Looking For A Beachy Wellness Destination? The Waldorf Astoria Los Cabos Pedregal Is Your Answer
The beachside pool Waldorf Astoria
Regardless of the season, the property offers an endless array of wellness options. Fitness buffs can spend time in the well equipped gym or sign up for beachside yoga, a boot camp class or go for a hike. Or you can hone your tennis and pickleball skills with a private lesson.
The natural setting inspires calm Waldorf Astoria
However, the spa is really highlight of the property for anyone who wants to tackle stress or just experience some local Mexican wellness rituals. One of my favorites is the cacao ceremony performed in an outside palapa and conducted by a local shaman. Cacao is a healing ingredient in indigenous cultures and focuses on the heart with the goal of creating a sense of openness and relaxation. A special couples' version of the ceremony is also available.
Welcome to the spa Waldorf Astoria
The spa offers an extensive assortment of therapies based in nature. Depending on the phase of the moon (or your personal preference), you can sign up for the 'The Awakening Moon,' 'The Nourishing Moon,' 'The Calming Moon,' or 'The Restoring Moon.' The Calming Moon treatment features the calming effect of an exfoliation using rose petals & brown sugar, followed by a re-mineralizing rose mud wrap and a relaxing massage. Or you can choose something from the indigenous healing spa menu such as 'The Intention.' This treatment utilizes aromatherapy and indigenous rituals and includes an energy cleansing ritual, craniosacral therapy and a Mexican folk healing massage. Hand-harvested organic blends are selected by the spa's therapists who use the energy of plants and herbs to provide a holistic targeted body, mind and spirit experience.
The spa pool Waldorf Astoria
If mescal is your thing, you can try the 'Spirit of Mezcal Muscle Renewal' massage, which uses a mezcal-infused rub for improved circulation and muscle relaxation. Inspired by ancient practices, this technique dispels bodily coldness, believed to cause muscular discomfort. The final step is a calming herbal pinda massage with anti-inflammatory properties, promoting body revitalization and harmonious immune system activation.
Your ocean view Waldorf Astoria
Regardless of how much time you spend at the spa, you will definitely feel a sense of calm by being surrounded by so much natural beauty and incredibly relaxing hotel rooms and suites. All suites have a private plunge pool and an ocean view. For a true indulgence, you can book the three-bedroom villa, a 3,500 sq. ft. oasis of luxury. It's hard not to feel well-taken care of as you enjoy your multiple terraces, a private pool, and dedicated butler service.
Cliffside dining at El Farallon Waldorf Astoria
And if you were wondering, the food is terrific too. Don Manuel's features Mexican classics and the cliffside El Farallon is an exceptional restaurant that has a seafood-to-table menu, as well as a champagne tasting menu and some of the best views in town.
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National Geographic
15 hours ago
- National Geographic
Cancun's new train is a tourist's dream—and an underground nightmare
Mexico's $30 billion Tren Maya railway was built to unite the country and honor ancient Maya sites. Now that it's up and running, the true cost of progress is finally becoming clear. The water in this cenote, part of a honeycomb-like cave network located just south of Playa del Carmen, should be crystal clear. Instead, biologist Roberto Rojo wades through murky runoff caused by steel pillars bursting through the roof, which have contaminated the aquifer. Photograph by Robbie Shone Roberto Rojo was inside the cave when the roof cracked open and a massive drill churned thundering through. Stalactites tumbling, Rojo ducked for cover, holding out his phone, the biologist and outspoken cave explorer capturing the moment that a spectacular limestone chamber in the Yucatan Peninsula of southeastern Mexico was destroyed. A rusty steel pillar, about four feet in diameter and 80 feet tall, was later jammed into the hole by the industrial drill rig on the surface above. The hollow pillar was pumped full of cement, some of which spilled into the crystalline water partially filling the cenote, as a sinkhole or cave system with an underground reservoir is known. Rust flakes shedding from the pillar mixed with loose cement, and a dark stain spread across the pool. Nearby, a second hole was punched and another pillar inserted. Then a third, then a fourth. There are now 40 pillars in this cenote alone, marching through in rows of four. By Rojo's count, more than 15,000 pillars have been stabbed into the thin Yucatan soil, an assault that may trigger a chain reaction. The