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Adventure Brazil Colombia Guide Solo Travel South America

Ten Days in the Amazon on a Budget: Part 2

Three nights of sleeping in a hammock strung up alongside about 100 strangers. Six consecutive carb-heavy meals of rice, noodles, and beans. Ninja mosquitos with a freakish immunity to Deet. Showers in smelly brown river water. This isn’t exactly a Carnival Cruise, people.

Perhaps this post should be titled something along the lines of “Traveling From Colombia to Brazil on a Boat,” but I wanted to keep it consistent with the first post. But that’s exactly what this post is about, my experience of crossing the border in Leticia, Colombia and taking the slow boat from Tabatinga to Manaus.

The hammocks before it got crowded
Our hammocks strung up before it got too crowded

 

If you’re not uptight you don’t have high standards while traveling, this is an awesome, cheap way to see the Amazon on a tight budget—not to mention a great way to save hundreds of dollars traveling from Colombia to Brazil if you’ve got a bit of time. A flight between the two countries can easily cost upwards of $700 USD, but for only about 70 you can hop aboard a ship from Tabatinga, Brazil (which is only a short cab ride from the Leticia airport, or walking distance from most hostels in Leticia) and head downriver to Manaus to catch a flight elsewhere in Brazil.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I did the trip downstream during the rainy season when the rainforest was flooded, which apparently knocks off at least an entire day. There are several other routes from ports in Peru, Colombia, and Brazil ranging from a few days to closer to a week, but I thought the three-day route between Tabatinga and Manaus was plenty. 

Keep in mind prices will likely vary greatly based on the time of year and how far in advance you book, but here’s my breakdown during the peak of high season just before Carnaval:

– $112 flight from Bogotá to Leticia on a Tuesday
– 200 Reais (about $66 USD) for my 3-day boat ticket (which includes all meals)

– 36000 Colombian Pesos (about $14 USD) for a hammock and rope
– $164 overnight flight out of Manaus to Rio de Janeiro on the following Thursday night.

That ends up being about $356, which isn’t exactly pocket change, but the only other costs over those total ten days were $30 for three nights in Leticia, the free hotel room in Manaus, plus a few bucks for meals and $100 for the Amazon tour. Plus booking the overnight flight to Rio helped me save on one night’s accommodation. Definitely cheaper and more exciting than if I had flown the $700 Bogotá to Brazil flight in seven hours, and way cheaper than booking a touristy Amazon tour through some agency.

Amazon Boat
A quick shot of our ship in port in Manaus

As mentioned, this post is all about staying in Leticia, Colombia and taking the slow boat from Tabatinga, Brazil, to Manaus, Brazil. For more info on an activity-based tour of the Amazon, check out this post.

ABOUT THE BOAT: VOYAGER V

There are several different ships you can take, but I don’t think you have much control over which one you get on. I wasn’t really sure what to expect but I prepared myself for the worst. There was a lot of ambiguity on how long the trip would actually take, and some horror stories about the food being served with a side of explosive diarrhea and vomiting. But overall my trip was a super relaxing, pleasant experience with no nasty side effects—for me at least, some others on board the ship weren’t so lucky. My tiny bout of tummy troubles held off a good few days until I was tucked away in my own private hotel room in Manaus. (Thankfully it was nowhere near as bad as what I dealt with in Thailand.)

Anyway, back to the ship, the Voyager V. Most of the locals seemed to congregate on the bottom level even though it was extremely noisy near the engine. There was a small kitchen in the back half of the ship right alongside the motor, and a picnic table eating area where all of the meals were served. Food was served at a set time every day (breakfast around 6am, lunch around noon, and dinner around 5pm) and yes, I was almost always one of the first people in line for feeding time.

On the second level there was a fully netted-in soccer pitch that stayed lit up well in the night. There’s also a snack counter selling hamburgers, ice cream, beer, soft drinks, and a few other snacks; a common area with plastic tables and chairs, and what looked to be private cabins towards the front of the ship.

The top level was pretty much just hammocks, bathrooms, and gorgeous views.

Sunset match
Only in Brazil
The bar/hangout area
The common area aka the gringo drinking area
The private cabins had a little space to themselves on the side of the boat
People who booked private cabins enjoying some deck space

 

Each deck has several bathrooms containing a toilet and a shower, and some have a sink. On the top deck alongside our hammocks we had four bathrooms with a few additional sinks outside of the bathrooms, along with a TV and about 15 power outlets. There are actually a good amount of power outlets scattered around the boat, but they’re almost all in awkward places high on the wall. You can leave your phone there to charge by tucking it behind a soap dispenser or something but forget about trying to charge a laptop unless you’re ready to stand there and hold it. 

Bathrooms on board the boat
Two of the bathrooms on the top deck. Notice the charging ports on each side, where it’s kind of difficult to leave something charging.

 

DAY 1
Our tickets had a 1030AM departure time. Riiight. Anyone who’s traveled in South America knows that 1030 translates to about 130. Yet we still decided to head down to the port to get a good spot around 9am. In the pouring rain, four of us crammed into this miniature clown car taxi with all of our wet bags. The dirt roads were flooded, so the taxi driver refused to drive us all the way to the port. Instead he dropped us off at the top of a muddy hill where we were forced to make the rest of the slippery trek downhill in the pouring rain. I still don’t know why we paid him the full fare, but I’m glad I’d tucked the flip flops away in favor of hiking boots. After dropping my bag in a mud puddle while digging for my ticket, I went straight to the top deck where all of the gringo tourists were stringing up their hammocks. I had some of the guys help me hang mine, partially because I didn’t trust my own knot-tying skills, but also because I was too short to reach the rafters.

The hammocks on the top deck
The top deck hammock area filling up
Dirty hammock selfie
Snapping a quick hammock selfie on the last day before packing up to head into Manaus

 

The deck filled up within about a half hour of our arrival, but we finally left the port at about 110pm, naturally. 

The first day was rainy and grey so I spent most of it tucked away in my hammock stuffing my face with an embarrassing amount of the snacks I’d packed. Around 5pm we were served a delicious chicken noodle soup and bread. Soup isn’t really my idea of a full meal, but with chicken, noodles, and veggies, it was extremely tasty and satisfying. Once it got dark I decided it was appropriate to start drinking beer, which I quickly decided was a huge waste of money. The mini cans of Brahmas were quickly eating up my budget but not giving me the desired level of drunkenness I had set out to achieve in pursuit of a good night’s sleep. After six I settled for a sleepy buzz, but unfortunately the MMA fight blaring on TV well into the middle of the night had a different agenda.

Port

One of the ports

Sunset after the rain

Tiny Brahmas

The Hammock Crew
My hammock buddies. Daniel (the crazy German smirking at the camera) spent his entire three days trying to become a Rubik’s Cube master

 

If you’re a light sleeper like me, a pair of earplugs just won’t do the trick. Bring headphones and charge your phone/mp3 player. I was constantly waking up every time my earplugs came loose. Also every time a baby screamed, someone knocked into my hammock, or the boat made its cringe-worthy screeching metal sound while turning. At like 12 or 2am (I was too sleepy to read my watch properly) the boat blew its horn and woke us all up while pulling into port. In my sleepy, startled state I shouted “iceberg right ahead!” before drifting back to sleep. Good to know I still have a sense of humor while half asleep.

DAY 2
It seemed like only ten minutes later when I heard a man walking around the deck, shouting in Portuguese while rolling up the sides of the boat to reveal glaring morning sunlight. “What an asshole,” I thought, “doesn’t he know people are trying to sleep?” But he was calling us for the world’s earliest breakfast. And as much as I’m not a morning person, I’m also not one to miss a free meal, EVER. So I forced my grumpy ass out of my hammock at 6am and made my way down to the bottom deck for breakfast.

“Breakfast” was a community bin of shitty rolls (aka hot dog buns as we call them in the States), a tub of butter, and overly sweetened coffee. Definitely not the quality of breakfast I’d normally wake up at 6am for. I smuggled an extra piece of bread back to my hammock to coat with the strawberry jelly I’d packed, scarfed it down, then read about two lines from a book before dozing off again. The only good thing about not getting a proper night’s rest on a boat like this is realizing that you have absolutely zero obligations the next day, so you can nap whenever you damn well please. Finally when I woke up for good a couple hours later I mustered the energy to shower.

Showers on the boat are exactly what you’d expect them to be. They pump out brown river water straight from the Amazon, in the same 4×3 room as the communal toilet. It’s not as cold as you’d expect, but not at all warm either. In the humid Amazon temperature I actually found it rather refreshing.

After that my entire day was an endless cycle of reading, napping, and eating. I think I took four or five naps, only leaving my hammock whenever I heard someone shout that it was feeding time. 

Lunch consisted of a basic pasta, rice, beans, and some kind of beef. It’s a good thing it was delicious because it’s basically what we ate for every single meal the rest of the trip. After going for seconds on the pasta and beans I went back to sleep and woke up a half hour before dinner. (Yes, I’ve gained weight.) Dinner was basically the same meal as lunch, except with chicken instead of the beef.

Pasta, rice, and beans
Pasta, rice, and beans for days

 

After dinner I wandered around the boat with my camera to take some shots of the best sunset we’d see while on the river. I nerded out for a good hour or two before retiring back to my hammock to resume reading Killing Pablo.

I slept much better the second night because I wised up and put my headphones in and blared some Deftones for a good twelve hours. Win.

Another boat at port we'd been following for a few spots
Another boat making the same journey
Cruising along
Chugging along the river
Evening cruising
The scenery doesn’t change too much, but it’s sure nice to watch as it passes by
Sunset on the Amazon
Oh and the sunsets are pretty epic

Sunset on the Amazon

DAY 3
I woke up again at 6AM just long enough to ask the girl in the hammock next to me if breakfast was the same as yesterday. When she said yes I covered my face and fell back asleep until about 830.

Upon waking I fixed myself a rather creative breakfast using some vanilla wafers, strawberry jelly, and a smashed ball of bread I dug out of my bag, then showered up to take another nap. We had lunch around noon, and right after loading up on more carbs I noticed the soccer pitch empty, complete with a shoddy looking ball. I was starting to feel restless and fat, so I gathered the gringos to play a game. Before long we were going full-on gringos vs Brazilians, running barefoot on the pitch and sweating our asses off in the afternoon sun. I only made it about 20 minutes before I had to quit from the unbearable blisters forming on my girly feet. I don’t think they missed me though, I was definitely the worst player on both teams.

Afterwards I went to the snack counter and paid 5 reais (about $1.60 USD) for a ham, egg, lettuce, tomato, ketchup, and mayo sandwich because my body was craving some sort of variety. It wasn’t great but it was a nice change. I skipped dinner that evening and instead watched an episode of Parts Unknown, and did some reading and writing before fading off into yet another early slumber.

DAY 4
On Tuesday morning I woke up around 7am to a lot of commotion. I thought it was just everybody making their way to another shitty breakfast, but I quickly realized people were packing up their bags. I looked at the GPS on my phone and we were nearly to Manaus. That woke me up immediately, so I got up and made my way to the front of the boat to see the sprawling city before us, which seemed to have popped up out of nowhere in the middle of the Amazon. Within the hour, the trip was complete in only about 66 hours total.

Manaus
And just like that, a city of almost two million appears out of nowhere

 

The trip was much more comfortable and organized than I was expecting. It’s not really a good way to see wildlife (or maybe we just weren’t looking hard enough) but you’ll get to see some interesting villages and beautiful sunsets. From what I could tell there are a lot of locals and tourists making the trip, so it’s easy to meet people on board if you’re traveling solo. But really, as long as you’re ready to relax and do nothing for a few days, you’re set. It doesn’t hurt to bring along a book or two and some snacks, but it really is very easy to just sway in your hammock and watch the scenery go by while catching up on some serious napping.

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Adventure Brazil Colombia Guide Outdoor Peru Solo Travel South America Tours Travel

Ten Days in the Amazon on a Budget: Part 1

Part of the reason I chose to do an extended trip through South America was because I couldn’t choose where to visit first on a short vacation: Machu Picchu, Rio de Janeiro, Patagonia, or the Amazon. So naturally, I decided to do them all, plus a bunch of other awesome things in between.

As part of my budget adventure, I planned on taking the three-night slow boat through the Amazon from Leticia, Colombia to Manaus, Brazil because this would only cost me $75 with all meals included, as opposed to the $700+ to fly internationally from Colombia to Brazil (more on this coming soon, stay tuned!). So naturally, it made sense to fit my Amazon experience in during my time in Leticia or Manaus.

(Aside from the cost breakdown at the end, this post is all about the two-day tour I took from Leticia. More info about the other seven days in Leticia, Manaus, and the three-night boat journey coming soon.)

My initial search for Amazon tours brought up a ton of options from Manaus. But they also seemed a bit expensive, and seeing as Manaus is a city of nearly two million, I thought it might be an odd place to go off the grid and spend some time in the secluded depths of the Amazon. Luckily when I arrived in the small tri-border town of Leticia, I met three other solo travelers who wanted to do a tour from there. Since there were four of us it ended up being about 1/3 the price that I was budgeting for one from Manaus, at 240,000 COP (roughly $100 USD). Sold.

