It was a rough day at sea

Let me start by saying that I get seasick watching movies.

So imagine my glee when, as we are heading out to what I imagine to be an idyllic tropical float in beautiful aquamarine waters of the Great Barrier Reef, the captain of the boat comes on the loudspeakers to announce that conditions will be rough and nausea prevention is critical. 

I have already taken bonine AND ginger tablets at this point, so I'm feeling good about my level of preparedness. Then my stomach starts falling out at each lurch of the boat. So I chew gum. The crew has already passed out the barf bags to every passenger. And my tension is growing. Somewhat.

Then the captain announces that as we get around the Island we are passing, things will get "a little worse." In fact, he goes on to say, after we pass this island, we are not allowed to leave our seats. If we must leave our seats, the crew must escort us. 

I look around and see that the crew members now have on latex gloves and are holding more barf bags and boxes of Kleenexes. Then all the silverware flies out of the drawers. And I think, "Oh Shit."

I have already been told that  it takes 90 minutes for this boat to arrive at our destination; a "solid platform that doesn't bob around like the boat does." I think,"Is this what hell is like? This 90 minutes?" As I repeatedly ask Jan what time it is and try to calculate how many more minutes I have in this hell.

When we arrive at the platform, I see that it is not going to save me. It too is being thrown around. And we will be on this tilt-a-whirl for 5 hours. Before we get back on the boat and spend another 90 minutes getting back to shore. And I almost cry into my barf bag.

One of the extras that you can buy on this trip is a helicopter ride back to shore. It costs $349 dollars. I briefly consider my budget, but ultimately decide against the luxury, knowing that I really would hurl in a helicopter. Meanwhile people are using their barf bags all around me.

We all - and I mean all 200 of us on the platform - stagger around like drunks. You just can't get your sealegs in this kind of chop. Despite all of this, Jan and Jim get ready to snorkel as soon as we get situated. Wearing their handy stinger suits (lycra body suits designed to protect against the deadly box jelly fish), they get down to the snorkel steps, don their masks and fins, and push off into the chop. Within a minute the current has separated them. In another minute they are both back on the boat, too uncomfortable with the conditions to feel safe. (Believe me when I tell you that the pictures below don't show you how bad it was.)

I mope, watch people barf, try to eat some of the food from the excellent lunch buffet, watch more people barf, and think to myself, "I came all this way for this? No. Get your big girl panties on and do something." The seas had calmed by some miniscule degree, mostly undetectable to me. It was time. If I was going to hurl, it might as well be out in the water.

So I put my bathing suit on; eschewing the stinger suit. I mean how in the heck could a jellyfish be in these waters? Jan worriedly helps me get geared up. And before I can back out, I walk down to the snorkel area. The chop makes it hard to get the flippers and mask situated, but eventually I push off and put my face in the water. Just do it.

And voila! The coral was amazing! It distracted me. Within minutes, Wally (see the commercial picture below) came to visit me. He is an inquisitive, friendly 5 foot long Maori Wrasse who frequents the reef here.Then about 5 minutes later he found me again. He actually saw me and swam to me and let me pet him.

I only stayed in for 10 or 15 minutes, knowing that Jan was worried. But it completely changed the tone of the day for me. At Pat's encouragement,  Jan and I even went out on the glass bottom boat (which again induced vomiting in some folks). 

I never did use my little white bag; but I was certainly glad to step ashore when we got back to Cairns! One more thing to check off on my bucket list.

Commercial photo of the fish that swam with me