Adventures In Boracay: Part III

Life on Boracay had settled into an easy rhythm. I’d wake up early to work, later Jenn and I would have breakfast, go for long walks on the beach and then swim back to the hotel in time for lunch and cocktails. After that, we’d go shopping and explore the town or just laze around reading books on the beach.

Someone is always selling something on the beach — sun hats, sunglasses, beach gear, knick-knacks and the occasional paddy-wack. The people selling stuff are not overly obnoxious about hawking their wares, but they can be persistent. We learned how to give off the “No Thanks, We Don’t Need Another Inflatable Octopus” vibe in very short order.

One day when I was coming back from booking a scuba dive, I ran into a nice fellow who was selling sailboat rides and snorkelling at PUKA BEACH. “Jenn would love to go sailing and snorkelling,” I said to myself and proceeded to pay the man. I paid him about 2,500 pesos ($30 USD) and was told to meet him up the beach at a catamaran with blue sails tomorrow morning at around 10.

Excited (pockets full of magic beans), I went back to the hotel and told Jenn what I had done. She was as enthusiastic as I was to go on another adventure, but she was a little curious about how we would find this guy. So she (the smart one of the two of us) asked probing questions like: What was his name? Was he part of a company? What was the company’s name? How long was the trip? Where is Puka Beach?

Being the prepared and qualified adventurer I am, I pointed north, “Puka Beach is at the top of the island,” I said triumphantly. “It’ll be great.”

The next day we walked up the beach to where all of the catamarans were—there were roughly 15 boats there, 12 had blue sails. It’s essential to look like you know what you’re doing in these types of situations. So, looking like I knew what I was doing, I searched the crowd of captains for my guy. I was 90% sure I saw him; I smiled my big dopey innocent (but knowing) smile and nodded (knowingly) at his boat; he smiled and nodded back. We were in business. This was our guy. I believe his name was Jose and he introduced us to his first mate, Gary (I'm making that name up, sorry Gary). Jenn and I introduced ourselves, slathered each other in sunscreen, hopped onto the boat and headed out for adventure.

The way the catamaran works is this: To keep it all balanced, Jose was in the middle doing Captain things, Gary was there doing First Mate things; I was on one side, and Jenn was on the other. Both of us sitting on what amounted to a rope hammock a foot or two above the waves.

Once we got out to sea, Jose turned the boat south. “No problem,” I thought. “We’re just tacking into the wind before turning north to Puka Beach.” I obviously have only a passing knowledge of nautical terms, and tacking south to go north isn’t a thing. We were headed back towards the mainland.

That’s when it hit me. The Muerte Gang!

I didn’t know Jose. Did I recognize Gary from the wanted poster?!? I only knew where Puka Beach was, and it was the other direction. We were being kidnapped. I paid this guy to kidnap us. Now we are sailing to ports unknown to be murdered. Shit. What have I done? There’s Jenn on the other side of the boat, innocently enjoying the adventure. I tried getting her attention. Jose looked over and smiled. Jenn waved. As soon as Jose looked away, I mouthed the words, “M-U-E-R-T-E-G-A-N-G-!” followed by, “G-E-T-R-E-A-D-Y-T-O-J-U-M-P-!-!”

Clearly, Jenn didn’t understand my message because she held up a bottle of water as if to ask, “You need some water?”

My adrenaline was in fight or flight mode as we sailed ever closer to the mainland. As calmly as I could, I said to Jose, “Sooooooo, I thought Puka Beach was the other way.”

“Yes, sir, it is.” Replied Jose, still smiling as he adjusted the sails.

I edged closer to the middle, ready for action. Looking at Jenn to ensure she was prepared to jump when I gave the signal. My eyes were wide. My pupils were the size of sand dollars. Every fibre of my being ready for middle-aged action.

“We’re getting pretty close to the mainland, hey, Jose?”

“Yes, sir, we have to,” he said, smiling.

“Jenn,” I said gravely, “get ready!” Jenn looked confused.

Jose continued, “The wind shifted this morning, so we had to run south to the reef where we can go snorkelling.” Expertly he adjusted the sails, ducked under the swinging boom, and just like that, we were pointed between Boracay and the mainland. “Our snorkel spot is just up there,” he said, pointing to a couple of other boats anchored ahead of us. “What a great day,” he said, clearly enjoying his life and his place in it.

The snorkelling was beautiful, there was an abundance of fish swimming around and doing what fish do, and Jenn (still oblivious to our near kidnapping) enjoyed herself paddling around the Sulu Sea.

True to his word, Jose then whisked us up the other side of the island to Puka Beach, where we stopped for water and snacks and a bit of sightseeing. But I’m pretty sure I didn’t see one Puka Shell — this location’s namesake. Clearly, when people come here, they take a shell as a souvenir, and before you know it, there are no more puka shells. It happens just like that.

Puka Beach is on the northern tip of Boracay, and this wouldn’t be the last I saw of it — another adventure was just around the corner, but I’ll save that for another day. Jose and Gary brought us back to where it all started; we gave them a nice tip, thanked them and swam back to our hotel.

Boy, that cool water sure felt nice on our skin. Jenn said, “That was fun. I think we got a little sun out there.” A little sun? Ha. We’d soon know just how much sun we got. All of it.