By Ronda Winn Roberts
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In 1876, Augustus le Plongeon, 50 year old eccentric, visited Isla Mujeres with a 25 year old beauty he had married in London two years earlier. (Their marriage lasted 37 years. He lived to be 83, Alice died 2 years after him, when she was 59.) He is known for his early photographs of Mayan ruins. However his bizarre theories about interconnections between Mayas & Egyptians & "the people of Atlantis", as well as his articles about "psychic archeology" & the occult, left him discredited among the scientific community.
Isla Mujeres was founded in 1850 by people fleeing the war, who were given permission by the Mexican government to settle on the isle, provided they farmed the land for six years, built their own roads and infrastructure, and expected no protection or services from the federal government.
In 1876, the le Plongleons took a boat from New York to Cuba, where they hired a boat to the Yucatan. Augustus hadn't mentioned the war to Alice, nor the yellow fever epidemics that left them quarantined on the boat in many of the port cities. When they finally arrived in Isla Mujeres, Alice described the pirate Mundaca and commented about the towers left behind by the pirate Lafitte.
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Augustus describes downtown, aka "Dolores":The village of Dolores is built on the beach of a pretty little bay. where the fleet of fishing smacks from Havana find a sure shelter.from the violence of stormy northers that dash the waves against the iron-bound shores of the eastern side of the islet, producing a terrific and deafening noise.
The houses are snugly ensconced in a thick grove of coco trees, whose evergreen foliage shields them from the scorching rays of the tropical sun. Three streets run north and south, parallel with the beach of the bay, and are crossed at right angles by others leading from the bay to the ocean. The principal street,the middle one, half a mile in length, covered with deep sand, as are all the others, leads in a straight line to the necropolis.
The village boasts a Square. The south side is occupied by a neat little church. The west side is adorned with a long, narrow shed, surrounded by a rustic balustrade. In the rear of it is a large room--this is the barracks; two cells--these are the jail. The whole form the City Hall, for the reunions of ""El consejo municipal"--the common counsel--when that honorable body meets, and during ever day of the week it is converted into a school-room. Private dwellings fill the north side of the Square.
The interior of the houses is the same for the rich as for the poor. It consists of a large single room, which serves during the day as parlor and reception room. It is converted at night into a common sleeping apartment by hanging hammocks from the rafters which support the guano roof. Oftentimes an old sail hung across the room divides it into two apartments, and serves in lieu of a curtain. In several houses, whose owners have been so fortunate as to pick up stray pine boards from wrecked vessels that have been wafted in the neighborhood of the island, or from the coast of the main land opposite, the old sail has been replaced by a wooden partition.
The inhabitants are, as a general thing, a fine set of people.. The men, mostly of Indian race, speaking among themselves the Maya language, are sinewy and athletic. They forcibly recalled to our minds the figures of warriors so beautifully portrayed on the walls of the inner room in the Chaacmol monument at Chichen-Itza. It is surprising to see them handle their canoes--so similar in shape to those used by the ancient Mayas, as seen sculptured on the stones of the queen's room in Chichen. Hardy, fearless and skilful in their own craft, they are said to be worthless as sailors in larger vessels. The women, of medium height, are handsome, graceful, not over shy, and rather slovenly.
It is a fact, patent at first sight, that the Indian blood is fast disappearing from amongst the islanders. The blue eyes, fair, rosy skins, and light blond hair of the rising generation bespeak their direct descent from European blood.
Salt is found in large quantities in the centre of the island. It is deposited on the shores of an extensive pool of salt water, connected by an underground passage which communicates at certain epochs of the year with the sea on the east side of the islet.
A large portion off the interior of the island is occupied by a most picturesque lake, which opens on the south side of the bay by a narrow channel, through which the waters of the ocean enter, and is very nearly three miles in length. The lake is consequently subject to tide.
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When they visited the ruins at Punta Sur, the villagers followed them, and seemed disapproving of them digging around in the temple, so they returned another day to dig. Agustus found and took away an Ixchel incense burner which had been buried, hidden within the temple. It was broken by the shovel used to dig it out.
