Movin’ on up

Welcome back me!

Sorry for the delay in posts. I was sailing the Caribbean on an all expenses paid, 7 day cruise! Thank you Arbonne! And so naturally, the theme of my post today is totally relevant to my hiatus from the blog. It’s about my travels through the Caribbean. Actually, it’s specifically about my experience in Jamaica, but you know… whose counting. It’s a travel Thursday so it fits.

When I was in Jamaica this past week, I had a very unique experience. If you were on the cruise with me, you will hardly consider it unique since most of us from the cruise (and any other cruise to Jamaica for that matter) had this same experience, but even still, I’m going to go ahead and call it unique.

I hiked up the face of a water fall.

And I mean quite literally just that. But let me start from the beginning.

When I was still safely home in America, I read the description of the excursions that went out from the dock in Jamaica. My Mother- my travel partner- and I decided that Jamaica would probably be our best bet for an excursion because it was the island we both knew least about. Neither of us had been there and so we figured we could stand to learn something.

So each of the excursions leaving from the dock in Jamaica all ended up at Dunn’s River Falls at one point or another during the day. Our particular excursion- that is to say, the one we ended up purchasing- went first to a plantation in Jamaica, where we were able to learn about and sample the crops, as well as tour the Great House. Then we went on to a Jamaican buffet- complete with the infamous Jerk Chicken- and then alas, we ended our afternoon at Dunn’s River Falls.

Now when I originally read about all the excursions and realized that most of the excursions went to this location, I figured that it was one of those tourist ‘must see’s’ and we would be able to climb some rocks and be done with it. Maybe take a dip if it was hot enough… but truly, it’s never that hot for me.

That is… until I experienced the heat of Jamaica. But that is neither here nor there.

When we purchased our excursion and they told us that water shoes were recommended… even then I thought that perhaps they were just covering their bases. They didn’t want us to get hurt romping around in the water.

Of course, I, completely afraid of the water, had no intention of actually going in.

When we got off the bus on Wednesday in Jamaica, I still had no idea as to what I had gotten myself into. When the old, German man in front of me took off both his shorts AND underwear AND bent down to pull up his swim shorts, exposing not only his ass but his FULL ball sack… only then did I realize that this might not be what I thought it was going to be.

And man… was I right.

We all got wrist bands as we headed into the “Dunn’s River Fall’s Park”. They asked us to get into two lines… those who were climbing the falls and those who were not. Of course I was going to climb the falls. I mean, how hard could it be? I still didn’t really expect to even get wet. I fully intended to climb right along side the water fall. How on earth would you climb a water fall even if you wanted to? I had no idea.

But the line of people forming in the ‘don’t want to climb’ line was a little unnerving.

So we headed into the park, and those of us who were climbing the falls headed down this winding path down and down and down. Farther and Farther. And all the while I could hear the sound of rushing water. I couldn’t see it… but I was painfully aware of it.

Once at the bottom of the winding cement path, we were introduced to our guide. He was a very enthusiastic gentleman. A very enthusiastic and very WET gentleman.

He led us even farther still… all the way out into the Ocean. Knee deep in the warm, Caribbean ocean I began to worry. What was about to happen to me? I mean, by that point I could see the tail end of what I could tell was an enormous water fall coming down the rocks and emptying into the ocean, but certainly there was no way of climbing up it. I mean, clearly that was a death sentence.

But climb we did. Right up the front. Just like they said we would. I just couldn’t believe what was happening…

He told us all to join hands. I grabbed my mom’s hand no problem, but the guy standing next to me was the very same German man whose balls I had just seen only 15 minutes earlier. I was a little less willing to grab onto him. But alas, the guides insisted. And the guides were quite frankly, a little too chipper for the impending doom that I could hear right around the corner.

So off we went, hand in hand… one long line of about 20 unstable tourists from all around the world. And we were all headed towards the sound… towards the water… towards a very unique experience.

At first I didn’t have a lot of time to realize what was happening. The line was moving forward and we had no choice but to continue along with them- we were all linked after all- but that didn’t help my anxiety. As we began to climb I noticed that we seemed to be moving away from deep water, and mostly sticking to wet rocks where the water had found it’s way around, but that didn’t last long. Before I knew it, I was placing my foot in the center of a jet of water that was rushing past me, challenging my footing. It was all I could do to keep my foot there, let along keep my hands in the grasp of someone else.

But you know what…

The people above me pulled me up before I even had the chance to fall… and the people below me were there when I began to falter there way.

It was truly an amazing team building activity. It’s amazing how dangling your life in the balance will really make you bond with a stranger.

But before we knew it, my mom and I were laughing, and climbing and although I don’t know when it happened… we didn’t need the help of the guy in front of us all the time anymore. But when we were about to fall… it was there; that helping hand. Just out of no where, someone would grab my elbow and prevent a whip out. It was pretty cool, I have to say.

And after 960 feet, we did get wet. At points we were chest deep in water. I even slid down a rock into a pool if you can believe that.

I know that picture makes it look totally un-scary, but trust me… it was terrible when it was happening. Sure my head stayed dry, but that’s hardly the measure of terror.

