Boats and bikes

I've grown to be able to ignore most of the rocking of the boat, actually. Of course, it helps that we're only really moving about during the night now because we're reasonably stable in the ports during the day, but I actually find it quite soothing when lying down. It's a bit strange when walking around, though, having to weave about in the corridors as the force of gravity gradually moves from one side to the other - it's rather like what I imagine being drunk to be like. Can someone verify this?

During the last couple of days we've been out on the excursions that the cruise line offers when we're docked. Yesterday was the "Exclusive Vallarta Yacht" at Puerto Vallarta, where the leaflet told us we'd be taken out on a sail around the bay. As the smallest cruise liner (which is still a bit like saying "least annoying Chuckle brother") in the port, we were docked at a place a decent walk away from the marina across a sort of gravel desert, and when we finally got a dinghy out to the yacht, first impressions were rather disappointing. I had pictured more the sort of Peter Stringfellow definition of the word, rather than the alternative of a plank with a sail on it, which this was decidedly closer to - nevertheless, we were greeted by two extremely happy tour operators, and motored into the bay. I think that as we were setting out, with me wearing a linen shirt, palm tree swimming trunks and the awful hat I had bought the day before, bobbing up and down on the water with La Chucaraca-whatever you call it playing over the boat's speakers, I felt like the most despicable American tourist in the universe.

We were out for about five hours in all, and the sun was beating down on the uncovered surface making it honestly painful to walk about, though when the sail went up that gave us a bit of shade. Across the bay we stopped and were let into the sea with snorkels, which was another new experience for me - if you ignore every survival instinct you have and sort of plant yourself face down in the water, you can breathe through your mouth and watch the surprised-looking fish swimming about and eating the bottom of the boat. Wearing flippers gives you unnatural swimming ability, as well - kicking my feet a little, I thought I had gone for about five metres face down until I looked up and saw the boat was miles away. An astonishingly well put together lunch (considering the kitchen had the floor space of a postcard) was served as we drifted back across the bay, and when we got back to our ship (by going past it in the yacht, then past it again in the dinghy from the marina, then walking all the way around to get to it) everyone immediately dived into the pool. Miraculously I seem to be the only one without severe sunburn, perhaps because I'm so paranoid about it and hid under a towel for most of the journey - I feel a bit of burning on my legs this morning, but it's nothing compared to the tomato red patches that have developed on other people's skin.

And this morning, it was the "ATV Beach and Jungle Adventure", only undertaken by the men of the family. The tour leaflets seem to fabricate a lot of details from thin air, as our luxurious "open-air safari coach" was in fact a moderately knackered bus that crawled us through the harbour and up a mountain at about twenty miles an hour while the world's most bored driver droned to us about the trees, and I didn't think anything could be worth getting up for before seven in the morning when we were meant to be on holiday - but once that was over with the couple of hours we spent out there were well worth it.

The cruise had advised us to bring sun-tan lotion and hats, but it was strangely cloudy outside and we had to wear helmets anyway, so I gratefully handed the tourist hat over in exchange. After a brief demonstration that I couldn't understand a word of because I have such difficulty with accents, we were also given goggles and handkerchieves to tie over our mouths like steampunk bandits, and saddled up to head down the path into the forest like pollutant-spewing ducklings behind the leader's vehicle, some more shakily than others.

I used to go quadbiking many years ago when I was about twelve, each year when places opened up for a week during the summer as advertised in the unpronounceable Garioch newsletter, and I'd forgotten just how enjoyable it was - all the unprotected speed of being on a motorbike with only 90% of the risk of falling off and dying. (Someone fell off and ran himself over the first time I went. That's still an unmatched achievement.) It seems that if you put me on one of those for a couple of hours my usual personality disappears to be replaced with a Clarksonesque lust for horsepower, speed, and damage to the immediate environment. The operators were very accommodating of people's differing abilities and speeds, with one group going on ahead, a sort of long straggle in between, and the more tentative people being helped along at the back.

I had some trouble with the gears at first, because I don't think I'd ridden one that even had gears before - the lever is under your left foot, and you have to hook under it to shift up and stamp on it to shift down - it's easy to confuse the two because your instinct is to floor your foot to go faster. I just went along largely by luck at first, after a couple of stalls at the very start, but had a revelation after the first couple of corners that the lever was more like a toggle than an actual gear lever, and just memorized by current gear from then on. (Later I found out there was meant to be a display in the middle of the handlebars, which wasn't working on mine. The most I had was an indication whether I was in neutral or not neutral.) After that, and getting used to the speed at which I should change gears so that using the lever didn't result in feeling like I'd been booted up the exhaust, I slowly worked my way past other people up to the front.

After a while on the forest road, we turned on to a very narrow jungle path, ducking low branches and experiencing exotic plants close up as they smacked us in the face. I think someone crashed into a tree, but I was at the very front by that point and was trying to keep up with the leader. It wasn't long after that before we got to the beach, which was the best part because we could just open all valves and scream along as fast as we dared. After jumping about on some sand dunes, watching some people fall off their bikes and probably horrifying environmentalists everywhere, we headed back through some quite welcome rain and went back on the bus to only just make it back to the ship before they folded away the walkway.

This is our easternmost destination - now we're starting to head back, going into Cabo San Lucas tomorrow. I'll keep the photos coming if it's one of the places that the tour operators don't recommend only viewing from a distance.