Yucatan Peninsula is bigger than Florida, but because it's made of porous limestone, much of the region has no rivers or lakes. The widespread cenotes are a crucial source of fresh water, sustaining hundreds of species, from jaguars to tapirs, as well as millions of Mexican citizens and all of the tourists. Maya people have placed ceremonial objects in cenotes for over a thousand years. Architectural achievement or environmental disaster? The 966-mile rail system looping the Yucatan Peninsula and cutting through dense jungle has led to rising tensions between progress and preservation in the modern age. Photograph by Robbie Shone (Top) (Left) and Photograph by Martin Zetina, AP (Bottom) (Right) Most critically, many of the cenotes are interconnected—ruin some of the water, says Rojo, and you risk it all—and they drain to the sea, so ooze from the pillars also attacks the Mesoamerican Reef, and the beaches of Cancún, and the mangroves buttressing the coast, as well as the jungle and its wildlife. Everything, in Rojo's perspective, could be lost; an ecocide, he calls it. All for the sake of a train. Tren Maya slides into the station, air-conditioning pumping, spotlessly clean, the seats and aisles and trim tinted teal or aquamarine, like the sea beyond. Cancún's terminal, all sleekly curved walls and planters bursting with greenery, clarifies why this is one of the most expensive infrastructure projects in modern Mexican history. The system fully opened in December 2024, costing an estimated $30 billion and creating a grand loop around the Yucatan Peninsula—966 miles of rail, 34 stops, and more than three dozen trains moving in both directions at up to 100 miles per hour. Some track sits on elevated viaducts supported by steel pillars that have been stuccoed, aboveground, demurely in white. (Are trains on track for a comeback in Mexico?) 'The train is an incredible achievement,' says ecologist and cave diver Germán Yáñez, one of the few people who love exploring the cenotes as much as Roberto Rojo. The two of them were once close—'best friends,' says Rojo—and started a caving club together. Now they hardly speak. Tren Maya divided them, as it has cleaved friendships and families across Mexico and beyond. How could a train, so innocuous, stir up terrible fights? The conflicts are both grand and not—the direction of a nation, the price of a beer—and tend to polarize society. There's a battle between those with a far-sighted need to preserve the last scraps of wild Mother Earth and those who understand that human impact, unstoppable since our species was born, should be celebrated when you feel it's been appropriately wrought. Tren Maya, as a result, is a project that's seen with two sets of eyes. When construction started, in 2020, Yáñez and Rojo were both drawn to the cenotes beneath the route. But while Rojo documented ruin, Yáñez helped seek treasure. For two years, Yáñez was employed by Mexico's government and worked closely with members of the National Institute of Anthropology and History, a respected Mexican office that oversees the nation's cultural heritage, from museums to pyramids. The institute's field unit assesses the archaeological impact of proposed public works, and for Tren Maya, an unprecedented team of 2,000 was assembled, including scientists and support staff, who combed the jungle along the planned circuit. To some passengers, especially in Mexico's southeast, Tren Maya's modern stations, like this one in Cancún, and sleek locomotive design are symbols of civic triumph. Photograph by Angie Smith (Top) (Left) and Photograph by Robbie Shone (Bottom) (Right) 'It was the job of my dreams,' says Yáñez, who was with the underwater mapping division and assisted in dozens of finds, including the first intact Maya canoe discovered in the region, believed to be from around A.D. 900. Likely it will be displayed in one of the nine new museums being built that will highlight Tren Maya discoveries. Yáñez, unlike Rojo, was actually on the jobsite every day, in uniform, part of the crew. From tracklayers to archaeologists, Yáñez says, he sensed dedication and national pride, a belief that the work was important. Because to them it was. The Yucatan Peninsula, beyond the tourist strips, has long been neglected, with areas of extreme poverty. Tren Maya has the power to change that. For sisters Karen and Sandra Sánchez, the ride to Valladolid for a family vacation was occasion enough to memorialize with a selfie. Photograph by Angie Smith In addition to taking passengers, the rail line will soon carry large quantities of cargo, which should reduce the price of goods, from beef to beer, in formerly remote areas and let farmers efficiently transport produce. Tourists, and their cash, will be distributed more equitably