Yes, I was a little anxious to travel to a distant island where most people don’t speak English (contrary to reassurances in the Lonely Planet guide). And, I would do it all over again.
The thing about solo travel is the immersion in every little thing.
There’s no one to monitor or react to or share with. There’s just you, curating your own day and experiencing everything that comes without any undue influence.
Plus, you never have to see the people who witnessed you throw up off the back of the dive boat ever again.
A brief report on this first foray into solo travel:
My flight departs at 12:45 AM. I don’t start packing until 10:15 PM, all while tracking down my sister who has forgotten she is supposed to take me to the airport. It’s family tradition to squeak in just before they call your name on the PA, so everything is on track.
Day 1 – Arriving
I arrive in San Juan and strip down to a tank top and shorts in the airport bathroom, a far cry from the layers required back home in Utah. I make my way over to the rental car desk to wait for a very, very long time before sliding behind the seat of the first rental car that has ever been under my name.
I find my way to the highway and the few miles to the sleepy coastal town of Luquillo quickly tick by. Parking behind a very tall, prison-like gate, I check into my bed and breakfast, Luquillo Sunrise Beach Inn, and that’s when it finally hits.
I am in Puerto Rico. It is 84 degrees. I am wearing shorts in December and staring over my balcony at the gorgeous and empty beach.
And I am starving.
A quick walk over to Boardrunners Cafe, parked directly on the sand, earns me a rum punch and Mahi fish tacos. I look around for silverware, and when I cannot find any, I decide this is an invitation. I am here in Puerto Rico to dig into living, to hold both my grief and my liberation in my hands. I savor every messy bite.
I am very aware that I am alone and try to blend in while the surf crashes nearby, random dogs say hello, and a rainbow teases the horizon.
Feeling warmly buzzed, I stride down the beach and just kept going…for maybe a couple miles. I encounter just a handful of others, mostly locals.
One of the teens who is fishing, Will, stops me and deftly forms some beach plant into a rose. He is charming as he performs for the blonde tourist. “Lucky me,” he says when I admit I am solo. Lucky me, I agree.
Day 2 – Road trip from Luquillo to Rincon
I leave the bed and breakfast just as the sun is rising. I have an adventurous day ahead, driving north and then west, following the coast of this small island. I will make my way all the way around before I return to Luquillo.
I stop in Old San Juan for a few hours, wandering down tiny cobblestone streets, catching my breath in one of the oldest churches on the continent at the tomb of Ponce de Leon, and exploring both of the historic forts, which are less interesting to me than the local delight I try for lunch: mofongo.
I continue my drive across the north coast to Rincon on the west, to spend the night in a my very first airbnb, which I learn has no hot water, way too many roosters, and no front door. It is just a series of rooms with doors and one shared bathroom. I have officially learned the hard way to always read the entire listing and the reviews.
This doesn’t stop me from enjoying a good book on the beach nearby at sunset, being caught off guard by the tiny crabs that delightfully emerge from their sand hovels. I find conch fritters, a traditional Medalla beer, and some live music for dinner before attempting sleep as the roosters croon on. They are ceaseless.
Day 3 – First real scuba dive
I rise early for my day of diving at Desecheo Island and I am mildly surprised that I survive to brag about the sea turtles and stingrays.
A quick (frigid) shower after a late lunch and I leave Rincon behind to drive through the mountains to La Parguera on the south coast.
There, I meet up with Aleli just before dusk, a little known, laid back marine biologist. At least he calls himself one, and I have to wonder if he has simply figured out that tourists feel safe with a “marine biologist.”
There is just one couple heading out with us, three of us total. I board a single kayak while they board a double, and we paddle out into the gentle water of the mangroves. It’s my first time in a kayak, and I don’t even think to ask about a life jacket, at least until we leave the mangroves behind
As I paddle confidently down the channel, the sun is setting and it is simply warm, beautiful, and fun.
Kayaking feels like my new favorite thing.
After a mile, a strong headwind begins to make forward progress quite difficult as we exit the safety of the mangroves. I am wondering now where this bioluminescent bay we are heading to actually is. Aleli is following us in a small motorized boat. I ask him and he points across a HUGE ocean bay and says, “See that dark green patch way over there?” I chuckle nervously, realize he is serious, and then say out loud: “Impossible.”
It gets dark (really dark) shortly after. The only light is from Aleli’s boat behind us and we are paddling through decent size waves and the maddening headwind. My hands, arms, back and thighs are on fire.
Kayaking quickly drops down the list until it is officially my least favorite thing.
