by Kyle James
Ideally, colliding with water from high up is best done in “pencil” form. I hit the water in the unfortunate “open protractor” form, and consequently felt immense pain upon impact. I moved my limbs underwater to make sure they all still worked, and remembered I was not in an environment where breathing was permitted. I kicked my way to the surface of the dark-blue water and emerged after a few seconds. I immediately looked for Ash and saw nothing but the area of bubbles she had entered moments earlier. Right before I planned on diving to look for her, she popped up, her face white with fear.
From the look on her face, I think she had had a similar in-flight experience as I’d had. She was smarter than I was, though; she’d executed a perfect pencil dive. This was why she’d been underwater so long; she must have shot in like a dart and cruised down twenty feet. We looked at each other, and when it registered we had survived this exciting yet traumatic event, we started laughing—that real gut laugh, the one where you and your best friend just cheated death.
7/16/15
Kolocep, Croatia
I woke up this morning with a burning, aching, throbbing sensation that covered my entire body. I rolled over, and all the cuts and bruises politely let me know where they were located. Between the razor-sharp rocks and the concrete water, my body was paying the Kolocep Tax.
Today we headed down to explore Kolocep by foot, following the single path that spanned the perimeter of the cove out of the village. While walking, Ash and I took turns smacking a two-liter beer. Our wandering brought us to a gorgeous cove with nothing around us but clear blue water. The comfort of being able to leap off the surrounding rock and into the sea at a moment’s notice made the heat bearable.
Ash was slightly ahead of me, and I noticed her stop in her tracks as she went around a boulder. It was at that moment that we broke the cardinal sin of nudist colonies. We had stumbled upon a couple who looked to be in their midseventies, as far from clothed as could be. We immediately averted our eyes to their genitals. I can’t tell you exactly why that is where our eyes traveled, but it was just not something we were accustomed to seeing.
We continued walking, ashamed by our actions, and passed them as they rotated their bodies to get sun in different places, like rotisserie chicken at a supermarket. There were a few more people sporting birthday suits around the corner, and we saw one guy drive into the cove on his speedboat, naked.
We eventually found a secluded rock that was surrounded by the shelter of boulders, and set up camp. To my delight, Ash decided to participate and took her top off. I also went topless to free my nips, and jumped into the water to snorkel. While in the water, Ash dared me to get naked with her, and after five minutes of bantering, she quit arguing. I took my bathing suit off and threw the wet fabric ball at her face to mess with her. I wasn’t worried about anyone seeing me naked underwater.
Just as I started to feel good about participating in the nudist colony and had climbed onto the rock, I heard a Griswold-esque family approaching. A family of six kayaked right past us. The two parents and four kids all looked perplexed and scrambled to stay in their kayaks as this six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound American stood naked a mere ten yards from them. I almost fell off the rock as I tried to cover up. I probably scarred those kids for life, but I wasn’t breaking any rules, just walls of innocence.
We had once again stepped out of our comfort zones. What was fascinating about the nudist colony was the lack of sexuality. Nobody was naked for the reasons that we as Americans think of for being naked. Everyone just seemed to enjoy the fresh sea air and warm sun so much that they wanted their whole bodies to get the experience. Was I comfortable being naked? No, not really. But it was a new experience for us, and that was one of my goals for this trip: to try as many new things as possible. Live like a nudist for a day—check.
7/17/15
Kolocep, Croatia
Ash prepared the Continental Kolocep Breakfast (burned toast, decent eggs, and dirt coffee) before we ventured back down to the nudist colony with the GoPro camera. (No, not to take pictures of the nude people, you pervert.) We had to see what all the hype was about with the underwater pictures. Ash prepped our day bag as I trotted down the 150 steps and across the beach to the market to get more sunscreen.
Living like the locals on a small village island in the Mediterranean was something I had always dreamed of, but never thought I would actually experience. But there we were, KJ and Ash, Kolocep locals on a first-name basis with the people who keep this small community intact.
