A Road Even Less Travelled

Miss travelling? Same.

Real adventure, the unforgettable ones, the ones you end up retelling repeatedly, are only ever truly available to those that will take the chance to walk on the road less travelled and roads even less travelled than that.

One of the greatest adventures I’ve ever had was found on a road. My god-brother and I took a chance on what our other travelling companions thought to be a write-off of a day.

The two of us were on a cruise travelling the Pacific Islands along with the rest of my extended family. On the last day of our onshore excursions, the weather had turned sour. The stunning blue Pacific sky he had taken for granted had gone grey and rained down on us like softly falling snow.

Not was the day ruined, but a lot of the onshore experiences were obviously beach related, and the weather wasn’t exactly inciting any excitement for that activity.

Most of our travelling companions, after an hour of wandering around the tiny village with no sign of the rain stopping, had decided to simply just go back onto the ship and spend the rest of their last shore-day in their cabins.

But not my god-brother and I.

To us, heading back would have been such a waste. So despite the fledgeling storm, we pushed on to our own self-made adventure. We did not know where to start, so we started where all great island adventures usually begin — in the ocean.

We hired out a kayak for an hour — the local man who loaned it to us said that if we were out any longer than that, the waters might end up getting dangerous — and kayaked around the island. We only made it about halfway around before we needed to stop and turn back, but despite how short it was, it was still amazing. It felt like we could really get a look at the island. Beyond the tourist markets and guided tours. We saw the shape of her stunning figure and got to see all the real curves of a beautiful island. We took to the land on our return.

The rain had poured harder. But all the same, we mounted onto some rented bikes, topless, sea and rain-soaked, with the largest smiles on our faces, as we rode into the pelting rain. We did not know where we were going, but after a time of riding past the local houses and huts, we took a chance on a dodgy-looking sign that said ‘cave walk’.

We recognized some fellow cruise riders coming from the trail and took it ourselves. The start of the trail felt like every other jungle trek I’d ever been on. But after descending some rock formations, we stepped into what felt like a rift in time. As if we found ourselves back in an age that was devoid of industry, infrastructure and people. The trees reached the heavens in a beautiful green canopy over our heads, the air as fresh as a mountain spring, and it held the blissful silence of a place that didn’t care about your menial day-to-day problems.

But yet the unmarked trail descended further still. Deeper into the depths of the jungle. And so deeper we walked. On and on until we eventually got to another set of rock formations. Two hulking boulders with a lightless gap, barely passable, in between them. A sign etched into one boulder read “cave.”

Suspecting we had arrived at the destination we weren’t really expecting to find, both of us passed through in a rather tight squeeze. The rough exterior of the boulder brushed not-so-gently across my topless form. More rocks, descending deeper into the cave followed. Signs of light further down appeared on the other side. So, like moths to a flame, we headed towards it.

Nearly stumbling, we finally reached the furthest part of the cave. A single oil lamp upon a pole was our only source of light, which gently illuminated the most stunning pool of water I had ever seen. Just from where we stood we could tell that it was old, deep and enigmatic. It almost felt like we weren’t supposed to be there.

If kayaking around the island let us see the islands figure, then the trail we walked lead us straight to her heart. And this pool was that.

A sign beside the light said ‘swimming permitted.’ I was hesitant and so was my god-brother, but it was a once in a lifetime opportunity that we knew we wouldn’t get again. So after a very loud battle-cry, we ran, we jumped, and we crashed. Straight into the depths of the heart of the island.

It was cold, damn cold. Colder than the rain outside. But to this day, I’ve never tasted water so clean and so fresh in my entire life. We swam a little in the pool, from one end to the other, before remembering we had our goggles on still. We knew that water was deep, but now we saw just how much. So with brave faces, we slipped them over our eyes and looked down.

The sense of vertigo I had after doing so was indescribable. The moment I did, I swam to get out of the water. It was as if I looked down at something I shouldn’t have and that if I looked any longer, I would sink to those endless depths myself. My god-brother reacted similarly and almost at the same time without a single word having been said from either of us.

Back atop the bank of the pool in the cave, we looked onto the shifting waters silently for a moment, unsure as to what we just experienced. But there was something we both agreed on walking back — it was utterly breathtaking.

We were a part of the last group to leave that island that day. And when we regaled our travelling companions of the day we had, the feeling of FOMO they had was written all over their faces. But for me and my god-brother, we had an experience that would stay with us for the rest of our lives, all found on a road less travelled.

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