throughout the peninsula. Ticket prices for locals make the train cheaper than the bus. A study by the United Nations estimates that by 2030, the economic boost from Tren Maya will generate more than 900,000 new jobs and lift 1.1 million people out of poverty. It's the ideal project at the right time, supporters say, launching an impoverished region into the future. Not building this modern marvel would have been tragic. Without a train, the area's population growth may have necessitated a more ecologically damaging, old-fashioned highway. Even the pillars, to some, are beneficial—elevating the train preserves the natural flow of the wildlife beneath, instead of fragmenting habitats. Rojo has documented 120 cenotes the pillars have pierced. Which means, Yáñez notes, that at least 10,000 others are unharmed. As for contaminating the aquifer, sanitation experts believe a greater culprit than pillars is a lack of proper sewage disposal in the area, and the monetary stimulus of the train should help fix that. Tren Maya, says Yáñez, won't kill the Yucatan. It's going to save it. Tourists can travel back in time on Tren Maya, from the colonial city of Mérida to Palenque's ancient ruins, but it will also function as a practical mode of cargo transportation and make places like this beach in Cancún more accessible. Photograph by Angie Smith Circling south out of Cancún, the train rolls through jungle, inland of the famous beach resorts. The ground-level tracks here have sliced open one of the last places in Mexico with vast, healthy forest. Otto von Bertrab, a Mexican journalist and owner of a tour-guiding business, has spent years investigating Tren Maya and claims that anyone who supports it has been brainwashed by government propaganda. Yáñez and Rojo fought chiefly over tolerance for ecological harm, but the von Bertrab family, like many others, is attempting to maintain cordial relations while clashing over politics and sociology too, and what it means to be Mexican. Étienne von Bertrab, Otto's first cousin—their fathers are brothers—is an academic specializing in sustainable development who has also intensely studied Tren Maya and believes that many opposed to it have been blinded by dislike of Mexico's new leadership. Ancient Maya rituals are thought to have taken place in Playa del Carmen's Río Secreto (Secret River), which is still relatively pristine although popular among ecotourists. Here, scientists like Rojo journey through luminous cave pools, beneath porous popcorn-like ceilings and past calcite daggers, to better understand Tren Maya's ecological impacts. Photograph by Robbie Shone Tren Maya is the pet project of former president Andrés Manuel López Obrador, known as AMLO, who brought a progressive outlook to the Mexican government for the first time in decades when elected in 2018 on a platform focused on reducing poverty. AMLO mentioned the train in his inaugural address and swiftly launched construction, which finished soon after his chosen successor, Claudia Scheinbaum, became president in 2024. To keep the project moving, believes Otto von Bertrab, AMLO brazenly lied. The president stated repeatedly that 'not one tree will be cut,' because the train would be built over abandoned rail lines. In truth, millions of trees were felled and much of the route is far from old tracks. To protect wildlife where the train wasn't elevated, the government promised to install animal crossings—plans distributed to the media showed wide, gently sloping overpasses, designed to look natural with trees and shrubs. None have yet been built. Otto reported on such deceptions for the Yucatan newspaper La Jornada Maya. He joined forces with Rojo and other antitrain activists. Rojo's videos of the pillars were widely distributed. Dozens of Mexican scientists and academics signed letters pleading for construction to halt. Mexican singers, actors, and artists recorded videos begging the government to conserve the forest. Demonstrations were staged in fresh clear-cuts. Some protesters cuffed themselves to machinery. Journalists around the world took notice. A New York Times headline announced that the project 'Barrels Toward Disaster.' A number of Maya artifacts were destroyed during construction of Tren Maya, while others, like this centuries-old, stucco-covered shrine framing a striking stalagmite in a Playa del Carmen cave, remain intact. Photograph by Robbie Shone The reaction of the government, expressed in AMLO's televised speeches and social media posts, was to imply that those who opposed the train were traitors, enemies of Mexican progress. 'That's when I got my first threatening calls,' says Otto. He was warned he could be 'disappeared'—a terrifying concern in Mexico, where over a dozen environmental protesters are murdered each year, more than anywhere else in the world except Colombia, according to the nonprofit agency Global Witness. Fearful for his life, Otto fell silent. 