But I digress from a phenomenon of surprising dimension and scope that would begin another quest about the ancient Mayan civilization.
After spending a few days in Cozumel snorkeling to see the breathtaking wonders of the Caribbean, we took a side trip to Isla de Mujeres about an hour by ferry. This island is quiet small and, at the time, extremely sleepy with virtually no discernible tourism. Garrafon Park – site of the famous “sleeping sharks” – was still in its natural state. Today, it is a commercial “Eco Park” for the throngs.
While lounging around the pool at an as of yet unfinished “hotel”, I bumped in to a friend of mine who had been the lighting designer for Christopher Cross world tour after his 5 Grammy Awards for the smash hit album, Sailing. His then wife Beth was with him and my then wife Katheryn was with me. Howard said they were renting a jeep to drive to Chichen Itza, about 2-3 hours inland. I had no idea what he was talking about. However, we were game for an adventure.
The road trip was tedious. The condition of the “highway” was not good. In those days, it was common to come upon potholes the size of cattle. I saw one that a VW could have disappeared. You didn’t want to be driving at night. The trip took us through many small, colorful Mayan villages, each of which sported an extremely thick rope length that acted as a speed bump. Oddly, there were army soldiers at each of these villages wherein they were looking for drug and marijuana runners or immigrants escaping Nicaragua, Honduras and more.
Finally, we arrived in Chichen Itza at the Mayaland Hotel circa 1930 that sits very close to the actual ancient and ruins of Chichen Itza. Before the ruins, we checked in at the Mayaland for one night so we didn’t have to push it getting back to Cancun for the return flight to the U.S. The hotel was like being transported back in time to another life, another era. The staff was attired with very simple, cream colored shirts and pants along with sandals typical of that area. They seemed to float along the way rather than walk – no sound of footfall. The atmosphere was quiet but hardly devoid of life. You just had to tune your hearing to take in the subtle sounds of the jungle. Rosewood furniture, lentils, doors and ceiling fans adorned the hotel. Every type of ceramic floor tile imaginable crisscrossed the area forming a veritable pastiche of color and design – none alike but all complimented one another. The grounds were magnificent, landscaped without design. Mother Nature had already created a lush palette of tropical plants, hibiscus, bougainvillea, vines, ceiba trees (“say-ba” – sacred to the Maya) and so many more inexhaustible varieties that eclipse by knowledge of fauna and flora. Only the wealthy of yesteryear could afford to travel to such a magical place next to the otherworldly Mayan edifices next door.
Ripping ourselves from our comfortable room and the bliss of moving air overhead, we left the hotel to finally arrive at our destination – Chichen Itza. The city was built in the post classical period of the Mayan which flourished in this particular area around 1000 AD. It is a triumph of architecture, engineering and city planning that boggles the imagination. Unlike many ruin sites of importance, Chichen Itza is spectacular as though the ancient Maya might be having their daily market right in the square between El Castillo and the ball court. There were no mounds of rock with grass and trees growing out of that rubble. This city looked as much like it did 1000 years earlier sans the plaster which was used to cover the stone, upon which were created rich colors of red and green. (An example of this can be found at the Museum at Palenque in Chiapas which has a model of that pyramid in splendid detail of its former glory.) Over the centuries, the plaster disintegrated except at rare sites like Ek’ Balam not that far away.
I do believe that there were very few tourists on hand that day. This was at a time when it was still permissible to climb the pyramid and structures. We were even able to ascend an extremely narrow, steep stairwell in the interior of El Castillo. At the top was a very tiny room that was extremely moist and humid and claustrophobic. I made for the descent excusing myself along the way as I squeezed past the curious.
It was at this point that I became separated from my little group. I wandered along marveling at the Maya’s ability to design and construct building that, in my opinion, rival and transcend some of the Egyptian sites. And that was a mind blower. (More)
Walking along in that mindless manner we assume when taking in some great new source of awe and wonder I found myself amongst columns and columns made out of stone disks about 7’ high. The rows were perfectly straight running in two diagonal directions. I was in this unusual setting alone.
Of course, I had no idea of the significance of these columns nor did I care. There was a different kind of quiet that enveloped this architectural phenomenon. It felt very warm but not related to weather. And then it happened.
I would say that I heard muted voices. But I did not “hear” in the conventional manner. It was more like what I imagine to be telepathic as it went to not only my mind but my heart and my soul. I could sense many figures below me as if in a dream state. No single voice was this. And yet the message was not in unison but more layered in texture.
The message was this: “We are still here to help. You are not alone”. I believe it was infinitely more rich and soulful than the words I use to describe this event but the overall message was clear as rain. This moment occurred in the most subtle manner. I have no idea how much time elapsed from the moment I stepped in to this area to the moment I left to return to the main plaza (Mercado) to find my friends. I never spoke of this event to them. The moment filled me completely and then left with only the spiritual residue of that sacred event. I did not make a mental choice to keep this to myself. The subtlety of the message and the feeling that coursed through me didn’t require conversation.
It would be some years before I would talk of this to others during a trip to Palenque in Chiapas 25 years later. However, that visit to Chichen Itza and that moment in the Group of 1000 Warriors lit a fire within me to learn more and more about the ancient Mayan culture which, to this day, illuminates me with more surprises of the greatness of these peoples who displayed true genius on almost every level of life.
During decades of research by archaeologists, epigraphers, paleontologists, archaeoastronomers and other scientists, the belief that the Maya were a peaceful society ruled by priests in some idyllic world were significantly revised. The Maya were a warrior people, one community fighting another for the same reasons people wage war in time immemorial – lust for land, power of others and to prove the superiority of a given society. However, the fact the Maya were a bloody, warring culture does not diminish their brilliant accomplishments in astronomy, time keeping, mathematics, architecture, city planning and a unique system of communication built upon Toltec “language” in the form of dozens upon dozens of glyphs carved in stone and paintings on plaster in temples which include both glyphs, astronomical symbols for planets and pictures of kings and scenes of war.
Later in life I came to understand these columns are known as the Group of 1000 Warriors next to the Temple of 1000 Warriors. This experience led me to realize that, truly, nothing ever dies.