We chose the two-day, one-night Javari tour from La Jaganga Hostel, and it was everything I wanted in a quick trip to the rainforest. We considered the three-day, two-night trip, but it really didn’t seem to offer many more activities than the two-day.

The trip took us on the Javari River which separates Peru and Brazil. The idea of an organized Amazon tour was really off-putting to me at first, but it’s pretty much the only option unless you want to end up lost in the Amazon by yourself. Luckily, this didn’t feel like a tour at all. Instead it was just us four and our guide, Francisco, and it felt like we were hanging out with a friend who was just showing us around. We didn’t see another tourist until we were heading back to Leticia on day two.

Francisco
The man, Francisco, and his machete after chopping down some tree branches that once stood in our way

Here’s how our two days went:

DAY 1

We left the hostel around 8:30am in a ten-minute taxi ride to the port across the border in Tabatinga, Brazil, where we met with Francisco. With his round belly and beaming, gummy smile, we all instantly loved him. The five of us jumped in the wooden, canopied boat as Francisco turned in three different directions, pointing out Peru, Brazil, and Colombia. After crossing over to Peru for a quick, yet crucial beer run, we took a leisurely boat ride alongside pink and grey dolphins, brown water, and lush green trees.

Amazon Crew
L to R: Max the German, Josh the Aussie, Francisco the Colombian guide, and Susannah the Colombian

Canoeing through the Amazon

The perfect companion for an Amazon boat ride: rum

About three hours into the ride, we passed a house and waved at the kids as we zoomed past. Next thing we knew, Francisco was turning the boat around to take us for a visit. We climbed the stairs to the wide-open room that hovered over the water on stilts. The family of about nine kids and four adults sat inside, grating and cooking yucca, and spoke Portuguese despite being on the Peruvian side. The kids were in charge of peeling and cutting up the yucca before handing it off to the women to press through a machine and then grating it by hand. Then the man cooked it in a giant pan over a fire, and us gringos ate it by the handful. 

House on the Amazon

Making grated yucca

Cooking the yucca

After our afternoon snack, we continued down the river to another house which was one of only a couple that we passed during the whole 3-4 hour boat ride. Like the last, this house was also on stilts. Since it’s rainy season and the forest is flooded we weren’t able to find dry land to hang up the hammocks, so we stayed the night in this house. It was basically two separate “houses” joined by a short outdoor walkway. One was a fantastic, huge kitchen complete with hammocks, a portable cooktop, a wooden table and bench seats. The other was two stories high, and the main sleeping quarters. The top floor appeared to be for the family, and us guests were split up into rooms: boys in one, girls in the other. Each room had two mosquito-net covered beds and mesh windows that looked right out at the river. The three bathrooms each had a refreshing shower that used rainwater from a tub on the roof, and for the most part you felt like you were showering outside. Quite honestly, it was kind of like a wilderness dream house.

An inside shot of the main sleeping area of the house we stayed in. The downstairs had several different rooms and three bathrooms which you can see into there in the back.

My bed

The kitchen
The ginormous kitchen and baby Victoria who was very curious about my camera

Kitchen

View from the front door of the house. The room in the back is the kitchen area.
Neighbors
I think the family owned this house too, right next door

I unloaded my bag in the room and went for a quick swim because I couldn’t resist playing with the most adorable puppy ever who was climbing on some scraps of wood in front of the house. The water was only about thigh-high, a further reminder that the flooded area around the house is actually dry land during the dry season. Totally unimaginable.

Puppy
Baby puppy! The family pet was walking around on some floating boards trying to figure out how to get back up to the house. I just HAD to jump in the water and play with him!

The family prepared us food which was surprisingly phenomenal. I thought it would be a lot of bland rice and beans like most tours, but again, this was nothing like a normal tour. We had yucca, potatoes and beans, lentils, arepas, pork chops, eggs, fish, piranha, pasta, cucumber and onion salad, carambola juice, camu camu juice, spaghetti, and a few other things I didn’t really recognize but loved the taste. It was like eating at an old friend’s mom’s house; they fed us well and there was a ton food every time we sat down.

Dinner plate #1

Dinner plate #2

The family was so friendly. Apparently they live in town, but they built this house as their kind of getaway house, and to host tourists for an extra income. My only regret is that I didn’t speak more Spanish or Portuguese so that I could’ve conversed with them more like the two in our group who were fluent in Spanish.

After we ate, we set out on the boat again to visit a wildlife conservation area, which looked just like another house on stilts in the middle of the rainforest. When we pulled up in the boat two monkeys immediately ran aboard, climbing on our heads, curling up in our laps, and almost instantly finding and devouring the bag of camu camu berries we’d just picked. The whole time we wandered the property, the monkeys followed us around curiously, hanging from the trees while snacking on fruit and watching our every move.

Pepe, the rambunctious monkey

Monkey Business

Monkey
My flash accidentally went off (seriously, I never use a flash) and this monkey jumped and ran after me while screaming. Scariest moment in the Amazon so far.

Then we got the chance to play with an anaconda that was contained in a wooden shack. Snakes don’t scare me, so I wasn’t so much worried about it biting or choking me as I was about not being strong enough to lift it or take it off without dropping it to the ground and pissing it off. Turns out, with a little help, it wasn’t as heavy as I’d thought and I managed to get a photo with it.

Anaconda
Nevermind the snake, look at this guy’s adorable smile.
Prehistoric Turtle
I think this was called a Mata Mata Turtle, some sort of prehistoric turtle that’s only found in the Amazon region

En español, we learned a bit about the gigantic nearly-extinct arapaima fish and some pretty awesome looking turtles, when suddenly we heard this loud, barreling train-like noise, and looked over to see a wall of rain pouring down about a half mile away and a rainbow forming right in front of us. With my camera and lenses in my hand, two of us sought shelter under the house along with a dog and her pups, a few chickens, and a little girl, while everyone else went up into the house. 

Rainbow

After the brief rainstorm, the sky cleared and we headed to a lagoon to watch the sun set while pink dolphins swam around us. It was definitely one of those “holy shit I’m in the Amazon Rainforest” moments, where my dreams as a third grader were finally fulfilled. Now if only I could figure out a way to see dinosaurs and make it to outer space, third grade Kim would be so jealous.

Amazon Sunset

Sunset on the Amazon

We went back to a delicious candlelight dinner when I realized, and revealed, that this was my first candlelight dinner ever. I think everyone laughed at me. Afterwards, Max and I headed out on a canoe to search for some of the nocturnal animals of the Amazon with the neighbor. This guy had a flashlight that could easily illuminate trees fifty feet away as he searched for the different creatures of the night. It was all kinds of awesome just paddling around this wide open lagoon under the light from a nearly full moon and hundreds of stars. We floated around to the choir of jungle animals as our guide pointed out the different sounds of monkeys, tree rats, frogs, and other Amazonian creatures.

Every so often he’d spot a pair of red eyes and paddle closer. Before I knew it he was pulling small caimans into the boat, letting us hold them before throwing them back in the water. They seemed to freeze up as soon as you touched them, and when we threw them back in the water they swayed their body back and forth like they were still in shock before disappearing.

We also saw a snake swimming through the water, a wide-eyed owl perched on a branch only a few feet away, a tarantula clinging to the side of a tree, and I nearly bashed my face into a bat that was hanging on the side of a branch before it got startled and flew away. It was a truly amazing experience that I couldn’t believe the other two had missed out on by going to bed early.

When we got back, Francisco was partying down with some cachaça caipirinhas he’d mixed up. I tried one but it was a bit too sweet for me, and since I was the only non-Spanish speaker still in the room, I got ready for bed and retired for the night by 10pm.

DAY 2

It started getting light out at the absurd hour of 430AM and the family started stirring about just as early. I looked out the window to see grey skies and decided there wouldn’t be a great sunrise so I went back to sleep.

At a slightly more reasonable hour (about 7AM) I finally got up and showered. After another delicious breakfast, we set out in a canoe to go piranha fishing, which was probably the most hilarious experience of the entire two days. Five of us piled into what probably should’ve been a three-person canoe, without life jackets, and set out again with the neighbor guy. The water was about an inch from spilling into the boat and flooding us out, as we cautiously turned our way into the jungle. Every slight move tipped us to the side as I regretted bringing my SLR on board, so I shoved it in my waterproof bag for safe keeping. After about a half hour we ended up in a pretty strong current, which had us bashing into branches, careening straight for a tree. Josh, the Aussie in our group who was paddling in the front, looked for direction on which way to go but the tide carried us much quicker than the guide could direct us. We crashed right into the tree as Josh calmly stood up, quietly mumbled some profanities, and jumped into the water without even rocking the boat. I knew something had happened, but the slow rate at which he calculated his next move and jumped out without capsizing us was rather impressive. Just as quickly, I realized that he’d just ran right into a swarm of wasps when I saw at least a hundred of them flying around a grey nest. Both Josh and the paddle were being pushed downstream with the current and we kind of just sat there watching as the guide backed us up away from the wasps. Josh eventually climbed back on board with stings all over his face and neck, and I held off on making fun of him until later in the evening.

About an hour and a half after setting out, we dropped our poles (sticks with fishing line and a hook tied on, baited with fish) into the water right in the middle of some shrubbery. Almost immediately I could feel the piranhas biting, but the first few times I pulled the hook up those bitches robbed me of my bait. 

Now you should know that I’m a fairly poor sport. I’m fiercely competitive when it comes to dumb shit. I learned early on that I suck at sports and it’s a waste of energy to get pissed because I suck at soccer, basketball, kickball, running, etc. I just do what I can and have fun. But when it comes to things like bowling, beer pong, Mario Kart, tejo, and apparently fishing, I get livid when things don’t go my way. I focus intently and the only words to leave my mouth are usually curse words. So you can imagine the scene as we all sat quietly in a canoe while the piranhas stole my limited bait right off my hook.

Then the guide caught one.

Then Josh caught one.

Then I got pissed. 

Using that anger, on the next nibble I yanked the hook right from the water and voila—a piranha! I shouted a few obscenities, took some pictures, and to add insult to injury to the piranha, the bait was still in tact when we took it off the hook. I dropped the line back down into the water and felt another bite. Again, I pulled a second piranha up less than 20 seconds later, with the same piece of bait. Talk about killing two fish with one piece of bait, suckersss! 

Lunch! My first piranha catch

 

I was on a roll. At this point, Josh had also caught two and stopped for a smoke, Susannah had given up a long time ago, and I put another piece of bait on my hook. We only had a couple of pieces of bait left, and after my adrenaline wore off I realized what a dick I was for baiting up again when Max had yet to catch a fish and was still trying. After another piranha robbed me of that piece, I reluctantly put the pole down and decided to chill out and let Max try to wrangle one in with the last pieces of bait. He didn’t, by the way.

The ride back to the house wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the ride in, as the guide took the helm and guided us through a calmer area full of giant Amazon water lilies. We returned for our last delicious lunch which also included the freshly prepared piranha. They don’t have much meat on their bones, but piranha meat is delicious. It’s not fishy at all, just super juicy and tender.

Amazon Water Lilies
The giant Amazon water lilies are lined with spikes underneath to ward off predators, and can support around 20kg, if not more
Fish lunch
I took this pic through the green mesh screen of the girls preparing our fish right in the river. If I spoke their language I would’ve offered to help.
Sorry not sorry, piranhas. Thanks for being delicious.

Around 2pm we packed up and left the house for another leisurely ride back to Leticia. We saw toucans and tons of other colorful birds flying in the sky, sloths slowly climbing amongst the leaves, huge towering ceiba kapok trees, and all in all completely different scenery as we cut through the jungle.

I don’t really know what’s going on here, but we were trying to take an interesting selfie.

We made it back to Leticia around sunset, as James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful” BLARED from the Peruvian border. Definitely a weird choice considering how little English music I’ve heard down here, but it gave us a good laugh.

Should you do it?

Duh, that goes without saying. Visiting the Amazon was one of the coolest experiences I’ve had so far, and I barely scratched the surface. It was a fantastic two days and I really think we saw and did a lot. If you do the same tour during the dry season you’ll probably have more options to hike through the rainforest, sleep in hammocks outdoors, and possibly see even more wildlife. But we definitely got to see much more than I thought we would, and I can’t recommend this experience enough. I would love to go back during the dry season and do a longer trip, but come on, $100 for two days of transportation, food, lodging, and activities? Totally worth it. It’s worth noting that the more people you have, the cheaper it is. And if you need a translator you will pay even more, so it helps to have at least one person in your group be fluent in both Spanish and your native language.

Pricing breakdown for ten days in the Amazon region:
Flight from Bogotá to Leticia: $112 (though one guy I met said he booked one for $40, I have no idea how)
Three nights at La Jangada Hostel in Leticia: $30
Two-day, one-night tour: $100
Three-night boat from Leticia to Manaus: $75 (more on this adventure coming soon!)
Two nights in Manaus: $21 (I redeemed hotel points for a free stay, just had to pay taxes. But you can find a hostel for just as cheap.)

