Taking the ferry from mainland Puerto Rico to Isla Culebra is always a little bit of a dicey proposition. Doing it on a day in early March when high winds and huge waves seem to be trying to capsize you is another thing altogether.

Okay, I’m being a little melodramatic. We bought tickets online a couple days before our planned trip from Porferry, which was both cheap and easy, and showed up at the ferry terminal in Ceiba first thing in the morning, per the advice of our savvy, San Juan-based friends. Parking: also cheap and easy.

When we got up to the ticket booth to check in and speak with an agent, we discovered that, due to bad weather, all of the ferry trips that day had been canceled… probably. We discussed our options, googled some things, and drove next door to the regional airport to find out about taking a plane. $300 for a 15-minute flight, wowsers, but we considered it briefly before deciding to wait it out at the ferry terminal and hope for the best.

The several-hour wait was pretty entertaining, actually–we had lots of snacks with us for camping on the island (we’d hit up a supermarket in San Juan on the way out of town) and there was a vending machine for cold drinks (CK may or may not have built himself a tall rum ‘n coke), and the people-watching was A++. Lots of local families with kids running around on a grassy field by the dock, and there was a nice big tent set up with folding chairs for us old folks. Also, we still had cell service.

Finally, a ferry docked! A while later, we boarded! Okay, we thought, now we’re cooking with gas. We are slaying vacation. Nothing can get us down!

…Until CK realized we were boarding a cargo ferry, not a commuter ferry. They ushered us down into the hold, and suddenly we were out on the ocean. The waves were rocking the boat almost perpendicular to the water, in big rolling motions. Ferry staff were stationed on both sides of the cargo cabin armed with vomit bags, which they handed out on the reg. I counted four pukers in our part of the cabin.

At one point it got so bad that I was praying silently (to the Benevolent Universe, okay? I’ve got my atheist street cred to uphold) and made CK open his birthday present, even though it was early and it was not a very private or romantic moment. But the present was a small amulet of Santa Maria holding a boat in her hand, cheesy as fuck but meant to keep CK safe while he’s out on his boat. I felt like it was the right moment, haha. Anyway we didn’t die, so clearly it worked.

After what seemed like weeks but was only about two hours, we docked safely at Culebra and disembarked… into the dark, chilly, night with no one there to meet us and no available taxis. I had semi-prepared for this, except that we’d planned to get there around noon when there would’ve been plenty of taxis around. At worst, I thought, it’s just a two-mile walk to the campground… and THEN it started to rain. Pretty much the worst birthday trip ever.

We loitered around other stragglers and talked to taxi drivers whose vehicles were already full– “Another shuttle will come,” they kept saying as the doors closed. The telephone numbers I’d found online and saved in my phone either rang out, or our voicemails were never returned. It was just too late. Finally, a sweet Australian couple took us under their wing and absolutely saved the day. They had found themselves in the same boat but had called the owner of the Airbnb they were renting, who called in a favor from a friend–the owner of the only car rental agency in town and a gem of a guy. These angels not only gave us a ride to our campground, but also Jack treated us all to a small tour of the island and took the Aussies to his favorite burger place to grab a takeout dinner. A million thanks, new friends!

At the gates of Playa Flamenco, everything was dark and shut down–and yes, still chilly and rainy–but at last I felt totally at home and competent. We had our headlamps at the ready and found a great campsite, and had our tent set up and everything feeling cozy and homey in 15 minutes. Then I grabbed my ZLite and walked the ten steps to the beach. We made it!

After that, the trip was golden. We spent the next few days relaxing on the World’s (2nd) Best Beach, and alternately grabbed a cab at the beach’s entrance/parking lot to explore the rest of the island. (Logistics note: We never waited more than five minutes for a cab or a shuttle after that first night; they tend to hang around wherever folks typically pick them up so there was usually at least one waiting for passengers.)

Some fave spots in town were Blac Flamingo Coffee and the Dinghy Dock, where we ate an insanely fresh, tender octopus salad and CK told me about the time he had to prepare an octopus, and so it’s a good thing it was the best octopus I’ve ever had because it’s also the last octopus I will ever have. I should’ve known better anyway; octopi are probably smarter than humans, and they’re really social, so… note to self, don’t eat octopus.

It was an idyllic time, and whaddya know–the ocean on the ferry ride back–on a regular commuter ferry this time–was as smooth as silk and twice as fast.