We spent the day jumping off small rocks and taking shameless underwater selfies. Midafternoon, we took a break and sat in a natural pool attached to the rocks. I spotted a tan and tattooed couple who looked to be in their forties seated close to us. We had decided yesterday that we needed to start meeting more people in order to learn from their cultures and experiences. We had spent most of the first month of our trip alone. It was time to change that.
Based purely off stereotypes, I expected these tattoo-covered people to be the grungy motorcycle-gang types. At one point, all four of us laughed at a nursing home’s worth of naked elderly people on a boat, and so we took this opportunity to engage in conversation.
“Hi, guys, where are you from?” I asked, assuming they probably weren’t Kolocep natives. You can imagine my surprise when the man responded in a proper English accent resembling Hugh Grant’s or James Bond’s.
Foz and Millie were from a small town in southern England. Foz owned a scaffolding company, and they were here in Kolocep on a two-week holiday. When we told them we had quit our jobs to travel, they both applauded with proper British golf claps. We spent the afternoon drinking with them, and by the end of an epic day, Foz told me to get his info at the bar later tonight. He told us to be sure to find them, as it was their last night in Kolocep.
It was amazing that by simply talking to the first people we saw, we not only made friends with down-to-earth British folks but also got a soft job offer in England. As soon as they left, we had a frantic Oh my God, are we going to England? conversation. Would we actually do it? Probably not, but we loved to dream and plan how we would live our lives as Brits. It wasn’t always realistic, but then again, there we were in Croatia on a Friday afternoon. This wouldn’t have happened without us dreaming on our couch in Denver.
7/18/15
Kolocep, Croatia
Due to our excitement at dinner, we’d overindulged in Croatian beer and in turn got a late start to the morning. To make things worse, we had run out of both eggs and coffee. Neither of us had the energy to get groceries, let alone cook, so we grudgingly made our way down the steps to eat breakfast at the café for the first time. We both ordered “the Breakfast.” There was only one option, and it consisted of eggs with bacon, OJ, and coffee. The eggs weren’t that bad, but the bacon was more questionable than the Bush/Gore election.
The thought of propelling a kayak forward just to get pictures underwater was daunting, but we had already gone two days without kayaking, and there wasn’t much else to do but sit on the beach. So we grabbed the GoPro and snorkel gear and headed to see Narissa.
We argued over who had to get the gear from the house, and I noticed that we’d both been getting agitated with each other lately. It was surprising that we had argued here and there but not truly fought since we’d left Denver. But Kolocep was small, very small. We were getting stir-crazy, and every little thing that got on our nerves was projected onto the other person.
We had the kayak routine down after our first adventure, and skipped the nudist cove and proceeded straight across the sea to the playground area. On the way out there, I spotted a high rock that looked like a great jumping platform.
I wanted to get an epic GoPro video jumping off the rock, so we pulled the boat over. It wasn’t a traditional jump; it was far more dangerous. First, I had to get to the damn platform by scaling the wall. This was harder than it looked from the kayak. But that wasn’t the dangerous part; the rocks b
elow the platform that I couldn’t see from sea level were the real concern. I could clear them, but I had to really plant my feet to propel myself fifteen feet out from the rocks.
After deciding that getting down by trying to climb the rocks would probably be more dangerous than jumping, my mind was made up. I checked with Ash that she was ready to go; she gave me a thumbs-up. I mapped out my three steps and checked the surface to make sure there would be no slipping. After the runway was clear, I started the engines and took off. By the time I leaped, I felt like an idiot once again as I watched the rocks below come far closer than I had expected. I probably cleared them by about three feet. It was admittedly more dangerous than I’d thought, but the video was going to be epic.
I swam through the deep blue water to the kayak and carefully distributed my weight to board it without flipping Ash. I was still shaking a bit from the adrenaline. Ash was looking at me weird when I asked how the video turned out. She said the five worst words I could have heard: “I didn’t get the video.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as she handed me the GoPro. I checked the playback, and she had recorded everything up until the jump and then stopped the video right before I jumped. Then she started a new video as I swam over to her and said, “Yeah, that was really sketch!” She had hit the record button at all the wrong times.
