I'm No Spider-Man

“We could be in Africa right now,” Carolyn said matter-of-factly.

You may laugh (the rest of us did too), but when we looked out of the windows of the bus we saw trees that could have appeared in a safari video and dead grasses and dirt that I would have had no trouble believing were the grasses and dirt of the African continent.

Margo had organized our little day-trip to the beach; Nina, Carolyn, Sascha, Morgan and I blindly followed her into the taxi, onto the bus, then off it and along a boardwalk toward a large salty body of water, the name of which was temporarily unknown (We now know it was the Atlantic).

The beach was Matalascañas, in the Huelva Province and in the Donaña National Park. Right off of the shore on the beach is the Torre de la Higuera, which means Tower of the Fig. It used to be a tower, at least. Now it more closely resembles a very lumpy rock protruding from the water. There were many people trying, and some succeeding, in climbing onto the Torre out of the water and up to its top, then jumping off.

Now, I have never swum in the ocean further than where I can still touch the sandy bottom. This is due to my fear of creatures that may brush against my leg and/or misjudge me as something delectable... Seeing so many people out there swimming, however, helped me convince myself, whether right or wrong, that neither would be likely.

Assembling some of my bravery I decided I would attempt the swim into the deeper waters and the climb onto the Torre. Carolyn and I treaded water by the structure for a few minutes, watching others endeavoring to make it to the top and trying to discern the best way to tackle the climb. We had previously noticed that there were only hombres on the rock, which only caused my desire to climb to grow, but as we treaded water we watched both males and females alike attempt to pull themselves up, quickly falling back down again into the deep blue sea. Many of those that succeeded in the climb had only made it out of the water with the help of others who had gone before them.

I grabbed an edge in the spot that I had decided was offering the greatest number of successful climbs, I wrenched my upper body out of the water, finding footing below and pulling with what I would definitely call all of my might. I tried to envision a desperate need to get out of the water quickly, a shark attack, or a jelly-fish sighting, for example. In the hopes of boosting my adrenaline, and perhaps help me to discover some hidden strength I didn’t know I had. Not only did this not work, it instead frightened me, and I fell backward into the water.

The Torre comes out of the water at an acute angle from many years of abuse by the ocean. Therefore, it is a little bit like trying to climb along a ceiling. I am no spider-man, thank you. Eventually, after circling the rock, Carolyn and I found an area where we could get ourselves fully out of the water and onto a ledge. This was still significantly beneath the level of our original goal, but it was going to have to do!