'I couldn't write anymore. It was too dangerous.' He lauds the bravery of people like Rojo, who kept up the drumbeat, repeatedly pointing out the project was illegal, as the mandated environmental impact statements were never completed. AMLO's response, in November 2021, was to declare that the train was a matter of 'national security.' Further, AMLO put the Mexican military in charge of the project's construction and operation. And with these strong-arm tactics, as Otto views them, the president bypassed the need for environmental assessments. In May 2023, the Mexico Supreme Court ruled that such evasive actions were illegal, but AMLO overrode the court's decision with a narrower executive order and construction rolled on. Even the revered National Institute of Anthropology and History was caught up in an apparent scandal. An archaeologist with the Tren Maya team, Juan Manuel Sandoval, published a scathing 75-page report detailing incidents of purposeful destruction of artifacts so that train workers could bulldoze through without delay. The Washington Post reported that more than 25,000 antiquities, including Maya temples, were obliterated. While many cenotes lie beneath the surface, above-ground ones can create natural swimming pools. Enjoying a dip in the heart-shaped Cenote Corazón del Paraíso (Heart of Paradise) near the town of Tulum, now accessible by train, is, appropriately enough, like bathing in heavenly blue waters. Photograph by Angie Smith Members of the Indigenous community—about half of the peninsula's population identifies as Indigenous, more than double the national average—raised voices in protest. Some expressed that the very name, Tren Maya, reduced Native people to a marketing slogan. But nothing stopped construction, and the train is done. After all that, says Otto, the result is a cultural, environmental, and economic catastrophe. Many stations are far from city centers, difficult to reach. The early rider numbers are one-fifth of government expectations. Maintaining a high-tech train in tropical weather and salty air will be an endless expense. In a handful of years, he's certain, Tren Maya will lie in ruins, rusted and overgrown. Maybe people will visit it like the temples of Tulum. (How a Yucatan jungle hike could help revive Mexico's ailing Maya communities.) Tren Maya, says Otto's cousin Étienne von Bertrab, though not free of flaws, is one of the most important projects in Mexican history. Étienne grew up in Mexico but now lectures on urban development at University College London. He acknowledges the painful losses—stalagmites that grew for millions of years shattered in minutes—but feels that what's gained, the opportunities for coming generations, a region connected, outweighs the damage. He plans to publish a book about the train. A considerable majority of Mexican citizens, says Étienne, approve of Tren Maya. An early poll put support at 90 percent. What some haters are really expressing, he says, is fear. The affluent, those who have already attained success, generally don't want a more equitable society. Tren Maya was built so swiftly, against their wishes, and this rattled those accustomed to clout. From Étienne's perspective, the election of AMLO marked a progressive leap forward for Mexico. Social benefits, he says, are expanding; poor kids no longer need to drop out of school. To him, Tren Maya represents this hopeful new sentiment in one triumphant work. The interconnectivity of the Yucatan's underground freshwater system means that polluting cenotes, like this one in Playa del Carmen that's being used as a trash dump, can have devastating ripple effects across the region. Photograph by Robbie Shone On the train itself, gliding through greenery on the southern part of the loop, stylishly linking cities once separated by long, rattling drives, the feeling is of a rolling celebration. The passengers, primarily Mexican, lots of families, walk the aisles snapping photos or carrying snacks from the food car. Several wear Tren Maya caps and shirts purchased at a station gift shop, like fans of a sports team. To aid the visually impaired, the accessible bathroom speaks in both Spanish and English: 'The door is now locked.' The cleaning crew passes by after nearly every stop. A region that has experienced extensive periods of war, slavery, and resource extraction has finally gained something back. 'This train is a wonderful gift,' says Anna Danieli, who traveled across Mexico from her home in Guadalajara to experience Tren Maya. 'I feel like I'm royalty, like Lady Diana.' 