We all push on, despite the invitation from Aleli to jump in the boat at any point. I imagine nearly every tourist does, but I am not a typical tourist and the couple doesn’t bail either.
After two and a half miles, we pull into a round pool surrounded by mangroves. The half moon and hundreds of stars are firmly settled above us, making for a surreal setting, although not one that is ideal for seeing the glowing dinoflagellates. It’s much better to come on a new moon, but then that is also where more people are here.
I don’t care. I get to see the magic, albeit on a smaller scale, and then I lay back in my aptly-named “scrambler” kayak and float there in the bay by myself looking up at the stars.
I kick myself a little when the boat returns us to La Parguera. After the long day of adventure, I drive three long hours back to Luquillo, pulling in just after midnight.
Admittedly, I was overly ambitious in my planning.
Day 4 – A well-earned beach day
I wake up feeling remarkably decent and I am rewarded with the most delectable cream cheese-stuffed coconut french toast. I will long remember that first bite. I also realize that I have not experienced even a twinge of self-conscious awareness of my aloneness since the first day.
I roam the beach all morning and then venture out to the famous Luquillo kioskos for lunch. I am hoping to find lechon, which is suckling roast pig typically only available on Sundays.
None of the kioskos are offering it, so I settle quite randomly for some “tamarind ribs” plus fried sweet plantains that seem way overpriced at $15. After waiting 20 minutes, I receive a takeout box that could easily feed a family of four. I have no idea how I will eat it all, but I am hungry and it smells amazing. I pull out of the parking lot to head back to my room, only to find a lechon truck on the side of the highway!
I acquiesce to the abundance and order “uno” serving, which turns out to be perhaps 4 pounds of roast pork, comparable to the amount of ribs I also have in tow.
C’est la vie! I enjoy my personal meat buffet in my room with an ocean breeze through the open balcony door.
Day 5 – Body surfing
I am up before dawn to meet up with my “rainforest guides” on the south side of El Yunque rainforest. After driving to Kalichi’s basecamp and a quick breakfast, we gear up in helmets, life jackets, gloves, knee pads, and river trek boots before heading into the wild.
I throw all caution to the wind and spend the next four hours body rafting down natural slides, cliff jumping into and out of waterfalls, and rappelling down rock faces.
After an incredible adventure, and quite a few new scrapes and bruises, we savor showers, homemade empanadas, and a viewing of the blooper reel. As in life, some of us inevitably land on our faces.
It is a delightfully small tour group and our guides, Jose and Fernando, were fantastic. The whole experience adds up to my favorite day in Puerto Rico.
Holding true to its allure, it seems there is always more time on the island. After returning to my Luquillo beach, I get lost in a good book and then make good use of those leftover ribs for dinner.
Day 6 – Wandering
After a tropical pancake breakfast, I attempt to venture further down the beach, but get caught in a torrential downpour. I slip on the rocks, cutting open my toe and scraping my leg. Graceful.
I limp my ego a mile back, shower and regroup. A little blood is par for the course.
After a bit of research, I head to the north side of El Yunque, bypass the welcome center, and drive straight to the 9.5 km marker, where one will find an empty hiking trail to Juan Diego Falls.
Falls is very plural. After hiking up the river for about a mile, I have seen so many gorgeous jungle waterfalls, it is hard to be impressed anymore. The two larger lower falls have natural wading pools and a scattering of locals enjoying them. After, I am completely alone with the rainforest and the water, for as far as I want to go.
After hiking to an uncomfortable distance, where I finally question what would happen should I get injured and not be able to leave of my own accord, I managed to return to my little Luquillo home base.
I wander several miles down the beach again, a bit more carefully, and then read in the shade of a giant palm while the sun sets, a golden tinge settling over the rippling ocean that stretches out as far as I can see. It is my last night in this beautiful place and still early for this night owl, so I take myself out to Parilla, a fancier restaurant in the kioskos, for a lobster dinner.
Day 7 – The return home
I wake early to watch the sunrise over the ocean from my balcony one more time. After packing my few belongings and leaving several pounds of meat in the mini fridge, I enjoy a poached egg breakfast with a Caribbean hot sauce called Bahio that I am immediately addicted to. I order six bottles online before finishing my meal.
I manage to slip in hours of final beach reading before check-out and then drive into San Juan for cafe con leche and tuna carpaccio at Pinky’s until it is time to fly home.
This first solo trip was more than compelling. While part of me considers it all a one time loss of sanity, most of me is planning to do it all again next December. Only one delicious question to answer: Where to?