Girl off the Grid

by Jillian Dodd

  “This observation station,” Diego tells us, “is the perfect place to track manatees.” He leads us out onto a walkway that connects the two buildings and points out a little contraption. “This is how we will feed the manatees. We use this string to attach fruit or lettuce, and then we move it out so it’s dangling right on the surface of the water. The manatees will come up to eat it.”

  Adam is listening to what Diego is saying, but at the same time he’s been snapping pictures. I always find it interesting the things he chooses to take photos of, like a piece of paint-worn wood or a single leaf. Other times, he does big panoramic shots. I hope that I’ll get to see all the photos he’s taken while on our trip. I’m sure they will be incredible.

  Diego attaches the bananas to the string and gets it centered over the water. “Now all we have to do is wait and see if they are hungry today.”

  We all sit on the walkway and wait. Adam has his camera in his lap, ready to go.

  “Will you tell us more about the manatees?” he asks Diego.

  Diego leans up against the side of the building, making himself comfortable. “What else? Um, manatees can have one or two babies a year, and they communicate through chirps and clicks. Manatee mothers are constantly talking to their calves.”

  “Awwww!” I can’t help saying. “That’s adorable.”

  “When they come up, you’ll notice algae on their backs. It grows because of the sun exposure and moisture. The cool thing about it is that it acts as a sunscreen for them.”

  “Nature is so cool,” Adam says. He has a smile on his face and looks totally in his element. I close my eyes for a second, imagining the area around my little apartment. The noise, the people, the constant hum of traffic. Here, it’s so different. We drove miles without seeing another car. We’re sitting here waiting for manatees and there are only the three of us. I open my eyes, realizing that this place is practically the polar opposite of where I live, but yet it feels special.

  Adam bumps his shoulder into mine. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Just how different everything here is compared to where I live.”

  “Do you like it?” he asks, gazing at me intently.

  “Yeah, I think I do.” What I don’t say is that it’s partly because of him. He’s stubborn and thinks he knows everything, which drives me crazy, but his creativity is pretty special. Seeing some of the beauty of this place through his eyes has been a unique experience.

  Upon hearing my answer, a broad smile spreads across Adam’s face then he turns back to Diego.

  Diego pulls his hat down low, crosses his legs, and gets comfortable. “Manatees are threatened by hunting, contaminated water, pollution, and boat propellers,” he says. “Did you know that manatees were often mistaken for mermaids by early sailors?”

  “Mermaids? Really?” I ask. “How could they have thought that? They don’t have long hair or beautiful scales.”

  Diego lets out a chuckle. “They move slowly in the water and because they are shaped similarly to a seal, from a distance they look like a human spinning in the water. They are much bigger than humans and mermaids, though. The average adult weighs around a thousand pounds.”

  “That’s huge,” I exclaim.

  “Alright,” Diego says. “Now we just have to wait and see if they show up.” He is apparently done sharing his knowledge because he takes out a small book he brought with him and reads. Adam moves away from me, over to a corner of the building, pulls a sketchpad from his backpack and starts drawing.

  I reread my manatee notes. Then doodle for a bit.

  And I’m getting tired of it. Don’t the manatees want to see me? Eat some bananas? Get their photo taken? If I were a manatee, I would want to do all three. I check my watch. We’ve been here for over forty minutes.

  Diego gets up. “I’m going to go grab my water from the bus. I’ll be right back.”

  I give him a little wave of acknowledgement and since I’m bored, I decide to go take a peek at what Adam is working on. Actually, I walk over to him and snatch his sketchbook out of his hands.

  “Hey! What are you doing? Give that back.”

  I jump up onto the bench and dangle the sketchbook over his head, taunting him. It’s kind of funny when he gets mad.

  He tries to grab it from me, but I stand up on my tiptoes so he can’t reach it.

  “That’s it! You’re going in the water,” he yells, shocking me when he picks me up, tosses me over his shoulder, and turns toward the river.

