Trapped in Paradise

Crystal clear water, fine yellow sand, snorkeling right off shore, bungalow huts, hammocks in the trees, and not a person in sight. Paradise.

While on the coast in Cambodia, Philip and I took a boat trip out to Bamboo Island, a beautiful slice of paradise about an hour's journey from land. Though tourists flock to the island each afternoon for bbq picnic lunches, when the boats cast off around two, the only remaining souls are those of local fisherman and smart travellers (such as ourselves) who plan ahead and make arrangements to stay the night. As our friends from the boat climbed back aboard that afternoon, they looked back on us with envy. We took up beach chairs on a deserted stretch of sandy heaven and didn't move an inch until the last whisps of the pink sunset faded from the sky.

The next morning we awoke to a stunning sunrise and enjoyed a peaceful morning. Looking back, it's interesting to note how often we celebrated our good fortune and love for Bamboo Island....

It's amazing how quickly utter misery can replace genuine bliss. Around 11 AM the clouds started rolling in and a cold, steady rain began. Few boats came into the island that day, and though we kept a close watch, we never saw the boat we had hired to pick us up. Getting worried about our transporation home, we asked around and discovered that our boat driver's friend was going to take us home. He was leading a tour that day anyways, and said we would leave when the rain slacked off.

The rain didn't stop, the clouds didn't part, and our boat driver simply couldn't resist his bottle of local rum. Philip and I hid from the brutal winds of the storm in our cold, dark, sandy bungalow, constantly moving to try and find an area where the rain wasn't leaking through the roof. Our poor moods turned to rage when our drunken boat driver announced that "we can't make it back today." We and his other passengers were outraged, but were utterly helpless.

The next morning, the weather had not cleared up and had actually worsened from the day before. However, disgusted with our inability to get dry and warm, we all insisted that we leave that day. I just couldn't take another day on that island. So, at 9:00 AM, we set off.

Unfortunately, our boat was only a small fishing boat with a tiny motor. Even in the protected bay at the island, the waves were choppy and the wind was fierce. The ocean looked dark and menacing...not like somewhere I wanted to be. I'm normally not a fearful person, but from the moment we got on board, I had a terrible feeling. After thirty minutes of raging waves and relentless rain, my fear motivated me to put on a lifejacket. Out in the open sea, the waves grew and grew until each lunge of the boat sent my stomach into my throat. Whitecapping waves threatened to crash over the boat and all passengers sad huddle on the floor, hanging onto the sideboards to avoid being tossed around on the deck. I can honestly say that this was one of the worst moments of my life. My chief fears of 1-being lost at sea, 2-being eaten by a shark, and 3-drowning to death, didn't actually seem that implausible at the moment. Philip will tell you he wasn't scared, but don't believe him. He demanded that our boat driver give up his lifejacket for him, and we discussed our capsizing plan which included finding each other first, saving only our passports, kicking off heavy shoes, and swimming towards any land in sight.

Even our boat driver was scared of the waves and at one point hid in the bay of an island for almost an hour hoping that the storm would pass. It didn't.

After FOUR HOURS of torment, we finally spotted dry land. Though this wasn't our intended landing site, our frightened driver headed in as quickly as possible. Towards shore, the huge waves began to grow even bigger. I let out my first scream as an enormous wave crashed over the back of our boat and filled the whole deck with water. The next wave followed twenty seconds later and it became apparent that the boat was beginning to sink. Still rather far from the shore, we looked to our driver for advice and guidance. The best he could give us was..."swim."

So, that's what we did. Phil leapt off the front of the boat and held our passport and camera out of the water. I jumped out from the back and immediately began swimming inland. After a few meters, I found that I could touch the bottom in the breaks between the waves and my panic decreased to a reasonable level. I honestly felt like I was in a movie as we ran onto shore and looked back to see our boat completed submerged in the ocean. Spotting a small hut down the beach, we ran for cover to get out of the relentless wind and rain. With chattering teeth and blue lips, Philip searched around the storage hut and found three musty dog blankets that we quickly divided among us, and we all huddled together for warmth. After calming down and taking stock of the things people had lost (passports, cell phones, cameras, shoes, etc.) we walked along the beach until we reached a large resort where we rented motos to take us back to our hotels. A simple ending to an exhausting morning.

Needless to say this experience created some great friendships among the passengers. We all met up later for dinner to discuss the day's events and remind each other that, yes, it actually did happen. All's well that ends well...and luckily this day, it did.