By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
Cresting with clouds of white foam, the dark water crashes down and repeats, sending shivers down my back. With my hat clutched tightly between my knees, I grab the wood bench below me. My grip tightens as we accelerate onto the ridge of a wave, trying to beat the crashing water. Once on the ridge, our captain, Greivan, takes his hand off the accelerator and the small, seven person boat drops. Screams turn into nervous laughter as we realize we have made it over one wave, but another rapidly approaches. The gray sky drapes over the ocean, a sky that is normally full of beautiful, elegant birds, is void of any sign of life. I glance over to the rising land covered in trees brimming with coconuts and branches stretching down to the forest floor, a sight I had only seen in Tarzan and The Jungle Book. Each branch hiding a hidden world that I have yet to explore. I look back to the ocean as the wind whips around my face, loosening my ponytail and causing my hair to get stuck in my squinting eyes. I glance to the right to see my mom gripping the edge of the boat with both hands and her eyes shut tight. Camie on my left, scrutinizing the oncoming waves. In a turbulent ocean full of unknowns, we are all clinging to our only anchor. Silence fills the boat as I watch the rise and fall of each passing wave. The problem with silence is the void that is left. And any void is bound to be filled. A wave crashes over the side, causing the boat to tilt towards the ocean. We panic and try to stabilize the boat, but it’s too late. The boat flips over, spilling the seven of us and all of our belongings into the chilling, stormy waters. My phone disappears below my flailing legs, the new GoPro my dad bought to capture our adventures floats away, my mom’s binoculars perfect for bird-watching stuck around the sinking boat, but none of that matters. My only focus is staying afloat. Fear consumes the void left by the silence, letting disastrous scenarios creep into my mind. In reality, I am still gripping on to the wooden bench. We are still accelerating over each coming wave and nearing the safety of shore. The sheet of gray sky pulls back and reveals the warmth of the sun and blue sky. A bird swoops in front of us as we veer towards land. Boats hauling tourists outfitted with fancy backpacks, oversized cameras, and large-brimmed hats, just like us, come into view. Greivan navigates the boat as close to shore as he can manage and we jump over the side, wading through the water up to the beach. We have finally arrived at Parque Nacional Corcovado, Corcovado National Park. Beyond our welcoming greeter, a nosy White-nosed Coati searching for food, silence is filled by the distant sound of monkeys jumping through branches, birds singing hymns to one another, and lizards scrambling across open water. The void that was full of fear and dread is now full of discovery and excitement for what lies beyond the oceanside and inside the intertwined trees.