Day 4: Grand Cayman

This morning would be a little bit different.  We were schedule to port in Grand Cayman at 7:00 a.m.  I woke up fairly close to seven and, thanks to the technology gods, I was able to grab the remote, flip on the television, and turn to the channel that showed the view from the bow of the ship.  Grand Cayman was inching closer.  My dedication to a daily pre-breakfast jog would end this morning.  (I have the capacity to dedicate myself to certain activities under the umbrella of self improvement, allow myself an occasional hiatus, and then resume the dedication - all guilt free)  No time for fitness this morning.  I had a new island to discover!!!

This stop would be different than others because we had to “tender” in to the island.  The ship could not get close enough to the island to dock, so boats would come out and we would be loaded onto them in a way that can only be described as bovine-esque.  It was a short ride to the dock and then a few short steps into the crowd of “cruisers” and local barkers who were trying to drum up patrons for their snorkel, island adventure, hair braiding businesses.

Prior to the cruise I did some online research and found Fat Fish Adventures that offered a wave runner tour that was reasonably priced.  In a brief phone conversation I spoke to Carolyne (one of the co-owners) and found her to be extremely nice and helpful.  I booked the excursion and found myself placing this as one of the most anticipated aspects of the upcoming cruise.  …I was right to do so.

The driver was waiting just down the street from the incoming tourist masses.  A brief walk down to the Hard Rock Cafe and an unmarked white van was waiting.  It turns out that Fat Fish, although highly recommended was not as well known yet as it should be.  No one else would be joining us this morning.  Which, on one hand is fantastic.  On the other hand, the thought entered my mind, “does everyone else know something that I don’t”.  The ride to the wave runners was casual and fun.  Peter, our driver (and Carolyne’s co-owner husband), was refreshingly nice and entertaining. 

We arrived at a small boat ramp that seemed to be in the middle of a subdivision.  Where Neil, the tour guide, was already putting the yellow, white, and black wave runners into the water.  A quick slathering of sunblock and before I knew it, I was throttling up as I following Neil out into the bay. 

The waves were two to three feet high which caused for a bumpy ride!  Which, as anyone who has ever been on a wave runner knows, is prime for either a great time or disaster.  This trip would see both.  After motoring at a moderate speed across the bay, we meandered through a small mangrove swamp (which was presented as the “nature” part of the excursion but felt more like a simple shortcut) and then into another bay.  It was here that Neil decided to let me “acclimate” to driving a wave runner on the ocean, which basically meant he wanted to play for a few minutes and was allowing me to do the same.  I throttled up and began throwing rooster tails into the air like I was a pro.  I jumped wave after wave and threw sharp corners back and forth.  This is the part of the story I should paint the whole picture.  Amy decided that she would join me for this excursion.  She was on the back of the wave runner… for most of this part of the adventure.  She had never been on a wave runner before and did not know about the “leaning into turns” part that is critical for defying the laws of physics and essential to keeping our asses firmly planted on the seat and not getting tossed into the water by the raging centrifugal forces at work.  I took a sharp turn, Amy proceeded to go flying off the side of the wave runner but managed to grasp on to my life jacket in a last ditch effort to avoid getting tossed into the deep blue sea.  This image can only be described as something out of a comic book.  I was holding onto the wave runner and doing everything I could to get it straightened out while she was completely parallel to the water at a direct 90 degree angle from my torso that she was clutching with white knuckle ferocity.   This story ends pretty much as expected; we both ended up in the water as the wave runner lost power and gently glided to a stop.  I popped up from the water laughing hysterically.  Amy… not so much.  She was angry.  …ANGRY!  (which only led to an increase in my laughter - not really helpful when an “are you okay?” may have been more appropriate.)   

We climbed back on and decided to motor out to Stingray City.  Stingray City is located in the shallow waters of the northwest corner of Grand Cayman’s North Sound. It is just inside a natural channel which passes through the barrier reef.  Fishermen would duck in here behind the reef to find calm water in which to clean their catch of the day.  They would throw the undesirable parts overboard.  Free meals for the stingrays and the beginnings of an unparalleled tourist trap.  I say tourist trap, but I have to give proper credit, it was different than anything I had to done before and, as far as I know, relatively unique to anything else like it in the world. 