Grand total: $338, averaging about $33.80 per day, plus a little extra for food in Leticia and Manaus.

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Adventure Guide Money Saving Tips Outdoor Scuba Diving Solo Travel South America Unesco World Heritage Sites Wildlife

Galápagos Islands Travel Guide & Money Saving Tips

The Galápagos. A cluster of volcanic islands, teeming with rare, exotic wildlife, rising out of the Pacific Ocean some six-hundred miles off of mainland Ecuador. Sounds like an expensive trip, doesn’t it? Sure, it can be. But it doesn’t have to be.

Don’t get me wrong, the Galápagos aren’t exactly a backpacker destination. The costs of getting there alone will run you at least $500—including a ~$400 flight from Quito or Guayaquil, the $100 park entry fee, and the $10 transit control card. (Word of advice: do NOT lose that card, or you may end up missing your flight home if no one is around to sell you a new one upon departure.)

But really, once you get to the islands you can spend as little or as much as you want and still have an awesome time. So if you’re considering a trip to the Galápagos, or even just looking for a unique beach vacation, hopefully this guide will help you determine whether or not the Galápagos Islands could be in your near future.

 

Tourists in a water taxi in Puerto Ayora
Tourists in a water taxi in Puerto Ayora

 

All about the Galápagos Islands…aka the stuff you can easily find on Wikipedia.

The Galápagos are a National Park and UNESCO World Heritage Site, so much of the land and surrounding marine area is carefully monitored and preserved by park authorities. The archipelago is made up of about 13-18 main islands and a few smaller ones (everyone will tell you a different number). Of those, only four or five are inhabited, and the rest you need to be with a tour guide to access.

The population is roughly 25,000, with about half of those people living in Santa Cruz. I showed up expecting an untouched, desolate paradise with like a 100:1 sea lion to human ratio, so I was definitely surprised to see the town of Puerto Ayora full of bars, souvenir shops, restaurants, cars, and people.

You can easily research the different islands to find out which are best for your visit, but here are a few notes I took on the ones that stood out to me:

Bartolomé uninhabited island with the breathtakingly scenic Pinnacle rock, and an awesome lava flow that spills right onto a white, sandy, deserted beach.

Española- I didn’t visit but since it’s the oldest island, it sounds like a kickass wildlife spot with tons of endemic species. It’s also the furthest South so unfortunately it’s not an option to visit on a day trip, only on a cruise, which we’ll jump into more in a minute.

Fernandina- basically an active volcanic island covered in old black lava flows. I got excited thinking I’d be able to see active lava flows, but after reading that tours don’t take you anywhere near the crater, I chose not to go.

Floreana- most people I spoke with liked Floreana, but I thought it was worth skipping. We saw some tortoises, did a small hike, visited a painfully rocky black lava rock beach with cloudy snorkeling due to the current, and of course stopped by Post Office Bay. Nothing special.

Isabela- my favorite Island that I visited, and not just because it’s shaped like a seahorse. There are volcanoes to hike, flamingos to see, and penguins and sea lions to swim with. Population is about 2,000 people, and the largest town of Puerto Villamil has dirt roads, no ATMs, and is super chill. I just wouldn’t recommend diving here because there’s only one dive shop on the island and they’re not exactly the most reputable bunch.

North Seymore Island- an easy day trip from Puerto Ayora and a good spot for beginner divers.

Rabida- red beaches. Enough said.

 

The #1 way to save money

The biggest way to save money in the Galápagos is to stay on land. It’s what I did and it’s the only way I can recommend making a trip to the Galápagos affordable (unless of course you have your own sailboat and you’re sailing down there and living aboard your own boat for free).

When most people talk about dropping thousands to visit the islands, that’s because they’re taking a cruise. These small boats of roughly 20 or so people set you up with a tour guide and tout you around to a new island each day. If you book in advance it looks like you’ll spend at least a grand—all food and excursions included—but you can also get some pretty good deals if you book last minute from the islands (not sure if I’d risk taking that chance during high season though). A lot of people aren’t even aware that you can stay on land too, for as low as $15/night in Puerto Ayora (the main town of the Galápagos), and take much cheaper day trips out to visit a number of islands.

The only downside I could see to staying on land is that you won’t be able to visit some of the islands that are much further out. But there’s so much to do and see on those nearby islands, you can easily fill up a ten-day trip without missing a thing.

 

Tell me more about these day trips

Most island day trips head out of Puerto Ayora, on Santa Cruz and will run about $60-$110 depending on the island, usually with lunch included. Walk along Avenida Charles Darwin and you’ll be able to book whatever trips you want from a number of vendors.

I would suggest figuring out which spots are must-sees for you, then choose a good base island or two. For example, I stayed in Puerto Ayora for five nights and took day trips out to Floreana and Bartolomé, while also spending some time exploring the island and beaches by bike and foot. Then I took the $40 water taxi to spend my last four nights on Isabela, where I walked out to the Flamingo Lagoon to see pink flamingos for free, went on a 6-hour hike up to Sierra Negra and Volcán Chico for only $35 (including lunch), and dropped $75 to go snorkeling at Los Tuneles. Sounds like a lot for a snorkeling trip, but this was a guided tour snorkeling through old lava tubes, coming across caves of sharks and manta rays, seahorses, and swimming with baby sea lions. Worth it.

All in all I spent around $300 on at least five days worth of trips and was busy every single day.

Diving is another popular activity, but just like anywhere else it’s not cheap. There are tons of dive shops in Puerto Ayora that’ll likely run you around $110-$175 for a two-dive trip along with some food and underwater photos. But when you’re 40 feet down swimming alongside hammerhead sharks, it’s obviously worth it. Even if you start puking like I did.

Bartolome
Bartolome
Black rock beach on Floreana
A gorgeous but painful beach on Floreana
Scuba diving with manta rays off Turtle Island
Scuba diving with manta rays off Turtle Island

 

Where should I stay?

Like I’ve mentioned a few times already, Puerto Ayora on Santa Cruz is a good place to start because it’s basically the main hub of the islands. There are a bunch of hotel options including backpacker friendly hostels for less than $15/night, more private hotels and b&b’s for around $50, and a few fancy way-out-of-my-budget places that I think were around a couple hundred a night. But with so much hustle and bustle, I wouldn’t recommend staying too long or you might start to forget you’re in the Galápagos. There are also a couple of desolate high-end resorts up in the highlands that are pretty far from the coast, and I’d imagine quite expensive.

Puerto Villamil on Isabela is another great town, and one of my favorite places I’ve ever been to. I stayed at Caleta Iguana in the $70/night private room with a private bath, which included a delicious homemade breakfast every morning. It’s right on the beach, and has the most happening happy hour in town. Every evening people come from all over the town to have a few drinks, walk across the tightrope, party around the fire, listen to music, sway in the hammocks, and watch the sun set.

 

Sounds awesome. So how do I get there?

For some reason a lot of people ask me this, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from giving some smartass remark about a booking site and an airplane.

Flights travel from mainland Ecuador either through Quito or Guayaquil, and take about 2-3 hours depending on which city.

There are two airports in the Galápagos, one on Baltra and one on San Cristóbal. Most people (including me) fly into Baltra, which is a tiny island just north of Santa Cruz that basically looks like Mars. After landing you’ll jump on an airport bus which will take you to the docks for free. From there you’ll cram into a water ferry, which is actually like an oversized canoe that will leave you questioning exactly how buoyancy works with that many tourists. As it chugs against the surprisingly strong current, the reality is that you could probably toss a football over to Santa Cruz so it’s a fairly quick transfer for $0.80. Once you’re on Santa Cruz you can catch a bus through the highlands, all the way to the other end of the island to Puerto Ayora. It takes about an hour and only costs about $1.50, but they cram the shit out of the bus. I enjoyed the bumpy ride while crammed between seats on the plastic astroturf-like floor.

Sweating on the bus
Sweating on the bus

 

I can’t tell you much about arriving in San Cristóbal, as I didn’t get the chance to visit. But I do know it’s the easternmost island with a population of about 6,000 people, and I’m told you can sunbathe alongside sea lions if you visit the beach.

Either way, transportation between the islands will run you roughly $40 for a ferry ride, and take about 2-3 hours, so limit and plan your transfers wisely.

 

What are some free/cheap things I can do while on land?

You’ll need a tour guide to access many places, but there are still a ton of free things you can do that are just as cool.

Santa Cruz


– Explore the Darwin Research Center and visit the giant tortoise and iguana breeding center.

– Walk to Tortuga Bay. Once you reach the entry point just outside of town, locals will tell you it’s about a 20 minute walk. Bullshit. I didn’t have a watch or phone on me but it’s definitely closer to 45+ minutes. Despite the heat and humidity it’s an easy walk, but once you emerge from the partially tree-covered pathway, you’ll see a long white stretch of gorgeous, untouched natural beach with perfectly blue and white waves breaking at the shoreline. This area’s a bit too choppy to swim but there will likely be a few surfers in the water along with some sharks flapping about in with the waves. Walk another 15 minutes or so to the end of the beach and you’ll come across the swimming bay which is much calmer, and probably at least a little crowded with locals. You can even pay a few bucks and take a kayak out to explore on your own.

– I didn’t make it up there, but if you’re all about seeing some giant, old ass tortoises in their natural habitat, head up to the highlands and explore El Chato Tortoise Reserve.

– Cliff diving at Las Grietas. Intrigued? It costs like 50 cents for a 15 minute water taxi ride from the Puerto Ayora docks, and a short hike until you’re there. It’s basically a crevice between two cliffs where salt and fresh water meet, and the lack of a current makes it a popular spot to swim and take daring jumps.

– Grab a bike and explore the city. I hopped on a mountain bike and went as far as I could before the hill started to get to be too much for my lazy ass. I rode around the back streets and explored the neighborhoods and it was definitely a day well spent for only a few dollars.

 

Old tortoise
Old ass tortoise
Tortuga Bay
Tortuga Bay
Biking the streets of Puerto Ayora
Biking the streets of Puerto Ayora
Exploring the streets of Puerto Ayora
Exploring the streets of Puerto Ayora

 

Puerto Villamil, Isla Isabela

Isabela is an incredibly behind-the-times island with painfully slow internet, which was absolutely perfect.
 It’s really easy to spend mornings exploring and afternoons napping on the beach without a worry in the world.

– Hike Volcán Chico/Sierra Negra. The guided volcano hike is only $35 with lunch, and in my opinion totally worth it. Not so much worth it if you just hike up to Sierra Negra, but definitely so if you continue on to Volcán Chico. Here’s more in-depth info about what to expect on that hike.

– Walk up to the Flamingo Lagoon. There’s a manmade lagoon where flamingos tend to hang out. A pickup truck taxi will charge $10 to take you there, but you can easily walk or bike there for free. Follow the main road that runs along the water (I didn’t see a name because it’s a dirt road and I really don’t think there even was a name). Pass Caleta Iguana, the hot pink beachfront hostel on the left, and the Booby Trap cafe/restaurant on your right, and turn right up the dirt road. You’ll pass La Jungla hostel and a soccer field along the way, but keep walking. Locals will tell you you’re super close, but it took me about 20-25 minutes to get there. Eventually you’ll come to the Tortoise Breeding Center, and finally the lagoon.

– 
Walk on the beach. There are Galápagos penguins and gorgeous sunsets right there, so really there’s no reason to leave.

– Go down to the happy hour at Caleta Iguana, the Westernmost hostel/hotel on the beach, and hang out for some drinks and watch the sunset.

 

Pink flamingos on Isla Isabela
Pink flamingos on Isla Isabela
Hiking Volcan Chico
Hiking Volcan Chico
Caleta Iguana on Isla Isabela
Caleta Iguana on Isla Isabela
Pausing for a selfie at Los Tuneles
Pausing for a selfie at Los Tuneles
Sharks at Los Tuneles
Snorkeling with sharks at Los Tuneles
Snorkeling with sea turtles at Los Tuneles
Swimming with sea turtles at Los Tuneles
Snorkeling with sea lions at Los Tuneles
Swimming with sea lions at Los Tuneles
Isla Isabela
The perfect dirt roads of Isla Isabela
Sunset from Caleta Iguana
Sunset from Caleta Iguana

 

Other helpful things to remember/expect/know

Go during low season
The weather is generally the same year round, but low season is April, May, September and October. I’d suggest going then to avoid the crowds, and you may even save a few bucks on day trips and cruises.

The Galápagos are a tsunami zone
Especially if you don’t know Spanish, at least learn the escape route so when you hear the sirens start waling and see people start running, you know what to do. On Puerto Ayora I learned the hard way that you should head uphill on Av Baltra until you reach Bellavista.

They’re also not necessarily a beach destination
There are quite a few beaches, but they’re not really easy to get to. You generally can’t stay on a resort and walk outside to lay out during the day. In Puerto Ayora, it’ll take an entire day to head to the beach, and on many other islands the beaches are rocky or take a lot of time to get to via boat.

