The Amateur: Travel Writer 2

Well, I got myself thinking after posting that old piece of writing on here, I should get writing again! Here's the next bit of the story, so consider it a sequel to the last one.


With a few years of time already past, my memory of the following event is slightly hazy. In truth, being someone who is prone to forgetfulness, it is a miracle I can remember it at all. For example, ask me what I did yesterday and it will take me the best part of five minutes to remember, even if what happened yesterday was Elvis coming back from the dead to sing at my birthday party, followed by an impromptu cruise along the Nile with David Beckham and the current Manchester United squad…whilst dressed as a chicken. I think you get it.

My mum, her partner Garry and I were enjoying our Caribbean cruise immensely, the weather was perfect, the food was plentiful and free and the drinks were alcoholic and abundant, what more could anyone want. Well, I'll tell you, a trip to a tropical beach on the island paradise of St Maarten, where we would be served fruit or rum punch. Ahh, go on then.

We did.

It was Wednesday, I guess (knowing that it doesn’t actually matter what day it was). And as was tradition for these shore excursions, our usual breakfast of bacon, sausage, beans, bacon, toast, bacon, hash browns, sausage, bacon and egg was taken early so as to catch the coach in good time and save my mother from a mid morning panic attack.

On the coach, we watched as the beautiful island of St Maarten passed our windows. Our destination, the Waikiki beach, which, if rumour had it, was occasioned by the odd nudist. Obviously hoping that no good-looking nudist girls would spoil our beautiful beach view, we arrived in the full heat of the Caribbean day. As I remember, we were dropped off at a car-park a few yards from the beach and so we set off on foot to find our complimentary sun-bed and rum punches. It didn’t take long. After we had settled into our little spot, off I trotted to find some nud… er some open water in which to swim. The water was a bit more crashy-on-the-rocks than I was expecting. Having had a superb trip to a calm Grenada beach with serene blue sea just a couple of days previous, I had expected more of the same. Now being a care-free kind of fella I rushed in and found that the crashy-on-the-rocks water soon became the scoop-the-silly-sod-off-his-feet-and-dump-him-unceremoniously-on-his-arse-in-front-of-everyone water. The power of the waves was unreal. I remember thinking, mid somersault, something along the lines of 'OH SHIT'. After I regained full consciousness, patted myself down to ensure I hadn't lost any bits and emptied my shorts (of sand), I bravely endeavoured on. Once I got past the crashy, tsunami-y bit I started to explore the wonderfully blue ocean. It was wonderful, possibly one of the best feelings it is possible for a human being to experience, surrounded as I was by the clear warm tropical sea. Ahhhhhhhh...

It wasn’t long before I spotted a girl swimming a good few metres away from me. ‘That’s a very flesh coloured bikini top’ thought I, ‘wait, she’s in the nip!'  And so, being single and attracted to topless girls, I thought, 'I know, she'll probably be interested in my M25 squirrel story, I’ll go over and have a chat.' Unfortunately before I got there the sight of something directly behind me must have scared her as she decided she had better get out of the water. 'No matter, I'll just wait for the boner to dissipate and then continue enjoying the water', I sensibly concluded.

After a good few minutes I decided to get out, have a lay down and maybe a glass or two of punch. Ahh, life was feeling pretty good. It wasn’t long before the water was calling me to return, which I decided to do. This time Garry decided he would come along and have a dip. What followed will be etched into my mind forever.

The water was so beautiful, it invited you to go further and further into it. After fighting our way past that first set of waves we decided to go a bit further out than our fellow swimmers so as to be at one with the ocean. OK that’s probably a lie. But after splashing around for a few minutes, Garry spotted some even deeper blue water just a bit further out, and we decided to go and have a closer look. Well it took about 10 seconds before we both realised that this was maybe a mistake. The ocean had clearly decided that it wanted us for itself. The under-currents suddenly became stronger and grabbier and after finding that we were, ever so definitely, out of our depth the panic began. Only those of you who have experienced this feeling will know what it is like, it really feels as though the Grim Reaper is watching you, rather like a fat chick watches a turkey on Christmas Eve. My feet scrambled to find the sea-bed, which they didn’t. I started to swim with all my might against the currents and it felt as though I was getting nowhere. With Garry having the exact same difficulties, I quickly looked round to see if there was anyone around that could help us, and after a few seconds I came to the conclusion that, was there buggery. Suddenly a thought popped into my head 'a la Bear Grylls', if I could get to Garry, we could use each other to pull ourselves back. I struggled over and told Garry to grab my hand and throw me forward. So with as much force as he could muster he pushed me towards the shore. To my delight it worked, again my feet searched for the sea-bed and to my instant and endless relief, they found it, however I was suddenly a long way in front of Garry. In my haste to save my own skin I had briefly forgot that my plan was to also help him get to safety.. ‘Shit, what about Garry!’ I turned to see him still struggling against the currents and fast giving up. The Grim reaper was sharpening his scythe, he was about to strike. I called out ‘Have you found the sea-bed yet?’, ‘No’ came the half-hearted response. I reached out my hand as far as I could and saw Garry reaching for it. Nearly. NEARLY. ‘I’ve got it’ his feet had found the floor and the relief was palpable. Screw you Mr Reaper!!! Astutely we decided that our little dip was over and that we should return to the safety of the shore and to my mother who was completely oblivious to the entire ordeal.

Once we had regained our breath and looking rather dishevelled, we regaled her with our tale of near death. Smiling, she said ‘Oh, I saw you out there and thought, oh, they’re a long way out.’ Obviously worried at seeing her two boys in such a situation, she had quickly returned to her magazine and continued reading about Tina from Croydon who lost 10 stone in a 2 days in ‘What’s Pointless’ mag! Feeling that she probably thought we were over-reacting somewhat we decided that we would just keep telling her that we had nearly died until we got some sympathy. Several years later we’re still trying.

It only occurred to me on the way back from the beach that it had been completely devoid of lifeguards, or signs pointing to the perils that lay just a few feet away. I decided that as soon as we returned to the ship I would head straight for the customer service desk and lose my cool halfway and wimp out before I can make a complaint, which I did… really well.