As the four of us make our way down the overgrown path toward the cenote — Spanish for “sinkhole” and pronounced “sih-NO-tay” — I could not come up with a way to describe the experience that did not sound like the plot of a horror movie. With no cell phone reception or any real idea of where we were, the four of us followed our tour guide until we reached a rickety set of steps leading us down into a dark hole in the ground, where we planned to swim for the next hour.

Underneath the Yucatan peninsula lie a series of interconnected rivers and lakes. Cenotes (which comes from the Mayan word for “sacred well”) were formed when the ground layer of limestone collapsed, creating a sinkhole exposing the water beneath. There are hundreds and hundreds of cenotes in the region that allow access to literally thousands of miles of subterranean rivers. The Mayans believed cenotes were gateways to the center of the earth and occasionally used them for sacrifices. My goal at the cenote was not to become one.

It takes a few moments for your mind to adjust from being terrified to appreciating the beauty of the cenote. The walls, ceiling, stalagmites and stalactites seem unreal. In places like Carlsbad Caverns, visitors are not allowed to touch the walls and in some areas, even flash photography is prohibited in an attempt to preserve the natural wonders. Here, in this cenote, the four of us touched, sat, climbed, and stood on the natural formations. Except for the end when it was time to leave our guide remained above ground, leaving the four of us alone in the underground waters. For the most part is was just the four of us, a couple dozen catfish, and whatever evil lurks in the dark sinkhole near the back that none of us dared to explore.

No lifeguard on duty.

The water inside the cenote was uncannily clear. Using a flashlight Susan brought we were easily able to see the bottom of the cenote. There are no artificial lights inside, only the light from the sun that comes in through the hole above. If it weren’t for the fish just a few feet in front of my toes, the picture below might look like I were walking on dry land. The water was literally crystal clear.

Cenotes come in many sizes. There are ones that scuba divers literally jump into, and others that people rappel down to reach the water below. All of the cenotes are connected in one way or another, and some of them have openings that scuba divers use as launching points to swim miles beneath the earth and explore the vast system of connected caves. No thanks. The small pool we explored was plenty for me. The water was cool but not freezing cold, and after about an hour we were ready to exit the subterranean waters and return to the surface.

After emerging from the cenote, drying off and changing clothes, we were presented with a meal consisting of pork and chicken panuchos. Panuchos are a bit like tostados, except the deep fried tortilla is stuffed with refried black beans and topped with cabbage, pickled onions, and slices of avocado. They were amazingly delicious, and paired well with the complimentary cold beers.

Our guide told us that this particular cenote was privately owned and the property had been purchased and split between five families. Each family spends two weeks maintaining the grounds and collecting the admission fee. Our admission to the cenote was included in our tour so I’m not sure exactly what we paid, but from what I could find on the internet admission to this particular location costs somewhere between 50 cents and $5. That doesn’t include panuchos.

I won’t lie; there was a time while working my way down the thirty wooden steps into the cenote that the risks of doing so entered my mind. We were well over an hour (hours?) from the nearest hospital should something go wrong, not that any of us had the ability to call one if it had. Like many activities in Mexico, I’d file this one under “at your own risk.” I don’t know if I will ever visit or enter another cenote, but I’m certainly glad to have visited this one.

And also glad that no monsters got me.