Gliding across the deathly still canal waters on our final approach to La Isla De Las Muñecas (Island Of The Dolls), a nagging sense of dread suddenly grips Bizarre. Through the gnarled branches of the trees that fringe the island, forlorn faces of what look like lost children stare at us with dead eyes.

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As our boat drifts ever closer, we see that many of these grubby infants are missing limbs, covered in cobwebs, or crudely lashed to the boughs with rusted metal wires.

As our boat pulls alongside the shallow flight of steps that leads onto the island, the roar of what sounds like a chainsaw buzzing to life shatters the silence. We half expect Leatherface to come hurtling towards us from the wooden shack in the centre of the island, intent on adding our heads to his macabre gallery of death.

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Thankfully, the ‘chainsaw’ turns out to be a local gardener who’s merely firing up his lawn mower behind the ramshackle tool shed. But with hundreds of plastic eyes following our every move, the sense of foreboding that consumed us as we approached the island shows no signs of abating, and gets steadily worse as we discover the true horrors of Mexico City’s creepiest attraction.

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Plastic nightmare

The Island Of The Dolls – located in the vast, bewildering network of canals that lies to the south of Mexico City, between the urban sprawl and the more traditional farmland region called Xochimilco (pronounced so-chee-meel-koh and meaning ‘place of flowers’) – is rich in history and superstition.

Created by the hermit Don Julián Santana who, despite having a wife and family, chose to live alone on the island for over 50 years before his death in 2001, the Island Of The Dolls is a shrine to a dead girl who was said to haunt him, and in whose honour he collected dolls, to calm her restless spirit.

“There are many stories about why the dolls are here,” says Don Julián’s cousin, Anastasio, one of several family members who now curate the island, welcome visitors, and charge a token fee to take photos.

“Some people claim Don Julián was mad, and that he’d fish dolls out of the canal believing they were real children, and that he could nurse them back to life. But the real story is that, soon after Don Julián arrived on the island, he came to believe this place was haunted by the spirit of a poor young girl who drowned in the canal. So when he saw a doll floating past he took it and put it on a tree, both to protect himself from evil and make the dead girl happy. But one doll wasn’t enough; soon Don Julián had made the entire island into a shrine.”

For decades, Don Julián amassed a huge collection of dolls that had been rejected by their owners, either plucking them out of the canal as they bobbed past, or scavenging toys from rubbish heaps on rare excursions from his secluded home.

In later years, locals began to trade old dolls with Don Julián in return for home-grown vegetables, and before his death the hermit’s cadaverous collection covered every inch of the island – each unloved toy receiving a second lease of life as part of his surreal shrine.

The rot sets in

Walking around the tiny island, what’s most striking is how the dolls have naturally decomposed over time, creating a gallery of eerie and nightmarish faces.

As well as damage from the sun – which leaves many of the dolls covered in bubbles, blotches and blisters – the wind and rain have also left their mark, eroding any surface paint and leaving behind pale, skull-like faces, or gradually gnawing away the dolls’ fake hair to create jagged tufts that make them look as if they’re suffering from an agonising wasting disease.

Many are also missing arms or legs – or have been given the limb of another doll that clearly doesn’t match – and even toys without heads are welcome on the island, many strung from washing lines or shoved into the gaps between branches, their exposed necks becoming a home for the exotic spiders and insects that inhabit this sprawling agricultural region.

Tourist attraction

While the Island Of The Dolls has been a popular attraction with Mexican tourists in recent years – and in his lifetime Don Julián saw how people were fascinated by his collection – it’s only now that visitors from further afield are making the tortuous trip.

“Some days we have up to 50 visitors,” says Anastasio. “Other days no one will come, but the average number is 20. Mexican television has filmed here many times. The Discovery Channel visited us a few years ago, and I’ve definitely noticed a rise in the number of foreign visitors. I guess this is because the island is now listed in many guide books, but people still have trouble getting here.”

It’s an arduous journey (see below) to get to the Island Of The Dolls, but it’s worth it. As a piece of surreal art borne from superstition and fear, the island is peerless, the decayed and reclaimed dolls creating a ghastly ‘found’ installation that artists such as the Chapman Brothers would die for.

As an example of ‘dark tourism’ the island is also unique; so far from the traditional tourist path you’re unlikely to meet any other English speakers. But what’s most striking is the rollercoaster of emotions you experience; as you explore the island, it feels as if you’re surrounded by the mutilated bodies of children whose abandoned souls are doomed to haunt this retreat.

But as the boat pulls away, dismay gives way to euphoria at the privilege of exploring such a unique place, and getting a glimpse into the mind of a true outsider whose ghoulish vision will live forever.

How to get there

Visiting the Island Of The Dolls isn’t easy. The island is located in the Xochimilco borough – around 17 miles south of the centre of Mexico City – a region that’s criss-crossed by a huge network of canals that represent the last remnants of the ancient Lake Xochimilco.

The only way to get around Xochimilco’s canals is to hire a trajinera; a wooden, vibrantly painted boat that’s propelled using a long stick, much like a Venetian gondola. And if you want to get to the Island Of The Dolls, be prepared for a long trip – it takes at least two hours to get to the island and two hours back, so make sure you pack plenty of suntan lotion or you’ll be burned to a crisp.

Rather than going to the main part of Xochimilco to catch a trajinera, get a cab to the nearby Cuemanco landing, near the Parque Ecológico De Xochimilco. Dozens of boats will be available to hire, but make sure the driver understands you want to visit ‘La Isla De Las Muñecas’ – otherwise you may end up with a standard trip around the canals.

Prices for two people can be expensive – up to £70 – because the boats in this area take up to 10 passengers. But if you can get a group together it makes for a cheap day out – and an experience you’ll never forget.