I erupted.
Not only did I erupt, my eruption caused her to erupt. It was like an earthquake that started a tsunami. Obviously, it was an honest mistake, and she felt bad, but I was extremely nearsighted, and the Adriatic was a salty place. Our arguing turned to yelling, and our yelling turned to paddle-splashing and screaming—crashes that probably echoed to Italy. At one point I screamed so loud, I choked, and my throat was on fire.
“Take me home!” she screamed, her arms folded.
“Oh, I’ll take you home!” I said, and began dramatically exhausting all my energy to turn the boat around and paddle as hard as I could. Somewhere in my frantic Chris Farley–esque flailing, I had lost one of my flip-flops. I paddled hard on the right side only and turned the boat around. I think Ash thought I had given in and that that was my way of apologizing.
“No, no way. Turn. This. Boat. Around!” she screamed at me, rejecting the apology I hadn’t given.
“I’ve gotta find my flip-flop!” I yelled back.
As I searched for the lost piece of rubber, we both sat in complete silence, nothing but the sound of water slapping up against the rocks. My flip-flop was black and it floated, so it should have been easy to find. I gave up and chalked it up to the Adriatic. We coasted to the playground area. We knew we had come too far to just kayak home. But the strange thing was, I felt great. It was as if the screaming had released all the built-up frustration I had been holding in for the last month.
When we got to the rocks, we both looked at each other and did the apologizing with our eyes. We tied the kayak up to the rocks, and at the exact same time, we noticed the lost flip-flop had been jammed into a crevice in the middle of the kayak. We both started laughing and held hands as we jumped off the rock, spending the remainder of the afternoon exploring the caves and inlets surrounding the playground.
7/19/15
Kolocep, Croatia
I woke up stiff. I know how that might sound, but I actually couldn’t move my limbs very well. This made it easier to designate today a workday. We lounged on our porch all morning, writing and listening to music before taking a Greek salad break around 2:00 p.m. As soon as we began the descent down the 150-step staircase, I felt the sun pressing on the sensitive spots on my skin like pressure points. I must have gotten burned yesterday, I thought while popping my collar to cover my neck. The truth was, I had not looked at a mirror in days. What was the point? I wasn’t shaving, and my hair was going to be soaked in the sea soon enough.
I realized as I walked down the steps that I was sporting a Hawaiian shirt with its collar popped, free plastic sunglasses that happened to be red, and swim trunks only covering half my thighs. I was officially the biggest asshole on the island, taking the crown from the guy who checked that the people at the cabanas actually belonged to the resort.
We had reservations at a restaurant tonight. That’s right, a real restaurant. Last night when we’d returned the kayak, Narissa let us know about a reservation-only restaurant at the end of the cove. It was for people who were staying in the resort, but she told us that we could just walk up there and tell them we were in Villa 2 and they wouldn’t ask questions. She was right.
Once we were both dressed up, we strolled down the steps and followed the path along the water, stopping at the restaurant rather than continuing to Bronze Boob Bay. They showed us to one of only eight tables overlooking the sea. We could see the entire cove of Kolocep from our elevated seats.
As the sun disappeared past the horizon, so did our budget. We ordered a nice bottle of Croatian wine and inhaled the complimentary homemade bread the waiter had brought over as soon as he turned away. I realized this was our first real “date” of the trip. Obviously, every night was a date, but we’d made reservations here. That made it feel more real. I can’t remember being on a date with Ash where she was as carefree as she was right then. Her unkempt hair blowing in the soft breeze and makeup-less face glowing with natural beauty.
Ash was gazing at the sunset, her camera in hand, and an English couple next to us must have noticed because the gentlemen leaned over and asked, “Would you guys like a picture?” He and his wife smiled.
Stephen and Diane were celebrating Diane’s fifty-fifth birthday and her retirement. She had worked at a university in Newcastle, England, and this was her first holiday on her own time. Stephen had been retired for the last three years and was happy to have her finally join him. They were such a charming couple, and they were extremely intrigued by our traveling story. Our date turned into a four-person dinner, and we couldn’t have been happier to share a meal with these folks. Diane and Stephen finished their meal before us, and we thanked them for their company and for letting us share in their dual celebration.