  “Okay! Fine. You win. Just put me down!” I laugh, while trying to get loose.

  When he brings me back toward the dock, I slide down the front of his body, causing an instant blush. I glance at his arms. Usually, they look sort of thin but now that they are flexed, I notice well-defined muscle. He grabs the sketchbook from me, so I put on a big pouty face.

  “Can I see anything you’ve been working on? You’re drawing, right?”

  His cheeks flush, and I wonder why he would be embarrassed about it.

  “Uh, just this one, I guess,” he says, shielding the book from me while carefully flipping to a specific page. He flashes it in my direction, and I see an image of where we are at now—a rickety wooden structure overlooking the wetlands. It’s a work in progress, but coming along well.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell him. “Who taught you how to draw?”

  “It’s something I just sort of picked up. My mum often drew the things she saw when out in the field, so she’d have both visual and written notes. I started drawing because she did.”

  “Can I see any others?” I ask.

  He seems to be internally struggling with whether or not he wants me to see his work. Finally, he nods and flips to a different drawing. One of a reindeer out in a snowy field. This drawing is even in color.

  “Adam, that is gorgeous. I can’t believe you can draw so well. You should print these and sell them. Was this from a photo you saw, or were you literally in front of a reindeer when you drew it?”

  Adam gives me a grin. “I was in front of the reindeer when I was in Finland shooting. It was freezing there, but so worth it. I could show you the photos sometime.”

  “That would be great—” I say, but then Diego interrupts me.

  “We’ve got one.”

  Adam and I turn around and quickly move over to the ledge. All of a sudden, a beautiful creature comes up out of the water and grabs a banana.

  “Look at its face. It’s too cute. It looks like a pillow pet,” I exclaim.

  Adam doesn’t reply, but I can tell by his body language and the way he’s moving around taking photos that he’s as excited as I am.

  “Look,” I almost shout. “There’s another one. It’s smaller. I think it’s a baby!”

  “Most calves do stay with their mothers for the first two years of their lives,” Diego confirms as another, larger manatee pops up out of the water, grabbing at the bananas. As they sit there in the water munching on them, I think about how simple a manatee’s life must be. How natural this all seems. No distractions. No televisions, phones, or computers. I love doing my video blog and was really kind of upset when I learned I wasn’t allowed on social media during my trip. But it’s been nice. Cleansing. Maybe I’ll have to do a post about it when I get back. I’ll title it Girl off the Grid: How to go 48 hours without social media. Maybe I’ll even make a challenge out of it. Like the times when I got my viewers to start drinking more water each day to be healthier or when they went makeup free for a day.

  “What are you thinking about?” Adam asks.

  “What am I not thinking about would be a better question. I was just thinking it’s so peaceful here. How there are no distractions. How relaxing it can be. How the manatees are just doing their thing. Eating, sleeping, swimming. I was also thinking about challenging my followers to go a couple days without social media. I think it’s easy to miss amazing moments happening around you when your nose is stuck in your phone.”

  “Wo
w,” he says. “I’m surprised you’d say that. You are all about social media.”

  I flash him a sassy smirk. “Yeah, well, believe it or not, this girl has enjoyed going off the grid.”

  “Miracles never cease to happen,” he teases. I swat at him but miss.

  “Why don’t you do something constructive and take a photo of me with the manatees?” I move closer to the bananas, kneel down, and point at the huge, gentle creatures while he snaps away.

  We watch the manatees for another thirty minutes before Diego tells us it’s time to head out. As we walk away, I pull out my camera and take a picture of the wooden structure with the river in the background. I smile to myself, realizing Adam and I aren’t so different. We are both crazy about manatees.

  Adam

  We drive along back roads and a short fifteen minutes later we are pulling up in front of a large wooden building. This one is built on ground level and is surrounded by low grass. We hop out of the bus and follow Diego inside.

