Death (Almost) Becomes Them

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Our last formal excursion was billed as "An all-day adventure of zip-lining, horseback riding and tubing down the river, followed by a soothing soak in mud and mineral springs." Only, and I mean ONLY, the last item was anything that resembled relaxing. Nowhere in the description were any of the other "adventures" billed as near-death experiences. As I told Mike when we stumbled in at 5:30 pm, I'll never view water the same way again.

Freddy picked us up at 6:30 am for another teeth-rattling ride to the Rincon de la Vieja canyons--about an hour and 20 minute jaunt. The upside of all this nature is that the girls have been rousted by 6:30 every single morning for fishing or sightseeing. As we said, we can sleep on the plane or when we are dead. Little did we know that we'd come perilously close on that count. All of my least-favorite and most-feared activities were to be part of the agenda: heights, climbing, balky horses and uncontrolled rapids. I was going to title this entry "overcoming our fears and phobias," but I think they've been reinforced rather than mastered.

First activity: zip-lining, which involves being strapped into a harness and flying like a trapeze artist from platform to platform above the canyon, rivers, streams, etc. We did this activity in Puerto Vallarta, but that one looks like the baby roller coaster compared to the Screaming Eagle. The scenery was gorgeous, but I was too distracted by the pinching of the harness in a very inconvenient place, the need to climb a sheer wall (albeit with hand and foot holds and two guides to haul my a** up most of the way), and the required tarzan-style swing over a 100 foot canyon full of water. Thankfully, we were done within the hour and it WAS beautiful.

Next up: horseback riding. Unlike Tuesday, when we rode basically farm horses on a rocky trail to reach the rainforest, these were big ranch horses that would take us through streams, hills and forests that (as Nora put it) were like riding the Oregon trail. All this in the pouring rain, mind you. The experience was not enhanced by the 30 others in our huge cattle-car tour, one being an annoying woman who screeched every time the horses prolifically urinated or pooped. I felt like telling her "What do you expect, that they will ask to use el bano?" We sat in the pouring rain on horseback while they loaded up all the riders, which took at least 30 minutes. Sitting on a horse in the rain sounds somewhat rustic, but it was borderline miserable. Once we set off, we realized exactly what we were in for as the horses slid, skidded and cantered through the wet forest. Fording not one but three streams, downhill, slipping all the way, was the scariest thing I had done to that point. How can horses have those spindly legs, and support both themselves and a rider, and manage to make it without losing either their balance or the tourists? When we arrived at our destination (where we would be tubing on the river), we all agreed that "We are not celebrities, get us our of here." I said that I would gladly eat a bug rather than face those waters.

Tubing--how can I describe it? Life vests and helmets donned, safety briefing provided, vague instructions about not letting go of the tube and the yellow line that we were to grab at the various stop points had me hyperventilating. You may not know it, but I was a lifeguard in my younger days, and consider myself a really strong swimmer. But, I have a very healthy fear of the power of water. As we trudged down steep hills into the river valley, carrying our awkward tubes, I kept hearing the rushing river below. Even the guides noted that usually the river is class II, but because of the rains was probably closer to a III or IV. Super.

We finally reached the starting point, and I can't even begin to describe how fast the water was moving. And the rocks--lots of them, big ones. There was no turning back. One by one, the guides pushed us off, and we heard the screams and the whistles downstream which meant that someone "flipped" or was thrown from their tube. Rescue comes in several forms: the tow rope, which the guides throw to you and you try to catch all the while gasping for breath and being thrown around like flotsam in the wind, or in the really bad cases guides jumping in to haul your butt to the nearest stop point. We all started out smiling bravely, and I tried very hard to surf the churning waters. Almost made it through, when I was thrown down a swirling ledge, hit a rock and was flipped. You try not to panic, but the water is pulling you under, crashing into your nose and mouth, flinging you against rocks, and you begin screaming "help me, help me." My pants were nearly ripped off, my head hit a rock (thank God for the helmet) and I grabbed some poor woman's tube (mine was long gone downstream) and held on for dear life. I made unspeakable deals with God. Three people pulled me up to the rock where half the group was waiting, including Kate (Nora was on the other side of the river bank) and I felt myself near hysteria. "I can't do this. We have to stop." Unfortunately, once you start there is really no turning back. We asked how far we had to go before we could abandon this absolutely terrifying sport, and were told "Four more stops." An effing eternity.

As we rested and gathered the courage to go on, one person told us that the rapids were so bad that two of the guides had questioned whether we should actually even be doing this. Nice. As one guy put it, it's like going white-water rafting on a tube. But, move on we did and I only got flipped two more times (near hysteria again on one). The girls, bless them, were real troupers. Nora got flipped as many times as I did; Kate, being Kate, didn't flip at all until the very last (optional) rapids. When we had navigated the last rapids, almost at the end, the guides said that anyone who wanted to could walk the barely-accessible trail rather than go down the final stretch--Nora and I practically trampled the others as we scrambled to the front of the line. When he asked, "Who wants to do this last run?" Kate raised her hand, along with about 10 other maniacs. My heart was in my throat, and I thought about forbidding it, but the guides promised they would be there in force--one per person. Sure. I think this makes me the shoe in for "mom of the year" award. I dare you, try to take it away. ;-)

A final dunk in the cold water to the pull-out point for Nora and me, and the wait for Kate. The video proves that even the daredevil ("el diablo") is capable of wiping out. Drag the tubes up the hill, smoke a soggy cigarette (which along with the useless camera had managed to stay miraculously dry in my handy-dandy waterproof pouch) and wish for a really stiff drink, and on to the spa, completely and utterly rattled to the bone. By some miracle, we all survived intact with only a couple of small cuts, some nice bruises on my arms from being hauled to dry ground, and very sore muscles to show for our trouble. I can't have ever imagined that the girls would have been able to do this, and I'm sure they were wondering whether I would make it, so in a way it was a bonding experience. Our mantra for the remainder of the trip when they start getting pissy with each other (or me) is "Remember, we saved each other's lives." I remember thinking a few times, if I hadn't been working out for the last year and a half, there is NO WAY I would have been able to do this without getting killed. And, there is NO ONE I can think of (over the age of 25) that would have found this remotely enjoyable. Done. Finis. Never again. I have finally found a sport/activity that is beyond me. In some ways, though, that is a good thing and makes one humble. You can't master everything.

Fresh fish cooked on our grill for dinner, we went out for dessert (using female logic that we burned up at least four million calories), and an early bedtime. I think we all pretty much passed out by 10. And, massages tomorrow! Yay!

Postscript: Frommer's says the following about our adventure: "I have found the inner-tube adventure to be extremely dangerous and somewhat carelessly run, especially during or just after the rainy season." Sadly, I forgot that particular guidebook at home.

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Comments

[tjarvie]

gwb
I have new respect for all of you for making it through this! I've whitewater rafted many times (mostly in college when I was in shape and fearless) and I don't know if I could have done it! You don't need photos of equipment--you all have equipmetn of your own!!