Then a younger couple sat down at the table next to us. We recognized them from the bar the night before. (With one bar on the island, it was easy to spot familiar faces.) When the man ordered the catch of the day, they brought him the fish on a platter to inspect. It was clearly fresh out of the water, and it looked amazing in its raw form. It was hard for us not to look on, and before long, we started talking to them as well. The wine had made us extremely friendly.
Neil and Bryony were from Loch Ness, Scotland. (Yes, the home of the famous monster. No, they have not seen it. Yes, of course we asked.) They were our age and like-minded. They were active travelers who enjoyed beer and adventures. Each couple finished their respective bottles of wine, and we chatted until the restaurant closed. They were staying at the resort (actually staying there), and told us we could probably sneak into the bar area and drink with them for free if we wanted to tag along. It was an all-inclusive resort.
We strolled back to their resort, a pep in our step that only comes from the combination of new friends and good wine. Sure enough, we walked right in, and I put on my Of course, I belong here; don’t even think about asking me face. (The same one I’d given the bouncer in Amsterdam.) They told us they had booked a kayak tour for tomorrow and were not really looking forward to it. We convinced them we could be better tour guides than the resort staff, and they canceled their excursion so they could accompany us. We then swapped phone numbers and somehow ended the night watching hippo attacks on YouTube. This was when I knew we would be great friends.
7/20/15
Kolocep, Croatia
Despite not seeing a clock, I could instantly tell we had overslept when I opened my eyes. I could just feel it. I checked my phone to see 10:03 looking back at me. We had planned to meet Neil and Bryony at ten fifteen to kayak. Ash and I jumped out of bed frantically and started handling the essentials. I used one hand to brush my teeth while the other rubbe
d pointless circles of sunscreen on my stomach. Ash was trying to get her bathing suit on while attempting to open a can of tuna. (Tuna for breakfast was a first and last for me.)
I was finished getting ready before Ash (the sun also rose this morning), so I ran down and met Neil and Bryony at Narissa’s at 10:20. I used the honesty method the BlaBlaCar driver in Antwerp had used. “Hey, guys! I apologize, but we both overslept.”
“No worries,” Neil said. “We just got here too, and we’re getting the rundown from Narissa!”
These two were the best.
After Ash arrived, we led the way to Copper Cheeks Cove. The next stop on the tour was where I’d jumped and Ash had missed my heroic video. Neil and Bryony seemed perplexed that anyone would consider jumping from that rock. (I did it for the video, okay?)
When we arrived at our playground, Neil and Bryony couldn’t believe their eyes. They paddled into the main pool area in awe as we pointed out our favorite places to lounge, jump, snorkel, climb, and drink beer. As we sat and watched Neil and Bryony jumping from the cliff, I thought about our surroundings: Two months ago I was in an office, working on balance sheets for someone else’s money, constantly checking the clock with the hopes that somehow 5:00 p.m. would arrive faster than usual. I was now in a country that we had not even planned on coming to, in a small cove in the Adriatic Sea, drinking good beer with great company. This seemed like a scenario that I couldn’t have even begun to think of a few months ago. There were many reasons not to make this trip happen. But reality now started to creep in, little by little: What would we do when we got back? How could we justify spending all the money we had saved for two years? What if we couldn’t get jobs? These were all valid points, and frankly, all these things were still weighing on me heavily. Despite these concerns, at this precise moment, on this remote island, I was witnessing the fringe benefits of long-term travel firsthand. I didn’t know if it was the unbelievable scenery, the new friends with Scottish accents (who we felt like we had known forever), or the now ever accumulating warm beers in my stomach thinking for me, but I felt like we might have made the right choice. I often hear people in their twilight years dole out advice along the lines of, “Live life like it’s your last day on earth.” If this were my last day on earth, I would die a happy man.
