Road to Cacaluta

Tuesday was the first of the pandemic days. I found a message on my phone that morning from the night before. Cacaluta. 8:30. The idea was inspired. The time was a tad ambitious. I had breakfast, packed all my things and was on the road by 10:30ish. It’s not good to wait too long. The sun gets intense.


Cacaluta is quite the beach but we rarely go there because it isn’t the easiest to get to. Once you get to the park gate just down from the fork to Playa Maguey, it’s another 3 km over a rough road through the woods with a fair bit of beach sand to spin your tires on. That’s why most visitors arrive on ATVs or get dropped off by boat.

For me, the toughest part of the trek was the first major hill. I didn’t even try to tackle it. I just got off and walked the bike. It was way too early in the day to grunt my way up a steep mountain and this was the kind of trip that made you wonder if 2.5 litres of water was going to be enough.

I’d heard that Cacaluta was pegged for hotel development. The proof is there. Road improvements have begun. It’s only smooth dirt for now but the road has been doubled in width. Big concrete pipes for drainage are lined up on the side. That doesn’t mean it’s all going to happen overnight. It could be years ahead.

I came close to a serious wrong turn when I saw the sign that reads “Tanque Cacaluta”, pointing to the right.
I almost took it but it didn’t feel right. I came this way back in 2002 by taxi and it didn’t feel the same. Besides, I didn’t know what “tanque” meant. I still don’t. I was heading for Playa Cacaluta; close but not quite the same. My instincts were right. Just down the next hill was the fork was the fork for Maguey and Cacaluta. This was what I remembered. Don’t forget this if you ever pass this way.


The gate isn’t much further ahead.
Fortunately for me, there is a man working there in the shade behind a shack. Saul advised me to hop off the bike and take the trail straight through the woods instead of the 3 km. I was a bit dubious. Sure looked jungley in there. Saul assured me there were no snakes , which I didn’t believe for a second. I almost stepped on my first snake at UMAR last week, right on a red brick walkway. There are snakes in these woods. Whether or not they’re timid skinny yellow things like the one that ran for its life from me or twelve foot Mexican South Pacific rattlesnakes like the one stuffed in attack mode at the ROM in Toronto is all that really matters. I took Saul’s assurance to mean my chances of dying were slim. Much as I prefer 100% guarantees, I took the trail. I can be a fraidy cat but I try not to let it stop me from doing things. I took this pic of Saul before stepping in, possibly the last person I would ever see.


In I went.


If a snake wanted to get me, there was very little I could do about it. There were a lot of coiled and twisted vines, branches and roots in there, many of which looked like huge motionless snakes. This one was my favourite.
I approached it carefully, waiting for any sign of movement.

Besides the rustle of salamanders in the dry leaves and the music of the birds, I heard a larger animal crashing through the brush. Not moose or bear large, maybe something knee-high, probably with claws and teeth.
It was only a ten minute hike, fairly easy going with only the occasional stump or fallen tree to lift the bike over. Just before breaking out of the woods, there’s an old barb wire fence just a few more steps away from a wide open field and a small house. From there, you pass through a mango plantation and rejoin the road that others would have taken from the gate near its end.






I knew my friends were there. I’d passed their scooters back a bit but Cacaluta looked deserted. Way down by the rocks, I finally spotted some very tiny people playing Frisbee. They had set up camp between some rocks for shade.



Cacaluta feels like the end of the earth, especially when no one else is there. These pictures show less than half of its convex spear shape.