Don’t flush toilet paper
Sure I bitched about this first world problem in London, but being in such a fragile environmentally-friendly ecosystem, I was actually more than willing to comply.

Bring enough cash
Some of the islands don’t have ATMs, and many places don’t accept credit cards. Puerto Ayora was fine—it had at least one ATM and one bank, but Isabela had neither. I was told sometimes tourists withdrawal more money than the ATM has anyway, so sometimes they’re left SOL. To be on the safe side, bring a bit of cash.

USD is the official currency
Despite being a province of Ecuador, the official currency of the Galápagos Islands is actually the US Dollar. So if you’re traveling from the US you don’t have to worry about losing money in exchange rates or frequent trips to the bank.

Bring protection
No not that kind of protection ya pervs. Okay wait actually, yeah you should probably do that too if you plan on getting freaky. But I’m talking sunscreen. Like any island, items are marked up. Like $30 for a small bottle of sunscreen. So bring what you need, the sun is ridiculous down there. I usually don’t wear sunblock on vacations, but the whole trip I was slathered up in SPF 30 every day and still left with an almost-Latin tan. Than being said, I stupidly took a 4oz Neutrogena sunblock and another travel size stick with me and had to buy more halfway through my trip. Bye bye money.

Walk an extra few blocks for food
If you visit any of the restaurants along Avenida Charles Darwin in Puerto Ayora, you can expect to pay tourist prices. I’m used to New York prices, so $9 for a beer, a cheese sandwich, and an order of fried plantains and queso was a steal. But if you walk the extra five minutes up a couple of blocks to Bordados El Alquimista, you’ll find a road full of outdoor-seating restaurants serving up super cheap traditional Ecuadorian food and $1 beers.

There’s also an amazing little shack/bar on the playground right near the docks. Almost every night I went down and had an empanada and a large, probably 40 oz Pilsener for $4.50. Other tourists told me I was getting ripped off and could’ve gotten the same snack for about $2.50 elsewhere, but I couldn’t help it. It was awesome to sit amongst locals and try to improve my Spanish right in the center of all the port action.

Bring seasickness medicine
If you think there’s the slightest chance that you might get seasick, bring some pills. You’ll likely spend a lot of time on boats down there so it’s better to be prepared than barfing your lunch out over the side of the boat for two hours. The islands aren’t close together, so it’s common to spend 2-3 hours seeing nothing but the huge, rolling waves of the Pacific on every horizon. And those waves are not small.

Bring a water bottle

The Galápagos are hot and you’re going to need a lot of water. The locals don’t even drink the tap there, and all of the hotels I visited or researched had a water cooler in the lobby for guests to fill up on. So bring a jug and keep it full. Some places ask for donations, others don’t.

 

Fried plantains and questo and an iced tea
Fried plantains and queso and an iced tea

 

So, should I go?

For better or for worse (i’m really leaning towards worse), the Galápagos are becoming more and more popular as a tourist destination. Despite the efforts to manage tourism so that it doesn’t destroy the ecosystem, the islands are definitely suffering. You see sheets of oil across the water in the ports and litter carelessly washed up on the rocks of shore. And even though most of the islands are still uninhabited, those that are inhabited are encouraging tourism more and more. Isabela for example, is the largest (size-wise) of the islands with a population of only 2,000. At first they shunned tourism and wanted no part in it—until they started seeing the financial benefits. Now there are buildings being constructed all along the beach which actually made me a little angry. I know I know, this makes me a bit of a hypocrite. But it’s a perfect island with dirt roads and no ATMs, where everybody knows each other. Hell by the end of my trip I knew most of the locals. It doesn’t need hoards of tourists moving in, changing the local cultures and environment.

Sometimes making decisions on whether or not to visit certain places that are honestly better left untouched are difficult for us travelers who are always looking for new, unique experiences and connections. So I really think that anyone visiting the Galápagos should make a conscious decision to do so. Don’t go just for the hell of it. Respect the land, the people, and the wildlife. Learn a thing or two, and give back whenever you can. And if you do go, hopefully this guide will help with your beginning steps of planning.

Categories
Adventure Biking New York Outdoor

Biking Through NYC On The Five Boro Bike Tour

This afternoon I completed the Five Boro Bike Tour in NYC. This evening my Jell-o-like limbs are confined to the couch.

The Five Boro Bike Tour is an annual cycling tour of NYC, and it’s the largest recreational cycling event in the US. This year there were 32,000 riders, as they closed off a bike-only route through Manhattan, The Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, and finally Staten Island, while crossing over five bridges.

I woke up this morning at 545AM and seriously considered staying in bed. After a hot shower to wake me up I layered on my giant diaper (aka biking shorts) and workout clothes. I was still full from last night’s Chipotle burrito, but I forced myself to fuel up with a peanut buttered bagel, a banana, string cheese, and a Sambazon Mocha Java drink. I was ready to do this.

I met the rest of the group I was riding with down at my office before we biked over to Sixth Avenue to join the first group of riders slightly ahead of the starting point. NOTE TO ANYONE THINKING OF DOING THIS RIDE: drop in slightly ahead of the starting point so you don’t have to deal with getting delayed from the massive hoards of people backed up for blocks.

We made our way up a car-free Sixth Avenue easily. Along the way there were live bands on the sidewalks, and small groups of people either cheering us on or pissed that they couldn’t cross the street. The air was brisk and the sun nonexistent behind thick grey clouds. I didn’t mind the goosebumps on my arms as I passed the first two ad agencies I worked at, the NHL store where I used to work in college, and Radio City where I walked at my graduation. It was kind of like a greatest hits tour for me. Plus it was nice riding on the city streets without the constant horn-honking traffic.

We entered Central Park at 59th Street and got our first taste of uphill riding. It didn’t take very long before we were on 110th moving into Harlem. It was still smooth, effortless sailing and we trekked across our first bridge, the Madison Avenue Bridge. From there the ride only went about two miles in the Bronx before we were crossing back over into Manhattan and onto the FDR, a road I’d so often feared for my life in the back of many, many cars, yet I was now biking in the center lane with no worries at all. The dark tunnel under Gracie Mansion echoed with loud cheers as we entered, and when we finally emerged back into the daylight the daunting Queensboro Bridge (sorry, I refuse to call it the 59th Street Bridge) began to peek out.

I was a little intimidated on the ramp, but I switched gears, stopped talking, and started pedaling. Before I knew it I was past the ramp and only a little sweaty. A few people got off and walked their bikes, but the rest of us pushed on and right over. Just like that, we were in our third borough, Queens.

TDFBBT
Clowning around at the first rest stop in Astoria Park

 

The first rest stop was at around mile 19 in Astoria Park and was basically mandatory, so we dismounted and grabbed a quick snack. By now the wind was really whipping, and I longed for a long-sleeved shirt. We all agreed we were warmer while cycling so we jumped back on and kept going. I had been 100% unfazed by the ride until the moment I got back on my bike and realized my thighs were definitely getting weaker.

After Queens we found ourselves riding through Greenpoint, Brooklyn and eventually Williamsburg along Kent Avenue. This is where the wind really began to pick up, so much that it was bringing my bike to a complete halt as I continued pedaling. This is also where I fell in love with DUMBO and for the first time ever imagined myself living in Brooklyn. I know, I even shocked myself.

Somewhere along the way right before we stopped so I could take a quick pee (which as it turns out I didn’t really have to take, my girly bits were just being fooled by the bike seat) Suzannah thought she’d channel her inner biker and throw some hand signals so those behind her knew to stop—and she wiped out. I felt bad that we didn’t even noticed and continued pedaling on without her, but she gracefully rejoined us with hardly a scratch.

Screen shot 2014-05-04 at 7.44.08 PM
ESB from the BQE

We were about halfway through Brooklyn when I took on the daunting task of simple math, calculating how many more miles until the finish line. The wind was really difficult to pedal against, I was freezing cold, and my lungs hurt from breathing in the cold air. But we kept going, and going, and going, right onto the BQE Expressway. A man at the entrance ramp cheered us on, shouting only “nine more miles to go!” That would’ve been great had most of those nine miles not felt like an onramp.

After I was thoroughly exhausted, tinkering along slowly against the wind, three of us girls who had managed to stick together came to a common realization at the same time. We were all in agreement that we’d be walking over the Verrazano Bridge together.

Screen shot 2014-05-04 at 7.43.46 PM
Riding on the BQE
TDFBBT
I can’t even believe this ad. In what world would a person who’s doing or considering doing drugs turn to rugs instead?
TDFBBT
Thanks MTA

 

Before we got to the Verrazano Bridge there was a tempting drop out point in which a good amount of people were actually taking to be driven over. But we continued onward.

The Verrazano is the massive bridge connecting Brooklyn and Staten Island. Its central span is 4,260 feet long, which is 60 feet longer than the Golden Gate Bridge, giving it the longest bridge span in the Americas. It also has no bike paths, so the only time you can ride across it on a bike is during the Five Boro Bike Tour each year.

TDFBBT
So close, yet still so far away

 

I chugged some water, took some deep breaths, gave myself a little pep talk in my head, and started pushing harder. Now that I was there, I didn’t want to stop and walk. I wanted to power through. As I pedaled my way slowly up the on ramp I looked to see just how far until the middle point where we would begin to descend. It didn’t  seem THAT far. I kept going.

 

TDFBBT
I sure as hell did own this bridge!
TDFBBT
It doesn’t look THAT bad…

One by one people started to jump off their bikes and walk. I kept going. The wind picked up and the impossible climb got even more difficult. By now I’d lost everyone in my group once I watched the last girl dismount her bike.

There were all kinds of motivational quotes on the ground in bright paint, people on loudspeakers giving words of encouragement along the sidelines, and I could hear music up ahead. The higher I got, the more the wind picked up and the more I swerved. I could feel my bike moving perpendicular to the direction I was riding with each gust of wind, skidding me a few inches to the left each time it blew. The incline seemed endless and felt even worse than it looked. I got close enough to hear the song playing at the finish line, Empire State of Mind, and my mind started to reminisce about how far I’ve come living in New York for the past (almost) eight years. (Yes I’m a nerd.)

It only took a few verses and I passed the rather lackluster finish line.

Finally, I’d made it! I was done! Time to throw my bike and my body onto the grass and relax!

TDFBBT
Almost there!
TDFBBT
Finish!

Not really.

I don’t really understand how they determined where to place the finish line, but it was deceiving. I figured it was all downhill from there, but the wind was so strong we were still pedaling at a snail’s pace for another 5-10 minutes or so before reaching the bottom of the bridge.

TDFBBT
For a second I questioned whether or not they put this side here specifically for the bike tour
TDFBBT
View of Manhattan from the Verrazano Bridge

 

We made it to the park at the end where they were holding a festival full of free cheese and chocolate milk, fun music, and pricey food. We only sat down for like two minutes before realizing it was freezing ass cold, and we’d be much happier to just get on the ferry and back to the city ahead of the crowds (since we were still at the front-ish of the pack).

 

TDFBBT
Glory gates
TDFBBT
The whole group reunited at the end
TDFBBT
We stopped on the way to the ferry for a quick shot of lower Manhattan from Staten Island

Well after the finish line and the festival we had to get back on our bikes and ride about another 3 miles to the ferry, complete with a few more hills. By now all of our butts, thighs, wrists, hands, and backs were telling us to take a break.

Luckily they moved us swiftly right onto a ferry and immediately to Manhattan where we arrived near my old apartment on Wall Street. I led the group back to our office to drop off our bikes on my old bicycle route underneath the FDR, when suddenly I felt my back wheel completely drop out. It only took 40+ miles, but I got a flat tire and was riding on the rim. Ironically we were about 25 steps from a bike rental shop, so they let me use their pump after our group’s handheld one failed. Thankfully my tire held the air so I could finish the ride.

SHOULD YOU DO IT?

Yes! It’s so awesome to see the city from a bike in so many areas where they’re usually prohibited! And no, you don’t have to be overly active or in awesome shape to complete it, but it couldn’t hurt. It really wasn’t as brutal as I thought it was going to be, and though I struggled a bit for the last 10 miles or so, I didn’t have to quit.

Just make sure to ride a good bike, wear padded biking shorts, and perhaps most importantly START EARLY. If you’re in the front of the group you’re much, much more likely to have a better time. We only experienced congestion once while merging in Central Park and once at the mandatory rest stop, but the rest of the ride we were comfortably distanced from other riders. I’d heard about other groups being so backed up they had to get off and walk for like an hour. Also remember, it’s not a race so you can stop however often you need to refuel and hydrate along the way.

The ride takes place on the first Sunday in May every year, and tickets go on sale in January so be sure to keep an eye on the site well in advance as they do tend to sell out. I paid $90 for my general registration pass, but I think it was definitely worth it. The ride itself took about four hours for us to complete, including two stops (totaling about 30 minutes), but after the festival and ferry, it took about 5 1/2 hours total.

Oh, and it’s a killer workout.