  The interior features an open floor plan with a kitchen directly in front of us, a dining room to our left, and a small gathering room to our right.

  A man gets up from behind a desk and Diego shakes his hand then introduces us.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you,” the man says. He’s stocky with dark hair and is wearing a bright orange polo shirt with jeans tucked into tall work boots. “My name is Nacho, and I’ll be taking you on the tour today.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Camille says sweetly. I greet him as well, shaking his hand.

  “Let’s get you some food, and then we’ll head out for the afternoon. You can eat in here or you are welcome to go outside where there is a picnic table overlooking the river.”

  “Let’s do inside. We’re camping tonight, so we’ll be eating dinner outside,” Diego says with a laugh.

  Camille laughs along with him, but I can tell it’s forced. Even though I have tried to reassure her, she still seems nervous about camping.

  “Perfect. The food will be right out. While you eat, I’m going to get the canoe set up for us,” Nacho says, excusing himself.

  “He seems really nice,” Camille says, taking a seat at the white-tablecloth-covered dining table.

  “This is one of my favorite tour companies,” Diego says. “They are smaller, a mom-and-pop business, but they have very good knowledge of the land.”

  “That’s great to hear. It’s going to be interesting seeing the mangroves in person,” I say. “I’ve seen photos online and they are quite a unique tree.”

  “They are. It may not be the most glamorous day, but I think it will really give you a feel of the local land here. And hopefully the article you write will help raise awareness about the habitat.”

  “Are you sad you aren’t going with us?” Camille interjects. “It would be fun to have you.”

  “I’d love to go, but remember I told you I need to get us set up for camping tonight. You’ll be tired and hungry by the time we meet back up, so I thought it would be nice for you to be able to just get in your tent and relax.”

  “That’s really nice,” Camille says.

  “It’s also great because we didn’t have to bring all sorts of camping gear with us.”

  “I didn’t even think about all the stuff you probably need to have for camping,” Camille says with a little frown as the cook comes out from the kitchen with our lunch.

  “Hello,” he says, setting plates in front of us. “We have a special treat for you, tamales.”

  We all thank him for the food before we dig in.

  Camille leans toward me. “What is a tamale again?”

  “It’s boiled corn dough, usually filled with vegetables or meat.”

  “And they are served in banana leaves,” Diego adds, happily taking a big bite. “Yum.”

  I watch as Camille tastes a small sample. She must like it because pretty soon she’s chowing down.

  After lunch, Diego leads us out back and points toward the river, where there is a long row of canoes next to a dock. “Alright, you two, have a good time and behave.”

  Nacho waves at as. “You guys ready?”

  “Yup,” Camille exclaims, even though she doesn’t look as happy as she sounds.

  The sun is hidden behind a cloud as we go onto the dock, but it’s still hot. I immediately break out into a sweat and can’t wait to be out on the water. Nacho jumps down into the canoe first, which is tied up on the right side of the dock. It’s only a couple feet down, but Camille looks tentative.

  Nacho holds out his hand to help her, but she looks back at me, her unease evident. “Go on. You’ve got it,” I encourage.

  She nods and steps down in the boat, then grabs ahold of Nacho tightly when it sways.

  “First time on a boat?” Nacho asks.

  “No, I’ve been on boats before,” she says, “but never in a canoe like this. It seems a little tippy.”

  “As long as you don’t make any sudden movements, the boat will not tip over,” Nacho states as I join them. “Is this your first time in Panama?”

  “Yeah,” Camille answers. “First time in Panama and first time in Central America. I’m from New York.”

  “And what about you?” he asks me. “Where are you from? Are you visiting for anything specific? Is it your honeymoon?” Camille’s eyes get huge, like she can’t believe he would ever think we could be together. And that bothers me just a little.

  “I’m from London, and we’re here for work. Camille is a famous blogger and was sent here by a fashion magazine to research an article. I’m here to take photos.”

  “Wow! That sounds very exciting. Well, I hope you will enjoy your time in my beautiful country and that your article will convey a positive experience.”

