Coba

My last blog post was interrupted by a sudden attack of barf-itis which ended up lasting for 12 hours. Mexican aftereffects? Who knows.

Our last day in Mexico we signed up for another “all-tour-native” adventure to the Mayan ruins. The tour started with a 1-hour van drive to Coba, somewhat inland. I was surprised (OK, I am not exactly an expert on Mayan ruins) how many there are! Coba is one of dozens and dozens of sites, and our guide (who was not nearly as chipper as Benjamin, but pleasant and earnest) told us there are 6,500 individual buildings/ruins at Coba alone.

Sam climbing the pyramid at Coba

Sam climbing the pyramid at Coba

At Coba the ruins are about 2 km from the parking lot and one gets there by renting bikes or being chauffered in on “tricycles”. Coba sports the highest pyramid in… I think it was the Northern Yucatan peninsula, which we climbed up. On the way down some old guy walking down beside me claimed that “one person a year dies going down here”. It was very steep and the only handhold was an old rope.

A Mayan soccer pitch

A Mayan soccer pitch

Needless to say, S&B’s interest was piqued by how, apparently, in the Mayan equivalent of soccer, the prize for the captain of the winning team was decapitation. Of him, not of the losing team or anything like that. It must be hard getting motivated to go to practice!

Sam and Ben, suspended over water

Sam and Ben, suspended over water

After that we drove for about another hour to an “authentic Mayan village” which was really just a collection of adventurey activities hosted by Mayans, but a lot of fun nonetheless. More ziplining, and most notably, rappelling down into a water-filled pitch-dark (except for a few underwater lights) cenote. Followed by canoeing and a late return to the resort.

Sam rappelling into the abyss

Sam rappelling into the abyss

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One response to “Coba

  1. “On the way down some old guy walking down beside me claimed that “one person a year dies going down here”. ”

    Reminds me of that nice drunk fellow we met our last night at Lava Point who insisted someone dies every year climbing Angels Landing, usually a boy scout. You remember him don’t you? His Utah charm ooozed when he essentially called us pansies for not hiking Subway. Did the old guy in Mexico have the same charm? At least there you could have tripped him and had the reasonable prospect of getting away with it, “eat your words, Gramps.”

    Despite the barf-itis, if indeed it’s linked to Mexican drinking water, sounds like a great time. The Tomkins always have fun. YAY.

    Say hi to Lenore, Ben and Sam for me. Talk soon.

    CR10? MR10? PH10?(pan-american highway – we’ll need more room than derek’s jeep though.)

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