I have good news and bad news.  Bad news first.

You know all those pictures that come up in your Pinterest feed, titled “You Won’t Believe These Places Actually Exist” or “Most Enchanting Spots in the World”?  Well, some of those places actually don’t exist after all, and are simply doctored up photos with a little help from Photoshop.  See a few disappointing examples of this trickery here and here.

Now the good news.  Most of those images are showing actual places.  For example, all of the destinations in Bored Panda’s “40 Breath-Taking Places to See Before You Die” do exist.  And every once in a while, we see this picture pop up in such lists.

Picture from www.amazingplacesonearth.com/ik-kil-cenote-yucatan-mexico/

This is Ik Kil Cenote.  From our own experience, we can assure you this place does exist.  And I’m sure our tour guide gave us some background on how this phenomenon came about, but apparently I wasn’t listening at this point (must have been the heat).  So, I had to look up the following facts about this wonder of nature on Wikipedia.

Ik Kil Cenote, like the hundreds of cenotes on the Yucatan Peninsula, is a natural sinkhole, formed by the collapse of limestone.  The water in the sinkholes is actually groundwater, exposed after the rock above has collapsed. This particular cenote, Ik Kil, is about 130 feet deep and is filled with freshwater, making it an ideal swimhole.  This, along with its proximity to Chichen Itza, make it a common last stop for bus tours after a morning at the Mayan ruins.

So after a “glistening” morning under the baking sun of Chichen Itza, discussed previously here, we decided to partake in a refreshing swim.

We discovered there were two ways to enter the swimhole:  1.) a friendly little ladder on the side of the swimhole (that no one was using as a way of entry), or 2.) a 20-foot plunge from a platform into the cool waters below.

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Not to be out-done by the long line of pre-pubescent boys waiting their turn to jump, we opted for platform-jumping.  Chris went first (test it out, be sure it was safe, get injured so I wouldn’t have to, etc.).

Chris jumping into the cenote.

I watched him and several others jump before getting up my nerve.  It appeared the secret was to take a deep breath, push off the ledge, and land with your feet pointing down, making as little splash as possible.

Did I mention I have a fear of heights?  Well, you should know that too.

After some personal pep talks (Katie, you’ll probably never be here again.  Katie, don’t be a pansy.  Katie, it is hot as the dickens and this is the best way to cool off.), I made my way up the steps to the platform.  The 11-year-old kid in front of me noticed my lack of enthusiasm and decided to give me some words of encouragement.  “This is my 4th time jumping.  You’ll be fine.  Just be sure you really push off the platform, so you don’t hit the wall behind you.  And point your toes down.  Watch me when I do it.”  I watched, observed as he jumped.  Push off, fall, point feet down.  Got it.

It was my turn.  I took a deep breath, pushed off the platform, held my nose, and jumped, feet pointed down.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, why did no one say how long I would be falling through mid-air?!  Why is it taking so long for me to get to the water?!  

It’s blurry, but proof nonetheless that I have platform-jumped in Mexico.

Yes, I still hold my nose when I go underwater.  No, I never broke that habit.  No, I do not care that you are judging me.

I remember finally hitting the water and hearing the onlookers react with a resounding, “Oooooooooooh,” before my head went under.  When I surfaced a moment later, the “ooooooooh” was still audible.  I ignored the strange reaction from the crowd – look how hardcore I was!  I jumped!  Into a random swimhole in the middle of Mexico!  As I swam over to the edge to climb out, I noticed my legs felt a little… heavy?  Achy?  Stinging maybe?  Like I was dragging concrete behind me?

Chris helped me up the ladder while he and a few others around immediately started asking if I was okay.  “Of course.” I replied, confused.  Why would I not be?  I jumped and I surfaced.  I’m a platform-jumping rock star!  What was I missing?

The 11-year-old returned.  “You didn’t land with your toes down like I warned you.  You were good at first, but right before you hit, you kind of lifted your feet forward and leaned back.  So you kind of ‘spooned’ into the water.  It was a big splash.  And loud.  Didn’t that hurt?”

Okay, first of all, kid, you do not tell a girl she made a “big”, “loud” splash.  Second of all, that does explain the incessant concern instead of the tunnel of high-fives I expected.  And more pressing, it explains the horrible pain I was feeling in my legs.  In fact, the longer I stood, the less I could imagine jumping again, nevermind four times like my little mentor here.

My husband looked at me with a look of half-amusement and half-pity.  “It was a really loud splash.  You could hear your legs hitting the water.  That had to hurt.  It might have even echoed.”

Hmmm.  Now it was all coming together.  My attempt at being a hardcore adventurer might have been leading to some hardcore bruising on the back of my legs.  And as we made our way back up the stairs to ground level, I did feel a little self-conscious with people taking note of the girl that noticeably ‘spoon-landed’ into the water.  Way to go, Katie.

The obligatory “We were here,” picture.  I replaced this camera before I learned how to turn on the flash.

This was actually our last day in Mexico, since we departed the following day.  I noticed some tenderness on the back of my legs on the flight to Raleigh.  But I assumed it was nothing more than a little residual pain.  It wasn’t until I was unpacking our suitcases that night that Chris saw the damage.  “Katie, go look in the mirror.”  The look on his face was pure horror.

Yes, this is what happens when you ‘spoon-land’ into water from a platform 20 feet above the surface.  Kind of gives the term “water damage” a whole new meaning.  The pain sat with me the next few days.  My bruises continued to darken.  We spent the following week at the beach with my family, which required repeated explanation of my war wounds.  Then finally, they began to fade into greens and yellows, and eventually went away completely.  To my further dismay, my tan faded too.  And I’m sorry to say that I don’t think my skin has been that tanned since (although, my dermatologist seems quite thrilled).

At the end of the day, the pain was worth the experience.  My leg might have looked horrible, but it was a battle scar with a great story behind it.  How can I regret that?  If you have the opportunity to visit any similar land formations, don’t miss it.  And if the opportunity strikes, take the leap off the platform.  But take my advice and keep your toes pointed down.  Holding your nose is optional.