So needless to say… my mother and I climbed the front of a 960 foot water fall… right up the face of it. I can’t say that I am overcoming my fear of the water, but I do think that climbing a water fall is a step in the right direction. I mean, as long as there is a German guy there to catch you when you fall, how can you lose?

 

 

It’s not that I can’t swim…

…I am just afraid of the water.

Plain and simple. I can swim just fine! And that’s the first question everyone asks me when I tell them that I am afraid of the water. But I can swim, I assure you. I took lessons, and I have had to prove it on occasion, so no, that is not the reason I am afraid.

And no, when I say I’m afraid of water, that does not mean I am afraid of showers or baths. And to be honest, hot tubs don’t bother me either… but pools and beyond are pretty much not kosher with me.

So, what’s the reason? Well… I can’t really be sure. I guess if I knew that, I wouldn’t really be afraid, now would I? Does that mean it’s fear of the unknown? Not sure again! It could be one of many reasons… or ALL of many reasons. I mean, aren’t there plenty of obvious reason to be scared of the water?

Sharks, Green hair from Chlorine, undertow, Rip Tides, Manatees, Gaters, Eels, Piranhas, the Titanic, Drains, Slime, Slime covered things, etc.

The list goes on and on. And that does not even include the most obvious: Being pulled and held under by any one of the a fore mentioned things and staying there, thrashing around, while the life slowly bubbles away from you…

I mean, I guess there are a few experiences in my life that would point towards my growing fear of the water. To name a few:

I do remember being held under at the local Country Club pool until I nearly passed out. I came up crying. It was a joke of course. The boy that lived down the street from me surely did not mean to kill me. I mean, he used to call me Sunny Delicious because I’m pretty sure he thought that’s what ‘Sunny Delight’ was called. But all the same, it was traumatic. Something like that could really, severely impair a person.

I also nearly drowned in the ocean when I was in my tweens… but who didn’t? I was boogie boarding with EMoney, two to a boogie board, and things didn’t go well. First, we got caught in a riptide and were pulled down the beach so that when we came out of the water, we approached a woman who we THOUGHT was her mother, but did not turn out to be… traumatic.

Then, upon returning to our dangerous, boogie boarding adventure, we hit the sand so hard, EMoney was sent flying over the board into the beach, and was held face down in the shallow water, while I tried to untie the cord that was wrapped around her neck. You know, the cord that is meant to keep you from losing your board in just such an incident. You might not lose your board, but you could lose your LIFE! You can go ahead and add that ‘cord’ to the list of things to be scared of in the water.

Same adventure… same boogie board… no lessons yet. EMoney and I, yet again, hit the sand hard just as a huge wave overtakes our tiny bodies. EMoney escaped without incident… I, however, was not so lucky. That wave took me back with it. So fast and so hard, I might add, that as I ROLLED down the beach back out into the ocean, I was unable to pry my arms away from my spinning body to stop myself. Each time that I rolled towards the sea I could see that another HUGE wave was on its way to finish the job… And so at the very last minute, I leapt to safety… leaving behind my swimsuit, and my dignity.

It has to be mentioned that although I did give up at that point to return to the beach apartment, the ocean was not yet done with its humiliation. I just happened to walk past a group of very attractive teen boys having lunch, whom we would coincidentally meet the following day… and who, upon reminding, did in fact recognize me as the ‘drown rat’ that they had seen walking along the sidewalk the day before… LOVELY.

Then came my teenage years…

The years when everything matters. Looking and acting a certain way is paramount. Smudged mascara or wet bangs just won’t do when you’re that age. Water and teenage girls just don’t mix as it is, even when you’re not afraid. Now, boys of the same age, find it absolutely hilarious to dunk and push girls into the pool. I have no idea why there would be such a polar opposite response to a body of water. I guess they think their flirting. But worse than the ruined make up or hair do… is crying. And when I was dunked, I cried. So it was in my teens that I just stopped going in or around the pool at all… and of course the ocean and I just didn’t get along… and why not just throw in lakes for that matter? Maybe it was my teens when it all really started getting bad…

Fast forward some more… The place: Cache Creek. The age: College. The people: EMoney is back again (A coincidence?). The scenario: We have heard that it is quite a lot of ‘fun’ to get tire tubes from Valley Tires and ‘float’ in them as we head from one point in the creek to another…

First off… whoever named Cache Creek a creek was clearly just going for the alliteration. This thing is a raging river! I mean, there are some serious rapids on this beast. One of which is called ‘The Widow Maker’ and the worst of all is called ‘The Mother.’ I mean come on. If that is not intimidating, I don’t know what is.

So this first trip down Cache Creek (and I say first because yes, I have attempted this more than one time) it was to be myself, EMoney, her twin Dewip and E’s boyfriend at the time. We had two tubes and one inflatable raft…

None of us had done this before.

We had brought life vests with us, but were not sure how necessary they would be. If you have gone down Cache Creek, you might be laughing at this point. As we approached the water to put our tubes and raft in, a huge group of people went by in kayaks. Not only were they wearing life vests… they were wearing helmets.

“Oh shit…” I thought.

