Mixing adventure with charm
BY TINA SFONDELES Staff reporter December 31, 2011 3:22PM
Article Extras
Updated: February 2, 2012 8:13AM
The girl afraid of everything found herself atop a mule, the poor animal lugging her up a rocky hill toward God knows what at the edge of a cliff in Puerto Vallarta.
She hid her growing fear as the hissing sound of a zip line got louder. She refused to freak out when she saw a terrified woman, shaking in fear and wearing a zip line harness, being escorted on foot back down the dangerous, rocky hill.
For the girl afraid of everything — that would be me — the lady was a kindred spirit. Or, as our guides would later explain, among the 5 percent of people who can’t muster the courage to ride the Vallarta Experience zip line, that scary-looking aerial activity where a pulley is suspended on a cable and is then mounted on an incline. In some parts of the world it’s known as a “flying fox” or “death slide.” Great.
On the cliff’s edge, I was petrified but determined. A travel writer from Brooklyn did her best to calm me. She called me her “soul sister” for being as frightened of everything as she was.
A man hooked my harness to a steel cable strung high over a wooded ravine.
“Oh Jesus,” I said, afraid to look down.
“I’m not Jesus. I’m Victor,” the zip line guy said like a punch line he’d practiced before, which unleashed an eruption of nervous laughter that apparently was buried beneath my overwhelming fear.
I took a deep breath. And another.
That’s when Victor unhooked whatever it was that had been preventing me from hurling toward certain death.
In that instant, I was on a line, zipping over what I think was a beautiful Mexican landscape of lush trees and rugged cliffs. I can’t describe it exactly, because I refused to look down during the 20 seconds of terror it took to get to the other side.
But moments after realizing that I didn’t die, I felt good. Better than good. I felt energized. I wanted another ride.
I wasn’t the girl afraid of anything anymore. I was an adrenaline junkie.
BOATS, ‘UNIMOGS’
AND WATERFALLS
That daylong excursion started just after breakfast.
We took a speedboat to Boca de Tomatlán, a secluded beach and scenic port, where we climbed in a vintage “Jurassic Park”-looking safari truck called a Unimog driven by a speed freak on a bumpy road. The all-terrain vehicle seemed like it was going to tip over every couple of seconds until we finally parked.
That’s when we got on the mules. I don’t like riding mules. My cousin, God rest his soul, died riding a mule in his mountainous village in Greece. But after that first zip line ride, I’d ride that beast almost anywhere. I clipped on zip line after zip line and even landed in water, twice. By the end of the day, I felt like an adventure pro.
Except for the rappelling incident.
It was fun, if you’re into banging your knees against granite cliffs, getting bruises and holding on for dear life while your adventure guide teases you.
“Tina, are you coming down? Or are you going to stay there all day?” Jesus, I mean, Victor asked.
“No, no. I’m cool,” I said, legs dangling in the air, knees crashing into the rocks. “I’m just gonna stay here.”
I’m not sure how I made it down, but I felt stronger once I had both feet on the ground.
AHOY, MY TIPSY MATE
When you arrive in Puerto Vallarta it’s immediately clear the economy survives on tourism. And it’s no secret the sunny vacation spot has suffered a financial hit since two major cruise lines stopped docking there because of warnings issued by the United States urging Americans to avoid several Mexican cities known for drug cartel-related violence.
But there wasn’t any reason to fear during my experience with any of the major tour companies, where hard-working folks were trying to keep travelers happy and their businesses alive — even during the off-season.
Take the hosts on the pirate ship I landed on. Yes, a pirate ship. Well, actually a replica of Christopher Columbus’ famed Santa Maria, which offers a five-hour pirate-themed booze cruise.
There, I met “Captain Morgan,” who informed us what we had gotten ourselves into by briefly stepping out of character to tell us, “We’re everything. We’re actors, dancers, waiters.”
All the usual factors of a tourist cruise were right in my face: the pictures taken with a pirate as he holds a fake sword to your neck atop a chest full of fake coins, or the way staff encourage patrons to shout their server’s name and root for them.
It was a Mexican pirate-themed version of Medieval Times with better food, sword fights and actor/dancer/waiters who try to get you drunk.
I wanted to scoff at the whole experience, but everyone around me was laughing, and drinking and laughing. It was contagious. These people were actually having a good time, and not just because they were all inebriated. But I’m sure the booze helped, at least a little.
ADVENTURE IS RIGHT OUTSIDE YOUR HOTEL WINDOW
Every morning at the CasaMagna Marriott, I woke up to a view of the Sierra Madre Mountains, Banderas Bay and the sun-drenched pool. Most days the beach was barren except for locals selling trinkets on the sand. I got the feeling people checked into this hotel, stayed at the pool and never left. But if you are willing to venture out of your hotel, you’ll find plenty to do. I certainly did.
I got a little tipsy at a tequila factory while learning the finer points of turning the Agave plant into booze. I took a mountain bike trip, before the tequila tour of course, which was led by another local with a speed fetish. We aggressively pedaled down side streets and got chased by small, but vicious-looking dogs.
If you think the girl afraid of everything was completely fearless on this trip, think again. I skipped a jet ski ride because, well, the open water and sharks and sting rays and fear of drowning, scare me.
Instead, I took a leisurely snorkeling trip to the Marietas Islands on a calm boat ride that I had nearly all to myself.
Information for this article was gathered on a research trip sponsored by the Puerto Vallarta Tourism Board.
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