'I'm bursting with pride to be Mexican,' says Norma Villarreal, who drove more than a thousand miles from Monterrey, in the north, with her 90-year-old mother, Concepción, to ride the train. 'I'm a high school teacher, and I can't wait to tell my students about this.' As for environmental concerns, Étienne adds, many trees were indeed removed to make the train—the protesters were right— but a federal work program for rural laborers, called Sembrando Vida, or Sowing Life, is in the process of planting 500 million trees in the region, far surpassing the number that were cut. It's one of the world's largest reforestation endeavors. As part of the scope of Tren Maya's construction, according to the Mexican government, the biosphere reserve of Calakmul, where the tracks pass by, expanded its protected area by over a million acres, making it the second largest natural sanctuary in the Americas, surpassed only by the Amazon. Rising high above the treetops, the legendary temple of Kukulcán each year draws millions of visitors, who now have the option of arriving via train at Chichén Itzá. Photograph by Angie Smith The intervention of the military, in Étienne's opinion, was necessary. Mexico is littered with half-finished projects, and if it weren't for military control, activists may have tied up Tren Maya forever. There were previous passenger trains in the region, privately run, but they disappeared decades ago for lack of profit. With the military in charge, Tren Maya doesn't need to make money. It's a public good. And the train won't financially burden Mexican citizens, as it holds no debt and is chiefly funded by a tax on tourists. Whether or not Tren Maya is an insult to the Maya also seems part of the hyperbolic vitriol flung from both sides. Quetzal Tzab, a well-known activist who has consulted for the United Nations on Native rights, insists that 95 percent of the Indigenous people he knows favor the train. The tiny minority opposed, he concedes, is masterful at making itself heard. Condemnation of the archaeological rigor, and the willful wrecking of relics, is addressed by Manuel Pérez Rivas, head of the National Institute of Anthropology and History's 2,000-person team. Yes, Pérez Rivas says, the project wasn't perfect; some items didn't survive. But his team did register precisely 871,267 pieces of archaeological significance, the most extensive rescue of Maya history ever collected and possibly the largest dig of all time. 'The Yucatan is an evolving thing, not a museum,' says Pérez Rivas. 'You need to balance the living with the historic. If we preserved every artifact, we'd never build anything.' (Discover Maya history along Mexico's first thru-hike.) The pieces found by the team, in obsidian, jade, seashell, clay, and wood, were notable because most weren't extraordinary, says Pérez Rivas. They were everyday objects like knives, plates, and pipes. When fully studied, decades hence, they will offer a more complete understanding of how common people lived in ancient times, he adds. The focus of the archaeology, like the train itself, will be on lives that are often overlooked. It's the early days of Tren Maya, and no one knows where it's heading, triumph or disaster or in between. Ridership did start slowly, but Étienne projects a massive hit. The train, many feel, could serve as a global template for juggling environmental concern and economic expansion, and for how to transform a local population that's minimized by tourism into one that reaps benefits. When hurricane-force winds blow in, holes built into the facade of Templo del Dios del Viento (Temple of the God of the Wind) funnel gusting cacophonies through Tulum like a Maya disaster alarm. This outlook isn't far from a stop along the new train route that some consider just as awe-inspiring. Photograph by Angie Smith Detractors claim the opposite—that the only thing Tren Maya will achieve is to show the world what not to do. The antitrain faction tends to view the project as a new kind of threat, though this idea seems subverted at the renowned archaeological site Chichén Itzá, a couple of train stops west of Cancún. (Besides Chichén Itzá, visit these 3 other archaeological wonders in Mexico.) The ancient Maya constructed roads, called sacbeob, all over the peninsula, which were wide and slightly elevated and often ran through the jungle plumb straight. They look a lot like train tracks. There's one in Chichén Itzá, starting near the main pyramid. And something else is there too. In the center of the site is an area of giant pillars, lined up in rows of four—light-colored, at least aboveground, and extending toward the forest. Their similarity to the pillars that Rojo recorded is startling, except that these are a thousand years old. This story appears in the September 2025 issue of National Geographic magazine.