Categories
Adventure Outdoor Scuba Diving South America Unesco World Heritage Sites Wildlife

Scuba Diving Round 2: Swimming with Hammerheads

I was really looking forward to doing a redemption dive in the Galapagos Islands—just one kickass dive to erase all the bad memories from Florida. But after reading online that the dive sites are best for advanced divers and known for their strong currents, not their water clarity, I wasn’t sure how great it could actually be.

Whatever. I just wanted to dive without emptying my guts into the ocean.

I decided to go with Scuba Iguana based on their reputation (and a solid recommendation from a very attractive Latin diver I’d met). They had one last spot on their dive scheduled for my last day on Santa Cruz, so I paid the $175, signed some paperwork freeing them from any responsibility should I die or get dismembered, got fitted with all of my gear, then went to dinner eagerly anticipating the next morning. My plan was to grab a quick bite then go back to the hotel to hydrate and brush up on my scuba skills before calling it an early night.

An hour later the whole tsunami thing happened and completely destroyed my plans.

I didn’t get back to my hotel until the wee hours of the morning so I started to think diving wouldn’t be the best idea, especially with my nerves still on edge. Plus two divers in the shelter told me that diving the next morning would be a bad idea because there would likely be even stronger currents and lower visibility.

I woke up a couple hours later and tried to call the shop to tell them I wasn’t feeling it that day, secretly hoping it was canceled. I assumed that they would understand since my PADI courses continuously harped on the need to be a responsible diver and not go diving when you’re quite feeling up for it so that you don’t endanger the rest of the group.

Long story short, I couldn’t get through to them until they called me over an hour and a half later, and despite Scuba Iguana’s stellar diving reputation, they didn’t give a fuck about my safety concerns and hesitations. They refused to reimburse me even though it would have been as simple as throwing out the carbon copy of my card they had yet to send off to the bank. So not only did I not go diving, I was out $175.

The next day I was feeling back to my normal self and I was pissed that I’d let fear get the best of me on my last day in Santa Cruz. So I decided to try, try again on Isabela Island. There was only one diving company there and they didn’t have a great reputation. But I had made up my mind, I was not leaving the Galapagos without going diving and $150 later I was signed up for attempt #2.

 

Wall of fish

 

Diving day came and I did everything by the book. I took seasickness pills, ate breakfast, drank a ton of water. I was ready to go. As we sped out to Turtle Island I was actually really excited, and before I could think about it all of us were bobbing around in the choppy water. We didn’t even do any checks to make sure our gear was functioning properly, they just handled it themselves and hurried us into the water.

Just as quickly Harry and the other non-English speaking divemaster were ready to go under. I dumped all the air from my BCD and once my head was under I sank like an anchor. Due to our shitty preparation I think my weight belt was way too heavy because getting neutrally buoyant is actually one thing I’m pretty good at. This time I was all over the place trying not to touch the rock and coral below me. Luckily the sign of struggle is universal, so the divemaster tried to inflate and deflate my BCD with quick bursts, using up tons of oxygen before giving up and grabbing my hand to drag me along. We floated around holding hands for a few minutes before I realized this was the most romance I’ve had in a long time, and naturally after a few minutes I got weirded out and let go.

 

Scuba diving

 

I was using up a ton of oxygen trying to fill my lungs with air as it was the only thing that seemed to keep me slightly above the ocean floor. But I felt great. The vomit-fest of the Florida Keys seemed so far away.

Suddenly everything got really dark like a storm cloud moving in. I looked up to see we were in the shadow of a massive manta ray gliding about ten feet above me. I’ve never seen anything so big, so close in the water. I was half wishing it would swoop down and wrap me up like a pig-in-a-blanket in its massive fins.

 

Manta ray

 

Then it happened, the highlight of my dive. The only thing I really wanted to see while I was underwater. About 15 feet away a hammerhead shark that was at least 9 feet long slowly swam past, not paying any attention to us with its goofy eyes. I’m not particularly scared of sharks, but I wasn’t sure how I’d react to seeing one 40 ft under water, though I definitely wanted to find out. Seconds later three more hammerheads appeared and swam by. Oddly enough it felt just like seeing them in an aquarium. I was simply observing the sharks as they paid no attention to us or anything that swam by. I didn’t feel nervous or scared at all, in fact I felt the urge to swim in front of them and see if they would even notice me head-on.

 

Shark

 

We swam along with tons of crazy-looking fish, reef sharks, starfish, and more unidentifiable creatures. There was something new to see at each turn, which was definitely the selling point to diving in the GalapagosFar too quickly I realized I was already down to 700 PSI in my tank, which was when we were supposed to start heading up. Unfortunately I was the only one even remotely close to going up, so the divemaster motioned for me to head up alone.

 

Sea turtle

Sea turtle

Seahorse

 

If you don’t know much about diving, basically you can’t just pop right up to the surface or you risk decompression sickness, and you can get the bends and/or die (hence the pre-dive paperwork). To stay on the safe side you should ascend slowly, then stop for about 3-5 minutes at around 3 meters/15 feet. Since my depth gauge seemed to be off and I was without a watch, I knew I’d have difficulty determining the right depth & duration for the safety stop. I kept trying to communicate with the divemaster that I didn’t want to go up alone, but it was pretty hard considering you can’t speak under water. And I didn’t want to ruin the dive for the rest of the group so I sucked it up and started up alone.

 

Fish

 

For the first couple seconds I started rising slowly and steadily below my air bubbles. Then out of nowhere I was being pulled up like I was being beamed up by aliens. I tried to slow down but my head was above water in a matter of seconds. Shit.

The surface was choppy, and I started to get dizzy as the boat came to get me. I swam my way against the current towards the boat, which seemed to take about a week and a half. By the time I got there I was exhausted, breathing heavily and my limbs worthless. The crew had me take off my BCD and hand it up to them which was incredibly hard to do. I felt like I was going to pass out. Then they had me take off my fins, but with such little strength left I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stay afloat without them so I latched onto the ladder like a Barrel of Monkeys game piece, my body bashing against it, bruising me with each wave.

I tried to climb the ladder which was even more difficult than all those times I failed trying to climb the knotted rope in gym class. I felt like I weighed 1800 pounds, but with the help of the crew I fell into the boat and made my way to a seat. My head was pounding and I felt dizzy. My stomach started to churn again, just like last time. Except this time I was worried I’d gotten the bends from rising up too quickly. I kept telling myself that I was okay and that I needed to calm down and focus on something other than feeling like shit.

After about 10 minutes the others made their way to the boat as I took a few deep breaths and a few sips of water. The boat crew gave us a snack but I knew that snack was going to turn into fish food if I put it in my mouth.

Everyone suited back up for dive two as I sat staring off in complete silence before deciding to sit it out. My stomach felt the same as it did in Florida, and I knew as soon as I put the regulator in my mouth I would be puking. So I went up to the front of the boat and stared off at the horizon. I made it about ten more minutes before I was bent over the bow, heaving warm bile into the Pacific. Then I wiped my mouth off and posed for this seasick selfie:

 

Seasick selfie

 

I don’t know what it is with diving, but my stomach can’t seem to handle it. I’ve been on countless boats in my lifetime and I spent more than half of my days in the Galapagos on boats, and I’ve never been seasick until after I’ve been diving.

Weird, my stomach can handle Taco Bell’s destructive goodness like nobody should be able to, but I can’t handle a little compressed air.

*All the underwater photos in this post are from a lovely girl named Dorieke, who was kind enough to send them to me since my camera wasn’t waterproof past 43ft. Thanks Dorieke!

Categories
Adventure Hiking South America

Hiking Sierra Negra and Volcán Chico in the Galápagos

While in the Galápagos I felt the urge to climb to the highest peaks and peer down into the very things that created the archipelago (probably because volcanoes are obviously some of the most impressive works of mother nature, ever). So my first day on Isabela I set out to hike Sierra Negra and Volcán Chico.

I was told to prepare for any kind of weather—one minute you could be walking in the pouring rain through ankle-deep mud, and the next scrambling over slippery lava rocks in the scorching equatorial sun. So I stuffed my backpack with plenty of sunblock, a poncho, camera gear, and enough water and snacks to last a couple of days if necessary. Knowing how much of a sweaty mess I am, I threw on a moisture-wicking undershirt beneath a tshirt, along with a baseball hat and sunglasses. The only place I was failing were the mesh running shoes I was wearing since I was too stubborn to weigh down my backpack with hiking boots while traveling.

Once I was all nerded out, I jumped in the bus and we made our way up winding dirt roads for about a half hour, passing the occasional hiking resort and donkey hidden in the trees.

Volcan Chico

The truck dropped us off at the hiking trail and we set out in the already-hot morning sun. Within the first few minutes I was sweating and panting my way up an incline that had me double-guessing whether or not I was physically ready for this. Thankfully the clouds moved in almost just as quickly and the dirt path became more level. There wasn’t much to see for the first hour or so, just the occasional misty panoramic glimpse of lush green trees and hills as we walked through the clouds. Luckily the mist was hardly noticeable and the ground was bone dry which made the hike relatively simple.

As we walked we grabbed guavas right off the trees, ripping them open and eating them like we hadn’t eaten in weeks.


Sierra Negra is an active volcano that rises 1,124m (3,688ft) above sea level, and its caldera is the second largest in the world at around six miles wide.

Before we knew it the caldera seemed to appear out of nowhere. As promised, it was massive, and the clouds quickly broke over top of it finally giving way to vibrant blue skies. The entire caldera floor was covered with old lava flows, some areas much darker from the 2005 eruption that lasted for ten days.

At this point I was having a bit of an “is that all there is?” moment. It was cool seeing Sierra Negra, but other than the fresh guavas I wasn’t sold that it was worth the otherwise uneventful hike.

After walking alongside the rim for a bit, we had a fifteen-minute picnic in the shade of a tree while the guide warned us about the strenuous hike that was to come.

“We’ll make our way across a rocky terrain of loose lava rocks for about 45 minutes until we reach the end of the hike. But the walk back is almost entirely uphill, so only go if you have enough energy to climb back. And you better layer on the sunscreen now because there’s no shade.”

Everyone shoved energy bars and bananas in their mouths and took a few gulps of water. From our group of about 20, only one pair stayed behind—a father and his roughly 8-year-old daughter who was already ready to call it quits (yet another reminder of why I’m glad to have zero children).

Within a few minutes of walking the grass disappeared and the only remaining plants were cacti shooting straight out of dried lava. The ground below us changed from brown dirt to red rock to crystalized black lava. I was completely blown away by the size of the lava fields, the hollow lava tubes running down the sides of the volcanoes, and the incredible amount of dried layers piled on top of one another (but the OCD freak in me just wanted to pick and peel at them one by one). Some areas seemed frozen in time—you could see where the lava flow had rolled over the sides of cliffs.

Volcán Chico is more of a collapsed/extinct crater, where several volcanoes have merged to create fissures and mountains within an environment that seems otherworldly. This made for an impressive landscape where you could look in almost any direction and see lava flows that had made their way down to the ocean below. And though we didn’t see any live lava, there were quite a few sulphuric vents with steam rising and ferns growing up inside them from the rocky ground.

It sounds super corny, but once I was standing at the top of that windy peak it was absolutely incredible to get a firsthand look at how the Galápagos Islands were formed through such raw, uninhabited beauty and force.



On the hike back I was one of the first ones to start the trek and I was determined to keep it that way. No matter how strenuous the journey, I refused to let myself look like an out of shape noob. I was going to make this shit look easy.

So we started walking, and I slipped. A lot. My ankles twisted and cracked every ten steps. My non-hiking shoes and short legs were a terrible combination for making my way up those thigh-high steps of loose rocks. We were all chugging water between deep, hard breaths and it was the first time on the hike that nobody was talking. But you could tell everyone was laser-focused on making it back to the picnic area without looking like a sissy.

Finally after what seemed like 100 treks up a grueling real-life Aggro Crags, we were all stripping off our clothes at the picnic area and splashing down with water. We only had a few minutes to rest before setting out for the last 1.5-2 hours downhill back to the truck.

I was back in my room by 330pm, absolutely covered in dirt. I had a grandeur idea of rinsing off in the ocean and napping on the beach, but when I couldn’t gather the energy to walk outside, I laid a towel across the bed and passed out for my first two-hour vacation nap.

IS IT WORTH IT?
Yes, especially because the tour is one of the cheapest on the islands at just $35 (and that includes a bagged lunch). Like I said, the hike up to Sierra Negra wasn’t exactly the coolest thing in the world, but continuing onward to Volcán Chico definitely made everything worth it. So don’t bitch out at the picnic spot. It’s not particularly strenuous, so long as you’re in decent shape and don’t mind getting a little sweaty. Just come prepared with plenty of sunblock, water, and proper footwear and you’ll be fine. When I woke up the next day I could hardly walk because my toes felt like they’d been murdered in those non-supportive shoes. Lesson learned!

Categories
Adventure Solo Travel South America Unesco World Heritage Sites

EVACUATING PUERTO AYORA FOR A TSUNAMI ALERT

Mother Nature played a very cruel April Fool’s joke on us down here in Puerto Ayora yesterday.

