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<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\nAt midday, we drop anchor two hundred meters from a pristine beach on a small uninhabited island south of Ponce. Its name, Caja de Muertos\u2014Coffin Island \u2014 carries an eerie poetry, typical of Spanish-speaking cultures, where themes of death, bones, skulls, and the afterlife have long been interwoven into tradition. Even before the Spanish arrived, indigenous beliefs honoured the spirits of the departed. Catholicism, introduced by the conquistadors, absorbed many of these ancient rites. The Days of the Dead, celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, coincide with pre-Hispanic rituals venerating the deceased. Across South America and the Caribbean, people believe that as long as the bones of their ancestors remain intact, their spirits stay connected to the living. Death, in this worldview, is not an end but a continuation in another form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
These holidays are anything but mournful. Parades and carnivals fill the streets, with the living\u2014young and old\u2014donning festive costumes, while the bones of the dead, carefully cleaned and adorned with flowers, are symbolically “aired out.” Santa Muerte\u2014the Saint of Death\u2014is honoured above all, and everything, from clothing and masks to restaurant decor and confections, is themed around skulls and skeletons. The Catholic Church has, at times, tried to suppress these traditions, but they persist. Here, death is not feared but embraced with both reverence and humour\u2014an attitude that speaks to a people with a remarkable sense of irony.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As for the Coffin Island, its name is said to stem from shipwreck legends. Locals once believed that the sea carried the remains of lost sailors to its shores, where they found eternal rest. Other tales speak of pirates who used the island as a secret haven, burying not only their fallen comrades but also their ill-gotten treasures. These hoards, steeped in blood, are rumoured to be cursed, and ghostly guardians are said to punish those who dare seek them. Mysterious sounds, shifting shadows, and unexplained occurrences keep the island shrouded in legend, drawing the adventurous and the superstitious alike. Its rugged landscapes only add to its ghostly allure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our stop here will be brief. We await a favourable wind, which should arrive shortly. There\u2019s just enough time for a quick swim to shore, a fleeting exploration of the island, and then back to the boat before daylight fades. A more in-depth trek, particularly to the lighthouse at the island\u2019s summit, will have to wait for another time. Built in the 19th century, the lighthouse remained operational until recently. Though the island is officially part of a nature reserve, the ranger station and even the lighthouse now stand in ruins, seemingly abandoned for years. Without caretakers, one wonders whether it can still be called a reserve at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tourists occasionally visit, as we have today. The beach, when maintained, is beautiful. The island itself is small\u2014about two kilometres long and three hundred meters wide\u2014but traversing it is no easy task. The trails once cleared by rangers and researchers are now overtaken by cacti and thorny underbrush, making a hike to the lighthouse nearly impossible without a machete. For the island\u2019s countless birds, lizards, and insects, the wild terrain is paradise, but for me, it means my lighthouse ambitions will remain unrealized today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our next stop is Balneario Ca\u00f1a Gorda, a beach within the renowned Gu\u00e1nica Dry Forest Reserve, a UNESCO-designated biosphere. Its crystal-clear waters, soft sand, and rich biodiversity have earned it the prestigious “Blue Flag” award. Just before sunset, we navigate into a narrow harbour, flanked by rocky hills and bisected by a coral reef that bars us from approaching the sandy shore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We opt to stay in deeper waters rather than risk passing through the reef. The tide is high, and we could attempt it, but when the tide recedes, the drop will be significant. We could find ourselves stranded until the next high tide, and by then, we\u2019ll need to be underway with the first rays of dawn. The beach beckons, and the reef acts as a perfect breakwater, ensuring calm waters near the shore. But at our current depth, the boat rocks steadily in the waves. If the wind were stronger, it would be far worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At sunrise, we set sail again, continuing westward. Our next anchorage awaits at the charming town of Boquer\u00f3n.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On weekends, Boquer\u00f3n\u2019s central square, El Poblado, transforms into a grand festival of music, karaoke, and street food, all just steps from the picturesque beaches. If time allowed, I would linger\u2014nearby nature reserves and trails promise days of exploration. But for now, I take note for future visits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As night falls, people slowly gather in the square. Musicians tune their instruments, setting the rhythm for an evening of revelry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n