La Cueva Del Diablo (The Devil's Cave)

Tourists out for a leisurely stroll along Mazatlán’s famous malecón (the city’s 13-mile boardwalk) are treated to beautiful beaches, magnificent sunsets, lively mariachi bands, and a terrifying cave inhabited by the devil.

Bored into the foot of the craggy cliffs on Passeo Claussen street, the Devil’s Cave, or La Cueva del Diablo, is one of Mazatlán’s oldest attractions. While most visitors amble along the shoreline scouting for the perfect spot to take an ocean panorama, those with a taste for the macabre might cross the road to pose in front of this looming, ominous gate adorned with the face of the devil. Although the gate is usually locked, curious travelers can peer into the depths of the tunnel through the bars, and on special occasions, a man dressed in horns and hooves appears out front, beckoning visitors to draw near (if they dare) while posing for unusual vacation selfies.

While locals scoff at the blatant kitschiness of the cave, the legends surrounding its origins are numerous, some even hearkening back to Mazatlán’s sordid pirate past.

In the early 1600’s, Spanish explorers discovered vast deposits of gold and silver in the nearby Sierra Madre Mountains. As the mines continued to reap huge quantities of precious metals, hauling the treasure overland through the mountains proved inefficient, so the Spaniards looked to the sea. Because of its deep waters and placement on the Sea of Cortez, Mazatlán is the perfect natural harbor. However, for years, English, French, and Spanish pirates utilized the remote cove as a hideout between attacks on Spanish galleons. As Mazatlán developed into an important outpost for sea trade, the exploding population of traders and immigrants drove the pirates out of the Sea of Cortez. Rumor has it these pirates hid their stolen treasure on shore – in the Devil’s Cave.

Another popular tale from history says that Sinaloa’s first hit man, the infamous El Gitano, was briefly imprisoned inside the cave in the 1940s.

While legends like these are based in reality, other stories have murkier origins and oftentimes the odd supernatural twist. A thrilling – but almost certainly spurious – tale tells of a group of explorers who went in the cave but were never seen again. When a team of rescuers decided to search for the first group’s remains, half were sent in with ropes tied around their waists, so if something were to happen, those waiting outside could pull them out. After many hours passed, the outsiders pulled on the ropes – only to reel in bodies so badly burned, they were almost cremated.

The idea that the devil himself inhabits the cave and that those who are foolish enough to enter never return could have been inspired by the sulfurous smell that is said to permeate the inside. Residents of Mazatlán, known as Mazatlecos, insist that the workers who first dynamited the hillside to build the malecón were plagued by both the terrible odor and a deep voice coming from within, leading them to believe the devil himself had been imprisoned inside the hill.

Despite these fantastic tales, the original purpose of the cave likely has more to do with ice than hellfire. La Cueva del Diablo and the surrounding limestone tunnels are a natural part of the Cerro de Neveria (Icebox Hill). When ice was imported to Mazatlán from San Francisco in the mid-1800s, Mazatlecos used the cave to keep ice and other perishable goods out of the stifling tropical heat. During the Mexican Revolution from 1910 to 1920, federalist soldiers decided the caves were more suited to stockpiling ammunition than ice.

These more mundane facets of the cave’s history have not stopped legends from forming even today. Because Mazatlán hosts the third largest carnival celebration in the world, it is unsurprising that most modern tales about the cave involve this extravagant six-day festival. An oft-repeated urban legend claims that a beautiful Mazatleca was out dancing with her friends when she was approached by a dapper catrín (gentleman) dressed in black. The man convinced the young woman to leave the others and go with him to an expensive taqueria. At the end of the night, she was seen entering the cave alone with the shadowy figure. The woman was never seen or heard from again, and the only clue as to her fate lies in a dark red blood stain at the bottom of the cave.

A more humorous carnival myth states that two drunken revelers went inside the cave to relieve themselves, but failed to find their way out again – either too drunk to navigate the maze of tunnels, or else taken captive by the devil for their sins. Both of these fictional stories reflect true cultural sentiments: the first likely circulated as a cautionary tale warning young women not to leave the party with a strange man, no matter how handsome, while the second is perhaps a warning against the dangers of being too intoxicated – even during Carnival.

No matter its true origins, the cave remains a fixture of the malecón -- an unexpected break from the endless rows of palm trees and beach side bars, and one that will undoubtedly continue to inspire legends, stories, and the occasional lesson in morality.