shore. Do I get in here in the shallows then try and push out through the breaking waves, or do I walk in past the breaks into what is probably at least knee deep water and then try to mount the unstable Kayak?
I’m starting to feel like a fool just standing here dumfounded, so I make a rash decision and march into the water, dragging my new toy behind me. Sadly the water here is deeper than I expected lapping at the tops of my thighs, and utterly freezing!
I don’t know what I expected, but in this heat the sea’s turquoise shimmer plays tricks on your mind telling you, “come on in, I’m so inviting, this is Mexico, not England, the water here’s just right”.
On the plus side I am intensely more determined to get into the damn boat, now bobbing precariously up and down next to me. Depositing the paddle inside, that’s one down, one more to go; turning my back to it, I place my hands on the side on either side of my hips and majestically jump up while pushing down with my hands. In one swift movement, just as I’m grinning that my bottom has landed on plastic, the other side flies up hits my shoulders (thankfully padded with the life jacket) and knock me straight back into the sea, face first, whilst simultaneously capsizing itself.
Spluttering salty water out of my mouth and wiping it out of my eyes, scanning the shore quickly, checking to see how many people have witnessed my clumsy feat, the life jacket man has his back to me securing the straps on a small child, but a couple of perfectly toned and tanned blonde bombshells are giggling behind their magazines, suspiciously averting their eyes and looking anywhere but at me, a sure sign that they were looking, but I think that’s about it.
Not too damaging to my reputation as a cool, savvy, solo traveler.
Righting the damn thing and retrieving the escaping paddle I’ve got to psyche myself up for round two. My plan of attack is to secure one leg into the kayak, hopefully ensuring its equilibrium, then with a hand on either side I should be able to hop my bum in then retrieve the remaining leg once I’ve stabilised. It’s not going to be pretty that’s for sure, but as long as it achieves the end result, that’s all I’m bothered about.
OK here goes, yes…no…ahh!...Yes! I’m in! Sweet Jesus that was a mission. Picking up the paddle, which is now wedged in beside me, I start rowing out, tentative at first, but then I find my rhythm. Before long I’m quite far out so I rest the paddle on my legs and have a look over the side. Even this deep the water is as clear as glass and you can see right to the bottom. Tiny fish of all different colours are darting around beneath me, they seem almost luminous as they shimmer under the rays of sun that pierce the waves, captivating; just going about their business, seemingly unaware of me watching them. I sit like this until I start to feel the burn on my shoulders. I’ve drifted back towards the shore a little, so decide to paddle along the length of the beach.
I’m used to the Kayak now, I feel like a seasoned pro, putting some effort in I pick up speed, working my biceps against the resistance of the water, feeling the cool breeze against my cheeks. I’m just rounding the first corner, when suddenly, for a split second as I fly by, the water changed to black, what was that?
Jabbing the oar into the water on one side I begin to slow and turn at the same time, then, more cautiously this time I head back to the anomaly. As I approach I can see the water bubbling and pushing up in one large circular area, contrasting to the calm of the water around it; directly below there is a black hole in the sea floor about a meter or so across. I’m dumfounded, I have no idea what this is, but it certainly looks ominous; I’m balancing carefully on the edge so I can take a good look but not actually travel over the space again. Thankfully the force from the upstream coming from the hole does a good job of keeping me pushed to the side.
Something starts to materialise from the darkness so I lean in a little closer for a