And that’s pretty much all I thought for the next five hours. ‘The Mother’ is the final rapid of the run, of course, so you have the entire trip to think that you haven’t even gone through the worst of it.

EMoney and I started in the raft. The raft was hardly even made for two people, and it did not take Dewip long to decide that she would prefer the false security that the raft offered when compared to a measly tire tube.

Things quickly got out of control.

I hate to call E out, and I hate to use this language but I have to give you a direct quote here.

We had drifted into some trees along the bank but were still being forcefully carried down river despite all our efforts, and we had ONE ore between us. I must have taken one too many, 3 inch thick tree branches to the head when I yelled:

“Give me the fucking ore, Bitch.”

I mean, E is one of my best friends in the entire world, but she was screaming bloody murder and holding the ore at her chest, attempting to block the branches from hitting her. Our one ore and it’s not even touching the water?

I meant every word of that statement.

And she understood that I meant it. She immediately stopped screaming, handed me the ore, and I steered us to safety… well momentary safety.

Dewip actually got the nickname of Pocahontas that day for her skilled ore maneuvering. She might not have ever learned of that skill if it weren’t for this particular crisis.

That entire five-hour trip down Cache Creek that day felt like we were in the final life boat on the Titanic, and the raft was our only chance for survival, and the Titanic itself was trying to pull us under with it… and there was a terrible storm happening… and the boat had sprung a leak……. and the three of us had forgotten how to use words other than ‘Oh My God’ and ‘Holy Hell’.

I made it as far as ‘The Widow Maker’, which is the prequel to ‘The Mother’ before deciding to try out the tire tube. I was in the tire tube a total of 36 seconds before being forcefully propelled out of it. I maintain to this day that I had to perform a self rescue after being thrown out of my tube, because I knew that no one was going to come in after me. I pulled myself onto the raft before the other’s had even realized things had gone awry.

Needless to say, Dewip and I got out and walked around ‘The Mother’… it was just too real for me that day.

I have gone down that Creek probably five times since… one of those times just yesterday…and I have to tell you that it can be a really great time with the right precautions. Dangerous yes, but entertaining as well. We have come up with some pretty brilliant inventions:

The ice chest tube is a must!

And my lovely husband and our friend, DDHill, have devised a brilliant plan to not only entice me to actually come, but also to insure that I won’t be thrown out or tipped over or pulled under. And these are the only circumstances under which I will go down this quote on quote: Creek.

We now get a tractor tire… it’s massive, and we cut a piece of plywood to fit in the bottom of the ring. And then we drill holes in the plywood and wrap rope all the way around the tube and through the plywood… essentially  making a high impact raft…

We call it the ‘Tank Tube’ and  it is no joke. Modeled here by DDHill.

As you can see, an ore is still essential to the process of getting out alive. But as you can also see, the tank tube provides me with a chaperone and personal lifeguard on board.

Yesterday, the inevitable happened…

When you spend the day in the water… you’re bound to get wet. And wet I did.

There is a point where we, as tubers, have to get out of the water and walk around what is called ‘Low Water Bridge’. If we don’t get out… basically we will get sucked under the bridge and die.

So after we get out, we have to go onto the bridge, lower our tubes back into the water, and then JUMP into them before they float away. Now I am not sure how we have done this in the past, but it never involved me getting in the water. The entire day is dedicated to me staying out of the water whenever possible.

But not yesterday…

Yesterday, Burny threw our tank tube in the water and told me to jump. There was some miscommunication, however, because I didn’t jump in time. And the next thing I know, Burny and my only source of getting out alive are floating down river quickly…

I didn’t even have time to think. My life flashed before my eyes. Everyone was yelling ‘JUMP!’

I jumped.

I missed.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, I found myself underwater. My hat was floating away… and so was my life. It was very dramatic, I promise. But yet again, it took me no time at all to swim with the current towards my tank tube. Once I got there, I realised that I could actually touch the bottom where I was. So maybe it was a little less dire of a situation that I had thought, but regardless, I was still more in the water than out. And that is never a good thing.

I pulled myself up on the tube, and once again, found myself without a piece of my swimwear. The water is a pervert.

And I hate to say it, but going underwater still makes me cry…

I did make it down ‘The Mother’ safely yesterday. The tank tube is virtually indestructible, I have to say. But the girl coming down ‘The Mother’ just after me did not have nearly as much luck. She was thrown from her tube at the very beginning and scream as I might, I was no use to her. Burny tried to coach her through it, but she did not make it out without receiving several bruises, sacrificing her sunglasses, and spending several seconds under the water’s mercy.

And although I made it through okay myself, I’ll never forget the look of sheer terror on her face for those 30 seconds…

So I guess any number of these reasons could be THE reason I am scared of the water. It’s hard to say. I feel like the reasons just keep piling on, and making themselves known. I just can’t imagine myself ever overcoming this fear… nor is it on the top of my list of things to do. I think that there is good reason to fear the water and be overly cautious. And if I have to be the one to take on that burden… the burden of fearing the great, deep, blue… than so be it.

I’ll take that on.

But when all is said and done, just remember:

It’s NOT that I can’t swim… it’s that I DON’T swim.