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Alice describes the temple and the South Point (Punta Sur):
The shrine stands on a platform 2 metres high, and is itself 3 metres in height (9 feet, 9 inches) with a frontage of 6 metres. The doorway faces south, and the walls are nearly three feet thick. The interior was divided in two rooms, the altar being in the smallest. The lintels of the doorways are sapote wood. On them various names have been carved at differ- ent times. Among others we saw that of Mr. Goodall, with the date 1841. This gentleman is now President of the American Bank Note Company in New York City. In the floor of the largest room there was a big hole that was made by some one searching for a certain treasure. The rocky elevation upon which the shrine stands is a wild and romantic spot, its base surrounded by crags against which the roaring billows constantly dash their white foam. On each side the rocks are yielding to the unceasing action of the waves ; already part of the platform, and the east wall of the shrine, has been carried down into the sea. Atom by atom, the entire structure will thus disappear in the course of time.
Alice described their arrival:
On the tenth day after leaving Progreso, about nine o'clock at night, we sailed into the beautiful Bay of Dolores, at Mugeres Island, or Women's Island, as the Spanish conquerors called it, because they found in the temples of the natives many images of women. The water of the bay was as un- ruffled and crystaline as a sheet of emerald ; and the village of Dolores made a charming picture, with its thatched cottages, boats hauled up on the white beach, and tall palms waving like feathered cano- pies above the dwellings ; while the perfect stillness made usalmost imagine that we beheld an enchanted island awaiting the touch of a magic wand. That wand was the first golden sun-ray that shot from the east, calling every creature to life and action. Doors were thrown open; faint columns of smoke wreathed their way to the cloudless sky ; children ran to the beach to float their toy ships ; fishermen launched their boats ; women passed to and fro, and feathered songsters warbled their sweetest lay.
She wrote about the Caribbean coast:
The east side of the island presents a complete and beautiful contrast to the west. Rocks and crags run from one end to the other, the never-tiring waves ceaselessly dashing against them. What scope for the wildest fancy on this rocky shore! with its millions of periwinkles and other shell fish. A lilliputian world miniature caverns, shells of every shape and color, tiny tunnels, rivers and lakes, filled with sparkling bubbles of foam and the sea eternally roaring.
She described the pirate Mundaca:
We found a strange character livmg on the island apart from every one except two men who serve him. With them he makes houses, stone walls, and statues of himself. He calls himself Spanish Con- sul and has large plantations of vege- tables, and plenty of cattle, yet will neither give nor sell anything to anybody, not even a little milk for any one who is sick. Vegetables and fruits ri- pen and rot, while his cattle roam everywhere and spoil all that other people plant. He works like a slave, and only allows himself one scanty meal a day. No one knows why he lives such an austere, isolated, selfish existence. It is understood that in his younger days he was engaged in the slave-trade on the African coast, and the people believe he must have committed some heinous crime that keeps him a prey to remorse, which he tries to stifle by doing penance. Some say he is haunted, and others that he is looking for the treasure, because he frequently changes his place of residence, building a new hut each time. He has plenty of gold ounces, yet sel- dom approaches the village. When he passes along the beach at twilight the friendly chat is suddenly hushed, and some one exclaims, in an awe-struck whisper: "There goes Mondaca!"
She describes harvesting salt at Salina Grande:
Our next expedition was to the salt pits in the
middle of the island. By an underground passage
these large pools communicate with the sea on
the east side. At the beginning of the fishing
season, men and women go to collect the salt
that is deposited by evaporation on the shore of
the pools. They seem to regard it as a kind of
picnic, though the work is laborious, especially for
the women, who stand up to their waists in muddy
water all day long, putting the salt into large turtle
shells that serve instead of vats. It would be
almost impossible to transport the salt by land to
village Dolores; the only roads are narrow pathways
through the thicket, and the soil is so rocky and
uneven that it is tiresome to walk, much more so to
carry a load. A great extent of the interior of
the island is taken up by a most picturesque lake
that opens on the south side of the bay by a narrow
channel through which the water of the ocean
enters. The lake is consequently subject to tides,
and it is navigable for the majority of the canoes
used by the fishermen.
The channel is crooked and scarcely more than
nine feet wide, having dense thickets of mangroves
on each side. It takes about half an hour to go
through it, then the lake suddenly opens to our
view, truly a charming scene ! It is surrounded by
banks twenty feet high, covered with verdure ; sea-
gulls soar overhead, filling the air with discordant
screams, while pelicans, herons and storks, are
perched here and there, half hidden among the foli-
age, motionless, wistfully watching the water, to
catch the unsuspicious fish that venture within
their reach.
