Footsteps

 

 Magic in the Marietas [3:36m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

…As our sailboat neared the Marietas Islands, schools of jellyfish amended the captain’s chosen snorkeling spots twice.  Just as well.  While I wouldn’t trade memories of an accidental swim through tiny diaphanous sea jellies a few years ago, I remember with equal clarity their lingering stings along my upper lip!

My solitary week in Nuevo Vallarta had etched some bold new strokes into who I knew myself to be. I had flown through jungle canopy on zip lines, negotiated city buses and explored Puerto Vallarta on foot. I had kayaked in the Pacific Ocean and run miles along the golden crescent shore of Banderas Bay.  Talking to strangers had yielded vibrant vignettes of lives far removed from my own, and lively music had set rhythms in my heart that made hope dance in directions my feet longed to follow. ~And, here I now floated near rocky protrusions called the Marietas Islands.

Other-worldly.  Agave and other similarly scrubby brush covered craggy rock masses punctuated by arches and overlooks.  The cliffs seemed a breathing being beneath the constant motion of landing and launching sea birds.  Most had specially coated feathers for ocean plunges.  Frigates, not so biologically equipped, added drama by thieving fresh fish from the mouths of successful divers.  As we slowly made our way around the largest island to a final snorkeling spot, I finally spotted my first blue footed booby bird.  With actual blue feet, these stumpy little birds are found only in the Galapagos and Marietas Islands.  I was thrilled to then note several more perched on large boulders that were most likely the tips of outer islands.

The Marietas Islands, popularized by Jacques Cousteau and now protected as a national park area, is volcanic in origin and surrounded by coral. We dropped anchor near a steep beach nestled amongst its cliffs, and a dinghy took us in range of the coral and marine life. Our guide kindly allowed me to remove my life vest and free dive down to where I could see my favorite fish up close.  The water was clearer than I had expected; I followed one fish after another until it was time to relax on the postage stamp of a beach.  A few of us explored the unspoiled island in our bare feet, ducking under arches to find still more caves and overhangs, wandering a splendid twisting geological maze.

I didn’t want to leave.  I wondered how long it would take  -climbing the rocks, feeling sand and sea swirl between my toes and watching fluttering sea birds- before the passage of time would matter again.  As the boat slowly backed from the islands, starkly lovely with their embellishments of swirled caves and arches, I cradled the moment.  I breathed in every sensory bit of it and wondered how it could all be so perfect when there was no one to “nudge” or share it with.  It was revelation to me that a tree could fall within its forest and that my ear alone could be enough to hear and mark its sound. And, it was pure freedom to know that bliss could wrap its arms around me, just me.  It didn’t have to be a group hug.

~And do you know what?  As the music played on our sail back, that group from Appleton, Wisconsin grabbed onto the cables on the side of the boat and danced.  And it wasn’t long until someone grabbed my hand, placed it firmly on a cable, and I was dancing too…

MORE:  “Weaving’Wonderful’ on the Bay of Banderas”

“Beyond the Bay (The Marietas Islands)”

“A ‘Photo Hike’ through Puerto Vallarta (Part One)”

“ A ‘Favorite Day’ in Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco (Part Two)”

Tags: Snorkeling/Swimming, Mexico, The Marietas Islands, Nuevo Vallarta, Over the Border (and Through the Woods...), Seascapes, Table for One, Heart-to-Heart, Outdoor Adventures by Heather
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 Beyond the Bay (The Marietas Islands, Mexico) [3:51m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

In my mind, it’s better to “go” than to wait for that perfect someday.  Branches of my family tree droop with somebodies who waited upon “somedays” that never came.  And so, when the choice is between traveling by myself or staying home, I water my plants and pack a bag.  Faced with a full week of unfettered days a few years ago,  I opted for Nuevo Vallarta and some time with a new favorite friend, Me.  On one of my final days, I joined a group sailing out of Banderas Bay toward the Marietas Islands.

One interesting element of traveling alone is the way it enables one to drift in and out of conversations.  You can listen to others -or ignore them.  You can talk with those around you or live inside yourself.  You can think or merely observe as your senses soak in the impressions of each moment.  The optimal method to achieving this mental utopia is to situate oneself within groups of a certain size.  My sailing trip from Nuevo Vallarta to the Marietas Islands violated that self-imposed standard by at least one hundred people.  The gleaming wood sailing vessel was elegant, classic, but unfortunately, much smaller than I had expected and hoped for…  My fellow passengers numbered only twenty and included cozy couples, a family of four and an extended family group of about twelve from Appleton, Wisconsin.  -But the morning sun was warming up a perfect day, and it was infinitely better to be there alone than to not be there at all.  I settled onto a white canvas cushion and floated into my own thoughts as we sailed out onto Banderas Bay.

Grief over the closely-timed deaths of my parents, grandfather and marriage had created a watery barrier around my moments of joy and muffled its volume.  I was no longer somebody’s daughter, nor anyone’s wife.  And for this week, I was a mother traveling without children.  I was simply “Heather.”

The difficult part comes during the “look at that!” nudging moments. Sharing the remarkable seems almost an elemental part of processing it and saving it into our internal hard drive.  We define the extraordinary against those who are familiar with our ordinary zones.  That afternoon in Mexico, I knew I was sailing toward “extraordinary”.  And, instead of saving it for “someday,” I was ripping open the package and taking the first bite all by myself.

The Sierra Madres merged into a singular broad expanse behind us as the sea sprayed the bow and the afternoon rolled into a brilliant sort of serenity.  I somehow became part of a couple of family groups, listening and learning to the early and mid-chapters of lives for which I’d be unlikely to read the endings.  Although the whale migration season had officially ended, two humpbacks swam in the mouth of the bay.  Our guide, Gustavo,  speculated that the stragglers were a mother and calf who had not been ready for the pod’s swim north.  I’ve watched bus-sized humpbacks breach with dramatic splashes in Maui’s waters. This was different.  We were further away, but the glimpse of determined mother with her child was a more intimate encounter.

We cut sharply through the dark blue waters, eventually spotting the stumpy blobs of volcanic matter that are the Marietas Islands, but before we could get there, we were surrounded by about four hundred dolphins, leaping in the synchronized chaos of a feeding frenzy.  They circled us again and again in a choreographed parade of a dance.  I’d never seen so many of the mammals at once.

The largest island loomed ahead like an overly puffed and then squashed marshmallow…

Next time, I’ll share the magic of the Marietas and what that meant for me.

I know… I know!!  Next time, I promise!  

Tags: Nuevo Vallarta, Snorkeling/Swimming, Mexico, The Marietas Islands, Puerto Vallarta, Over the Border (and Through the Woods...), Seascapes, Table for One, Heart-to-Heart, Outdoor Adventures by Heather
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