Guided tour in Yucatán is a singular experience.

By Robert Rivard-Photo and article courtesy of My San Antonio

AKUMAL — I had never been on a guided tour until the invitation arrived to travel south to the Riviera Maya for a leisurely and healthy sojourn through paradise. Our group would check out the region's inviting eco-resorts; go snorkeling and kayaking in pristine cenotes, the region's spring-fed jungle lagoons; indulge in a little yoga and spa time; catch some rays; and eats lots of fresh fish, tropical fruits and vegetables a la Yucateca. Travel writers call this work?

While planning this tropical outing in the company of several full-time travel writers who I can respect as real pros, I decided to pass on the offer of a full-body massage at a traditional Mayan spa, signing up instead for a temazcal, a Mayan cleansing ritual in a beachfront sweat lodge. What was I thinking? It so happens I am claustrophobic. More on the trip's only disaster later in the story.

This proved to be a great trip, and one you should feel comfortable taking, too. Tourism is down in Mexico, and there are bargains to be had.

For all of Mexico's violence and insecurity, particularly along the border and in the northern states, much of the country is calm. One safe destination is the Yucatán Peninsula, home to Mayan ruins, verdant jungles and breathtaking beaches. The short flights to Cancún from Houston or Mexico City make it a quick, affordable choice for South Texans.

The Riviera Maya is a short drive from Cancún International Airport. It starts at the gateway snorkeling destination of Puerto Morelos, home to an underwater park, and stretches 81 miles south to Sian Ka'an, a UNESCO-recognized Biosphere Reserve. Along the way, Playa del Carmen, Xcaret, Akumal, Xel-Ha and Tulum all beckon, each place a little different from the others.

American tourists who do not speak Spanish will find guided tours a better option than renting a car. Airport and local taxis are safe and plentiful, too.

The Riviera Maya is not the Yucatán of yesteryear. A growing colony of eco-resorts line Ruta 307, a stark contrast to the semi-paved road I first drove with my wife, Monika, on our honeymoon in 1981. A half-day adventure back then to the coastal Mayan site of Tulum is now a 90-minute drive.

Then I traveled with a dog-eared copy of John Lloyd Stephens' 19th-century classic, “Incidents of Travel in Yucatan,” and found the region largely untouched by time, a place few readers had ventured.

Guidebooks now list more than 75 lodgings in Playa del Carmen alone, five in the village of Akumal, and 11 in and around the coastal ruins of Tulum. They range from beach-bum comfort to isolated luxury. If a new international airport is constructed in Tulum, as planned, the number will keep climbing.

Our group experienced the gamut of accommodations. We saw American-style hotel complexes next to rustic treehouse cabanas. Top-end ceremonial spa treatments and culinary experiences are multiplying.

Our first stop was Hacienda Tres Rios, an all-inclusive resort, the kind of place favored by those who prefer a single package covering ground transportation, rooms, meals, drinks, tips and other services.

Tres Rios is not just another hotel. It faces the beach amid a stunning 326-acre nature park between the airport and Playa del Carmen. Freshwater lagoons wind through dense tropical growth and shut out the outside world. Kayaking and snorkeling through the resort's cenotes with the other writers made me feel as if we were in an old Tarzan movie.

Such natural beauty and tranquillity are zealously protected. The resort also maintains a tree, plant and orchid nursery, designed to preserve the region's astonishing array of native flora. The swim was a bracing recovery from the previous night's tequila tutorial and conga line at El Abrioje, the ambitious resort restaurant.

A day later we headed south to visit other various high-end resorts, a day that gave me a newfound appreciation for my fellow travel writers. I was the only male in our group, and as the others worked at a fatiguing pace, I mostly observed, content to contemplate the thin line that divides work and play in this busy life.

After a few hours in Playa del Carmen, the hip, pulsating heart of the Riviera Maya, we stopped at Maroma Resort and Spa, a lush, 65-room getaway that oozed quiet luxury with indigenous overtones: gurgling water features with Mayan statuary, tree-lined pathways that led to whitewashed casitas with thatched roofs where fresh flower petals adorn an open-air room's king bed.

Most in our group visiting Maroma peeled off for a massage at the Kinan Spa, while a few of us followed Teresa, the temazcal leader, down to the Punta Maroma beach and an edifice in the sand for the ritual cleansing ceremony.

I reluctantly seated myself close to the open doors. Hot cantera rocks glowed in the ceremonial fire circle, and the sharp scent of burning herbs filled the dense air. A helper appeared out of nowhere and closed the two root cellar doors, leaving small slivers of light visible through cracks in the wood. He then heaved a heavy tarp across the doors, leaving us in pitch-black darkness. Teresa spoke in a low, calming voice, the fire and heat intensifying. I struggled to calm my nerves with breathing exercises, fighting the fears making their way into my conscious. It was no use.

“I'm outta here,” I blurted as I hit the doors with my shoulder. I burst into the open air muttering apologies. Racing through the sands and into the surf, I swam hard, first through the breakers and then into calmer waters, where I paused and caught my breath. The horizon seemed endless, one tiny ship steaming in the vast distance, schools of silver fish glittering below me in the clear waters.

Others rave about such ceremonies and the calm and clarity they find there. I would gladly return to Maroma, and next time ask for the massage.

I was ready to call it a day, but we were not finished. Our next stop was at Esencia, a century-old seaside estate converted by its Italian duchess owner into a discreet luxury retreat for a fortunate few. More whitewashed architecture, 12 acres of dense wildscape and vegetable gardens, and a Maya spa that surpassed all others we saw for splendor and serenity. Incense wafted through the spa's domed rooms, tables here and there adorned with hand-carved wooden bowls filled with black rocks, fruits and herbs used in body treatments. Local women dressed in indigenous garb moved quietly through the spaces. Alas, we were only there to observe.

Our lunch at Esencia was served in an open seaside cabana. It was the best meal of the trip, everything on the table, except the wine, locally sourced.

That night we stayed at the more moderately priced Villas Akumal, a short beach walk to the village of Akumal, which means “land of the turtles.” Friends introduced me to Akumal years ago, and while it has grown, the village retains a funky counter-culture ambience with kick-back bars and restaurants frequented by a mellow mix of locals and expatriates.

At the Villas, we happened to meet Chris and Stacie Clark, the Minneapolis-based owners of Tiger Athletics (www.tigeratheletics.com), which offers customized workout camps stateside and in Akumal. Our small group was still sore from an intense, disco-driven workout two days earlier at the Center 8 Studio in Playa del Carmen with L.A.-based personal trainer Tiffany Williams-Roche.

We met the Clarks quite by accident after encountering their adorable children at the Villas pool, but we soon found ourselves sharing dinner at their “training table.” The Clarks are magazine-cover fit and they're persuasive. The others consented to an early morning cross-training workout: a run on the beach, then calisthenics, finished with an in-pool exercise regimen. Not wanting to draw attention to the obvious age difference between myself and my younger colleagues, I signed up, too. In retrospect, I should have trained for this vacation.

Time prevented me from returning to Xel-ha, “the place where water is born,” a maze of subterranean rivers and tropical fish schools where Monika and I had snorkeled decades earlier, part of the Mesoamerican Reef System, the second-longest extant barrier reef in the world. Our group never did make it to any of Tulum's well-regarded yoga retreats.

We moved too relentlessly on this working vacation to pause for yoga.

That remains for my return visit.

Robert Rivard is the editor of the Express-News. Follow him on Twitter at @editorrivard.