The lake is nearly three miles long; its southern
end reaches to within a hundred yards of the salt
pit ; thus the labor of transporting the salt is made
comparatively easy.
Alice describes the importance of turtles to the Islanders:
AMONG THE TURTLE CATCHERS.
THE air was exquisitely soft and balmy, the
moon so brilliant that every fleeting cloud
was reflected in the clear water of Dolores Bay,
while the white sand of the shore glittered under
our feet as we sauntered along enjoying the beauty
of the scene. In this peaceful bay, six miles
from the eastern coast of Yucatan, the Spanish
ships anchored nearly four hundred years ago.
The principal industry of the villagers is fishing,
and from the month of April to August, all their
attention is given to turtle-catching. So, on that
moon-lit night, as we strolled along the beach, men,
women, and children also wended their way to the
north end of the island, where all was silent as the
white tombstones in the village grave-yard by which
we passed. A few hastened their steps as if they
feared a departed friend might stalk forth in wind-
ing-sheet.
Reaching a place where thick shrubs grew, not
far from the water's edge, all concealed themselves
behind the bushes or in the shadow cast by them,
and from their hiding-place watched silently for the
turtles. These prolific creatures come to lay their
eggs in the sand, never failing to select a spot above
high-water mark ; consequently at low tide they have
to go a good way up on the beach.
Having chosen a place, they quickly make a hole,
and deposit therein about one hundred eggs, over
which they again put the sand, leaving the spot in
appearance as they found it ; so that no one would
discover the nest but for their tracks. The turtle im-
mediately returns to the water, leaving the eggs to
be hatched by the heat of the sun ; in due time the
little ones make their way out and go straight to
the sea.
When the turtle begins to cover the eggs the
people creep from their hiding-place and cut off her
way to the water; then, when she starts toward
them, they capture her and turn her over, not with-
out trouble, for some weigh as much as five hundred
pounds. The flaps are tied, and a mark set on
the shell, so that when morning comes each party
may know which they have captured. The family
that catches two or three in a night is well satisfied.
The turtles have formidable jaws, and it is neces-
sary to keep one*s hands well out of their reach, for
they can break a man's limb as we can a match.
As for conchs most abundant in those waters
though the shell is hard to break with a hammer,
the cahuamo easily cracks it, to eat the delicious
contents.
The cahuamo, or hawk-bill, is the largest kind of
turtle, weighing from 200 to 500 pounds. Its flesh
tastes like good beef, but is generally left on the
beach to rot and be consumed by buzzards, the
people not being numerous enough to eat it all,
though large quantities are dried and salted to be
sold as jerked beef. Speculators once went to
considerable expense to try and preserve this meat,
but we are told it turned bad in the cans.
The catchers gather the eggs, the fat, and shell,
though the last is worth so little that they do not
always take the trouble to lift it from the beach ;
many are scattered over the sand. The eggs are
considered a great delicacy, and taste very rich, but
have a strange sandiness that is unpleasant to the
palate.
The carey {Chelonia imbricatd) is smaller and of
more value. The least the islanders will take for
the shell is two and a half to three dollars a pound ;
rather than accept less they will keep it in their
house from one year to another. The carey, as well
as the green turtle, is caught with harpoons and
nets. The green turtle is carried to British Hondu-
ras, where they are worth from one and a half to
three dollars each, the shell not being used. The
poor creatures are transported in small sailing ves-
sels, where they lie on their backs on deck exposed
to the scorching sun, and once a day have buckets
of water dashed over them to keep them alive.
Large pens are built at the water's edge to keep
the turtles in until shipped for the market. When
they become lean, from being kept thus too long, in
order that they may fatten again, they are set free
in the lake that is in the interior of the island after
being branded with the mark of the owner. They
never multiply there, nor make their way through
the channel out to the ocean, but owing to the good
aliment that they find, are soon again in fine con-
dition for the market.
The temple to Ixchel at Punta Sur was a pile of rubble by the 1980's, even before Gilberto hit. Before that it looked like this:
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| Punta Sur. Tolbert Mahler. 1891 |
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| Punta Sur by Mexican photographer Casasola Pachuca 1917 |
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| By Willie Gibson 1972 |
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