  “It will,” she says. “This morning we got to see manatees eat bananas right off the stalk and we even saw a baby manatee.”

  “It sounds like you’ve had a great day so far,” Nacho says as we float down the river.

  The river is a muddy brown color. The trees along the edge are so dense they hang out over the water almost forming a canopy above us and nearly blocking out the sun. I get photos of different trees, zooming in sometimes on the texture of their leaves and trunks, as well as a few bird species.

  After gliding down the river, we come to an area with fewer trees. Sunlight streams down on us, causing everything to look more bright and lush, including Camille. If there was ever a girl who belongs in the sun, it’s her. Nacho paddles to the river bank where there is another little dock, ties the canoe up, and helps us out of it.

  “It’s time to see the mangroves,” he says. “Then we’ll find some seeds and plant them to help promote their growth.”

  We follow him toward a swampy, forested area that is thick with mud.

  “So let me educate you about mangroves,” Nacho says as Camille grabs her notebook and pen, eager to take notes. “We have red, white, and black mangroves. Red mangroves grow along the shoreline and were named for their red roots. They are the hardiest of mangroves. The black mangroves grow higher up on land, and the white mangroves occupy the highest land. White mangroves are different than the others because they do not have visible aerial roots. Mangroves thrive in tropical and subtropical climates and they need shallow fresh water, but unlike other tree species, they are also able to grow in salt water. Their root system can filter the salt out of the water through their glands, leaving them with fresh water to thrive on.”

  There are huge mangroves surrounding us, their roots jutting out from the mud. It is humid and darker here than on the river due to the thick coverage above us. Bugs are swarming around, and there is a particularly unpleasant odor lingering in the air.

  “Did you bring the bug spray?” I ask Camille, knowing we are going to need it.

  “Yes,” she says, nodding at me. “And I think you’ll be impressed. It’s chemical free. Apparently they use essential oils in it or something.”

  “That’s awesome. I think
we better put some on now,” I tell her, but she’s already getting it out of her pack. She hands it to me then stands frozen in front of me with her eyes closed and her arms spread out wide. I coat her with it, then spray myself.

  As we continue walking, Nacho says, “Mangrove roots are able to help stabilize shorelines, and they provide a habitat for fish and invertebrates. The roots get encrusted with sponges, scallops, and oysters, and act as nurseries for fish. They also play a role in the nutrition cycle, because when their leaves fall into the water and decompose, they become an important food source.”

  “It’s really cool that one tree can have such an impact on the environment,” Camille says sincerely. “Are there a lot of these trees?”

  “We have thousands of little mangrove islands in this area just off the coast. Birds build nests and fish in those habitats.”

  I take photos of the unique roots that jut out from the earth, each one a tangled work of art.

  “We’re going to plant seeds so more will grow, but first we need to find the seeds. They fall off of the trees onto the ground or into the water.” He leads us through mud that seems to get thicker and thicker. “Be sure to stay close behind me,” he warns. “You don’t want to get into any mud that is too deep.”

  “These trees are really cool, but this place is so smelly.” Camille swats a bug away from her face. “And these bugs,” she complains. Beads of sweat are falling down the side of her face, and her hair is starting to stick to it. She looks hot and annoyed.

  Camille

  As we trudge through the mud, I can think of a million places I would rather be. This is not my thing. I just don’t understand why a fashion magazine would send me here. I should be doing photo shoots on the beach, getting a massage poolside, sipping on umbrella drinks while a hot, shirtless cabana boy mists my face with Evian. I was sincere when I said that it’s really amazing how the trees impact the environment, and I think the roots are cool, but I’m having a hard time seeing the beauty in this location. I’ve sweated through my shirt, and I’m already scratching at bug bites even though I have on a disgusting, sticky layer of bug spray. Adam is busy taking some photos, and Nacho doesn’t even seem to notice that we’re trudging through muck.