An adrenaline junky I am not. Distinctly absent from this blog is any skydiving, bungee jumping or downhill skiing. At heart, I am not a fan of anything that involves falling – or could involve falling if you don’t get it right. So quite honestly, I have no idea why I let Darren talk me into going jet skiing. And not just any old jet skiing trip… jet skiing from Long Beach California to the town of Two Harbors on Catalina Island. A distance of around 25 miles (each way). Small consolation that bad decisions make good stories.
Still, the day started out with a bright and sunny morning, so off to a good start. And I was rather pleased that the wetsuit I was given was emblazoned with pink stripes. At least I looked the part (in my mind at least – feminine and sporty!) I glanced around at the other jet skiers in the group. And tried to ignore the fact that everyone else on this trip was younger than us. I put my game face on. Let’s do this!
We were strictly warned of the 5mph maximum speed limit in the harbor area, so we pootled out at 4-5mph. Yeah, this is cool – quite comfortable, feels like a good speed. We cruised past Queen Mary (the old Cunard ship now a long-time permanent resident at Long Beach). Ironically, there was a Carnival ‘fun ship’ docked next to it, stacked high with passenger decks laden with balconies, the old style Cunard liner looking very graceful and elegant in contrast.
We re-grouped briefly, and then with a nod to the open ocean and an arm gesture like a dance move from Greased Lightning, our leader indicated it was time to open up the throttle and head out to sea.
And… boom! It was like being in a cartoon car where the accelerator is binary: either on or off. This one was well and truly on. And the cartoon version of myself mimicked the real life me, all of a sudden shot back at a 45 degree angle.
Poor Darren virtually had the life squeezed out of him, I was holding on so tight. I wanted to close my eyes (and for it all to just be over), but my best chance of staying on this damn thing was to try to peer past Darren’s head to anticipate the bumps and upcoming swerves. And so I gritted my teeth, held my breath and clenched hold tightly, my muscles virtually cramping with the exertion. This I did for 30 minutes (which felt like 3 hours), until we paused briefly to check out some seals. Never have I ever been so happy to see seals, if only to get a break from the torture.
More of the same followed. Me: on tenterhooks, heart pounding, thinking I’m about to die at any moment. Darren: oblivious, lapping it up and enjoying the ride, wondering why I’m holding on so tight and politely (!) requesting that I relax my hold in order that he could breathe.
Basophobia. I looked it up. Basophobia is the fear of falling (which by the way is very different from the fear of heights). What I needed was a distraction from my fear, something to loosen my jaw, relax my body and free me from my internal terror to instead relish the moment. That something came in the form of dolphins. Not just a few dolphins but a shit load of dolphins. A Disney-movie style dolphin experience. We found ourselves surrounded by more than 150 of them! They took command of our flotilla, riding on the bow waves of every single jet ski out there and flanking us on all sides.
The thing about jet skis is that you’re kind of close to the water. So when dolphins are riding your bow wave, you can practically touch them, almost smell what they had for breakfast. I was ecstatic. The dolphins were kindred spirits, their preferred cruising speed more in line with mine, powerful and relentless yet smooth and graceful. The euphoria of being with them on their own territory overcame me. It was just a brief respite from the speed, the grueling pounding of the waves, and the noise. (That constant grinding jet ski engine noise, somewhere between chain saw and pneumatic drill…). But as we cruised along with those dolphins, a euphoric Enya track morphed in my head, drowning out any real world sounds… I was at one with nature, embracing the moment, and all was at peace with the world.
As quickly as it started, it was over. The dolphins were veering too far from the course we needed to take to get to Catalina. And I was thrust back into the deep dark depths of my interminable inescapable jet ski journey. You see, we were in the middle of the ocean and there was no way out – other than to fall off, which I was desperately trying to avoid at all costs.
One final distraction awaited as we neared the shores of Catalina island. Actually two distractions. The first was a rather cool swim through a cave, complete with an abundance of sea life and tendrils of seaweed waving back and forth in the current. This did not involve a fall from the jet ski but a dip in the ocean under my own terms and so was just fine (notwithstanding the cold water!). The second was the entertainment provided by a fellow jet ski couple who managed, rather bizarrely, to up-end their jet ski and catapult, circus-like into the water. Not once but twice. Having flooded their engine, rendering their vehicle unusable, an impromptu tow rope appeared and we limped slowly into shore. Limping speed, oh yeah, give me more, I could handle that. So happy that a) it wasn’t me who fell off and broke the jet ski, and b) we got the opportunity to cruise along slowly again 🙂
Taking a break
Once ashore, we found a cute spot at a beach cafe to linger in the sun and grab some lunch, and I gradually regained the ability to breathe normally again. First on my mind was to rid my body of its cold, shivering, restless state – a quick trip to the tourist tat shop and I sported me a brand new Catalina Island hoodie, complete with buffalo. (Later described by a friend as “so uncool, it’s almost cool”).
Second on my mind, and of rising importance, was how to never ever go on a jet ski ever again. I repeat: never ever again. The most pressing challenge for my resolution: we were on an island in the Pacific Ocean and our expected mode of transport back to the mainland was via jet ski. Nope, not happening. Time to get creative.
You can imagine my relief to learn that in amongst the throngs of tourists awaiting the ferry home, the ticket booth had a handful of golden tickets remaining. Result!!! I thanked the jet ski people kindly for the lovely exhilarating experience I’d had on the way out and explained that the ferry had graciously assigned me a seat with my name on it. Darren was more than capable of taking our jet ski back single handedly (indeed I’m sure he gave silent thanks to the thought of a lone ride back).
Jet skies all lined up in Two Harbors, ready for the return journey
Bye bye Darren, safe trip back
Warm and dry in my new hoody and the relative comfort of the ferry bar, I raised my beer in a silent toast or two. The first toast, as always, is to health, which includes finding the best CBD for Anxiety and staying well. For without that, you have nothing. And in case you’re in any doubt, health includes surviving the day in one piece. The second is to living the dream: that magical moment with the dolphins is one I’ll never forget. As for Enya: sail away, sail away, sail away…