The day started off great. I woke up early, went on a relaxing yacht ride to Bartolome (my new favorite place in the world by the way), took some fantastic photos, and met quite a few travelers to hang with. Once we were on dry land I planned to grab a quick drink alongside the ocean with Lucas, a Canadian who’d been traveling around South America on his own as well. But first I had to set up my dive for the next day which ended up making me about 45 minutes late for drinks. I finally got down to the waterfront bar at about 645PM, right after sunset and only 15 minutes before happy hour ended.

I wasn’t really feeling up for drinking so I figured one Pilsener, a quick bite to eat, then back to the room I’d go to refresh on some scuba stuff. But before I knew it there was an icy cold, perfectly mixed caiprihania in front of me. I was looking at the food menu when Lucas casually mentioned “my friend messaged me something about a tsunami but I don’t know.” Immediately I looked up at him, “what do you mean, tsunami?” He just kind of shrugged his shoulders and changed the conversation.

Even for four sips, you were delicious caiprihania.

Five minutes later I looked up at the TV and saw a news channel with “ALERTO” in big bold letters across a red banner on the screen. It was hard to make out anything that was going on, but one by one I noticed the locals pausing mid-chew, entranced by the television.

“Is there a car chase or something going on, what the fuck is on TV?” I asked, still not putting two and two together, while Lucas kept yammering away about something that had completely lost my interest by now.

Within ten seconds the sirens started wailing throughout the streets. I still had no clue what the hell was going on, so I looked around for some sort of information. There were only a handful of tourists and they all looked just as confused as me, but everyone had gotten out of their seats by now. A few locals had begun racing down the street while others just walked quickly. Then an announcement came over the loudspeaker entirely in Spanish and I couldn’t make out a single word. Just as quickly as he began talking the locals kicked it into high gear and started sprinting in every direction except for towards the sea. Waiters and waitresses were dropping their menus and running out the door, while others were yelling and pushing people out in order to close their shop.

At this point my heart was racing and I kept yelling out “What is going on? Tsunami? Where do we go?” It was terrifying, not knowing anything that was happening because I wasn’t able to put the situation into context or gauge the urgency of the situation. Was this a tsunami warning? What IS a tsunami warning? Is it like a tornado warning, meaning they’ve spotted a giant wave headed for shore and we’ve got thirty seconds to get to higher ground? Where is higher ground? On an island as small as Santa Cruz is there even such a thing as higher ground? WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?

Me and this older English-speaking guy from Zimbabwe ran back and forth looking for information, but we knew we had to get moving because the street was emptying out quickly. All we could make out in English were people shouting “run! up!” so we quickly tried to decipher which way was up.

Lucas seemed more concerned about the drinks than his surroundings, as he grabbed them both and started strolling.

“Fuck the drinks dude, leave them!” I shouted back at him while formulating a solo mission to get out of dodge because he was definitely not the kind of person I wanted to be holed up with in a survivor-type situation. Plus I did NOT want to be drunk in case some serious shit went down, and those drinks were definitely strong. I was only a few sips in and I already had a buzz going.

“I know of a hotel, we’ll be safe there just climb to the roof.” he yelled, trying to get me to follow him against the flow of locals fleeing. I started to follow when the older man also ran in the same direction saying he knew of a place too. Stupid me thought maybe they knew of some magical tsunami shelters. We made it about a block, still along the water, and Lucas turned into a half-built shack with shoddy construction work going on.

“Are you fucking crazy? I’m not going in there, you’re on your own!” I told him. At this point I realized he was too slow-moving for my taste and I was concerned his island-time ways were going to get me killed, so I kept running with the older guy. We made it a few blocks and ran into another hotel to the third floor. I still felt uneasy but luckily we ran into the staff who were gathering up their laptops and printers and shouting “no” at us. We had no idea what else they were saying beyond that, but they kept pointing out so we knew it wasn’t safe to stay there.

I still had no idea what was going on. My brain kept imagining scenes from a movie where you hear a warning and ten seconds later a gigantic, disastrous, city-consuming wave hits. But here we were probably about ten minutes after the warning and we were still standing 20 feet from the ocean. I finally semi-realized how incredibly stupid I’d been in my panicked mindset and figured we just need to run uphill as fast as possible.

I was fully fucking terrified at this point and I grabbed my phone out to start texting my mom while running as quickly as possible in a strapless dress and flip flops. The older guy and I ran together for several blocks before someone finally told us “go two blocks, turn right and keep running uphill.” Thank God we were on the right track now, not franticly scattered at sea level. We passed a puppy going absolutely insane while tied up to a storefront. Someone yelled to get the puppy, but we kept running as my heart broke a little. After a few more blocks uphill he began to run out of steam, but he knew I was terrified and he told me to continue on without him. Again it was exactly like those movies and all I could think was “no man left behind.” But then again I was in the Galapagos Islands, and if there’s any place where survival of the fittest should hold true, it’s here.

So I ran. And ran. And ran. Everyone was running with babies and loved ones in tow. Every restaurant was gated up with half-eaten food and drinks still at the tables. Motor bikes and taxi pick-up trucks were all crowding the only street out of town now, heading for higher ground. I looked to hop onto one but so did everyone else. Every truck cab was full of locals and people hanging off the sides. I kept running and looking downhill behind me, waiting to see if a wave was coming. At this point it seemed to be just me and the locals, I didn’t see any more tourists in sight. Finally I got exhausted and started fast-walking, while still wondering what the hell was going on. I figured in the urgency that all of the locals had gotten the hell out of dodge, it must be serious.

A few minutes later I heard someone shouting in English so I turned around to see the older guy I was running with earlier crammed into the back of a pickup with a mix of tourists and locals.

“Hey! HEY! Do you want to get in?” he screamed at me.

“HELL YES, THANK YOU!” I screamed back in utter relief as I ran over to the truck.

Now that I was mostly out of danger, I attempted an “I’m fucking terrified” selfie in the back of the pickup truck

There wasn’t much room to climb in but I wiggled my way in, probably flashing everyone within eyesight of my dress. Even though there were about nine of us and a bicycle crammed in there, I finally felt at ease for the first time that night. I was in a vehicle, and we were headed up. Plus there were two kids who were about 4 and 8 in the cab with us, so I felt like I had to keep my shit together and not frighten them.

We drove up the main street in bumper-to-bumper traffic moving at a steady pace for about 15-20 minutes. We passed a gas station along the way that had cars and motor bikes lined up for blocks.

Finally we got to Bellavista where it seemed like the entire island of Santa Cruz was crowding the streets. The shops were open, locals were holding bags and pillows, chatting amongst themselves. Vans, tour buses, construction vehicles, and motor bikes were dropping people off in hoards. The woman in the cab happened to be a tour guide so she spoke English fairly well. When we got out she directed us into a soccer/football complex to stay put. She assured us that we were definitely high enough up and we would be okay to wait it out here. I thanked her profusely and went into the stadium with the others.

Locals were camping out on the steps, but most of the tourists met up in the corner trying to piece together what the hell was going on. It was almost 8PM now and we finally heard about “an 8.2 earthquake in Chile” and the “last time this tsunami evacuation happened was in 2010.” It was then I realized it wasn’t an ordinary occurrence like a tornado siren is in the Midwest.

Pulling into Bellavista

I finally felt at ease knowing there were other tourists here who didn’t speak Spanish and had left all of their belongings back at their hotels. I definitely felt a strength in numbers and have never bonded so quickly with fellow travelers.

We sat in the shelter and watched children chase bugs and each other around the concrete field. About an hour later we got an update that they were expecting a set of three waves to hit in ten-minute-intervals around ten o’clock, so we were to stay put until then. I ventured out to the nearest corner store and picked up a few bottles of water and a family size bag of animal crackers in case we were going to be up there for a while. I was fully expecting some serious American style price-gouging, but I only paid $3.50 for my whole purchase.

Shelter
Our shelter for the evening after most locals were allowed to return to their homes away from sea-level

 

Tourist hub shelter
Our tourist corner of the arena

 

Supply kit
My water & animal cracker survival kit

Some time passed, stories were told and information was shared as people came and went. Once it hit about 11:30 we were told the first waves were only about a meter high and not a big deal, but there was another earthquake and a second set of waves set to come through around 1AM, and they had no idea how big they could be but they feared much bigger. Luckily fear and compassion are language-independent, and it was at this point that a nice Ecuadorian family invited the Dutch family with children whom I’d been with into their home to spend the evening as the kids were clearly exhausted. Another nice neighbor came and brought everybody tea he’d made in his home, but I politely declined for fear that the water could be contaminated (wouldn’t that be great, a tsunami and diarrhea?)

We kept waiting and waiting, but I was back to my normal self. I was entertaining people and bringing groups of people together. I started going back and forth between the shelter and the local store, looking for new bits of information and trying to catch a glimpse of the news to relay to all of the other tourists. A policeman and an armed military guy came in and made announcements that we of course couldn’t understand over a loudspeaker. Loads of buses began trying to head back down only to be turned away by the police and told to come back to high grounds.

My British and Canadian tsunami buddies

All in all this went on for about five and a half hours before the police drove through with their lights on, making announcements over the loudspeakers. Of course we couldn’t understand a damn word being said, and in such a remote town there were no English speaking translators. But we heard the crowd cheer and the shops began to close up so we could only assume it was good news.

Almost everyone had left at this point, just a few of us stragglers were left behind

A few minutes later buses and pickup trucks began to arrive and people piled in. We managed to fit eleven people into the back of a tiny pickup bed and head back downhill.

Apparently we were one of the first trucks to make it back down because the oceanfront was empty. All of the shops were closed up, lights off, and no one was on the streets. Coming from New York, this was actually very eerie. Especially since I had been dropped off quite a few blocks from my hotel and still needed to walk a good 10-15 minutes on my own.

Pickup pileup
Eleven deep in a pickup pileup

I still felt uneasy since no one was on the streets, but I saw several police cars patrolling the area so I assumed the threat was over. Just to make sure, I popped into the police station to double check. They didn’t speak any English but I was able to convey a simple “thumbs up/thumbs down” gesture hopefully without offending anyone, and got a thumbs up in response.

There had been another tourist speaking with the policemen as well, but as soon as I approached I asked him if he spoke English to which he said “yes.” Then I asked if he knew if it was okay to leave and he didn’t answer, he just looked at me. So I said thanks and turned around to walk to the hotel.

Only problem was, this weird guy who was built like he could kill somebody with his bare hands was now following me on a deserted street. I knew I had to go down a couple of poorly lit side streets to get to the hotel, and even then there was no guarantee it’d be unlocked and I’d be able to get in. So I tried to ditch him by crossing the street—twice. He followed me across both times. He then caught up with me and I stopped and looked at him and asked him where he was going and if he needed help. Again he didn’t respond, he just looked at the ground and started walking with me. Completely freaked out, I started looking for a shop or something to go into but nothing was open. So I walked faster. He let out a huge sigh and then threw his backpack on the ground, and I was convinced he was pulling out something to kill me with. Just then I spotted three caucasian girls wandering around the docks so I quickly walked towards them. I could hear the guy pick up his pack again and continue following me. When I approached the girls I said “please, do you speak English?” to which they all cheerfully said yes.

“Can I please walk with you for a minute because this guy has been following me for blocks and it’s freaking me out.”

They all looked at him as he approached me and stopped about a foot away from me. We all turned to him and I said “do you need help, are you lost?” and he said something none of us understood, though it may have been Italian. We all kind of huddled together and told him we were leaving and waved goodbye, so he finally let out a huge sigh and walked onward. I don’t know if he was just a scared solo traveler or what, but the fact that he was following me and not responding to anything was definitely not cool.

The girls walked me to my hotel and I thanked them profusely. I’d arrived just before 2AM and completely wired yet exhausted from the night’s events. I came in my room and sat down on the bed and started texting my mom now that I was on WiFi. My body finally went through a series of emotions, and I began shaking for a good twenty seconds while trying to text. I started Googling things on my painfully slow internet connection, piecing together the story and seeing if there were any risks of aftershocks, but it seemed unlikely.

Needless to say I couldn’t sleep for a few hours. I packed a “get the fuck out” bag in case the sirens blared again in the night I would at least have my passport and some cash. I Googled what to do in a tsunami and earthquake situation, and I finally started to relax.

This has made me realize that I haven’t been in too many scary situations in my life. I’m so grateful that nothing serious happened and everything turned out to be okay though, obviously. It was really just the ignorant naivety and the initial phase of not knowing what the hell was going on and where to go that was utterly terrifying. I think the next time I travel somewhere I’ll just make sure I know the threat of natural disasters and what to do should one happen. But fingers crossed I never have to deal with that again.

And by the way, after only sleeping two hours last night I didn’t go diving today. The Galapagos Islands are known for strong currents anyway and I’d heard they’d be even stronger today so I just wasn’t comfortable swimming with sharks for the first time on a day like today. Lame.

