In which the children are NOT eaten by a shark

I have had an itch to go to Punta Allen for many months. Not one month, not two months, not even three months (I think you get the picture). Many many many months. Something always comes up and I’d pretty much given up on going there. Last week Jesse asked me if I still wanted to go and today everyone pulled together and made it possible.

And then I almost killed Jamie on the drive there. I was SURE he was going to either cause a flat or break a tie-rod or the entire suspension would fall off the car or one (or more) of the kids would vomit all over the car. He was speeding over horribly potholed surface, then racing and hitting the brakes, driving so far off to the right that the mirror was pushed permanently into the window, I really can’t go on. But suffice to say we made it. I advised stopping WAY before Punta Allen just to alleviate the kids’ (and to be honest, MY) suffering, but Jamie was determined to Get Us There No Matter What. It is always the destination with him and for me it is always the journey. BUT, we did, indeed, arrive.

Since it only took about 3 hours to get there (I’m really not exaggerating much here) the kids immediately threw their swimsuits on and then proceeded to throw themselves off the pier and walked the plank to abandon. It was pretty easy to gaze out to sea while the kids had their fun and it fascinated us to no end to look at the reef which was SO far out there. Our reef is very close to shore and I have always subscribed to the notion that the reef is the separation zone for the big animals, mainly sharks. As far as I’m concerned, correct or not, the ocean side of the reef is their playground and the shore side is ours. I don’t want to see them on our side and I’ll stay out of their side. It has worked fabulously thus far.

So, Jamie and I are grooving on the view, watching the happy children and I suddenly notice a black fin popping up just offshore of the where the kids are. I know it must be a mirage but I watch again, just incase, and there it is. Again. Ok, I MUST be seeing things so I’ll give it a third try to convice me. And it does. Jamie sees it too. Small black fin popping up, heading south. We calmly get the kids out of the water and watch it head FURTHER south. And then the kids, completely nonplussed, go back to walking the plank and jumping in the water.  We’re quite certain it was probably a dolphin.  Swimming alone.  Without coming out of the water or blowing air out.  But still, a dolphin.

Jamie and I, a little more alert now, continued to watch the water. Punta Allen is very much a small fishing village and closed up tight on Sundays, so the closest we came to fish dinner was helping the abuelo and his nieto catch their own Sunday dinner. Well, mostly Ellen LOOKED at the fish they caught.

Here is a map of our state, Quintana Roo and this is where Punta Allen lies. Find Tulum, head out to El Paraiso, down to Boca Paila and then aaaalllll the way down to Santa Julia. That’s Punta Allen. Now I need to find out why it was called Santa Julia.