National Geographic
15 hours ago
- National Geographic
The fight to preserve Mexico's portals to the underworld
Can the Yucatan Peninsula's enchanting cenotes be saved? Tourists swim in a cenote, or flooded cave, outside Playa del Carmen, Mexico. The Yucatan Peninsula is dotted with thousands of these interconnected limestone caves, which are fed by a 64,000-square-mile aquifer that serves as the region's only source of drinking water. Public outcry over the environmental impact of the 966-mile-long Tren Maya rail line—a $30 billion infrastructure project spearheaded by former Mexican president Andrés Manuel López Obrador—has drawn more attention to other continuing threats like residential sewage and agricultural runoff. Photograph by Robbie Shone Photographs by Robbie Shone On a sweltering day in April 2025, a small group of cave researchers led by José 'Pepe' Urbina, a veteran cave diver, and Roberto Rojo, a biologist and speleologist, trudged single file through the dense, tropical forest of Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. They were about 15 miles inland from the Caribbean coast. Moving slowly, they parted the brush with a machete as they searched for signs of their destination: a remote stretch of the flooded Zumpango Cave that probably no one had set foot in for years. Suddenly, the vegetation thinned, revealing the jagged entrance of a gaping limestone tunnel heading underground. The air chilled as the team descended, navigating carefully around large stalactites. Then someone shouted 'Uy!' and everyone saw it: There was an ancient Maya pot sitting on a recessed shelf of rock. Such discoveries are not uncommon in the Yucatan, which contains a vast subterranean network of limestone caves with rivers running through them. When part of a chamber collapses, it forms a natural sinkhole that is called a cenote, a term that originates from the Maya word ts'onot. Exploring through cenotes in Mexico For the Maya people, these cenotes are sacred places where gods and spirits dwell. They are also geological wonders that may contain historic artifacts and endangered aquatic species, although some have been converted into tourist spots for visitors who want to swim in their traditionally crystalline waters. Critically, Southern Mexico's cenotes serve another time-honored purpose: They're part of a deep aquifer that spans 64,000 miles and supplies the only source of freshwater to millions of people within the region. 'Everyone is connected through the cenotes,' says Urbina. For him, Rojo, and a growing band of conservationists, that makes surveying exactly what's happening inside these enchanting portals ever-more important. Roberto Rojo, a cave researcher and co-founder of the environmental organization Cenotes Urbanos, peers up at a cement pillar that has pierced Oppenheimer cave near Playa del Carmen. Cenotes are home to numerous rare and endemic animal species, and the Maya people have long considered them portals to the underworld, stowing valuables throughout the vast cave systems. Rojo is part of a consortium of activists attempting to raise awareness about caves' value and map the spread of pollution within them. Cenotes have been threatened by agricultural farming runoff and residential sewage leaks for decades. But in recent years, the arrival of Tren Maya, a rail line connecting tourist destinations across Mexico, has increased the urgency to better understand these fragile ecosystems. The 966-mile cross-country loop, which cost an estimated $30 billion to build and began running in late 2024, was constructed in part by drilling massive support pillars directly into the same bedrock that holds the cenotes. (Cancun's Tren Maya is a tourist's dream—and an underground nightmare.) At the same time, Urbina and Rojo fear that increasing development in the train's shadow may impact cenotes even more. For years, the duo worked separately to sound the alarm about these treasured spaces. Urbina runs a conservation group called Sélvame del Tren, and Rojo cofounded Cenotes Urbanos. But it wasn't until Tren Maya was announced that they joined forces and a larger movement coalesced. Conservationists are concerned that infrastructure projects like the Tren Maya could cause these spaces to collapse. Rojo (left) peers into a cave whose ceiling has been braced. Cavers have found numerous archeological wonders from the Maya people, including pottery, jewelry, and even canoes, hidden within cenotes. Cenotes Urbanos member Alejandra Flores (right) sits with a pot she discovered in a cave near Playa del Carmen. Now that rail line is fully operational, they're part of collective of at least 10 different cause groups that are racing to catalogue the ecosystem's many changes before it's too late. 