Categories
Adventure Outdoor

THAT TIME WE KILLED AND ATE A PET BUNNY

“Just slit the throat, cut the anus, and let it all fall out.”

Not exactly the first words you want to hear after walking into a cabin full of strangers you’ll be locked up with in the woods for the next 48 hours. What the hell did I sign up for?

Most single 20-something girls in New York City spend their Friday nights prowling the clubs in short skirts and high heels. But I started mine standing on a dark street corner in the Bronx, waiting to hitch a ride upstate with a complete stranger for a wilderness survival workshop. I wasn’t sure if I should expect to be dumped in the middle of nowhere Bear Grylls style or what. After all, I live in Manhattan where I’m used to getting anything I want at any time, and for the right price, there’s always someone to do my dirty work for me. The closest to “survival mode” I’ve ever come while living in the concrete jungle was hunting down mice in my apartment, or boiling a pan of water to wash my face when the hot water went out. So when I walked into this cabin to hear two guys discussing the gory details of how we’d be killing tomorrow night’s dinner, I began to question whether or not I was ready for it.

I pretended not to overhear them and went to introduce myself to Kay, the workshop organizer. She’s a natural leader with wild hair and an even wilder personality, who’s always the first one daring people to do something crazy. When I nervously tried to make myself seem like more of a badass by poking fun at her, I immediately regretted the words the second they came out of my mouth. She fired back by listing all of the injuries and surgeries she’s had thanks to her adventurous side—trumping them all and silencing the conversation with “and then my uterus fell out.” Then she told me who those two equally insane guys were who were discussing dinner details in the corner—Jamie, a retired British Army officer, and Wild Dog, a jack-of-all-trades survivalist who purposely gets lost all over the globe, scares off bears with his bare hands, and forgoes showers for weeks on end by the looks (and smells) of it. They were our instructors for the weekend.

When I’d read in the workshop description that a British Army Officer would be teaching us, I was expecting a drunken Churchill-esque man, showering us with spit as he shouted at us to use our teeth and tear the flesh off of live animals until blood spilled down our chins. Instead, Jamie was an ordinary looking suburban dad type with crazy grey hair, a charming smile, and flashy L.L. Bean style. His dainty accent made him seem anything but intimidating, and he even helped do the dishes every night after our group dinner. Mad Dog on the other hand looked like he’d just walked in from a week of roughing it in a pile of leaves outside the cabin, with his thick matted beard and thinning ponytail hiding most of his face.

Saturday morning came, and after a warm shower I joined the rest of the group to learn how to track and hunt animals by their footprints and scat trails. Since it’d take some time to actually track and kill an animal in the wild, Kay went to the market to buy a rabbit while the rest of us followed random piles of shit around the woods. We came across traces of deer scat and a questionable pile that I’m pretty sure was from Mad Dog. They were right, this was nowhere near as easy as tracking mouse droppings in my apartment. We’d probably starve to death before we ever found, trapped, and killed anything to eat.

My first fire—which nearly burnt down the entire area since I forgot to clear the leaves.

I was off building my very first fire from sticks and dried leaves when Kay arrived with a box.

“Now I know we’re not supposed to play with our food, but does anyone want to see what’s for dinner tonight?” Kay said as she opened the box. Suddenly it all became real.

I was imagining one of those generic, rabid looking yard rabbits you shoo from eating vegetables in the garden. Instead she pulled out this huge floppy-eared bunny with a shiny, healthy coat of fur, whose only fault was putting his trust in us not to harm him. As people gathered around to hold the rabbit, I knew this was exactly what we weren’t supposed to do. Pet him. Become friends with him. Look into his big chocolatey eyes. Treat him like a pet. Name him Mr Floppy. And yet here we were, hugging Mr Floppy and assuring him everything would be okay. Good to know this group of strangers was full of liars.

I made the mistake of making eye contact with Mr Floppy and immediately started planning how I could free him while making it seem like an accident. Seeing ten fires around him, he looked as though he knew what was about to happen. I could have looked away and continued working on my fire, ignoring the fact that an innocent bunny was about to be murdered 20 feet away. But instead I found myself pushing past everyone, and next thing you know I was front row with my camera.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love meat. It tastes amazing, it’s fun to play with raw, and the marbleized cuts are worthy of framing and hanging on a wall. But as an animal loving child who couldn’t even throw away stuffed animals for fear of hurting their feelings, I’ve managed to continue loving meat by completely ignoring any stories of how animals are raised, treated, or killed before they make their way to my mouth. Thankfully once that slab of meat is unrecognizable as an animal, it was never a living creature as far as I’m concerned. But the thought of actually watching a cuddly living thing take its last breath as its heart stops beating, just for the sake of a delicious meal, is a bit much for me. It’s best if I leave that part to someone else.

As Jamie elaborated on how to catch a rabbit in the wild, my mind wandered back to that initial conversation I’d heard: “slit the throat, cut the anus, and let it all fall out.” Oh shit. Things were about to get messy. What would happen when he slit the throat? Would blood squirt from the aorta and hit my camera lens? What about everything that “falls out” after he cuts the anus? Is that going to spill out in a pool of red blood, like a warm liquid piñata?

Then he grabbed the rabbit from the box and I instinctively pressed record. Just as quickly, Mr Floppy was dead. It was uneventful, anti-climatic and almost humane. I had envisioned Jamie, with his tongue out Gene Simmons style, grabbing Mr Floppy by the ears and slitting his throat while he was still alive, his whole body spilling out organ by bloody organ onto the leaves below. But there was no blood at all, he just stretched the poor thing to death like a defective Stretch Armstrong doll.

Once Mr Floppy was proclaimed dead, we all watched in silence as his body twitched and convulsed on the ground atop the dead leaves. I wasn’t convinced he was dead, and I thought about pressing pause to try and resuscitate him. But I kept recording.

Emptying the organs wasn’t exactly the gushing outpour of crimson chunks that I was expecting either. Everything was neatly packed into the body like it had been elegantly gift wrapped. Though he never slit the throat, Jamie grabbed a knife and cut the underside, starting at the anus. Still, no blood came pouring out. He reached in and grabbed the bladder, which looked like a latex water balloon full of urine, and lay it on the ground. It was perfectly dry on the outside, no blood or liquid of any sort. Then he pulled the intestines out carefully like a string of used anal beads as his hands started to get covered in blood. The slimy strand dropped to the ground as he removed the kidneys, then the perfectly healthy lungs that suggested Mr Floppy was an admirable non-smoker, before finally reaching way up inside, almost turning Mr Floppy into a headless puppet, and pulling out the heart.

It was still beating. What. The. Fuck.

Mr Floppy was not dead, yet he just had his body cut open and all of his organs pulled out like a high school science project. I almost puked, but I kept recording.

Jamie insisted he was dead and proceeded to cut the meat out as everyone passed around the bloody beating heart. Well no shit he was dead now, his entire body was disassembled on the ground. The two wallflowers of the group snatched up the organs and disappeared somewhere off on their own to grill them up. Jaime tossed Mr Floppy’s signature ears into a hole along with other non-edible body parts and carried the rest back to the cabin to be prepared for dinner. I finally stopped recording and put out my fire.

That night I wasn’t feeling very hungry while we waited for dinner to be served. But apparently I was the only one feeling a bit queezy from what we’d seen. Before the dish even made it out of the kitchen, all of those heartless carnivorous beasts had practically devoured the whole thing. I forced myself to try one bite in an attempt to convince myself that killing Mr Floppy was justifiably necessary for survival. But the meat was tough, sliding between my teeth like a rubber chicken for several minutes before I was able to swallow. I’m convinced it was Mr Floppy’s way of getting revenge, making me chew over his dead body for just as long as I sat recording his autopsy while he was still alive.

After this experience I’m even more convinced that I could never kill an animal, let alone with my bare hands. I guess I wouldn’t know for sure unless I was in a real life-or-death situation, but seeing as I can hardly open a stubborn jar, I doubt I’d have the strength to stretch a rabbit to death. I’d probably injure it just enough to leave it paralyzed and whimpering on the ground while I cried hysterically and apologized to its immobile body.

Maybe I should stick to the streets of New York City for now, and keep ordering my meals from Seamless. I think it’s safe to say I wouldn’t make it very long trying to survive in the wilderness. Nor would I have the heart to selfishly kill an animal for my own survival.

But then again, maybe I’m not as sensitive as I think considering that I recorded the whole thing.

Categories
Adventure Scuba Diving

I GOT SCUBA CERTIFIED AND PUKED ON MY INSTRUCTOR

By some fucking miracle, I finished my PADI open water certification down in Marathon, Florida. And no, the open water dives weren’t any easier than the confined dives at the YMCA.

The morning started off just fine. The sun was shining, the previous day’s wind had turned into a light breeze, and I woke up plenty early enough to eat and hydrate before my afternoon dive. Most of all I was beyond excited to finally get out on a boat and see some marine life. But when I showed up at the shop, the morning dive was running pretty late. Excitement turned into boredom and slight agitation that I was wasting a warm, sunny day sitting inside.

Two hours later the boat came back to the shop. A few teenaged divers ran in ecstatic from their first open water dives. Then a much less enthused man came in, appearing unable to shake his sea legs.

“How was it?” the shop owner asked.

“Ha! Rough!” the older man laughed. “Nah it was okay, just…yeah, rough.”

The younger kids seemed unfazed, and at this point so did I.

This was my last day of training since I had already done my first two open water dives in a muddy canal the day before. That’s right, the ocean was way too rough, so me and Captain Bob headed to “the secret area” to practice my skills in a dirty ass creek. My mother would’ve killed me had she known I showed up to this dive shop, jumped in a truck with a strange old man, went to his house on another island to get a bunch of rope, drove out to a wooded “top secret” area that even the guys at the dive shop knew nothing about, parked on the side of the road, and walked through several yards of thick grass and trees to a muddy body of water far from where any human would ever hear my cries for help. Thankfully Captain Bob wasn’t a serial killer after all, but diving in those conditions kind of sucked. The visibility was less than 5 feet in some spots so all I could see was a murky green all around me. It was even worse when I accidentally turtle-rolled with my snorkel in and inhaled a giant mouthful of disgusting ass swamp water.

After that experience I was convinced that finally going into the ocean was going to blow my mind. I couldn’t wait.

Seven of us headed out on the boat—five divers plus the two instructors. Of the five, I was the most advanced by one day. The other four were a family of brothers and sisters in their late teens/early twenties who were all cousins of the shop owner. My instructor was Nick, a loud surfer-boy looking 26-year-old whose aquatic tattoos made him blend in perfectly under water.

The bay going out was a little choppy. The boat crashed over top of the growing waves for about 35 minutes before we got out to the reef. Once the engine stopped, I heard one of the girls throwing up off the far side of the boat from motion sickness. I started to get annoyed, hoping that her weak stomach wouldn’t prevent me from getting certified. Especially since we were already running two hours late and sun was due to set in about another two hours.

She was first to jump in the water in an attempt to quell her upset stomach. Everyone else was still getting their gear on, but I suited up in record time the second I realized my stomach felt a little queezy too. It wasn’t that bad though, so I chalked it up to sympathy sickness from seeing her blow chunks overboard. Without hesitation I put the regulator in my mouth, grabbed ahold of it and my mask, held onto the rest of my gear and took a giant stride into the water. I didn’t even double check to make sure my air supply was on. Getting in that water was my only concern so that I didn’t end up throwing up on my wetsuit. After signaling that I was okay, I swam the line out to the buoy we had tied off the boat so none of us got carried away in the rolling waves.

And holy shit were they some waves. While I was bobbing around at the surface waiting for the others, the waves would come and fully obstruct my view of the boat before going over my head. I inflated my BCD even more to make sure I was able to stay afloat as much as possible. I finally understood how people could drown in the ocean. When I looked back at the boat I realized that these waves were breaking well over the bow, and scenes from Deadliest Catch began to run through my mind.

Despite the fact that getting off the boat was helping everyone else, being in the water was no better for me. I was still feeling a bit nauseous, but not to the point where I thought I’d actually get sick.

After about fifteen minutes of trying to get everyone in the water we began to descend. Since I was the most experienced, I went down first with Nick about 25 feet to the sandy ocean floor alongside the reef. He went back up and I waited at the bottom while the other instructor, Greg, brought down the others one by one. Nick and pukey McGee were still at the surface.

Greg carried on and began walking us through the drills they’d needed to do for their first two dives. Mask flooding and clearing, regulator recovery, things I’d already done. I didn’t have time to redo all of that and complete the rest of my skills, so when he pointed at me to complete these, I was more than convinced he had me confused with one of the other girls. But of course it’s imfuckingpossible to communicate this under water. So I went with it.

It was hard to stay put on the ocean floor because the current from the waves would come along and push me and all the fish around me a good ten feet, turning it into a fun game of “don’t crash into the reef.” I’m pretty sure that added motion started to get to me. I was still feeling a bit uneasy, but was focusing on completing the shit I had to do to get certified.

Nick finally came down basically dragging the pale seasick girl latched onto his arm. She had her face buried into his arm and her limp body could’ve easily been mistaken as dead. But somehow she managed to spring to life and complete every drill with ease when her turn came up.

