I RACED ALONG a narrow trail, slicing through dense brush, accompanied by buzzing bugs, birdsong and frantically scurrying lizards. I was in Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, three hours west of the swim-up pool bars of Cancún, following Alberto Delgado, a man who calls himself “the cenote hunter.” Thousands of cenotes, underground cave pools fed by fresh water, dot the peninsula. In addition to finding cenotes, Alberto also buys and sells them. Parcels of land that contain these pools start at $80,000. My journey to this particular cenote, called Santa Barbara—one of several on property Alberto owns—was unintentional. He forgot to bring the keys to another of his cenotes down the road.

When finally we reached Santa Barbara (no key required) after a 25-minute hike, Alberto said, “I didn’t want to bring you here because a lot of people are afraid of entering.” I approached the opening and could see why: About 60 feet below was an enchanting-looking pool. But the only way to reach it, short of a terrifying leap, was a long climb down a network of ladders strapped to the stone wall. “What do you think?” he said.

Alberto Delgado with África Sevilla at Cenote Santa Barbara in the village of Tixhualactún outside of Valladolid, Mexico. Mr. Delgado buys and sells parcels of land in Mexico’s Yucatán that contain cenotes.

Photo: David Alvarado for The Wall Street Journal

I nodded warily, and we started the careful climb down. When I got near the bottom, I jumped into the cool, crystal-clear spring water. Below, catfish circled the depths. As if summoned by our entry, a midday ray of sunlight shone from above, so intense in the center that it illuminated the water all the way to the bottom. The translucent water was a haven from the jungle above—free of bugs and heat, silent and tranquil in a way that was entirely unexpected after our hike. “Can you feel the way that the cenote embraces you?” Alberto said. Floating alongside him in this subterranean pool, I learned that Alberto, a former stockbroker in Mexico City, started living part of the year in the Yucatán interior in 2010, in the small city of Valladolid, just a half-hour north of this cenote. “The coast is beautiful,” Alberto said. “But now it is also packed with people almost everywhere. And so I’ve come inland. Here it feels untouched, intact.”

The Yucatán Peninsula encompasses three Mexican states, as well as chunks of Guatemala and Belize. But when most travelers speak about the Yucatán, they mean just one small part of this 70,000-square-mile land mass: the eastern, coastal regions of Mexico’s Quintana Roo state, stretching from Cancún south to Cozumel, Playa del Carmen and Tulum. In recent years Merida, the urban capital of Yucatán State, has also started to draw tourists lured by the cultural attractions of that million-person-plus city (Foreign travelers are permitted in Mexico but even fully vaccinated tourists must take a Covid test before re-entering the U.S.). But aside from Merida visitors and busloads of tourists day-tripping to Mayan ruins, the central and western parts of the Yucatán are ripe for exploration. This other side of the Yucatán offers dozens of cenotes, well-preserved colonial cities such as Valladolid and Campeche, rural villages built around old haciendas and roadside restaurants dishing up Mayan specialties such as pork slow-cooked underground.

Parque Principal Francisco Cantón Rosado in the city center of Valladolid.

Photo: David Alvarado for The Wall Street Journal

In search of a Covid-era escape to a part of Mexico where I could steer clear of packed resorts, I began my trip in Valladolid, staying in a one-room hotel, Meson de Malleville (for about $260 a night). It is set on a square that fronts an ancient convent partially in ruins but still managing to host mass every morning. The Meson houses a boutique in front that gives way to an interior courtyard, and then a striking hotel room with 18-foot ceilings, a plunge pool, outdoor shower and a huge window facing verdant bushes and tall trees. The view from the bed makes you feel as if you are sleeping deep inside the jungle.

In the 19th century local landowners erected or expanded factories and residences across the Yucatán to cultivate and process henequen, then one of the finest materials in the world for making rope. Political turmoil and then the invention of nylon in the 20th century caused the local natural rope business to collapse and these grand country houses and accompanying factories started to devolve into ruin. In the 1990s, a real estate group from Mexico City bought up four of these haciendas and renovated them into luxury hotels. Now those plus a fifth, acquired later, form a little-known part of the Marriott empire that’s managing to retain a quiet, local feel.