'I trust wholly that there are solutions,' says Rojo, although he worries it may take generations to undo the ecological damage. One major challenge is understanding the scope of the network. There at least 8,000 registered cenotes in Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, but because sinkholes can appear suddenly, as limestone cedes to centuries worth of fissures, there could be many more. To chart the underground system, Urbina and other divers have mapped roughly 900 miles of caverns. Still, he estimates that is only about 10 percent of the overall maze. The ultra-clear waters inside El Secreto del Vecino Cave are illuminated by Rob Eavis, a photography assistant who worked with National Geographic Explorer and photographer Robbie Shone to capture this image. In recent years, there have been efforts to rid the caves of garbage and return them to their pristine origins. Cenotes Urbanos, for example, hosts regular clean-up events that also serve to educate community members about the cenotes' value as a source of clean water. One thing is clear: Pollution can easily travel through water flowing from one cenote to another and, eventually, out into the sea. Flor Arcega-Cabrera, an environmental geochemist at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, says the agricultural industry has become the single largest source of contamination. Her research shows that animal waste laced with hormones, fertilizers with heavy metals, and pesticides from crop fields are likely trickling into the aquifer. This matters because people use well water and feed it to their babies, Arcega-Cabrera says. For example, nitrate, a common ingredient in fertilizer, can replace iron in the blood. This may result in blue baby syndrome, where babies' systems are no longer able to carry oxygen through their body. Exploring through the cenotes in Mexico Many residents without access to sewage treatment facilities also filter sewage through the soil—a system that causes issues with porous limestone. (Once, as Rojo was exploring a cave, he heard the faint whoosh of a toilet overhead and watched as excrement rained down around him.) Near tourist sites and industrial parks, some cenotes have also been turned into illegal dumping grounds. And then there's the train. Construction on Tren Maya began in 2020, even as many scientists, cave divers, and members of local Indigenous communities objected. Urbina, who has been a cave diver for more than thirty years, joined a lawsuit that reached Mexico's supreme court and briefly suspended construction in 2023. But the win was short-lived. Mexico's President Andrés Manuel Lopez Obrador, citing issues of national security, simply called in the military to finish the job. Biologists like Ana Paula Marn Flores (left) study animals that thrive in the dark caverns. Here, she collects blind shrimp (Creaseria morleyi) that, like their neighbors the blind brotula fish (Typhliasina pearsei) and the blind swamp eel (Ophisternon infernale), have adapted their vision to low-light conditions. In total, Tren Maya is now anchored by 15,000 pillars, some of which were driven into cenotes. Researchers worry about what archeological discoveries might have been lost along the way. In 2014, a diver stumbled upon the 13,000-year-old skeleton of a girl within a cenote. Scientists later established she was genetically related to modern Native Americans—a revelation that has led to a more accurate understanding of how the Americas were first populated. The caverns also serve as a critical habitat for animals like jaguars, tapirs, opossums, foxes, and coati, which use cenotes as a water source. 'When you arrive at a healthy cave, you see crickets, blind fish, blind shrimp, bats,' Rojo says. But when a cave is impacted, the original inhabitants are overrun by cockroaches and rats. Sabrina Delgado Mendoza, a member of Cenotes Urbanos, wades through a cave system outside Playa del Carmen. Many caves and cenotes contain fragile geologic features like the stalactite formations above her head, which form from minerals deposited by drops of water trickling through the caverns. Today, Sélvame del Tren and Cenotes Urbanos stay in regular contact to maximize their research and find ways to inspire more public awareness. The expedition to Zumpango Cave, for instance, was part of a combined effort to map and track the health of existing caves within the Mexican state of Quintana Roo, which includes resort areas like Cancún and Playa Del Carmen that are now easily reachable by train. While Urbina started Sélvame del Tren to raise awareness of environmental concerns on social media, organize peaceful protests, and monitor pollution, the scope of the organization has expanded to tracking how the train has interrupted animal movement in the region. Since Rojo founded Cenotes Urbanos alongside fellow activists Talismán Cruz and Ximena Chávez nearly eight years ago, the group has grown to almost 500 members. They now conduct about twenty annual re-dignifying expeditions to pick up