If you think the turquoise waters of the Caribbean sparkle, wait until you see them from atop a towering cliff.
That was my thought as I trekked up a narrow, tiny trail on a recent trip to Bonaire. Ahead and behind me were fellow brave journalists, some of whom were young adults likely around my daughter’s age. The breeze blew gently, encouraging me upward, while startled lizards scurried away, disturbed by my less-than-graceful footing.
“Just a bit more – almost there!” our cheerful blonde guide encouraged.
Reaching the summit, we were greeted by a spectacular view typically reserved for the local birds circling back to their nests. The ocean was gorgeous, the air, laced with sea salt, felt restorative and pure.
There was just one problem: we were there to jump, and I am terrified of heights.
“Be sure to jump far out, so you avoid the rocks below,” came the next instruction.
Only then did I look down. Rocks, more like prehistoric boulders, protruded perilously from the aquamarine water.
The once-rowdy group of adventurers grew quiet, each of us performing silent risk assessments. Our guide, undeterred, cheered us on.
“It’s fun! I’ve done it before!” she exclaimed, and with that, she took a few brisk steps and leaped off the edge, her scream of delight trailing behind her.
We heard the splash and peered down for confirmation of her safe landing. Her blonde head emerged among the waves, followed by a tan thumb signaling an exuberant thumbs-up. “Wow! You guys are going to love it!” she called out, swimming to the shore.
The group huddled closer together, seeking courage in proximity.
“Who’s next?” someone asked timidly. Silence followed.
My legs were shaking, and my usual fears (“I don’t like heights,” “How safe is this?,” “I’m a responsible adult, what am I doing here now?”) threatened to kick into full gear. But something about the moment — the group’s camaraderie, our leader’s encouraging smile below, the birds gliding effortlessly above — pushed me to seize the moment.
“I’ll do it,” I announced, stepping through the circle to the edge. Curling my toes for traction, I took three long strides and plunged into uncertainty below.
The fall was fast, but the exhilaration lasted. I recall little of the descent, just the rush of the ocean meeting me, followed by an enveloping drop and a surge of victory. Surfacing, I too could only respond with an enormous smile and a victorious thumbs-up.
The water’s embrace was more than a cool respite; it was a quiet affirmation to myself. As I basked in my accomplishment, I realized that sometimes, it’s okay to embrace the moment — to just jump and let go.
Happy Reading,
Alona Abbady Martinez
alona@bocaratonobserver.com