A traditional Mayan farm near Cenote Kuxubché, a private cenote owned by Alberto Delgado in the village of Tixhualactún outside of Valladolid.

Photo: David Alvarado for The Wall Street Journal

In Santa Rosa, a small town about a three-hour drive west of Valladolid (and an hour southwest of Merida), lies one of the most attractive of these haciendas. Hacienda Santa Rosa consists of a string of buildings once used as a factory and residence, now converted into 11 large hotel rooms and a restaurant with a colonnaded terrace. The room I stayed in (for $150 a night) had a narrow pool behind it. When I went swimming at sundown I was accompanied by a flock of small birds that darted in and out of the water.

Unlike at the insulated, all-inclusive resorts that line the coast a few hours east, footpaths all around the hacienda bleed into the village. Wander just a few yards and you’ll pass small homes, tidy vegetable gardens, goats grazing in fields and chickens wandering the dirt roads. One evening at dusk just as, I imagine, the DJs of Tulum were starting their playlists for the long night ahead, I walked through the central square. Dwarfed by enormous old trees, a few locals congregated and I could hear quiet snippets of Mayan being spoken, a language that dates back about 5,000 years. Plunging into the water of those hidden cenotes was indeed thrilling but this other Yucatán was the real find.

THE LOWDOWN / Exploring the cities, cenotes and haciendas of Mexico’s Yucatán

Getting There

You can fly into Cancún, on the northeast coast of the Yucatán Peninsula, or Merida, in the northwest; both cities are about a two-hour drive from the well-preserved colonial city of Valladolid. Cancún offers many more domestic and international flight options. The easiest way to get around the peninsula is to rent a car. Your best bet for car rental in Cancun is local operator Avant (avantrentacar.com). Keep in mind that American travelers, even those who are fully vaccinated, will need to show proof of a negative COVID-19 test result no more than three days before boarding a flight back to the U.S.

Staying There

Coqui Coqui started as a perfumeria in the Yucatán, then soon expanded into the hospitality business. They now have five residences in the Yucatán peninsula, all of them located inland, away from the east coast tourist corridor. In Valladolid, Meson de Malleville Residence and Spa is a standout (from around $250 a night, coquicoqui.com). The Haciendas, part of Marriott International’s the Luxury Collection brand, consist of five properties in Yucatán and Campeche states, most of them old factories and residences now converted into luxury hotels. All of them except the Puerto Campeche property are located in rural parts of the peninsula. Temozon has its own private cenote on site, reached by a horse and buggy. Santa Rosa has a running/hiking trail carved through the bush and one of the better restaurants of the collection (from $150 a night, thehaciendas.com).

Swimming in Cenotes

Alberto Delgado, aka the Cenote Hunter, offers cenote visits to those interested in purchasing parcels of land that contain cenotes. Prices start at $80,000 and go up to $1,000,000 (cenotehunter.com). If you’re not in the market for a cenote, Mr. Delgado’s favorite public cenote is Xkeken, located about 15 minutes southwest of Valladolid. Go there as soon as possible after it opens at 8am in order to avoid the crowds.

Eating There

Restaurante El Tio Chif is a roadside joint located west of Valladolid on the slow road to Merida. They specialize in the Yucatecan dish poc chuc, pork marinated in citrus then charcoal grilled. Handmade tortillas crisped in lard are an indulgent side. IxCatIk, a sit-down restaurant in Valladolid, specializes in Mayan cuisine, and features an outdoor earthen oven used to cook cochinita pibil, baby pig marinated in citrus and annatto seed, then wrapped in a banana leaf and slow-roasted in the ground (Calle 39, between Calles 20 and 22, Military Colony; ixcatik.mx).

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