Finally Nick and I took off on our own to finish my skills. After I’d completed most of them, I still had about 1000 psi in the tank so we went exploring. We went over and through some reefs, past dark purple sea fans and schools of neon fish. One fish swam right up to my mask and tried to eat my bubbles. For a few minutes I actually forgot about feeling ill. I couldn’t wait to go up and get a new tank for a leisurely second and final dive of the day.

Before long we began to ascend slowly before practicing a CESA. My mind started to go blank and I couldn’t focus though I wasn’t exactly sure why. My stomach was still upset, but still not enough to get sick.

The second my face came out of the water I ripped the regulator out of my mouth and threw up. All over Nick. Thankfully he laughed it off while I kept emptying my guts in between waves.

“Get it all out girl,” he said while holding onto me. “That’s disgusting, but shit happens.”

I puked harder than I’d ever puked in my life, heaving into the ocean so hard that I was actually worried about popping a blood vessel in my eye.

“I’ve been there, it sucks. Just get it all out, you’ll feel better,” he continued.

The rolling waves were enormous, tossing me up and down a good ten feet with each swell. What the hell was going on? I’d never been seasick in my life, and I was completely fine on the boat, but now, after 40 minutes of diving I was experiencing it?

I became irrationally angry and started yelling. Yelling at the ocean, yelling at the situation, yelling at myself.

“Fuck. FUCK! What the FUCK body, man the fuck up! Pull it together!”

Nick laughed and commended my attitude, and after some tough talk he asked me if I was ready to go back down. I told him to go fuck himself and that he was out of his damn mind if he thought I was doing another dive. He laughed some more as salt water hit my lips, causing my body to begin puking up burning, yellow, foamy bile from the pits of my stomach. My abs ached, but after about another minute they’d finally stopped convulsing.

Then he got serious.

“Hey, look at me.” he said looking me square in the face as he grabbed onto my shoulders. All you have to do is go back down long enough to do your CESA. Then that’s it, you’re done, you’re certified. Okay? You got this!”

I looked at Nick and took a few deep breaths. Seeing his persuasive blue eyes behind that mask suddenly made me feel like I could suck it up and do this. I put the regulator in my mouth, but that first breath of compressed air had me puking bile again.

What the hell. I’d studied my ass off for this. I’d also spent a whole day in a pool, and another day drinking in murky green water to get here. My scuba experiences hadn’t exactly been enjoyable yet, but damnit I wasn’t going to give up with so little left to do. I couldn’t tell people that I didn’t get certified because I’m a sissy who gave up over a little seasickness. Once I felt a little better we went back down. But as soon as I got back under water I felt loopy, lightheaded and spacey. Not necessarily ill, but I couldn’t focus. I tried to tough it out and work past it, swimming around a bit to see if it would go away. After a few minutes I realized it wasn’t going to, so we went for that final CESA to get out of the water. Again, right when I got to the surface I got sick again. I finally understood what hell was, and I looked over at the shore that was miles and miles away. I wanted nothing more than to be curled up on dry land and I seriously considered swimming there.

Then everybody else came up and got into the boat to swap tanks while I stayed in the ocean floating around, thanks to my BCD, dotting the water with a trail of puke piles to feed all the fish.

All of a sudden three of the girls were puking off the side of the boat, and once I realized the waves were bringing it my way I headed for the boat too. Everyone tried telling me that the boat wasn’t going to be any better, but I didn’t see how it could be any worse than throwing up directly into my only source of oxygen 25 feet below the surface. They tried to get me to swap out my tank and go back down for another dive, but before I could even get both feet on the boat I felt ill, and my 70 or so pounds of scuba gear suddenly felt like 200. I couldn’t get out of my gear fast enough.

Hell no. I didn’t care if I was uncomfortable on the boat, it looked like I was going to puke regardless of where I was, so I’d much rather do it where I can breathe freely than risk clogging up my regulator with chunks.

At first I sat upright on the edge of the boat, staring at a tower far off on the horizon. I half-jokingly wished a shark would come by so I could jump into its mouth and just end this torture. I tried to keep it together but every five minutes I was hurled over the edge of the boat dry-heaving my organs out. And I’m a loud puker. I was trying my hardest to puke more lady-like, but after about twenty seconds of that I gave up trying to retain any sort of dignity. I was wailing deep hulk-like sounds from the pits of my guts, similar to what I’d imagine an exorcism would be like. I got sick of moving from upright position to bent over, so I found myself hunched over the side permanently, my face only inches from the waves. I cursed some more and gripped my hands into the side so that I didn’t flip over. Finally when I stopped puking for more than three minutes, I slouched down inside the boat and laid there.

Bad idea. Do not lose sight of land. I puked again, this time barely making it over the edge of the boat and right onto a gigantic moon jellyfish. The way it moved my puke to its center convinced me that that sick bastard was having a delicious feast off of my vomit. I puked on it again, then I slouched back down, keeping my head above the ledge just enough to keep my sights on land. Every time a swell would come and make land invisible my stomach would drop for those two seconds.

Jellyfish
Not the same jellyfish, but a similar one I found washed up on land. I didn’t get ANY pictures on my dives because 1- you’re not allowed to train with a camera, and 2- I was too sick to care about grabbing my camera on the boat. FAIL.

 

After what felt like a week and a half, everyone resurfaced. Thank God. They kept asking how I was doing, at which point I didn’t even have enough energy left to respond. I just sat there staring at land, snot and puke remnants running down my face. But I didn’t even care. I’d passed the point of looking like a normal human being around the 10th pile of vomit.

I kept my sights on land for the entire half hour ride back in, quietly mumbling things like “Oh God,” “oh shit,” and “come on Kim,” to ease any more feelings of nausea. Nick tried to raise morale by yelling a big “congratulations to the newest Padi certified diver” in my direction, to which I just raised my hand slightly and zoned right back out. Right then I’d decided that I would never scuba dive again in my entire life.

When we made it back to the dock I couldn’t wait to get out of that boat. I helped carry some gear off and gave it a proper rinse down before going into the shop to be photographed for my certification card. Thankfully they at least let me rinse my face off before posing for the picture.

Scuba Certified

I’d done it. I left the shop feeling less than enthused or accomplished, but I’d done it. And I’d never have to go scuba diving again.

I went back to the condo and re-hydrated with a few bottles of water and fueled up with a chicken sandwich. Before long I was feeling back to my old self again. I was no longer an immobile waste of whiney space.

And I couldn’t wait to go diving again. This time in calmer waters though.

Categories
Adventure Scuba Diving

THAT TIME I THOUGHT SCUBA DIVING WOULD BE EASY

It hardly feels like the middle of December to me. Probably because I haven’t bought a single gift, I haven’t been to any holiday parties, and I’m not packing up for the usual snowy week in Ohio, eating my mom’s Christmas cookies for every meal. Instead I’m gearing up for a sunny vacation in a bathing suit and flip flops.

I’ve somehow convinced my parents to go to the Florida Keys this year for Christmas. Weird considering we haven’t taken a family vacation since I was like twelve, and we’ve had the same Christmas tradition going since before I was born. Florida isn’t anywhere near the top of my places to go list, but I figured the Keys were a good compromise—a place my parents could relax, but I could still do some exploring. Plus, I could take advantage of this super chill vacation as a chance to get scuba certified.

I first looked into diving in 2012 before my trip to Thailand. But I just as quickly realized that the Similan Islands were closed or had poor visibility during the rainy season, so I shelved the whole diving thing. So I finally started the coursework a few weeks ago thinking certification was going to be a piece of cake. I mean, ten-year-olds do this shit. I basically grew up in a pool, I’ve been in the ocean countless times, and I’ve actually found myself bored with snorkeling because I wanted to see more. So scuba diving naturally seemed like a good next step.

As soon as I started reading the book and watching the dvd’s, I realized that it wasn’t just a “quick read” like I thought. Each chapter seemed to reveal something potentially life-threatening about the world of diving, and I began to second guess whether or not I was cut out for it. I’m a very simple-minded person who’s easily distracted, and I often have trouble multitasking. I don’t know how good I’ll be at reading a dive computer, watching my SPG so that my cylinder doesn’t run out of air, maintaining neutral buoyancy, remembering to equalize every few feet, remembering never to hold my breath even if the regulator falls out of my mouth, staying on course and close to my buddy, ascending slowly and making a safety stop, all the while taking in all of the sea life around me and not freaking out and jetting to the surface at the site of a shark.

After finishing the books and dvd, I completed my class which involved four quizzes and one final exam. Of course I was the last one to finish each of those, but I did great. Now it was time to actually practice everything I’d learned in five confined water dives at the YMCA pool.

Padi Certification

For my first failure of the day, I wore a two-piece bathing suit. One of our first sans-wetsuit drills was to prove that we can swim 200 meters nonstop, and the whole time I was trying to hold up my bottoms. After a while I got sick of lagging so far behind and just let my blinding white ass hang out, floating above the water for everyone to laugh at as I flailed far behind my classmates.

Through assembling and taking apart our gear several times, I was still feeling pretty confident. Even though the whole setup was crazy heavy, diving was still proving to be relatively easy.

Then it was time to get in the water all geared up and spend the next five and a half hours there. Our instructor walked us through a series of tasks we’d each complete once we were under water, and just like that, we went down for our first set.

Breathing through the regulator was strange at first, but I was still at ease. As long as I could breathe, things were fine.

Then came time for me to remove my mask and continue breathing through the regulator for 30 seconds. Easy, I thought, since I was never the type to plug my nose while swimming. Wrong. I immediately got water up my nose and shot up to the surface. Failure number two. I’d noticed by then that my heart was racing, my eyes were wide, and I was speaking rapidly as I tried to explain myself.

I’d panicked. Just from a little water up my nose.

I had to mentally tell myself to calm the fuck down; I was at the YMCA with a trained professional guiding me for god’s sake. After a few seconds of chatting we realized I may have been tilted slightly backwards, making the bubbles go up my nose. So we went back under and I tried it again, this time tilted slightly forward and I was fine. It was weird, but I did it!

The most important rule in scuba is that you never hold your breath. Ever. So if your regulator comes out of your mouth, you have to keep blowing a constant stream of bubbles until you can get it back in your mouth. We had to practice what to do if you lose your regulator and it falls behind you—swing your arm down to touch your leg, back to touch the tank, circle it around towards you, and your regulator should be there. Of course for me, it wasn’t there because I didn’t reach back far enough. Failure number three. At this point I’d exhausted all of the air in my lungs and I had no clue where my source of oxygen was. I was now holding my breath because I had nothing left to push out and no way of inhaling. All in one go, failure number four and panic attack number two, ten feet below the surface. I began grabbing aimlessly for my regulator, and almost reached for my emergency second stage before the instructor handed me my regulator and I breathed in the most glorious breath of air ever. I felt like a huge idiot. Again. This was becoming a theme.

Then it came time to swim a little more than the length of the deep end, regulator in, while breathing out just one breath and making an “aahhhh” sound. On my first try I only made it about halfway before I had to breathe in. Failure number five. I had to go back and start over. This time I was nervous, cold, and I really had to pee. When he gave me the signal to swim, I whipped the regulator out of my mouth and began swimming. He immediately signaled for me to put my regulator back in, and I thought I did something wrong so I just kept swimming and breathing as usual. He pulled me above water and I realized in my flustered state I wasn’t supposed to remove the regulator. I told him I felt like saying “ahhh” released way too much air from my lungs way too quickly, so he suggested I try making more of a hissing noise. But first he made me take a break at the bottom of the pool while the other people did it flawlessly. I took that chance to calm down, focus on my breathing and my buoyancy, and before you know it, it was my turn again. This time, making the hiss noise, was SO much easier. I could’ve swam twice as far on that one full breathe.

Snorkeling in the British Virgin Islands

 

All in all, I only inhaled a mouthful of water and choked on it once. But that was once more than anybody else in our class so of course I felt like an idiot. Sure a few things took me a couple of tries, but I got it. And before long I’d passed the confined water dive ahead of schedule.

It’s not that scuba diving is necessarily difficult, but you do actually have to think about every single move you make. Which, well, that’s not really my thing. I just kind of “do,” and somehow it all usually works out. But when I’m under water and I can’t breathe, my body just tends to react. I have to learn how to control that, otherwise I’ll definitely die in any emergency scenario.

I think as far as learning to become a better diver goes, it’s just a matter of trial and error to figure out what comes naturally for me so I can handle these situations in a way that comes naturally to me, rather than trying to remember the textbook way. Hopefully in this case practice makes perfect!

It’s hard to believe this was only the confined dive, in a wave-less pool of 10ft of water. I don’t really know what to expect in next week’s open water dives, but I’ll admit I’m actually a little nervous. I’m also excited to see the underwater world, so I guess this is a good example of stepping out of my comfort zone and (hopefully) accomplishing something I was unsure I could do.

Fingers crossed I don’t end up with the bends, spending Christmas in a decompression chamber!