trash and collect water samples and host workshops on mapping and spelunking. Cenotes can be a boon to the local economy, but they are increasingly vulnerable to pollution from development and sewage runoff. In many cases, residents funnel waste directly into the cenotes like Yaaxch cave (left). Vacationers flock to the shimmering pools that form in cenotes, and many communities, eager to cash in on the tourism boom, have sprung up around them. At right, a restaurant has sprung up above one cenote. Guillermo D. Christy has worked as a water quality consultant for over 25 years, advising hotels on purification and treatment processes. Now he's partnering with Sélvame del Tren and Cenotes Urbanos to measure water quality in eight caves in Quintana Roo that are home to increasingly threatened animals that have specially adapted to live in the darkened caves, such as the blind swamp eel (Ophisternon infernalis) and the Mexican blind brotula (Typhliasina pearsei), a transparent white fish. He tests for things like increased salinity, heavy metals, and bacteria like E. Coli. So far, the effort has revealed elevated levels of E. Coli in the region, which D. Christy has shared with local communities and government officials to encourage better sanitation practices. D. Christy has also been analyzing water samples from cenotes penetrated by Tren Maya's support pillars. The tests show iron oxide in the water, a sign that metal from the piles may be leaching out. Large concentrations of these chemical compounds can spur blooms of toxic algae, says Arcega-Cabrera, which could affect the development of eggs and larvae from animal species that live in the cave. Earlier this year, Urbina, Rojo and D. Christy took officials from Mexico's Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources (SEMARNAT) and the National Commission of Natural Protected Areas (CONANP) to Oppenheimer Cave, another cenote about thirteen miles outside Playa del Carmen. As they passed from the first chamber into the second, turquoise waters and towering stalactites gave way to muck and concrete pillars that oozed iron oxide. Construction of the sprawling Tren Maya rail line wrapped up in 2024. During that four-year period, Rojo says construction workers drove some 15,000 pillars into the ground—including into Sistema Ox Bel Ha, the world's second longest cave at 308.6 miles—to build the train's track. The train encircles the Yucatan Peninsula, cutting through dense forest in some places, to connect popular destinations like Mérida, Cancún, and Tulum. In the weeks after their visit, officials from SEMARNAT made a public announcement concluding that the construction of Tren Maya had damaged ecosystems in Yucatan. More than seven million trees were felled, and 125 caves and cenotes were punctured as pillars were installed. The agency has committed to a rescue plan, which involves removing fences that are impeding wildlife movement and prohibiting the construction of secondary roads to touristic sites. For his part, Urbina believes that if government officials see the beauty of these places, they will want to protect them. One day this April, he took Oscar Rébora Aguilera, the Secretary of Ecology and Environment in Quintana Roo, cave diving in Sac Actún, one of the largest flooded cave systems in the world. As they emerged from the water, he says he told Aguilera about plans to put a road overhead. Soon after, the Federal Attorney for Environmental Protection issued a temporary order to suspend the construction. It's one sign that their collective efforts may be paying off. Rojo inspects tree roots that have pierced through the ceiling of Jaguar Claw cave outside Solidaridad, Mexico. These roots siphon water and nutrients from the aquifer below to the forest above, ensuring the trees remain a vital habitat for the myriad animals that live in the fragile ecosystem.
USA Today
a day ago
- USA Today
Steph Curry drills a flurry of 3-pointers during China tour
After wrapping up Curry Camp with high school prospects from around the country, the Steph Curry offseason tour continued overseas. The Golden State Warriors' star point guard has traveled to China for his offseason "Curry Brand World Tour." While fans have bombarded the All-Star point guard with a flurry of cheers and big reception, Curry took the court at the start of his tour and showed off his ridiculous skill from beyond the arc. While working out in China, Curry drilled a barrage of triples from the corner. During the entire 1:23 video shared to X, Curry only missed one 3-pointer during that span, leaving the crowd watching in awe. Via @warriorsworld on Twitter: Curry's trip to Asia will include the first-ever global edition of Curry Camp along with "Curry Con," a brand and culture convention spanning over three days in Chongqing, China. This post originally appeared on Warriors Wire! Follow us on Facebook and Twitter!