At Stingray City the couple of dozen boats and literally hundreds of tourists were crowded into a small area.  The screams of squeamish men and women could be heard from hundreds of feet away and over the noise of the wave runner motor.  We eased up to the outer edge of the crowd.  Looking down I could see dark menacing shadows gliding effortlessly underneath us.  Some looked to be four feet across or more.  Neil anchored our wave runners and we hopped into the water.  I was immediately greeted by what felt like thick, smooth rubber gliding across my legs.  I have to admit, I wanted to join the chorus of screamers, but I instead pulled out my “man card” and bit into it in an effort to preserve some form of masculinity when all I really wanted to do was climb over Neil and back onto the wave runner.  These were not the born in captivity stingrays in the Sea World pool.  The water where I was standing was THEIR world and I was merely allowed to be there. 

I should tell you a critical part of this story.  When I was a teenager my family and I went to Galveston, Texas for vacation.  Early in the trip we went to the beach.  It was there that I was stung by a stingray.  My parents took me to the ER where I proceeded to get six shots into the soft center of the bottom of my foot while the doctors performed immediate surgery.  I got to spend the rest of the trip with my foot propped up in a hotel room.  To this day, I have a reserved hatred of those… things.  When I heard about Steve ”the crocodile hunter” Irwin’s run in with a stingray, I said to anyone who would listen “See!  Those things are evil!”  …no one cared then nor do you probably care now.  I digress…

 I acclimated fairly quickly.  Neil had brought along some squid to feed them.  He showed the proper technique so as not to lose any of my digits.  I have to admit, it was exhilirating the first time I held the small squid and the stingray glided across my hand and sucked it out of my closed fist with the suction of a hemi powered Hoover vacuum.  Neil also drew a few of them up with the promise of squid and handed them to me.  It was extremely intimidating when I was holding a HEAVY four foot wide stingray and he was telling me bring them closer, into my chest.  I said, “f#ck you”!  At least that’s what I thought I said.  It probably sounded more like “okay”.  I don’t recall exactly. 

After a half hour or so of playing with the stingrays we motored over to Starfish Point where giant red starfish graze on the sea grass.  I jumped in and swam around, diving down to pick up the amazingly beautiful starfish.  We made one final stop for some random snorkeling that was nice, but saw nothing noteworthy. 

The ride back to the ramp proved to be very different than the ride out.  The waves had actually picked up and on three separate occasions I took the wave runner up over a crest and crashed nose first into the next wave.  Each time I would lose my ball cap, sunglasses, or both.  And each time I would check my nose for blood because it literally felt like a ten ton fist punching me in the face.  It hurt!  I finally figured out a nice, SLOWER pace that would take us back to the ramp.  This was an amazing experience and I would recommend the wave runner tour to anyone going to Grand Cayman.  It was over three hours worth of fun, education, and adventure!  Thank you Carolyn, Peter, and Neil!

We spent the rest of the day relaxing and drinking Tortuga rum on Seven Mile Beach at the Royal Palms near the ship tenders.  This was not enough time to spend on Grand Cayman.  A long time ago a friend of mine described cruises as “sampling” the islands.  This was place I vow to return.  The island was beautiful.  The people were wonderful.  I will be back!

Amy was wiped out so she actually fell asleep in the cabin around 7:00.  I spent the evening, once again, walking the ship rails, drinking some new contraband Tortuga rum, and enjoying another amazing evening at sea!  Oh, and if anyone reading this finds themselves in Grand Cayman; somewhere between Stringray City and wherever the boat ramp that we used resides are my sunglasses.  They should be in about 10 feet of water.  Could you grab them for me?  Thanks in advance.

Note: there are no pictures of Grand Cayman because here, as in Hawaii before this, my new shockproof, waterproof, bombproof Olympus camera took on water and quit working.  Grrr!

Tomorrow: Jamaica.