Stromatolites, Earth’s oldest living life forms are fighting to survive in Bacalar Mexico. Because Tourists.
No 2 Conscious Travel x Trustmeimasocialworker
I was sitting alone for dinner at an Italian resteraunt in Bacalar called Finesterre. My birthday was the day before and I decided to go into town, Kindle in hand, and treat myself. After ordering a cocktail and dipping a chip into my tuna tartare, I heard someone call my name. I immediately turned, confused and wary to look around. Who was calling my name in Mexico? I spotted a petite young woman with dark brown hair closing the door to her Uber waving and calling my name. She asked to join me for dinner and I said yes. This is Martha. We had been messaging each other back and forth for a few weeks, with plans to chat about her work for my Conscious Travel series. When I actually arrived in Bacalar I was hesitant to reach out, even though I was super curious about her story. What brought her to Bacalar? (she’s from Mexico City originally) What are stromatolites and why were they important? And the biggest question of all, so….what the happened to the lagoon’s vibrant colors?
Martha is the advocate and activist behind the Instagram account Pueblo Magico Bacalar. (Be sure to give them a follow) Before I left for Mexico, I was thumbing through images related to the hashtag #mexicancaribbean and #yucatan and #visitmexico when I stumbled upon water so blue that I paused, saved the post and immediately added Bacalar to the working itenerary I had in my head. I figured it would be less touristy, small, and affordable. I was right. I reached out to Martha via DM to see if she would be interested in being featured for the series. It was clear to me even through our brief interactions via DM how passionate she was about educating people, both locals and foreigners, about how to protect the lagoon. Over pizza and cold drinks I listened as she described the serious impact that uninformed tourism has on the local enviromnent.
Martha spearheads a growing group of small hoteliers and business owners passionate not just about the aesthetic of the lagoon, but it’s health too. Guardians of the Lagoon (the unofficial name) have two campaigns — one that educates locals and vistors on responsible tourism and another which is focused on advocacy and lagoon preservation.
When I arrived in Bacalar, instead of the jewel toned waters I anticipated, the water was murky - green and even brown in places. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s the Mexican Caribbean. The landscape, the intermittent rains that keep the plants lush and thick? Incredible. But magic? I wasn’t so sure. Locals explained that Hurricane Wilma battered the peninsula back in 2019 which caused the stark color change. But like most ecological causes worthy of our advocacy and concern, that was just the surface explanation. Advocates had warned stakeholders the risk deforestation posed to the lagoon but like all things related to capitalism driven development, folks didn’t listen. And it happened. The lagoon lost its colors. Not the kind of “I told you so” advocates bask in, but the kind that hopefully triggers change and beckons new policy in addition to individual accountability for visitors who care.
With a weakened tree barrier, places like Cancun, Tulum and you guessed it, Bacalar were (are*) vulnerable. The water is clearing up “poco a poco” and the farther south you go (towards Belize), the bluer the water gets. But “blue” doesn’t begin describe it and the photos don’t do it justice. I checked into a different hotel later that week and saw exactly what people were fighting for. The lagoon is breathtaking. Layered, with vibrant with shades of blue that include saturated cerulean, turquoise, sapphire and azure and when the sunlight hits the water…chef’s kiss okay?
Since Bacalar lagoon is a freshwater lagoon, the ecosystem is extremely fragile. With no fresh water pumping in from an outsode source, the lagoon is a finite resource. This means that when the estromalitos (stromatolites in English) are destroyed, so is the lagoon. Stromatolites are to the lagoon like coral is to the sea. They are not renewable. Stromatolites have been around for billions of years and lately have been working super hard to restore the lagoon to its original glory. But they’re losing. And here’s why.
When it comes to ecological justice, sometimes the culprit is ignorance. Tourists come to the lagoon and dance on the stromatolites for the ‘gram or Tik Tok because they think they’re just rocks. And sometimes tourists come to the lagoon and dance on the stromatolites for the ‘gram or Tik Tok and they KNOW that they aren’t just rocks. The stromatolites die because they keep being touched. Without the existence of stromatolites, there is a ripple effect on local fauna and animals and people. In a town that relies heavily on tourists, the sobering reality that when the color of the lagoon changes, people won’t come.
When tourism booms anywhere in the world, foreign developers with no ties to the region began scoping out cheap plots of land. They buy it. They outbid local developers and construction begins. Without strong, intentional oversight from the Mexican government and input from the people who live here, Bacalar is at exposed and at the mercy of people who want to exploit the lagoon, not protect it.
Pueblo Magico Bacalar also advocates for more oversight around speedboats and jetskis which can also harm delicate fauna. A slow sail around the lagoon was good enough for me, but many tourists prefer to rent jetskis. The lax oversight is curious. Imagine renting a jet ski in Miami or in Costa Rica without signing a release, being told which biodiverse areas to avoid in order to protect them, or being cautioned about the speed limit. It’s difficult to imagine because it doesn’t happen.
If you take away anything from this article I want it to be this: inform yourself about best practices surrounding the lagoon. Not just in Bacalar, but any of the places you decide to visit. As discussed in my previous article and interview with Frederique of Maison Carib in Martinique, the places U.S citizens, Canadians and Europeans visit as playgrounds, are not playgrounds. Real people live in the places travelers call paradise and rely on everyone, travelers included, to protect natural resources. It’s not enough to be conscious without action and commitment.
Here are some things to know when visiting Bacalar:
It is imperative that you don’t wear sunscreen of any kind when swimming in the lagoon. No, not even the biodegradeable kind. An actionable part of owning your travel privilege is the ability to follow directions from local people without questioning it.
Don’t touch the stromatolites. Don’t dance on them. Don’t kick them. Don’t put your hands on them. This kills them.
Don’t rent jet skis. Just don’t do it. It’s not worth the risk of injury to humans or the lagoon. You can go sailing instead. I recommend Wild Wave Bacalar. You can make a reservation via Facebook, or via What’s App +52 983 155 0810.
Sign this petition to let the local government know how dangerous jet skis are both to the fragile ecosystem of the lagoon and human lives.
Check out this responsible traveler guide from the Quinatana Roo Mexican Tourism board.
If you enjoyed this article, make sure to subscribe, and leave a comment below telling me something new you learned from reading this piece. My digital conscious travel guide and full Mexico itenerary will be out in a few weeks. If you’re interested in purchasing, shoot me a message over on IG trustmeimasocialworker.
Next up in the conscious travel series is an interview with Reigh (they/them) and Katie(she/her) Ring — An Edmontonian/”Canadian” couple who love to travel, but have often been disenchanted by their experiences navigating the world as a Queer Interracial couple. Interested in seeing a more healing, community centered future, they envision opening a Bed and Breakfast — Golden Gaze B&B — that is rooted in their Equity and Justice values!
