Throwing general caution and generous advice to the wind, we were very proud of ourselves for renting a car in Puerto Rico. We weighed the pros and cons of ignoring every authority figure’s guidance the morning of our great driving adventure to Charco Azul, a series of caves with turquoise pools of water at the bottom.
With a 90 minute drive between our Airbnb in Old San Juan and our destination, Uber was out of the question. Even if we could find a driver willing to take us that far out of the way, there was no guarantee there’d be cell service at the caves to call one to pick us up. When we did the math, it would have cost us twice as much for a round trip Uber than renting a car for 24 hours. For once, logic and reasoning agreed with risk taking.
Eva and I picked up the car from the rental agency and, after purchasing every single possible type of insurance Enterprise had to offer, we set off to buy food before picking up Mariel and Kristen. Keeping some traditions alive, we adhered to the college student vacation food pyramid: fresh fruit, $3 bottles of wine and snacks we can’t find on the mainland.
Blasting Christian Rock as we picked up Mariel and Kristen, we entered “Charco Azul” into Google Maps and relished in the thrill of day-of planning. Co-pilot Eva guided me along the highway, and after three incorrect exits and one thrilling-in-a-bad-way-U-turn, we were finally on our desired route.
The two-hour drive was studded with rural landscapes we never had a chance to see in Old San Juan and shops along the side of the road promising roasted meats. Eventually we pulled up to a small clearing with a broken sign that definitely had the words “Charco Azul” on it. As everyone packed up their camera equipment and swimming gear, I mixed a makeshift sangria by stuffing raspberries and blueberries into one of the bottle of wine. This is what I believed was my peak as a young adult.
We trekked on the narrow path that we assumed would bring us to the caves at around 5 pm, leaving us plenty of time to take photos and enjoy a quick dip before night fall. After 15 minutes we arrived at not so much a cave, but more so a pool of water. A stunning pool of water, but no caves were in anyone’s line of vision, with no more paths to follow. I scaled a small hill of rocks to the side, sure that our recklessness would be rewarded as Eva started asking a couple just driving off just where we were exactly.
“He says this is Charco Azul,” she translated for us. “He says this is where locals go usually.” They spoke for a few more minutes as Kristen, Mariel and I were suspended in the unknown.
We made it to a Charco Azul, but not the Charco Azul Eva showed us on Instagram that morning. The Charco Azul we were trying to go to was actually 90 minutes west of our Airbnb, not 2 hours south. Apparently there are several “blue puddles” in Puerto Rico, and not all of them have caves.
Morale was low on the walk back to the car. My haphazard sangria served as an unkind metaphor for our adventure: even the best intentions and technically correct components don’t add up to the real thing. Yes, there was fruit in wine and yes, there was indeed a blue puddle, but that doesn’t mean we were drinking sangria in a cave.
Pouring herself a plastic cup of the casual cocktail, Mariel ruminated the day’s events from the backseat. Instead of turning around towards Old San Juan, I continued driving down the road, just to see what was around the bend. We all lamented the waste of our day, we only had so much time in Puerto Rico and just squandered much of it on what was supposed to be an adventure.
The gorgeous views around us eventually broke the tension. We stopped along the side of the road to take photos and videos of the landscape before turning around and hatching a plan for the tomorrow.
“We still have the car until noon tomorrow,” I pointed out from the driver’s seat. “We need to meet the rest of the group at 10 am for the day’s activities. If we wake up at the ass crack of dawn, we get to the caves at 6:30 am, take what photos and videos we need, leave by 8 and that still gives us a half hour of breathing room for traffic before dropping off the car and meeting the group.”
We agreed this was not only the best, but our only option if we wanted to see the caves and make the most of our car rental. The next morning, we weren’t quite as giddy to be breaking the rules. I sheepishly texted our authority figure Patty in the wee hours of the morning to let her know we would be continuing our adventure and would meet with the group at the agreed upon time.
With Eva taking the wheel this time, we were making great time as she navigated the highway, this time going west. The winding single-lane roads didn’t faze her as she zoomed past the stray roosters greeting the morning.
Spotting a sign that clearly read “Charco Azul,” we knew we finally made it. The blog post I read earlier said to park at the sign at the top of the hill, but of course we knew better. We descended to the bottom of the hill and pulled up to a clear space to park. Eva opened the door to a desperate squealing.
“Oh no, little guy what’s wrong?” she cooed as my brain played a montage of every wild boar story or video I’ve ever seen. In preparing for the trip, I read about how wild pigs can be found in rural areas of Puerto Rico and should be avoided at all costs.
I immediately thought, “even if it’s just a baby, that means Mama Pig is on her way and she will be none too pleased with the four girls who just ran over her baby with an SUV.”
While Kristen and Mariel leaned over to see what was going on, I begged Eva to close her door. Surely, she didn’t know how badly a Mama pig could mess us up or how soon said mama pig was from proving me right. I yelled every expletive I knew for what seemed like ten minutes until Eva plainly stated, “it’s just a stray dog, Kerry.”
I brushed off my embarrassment and apologized to the perfectly well-behaved stray dog by giving him half my breakfast sandwich and walked towards the path to the highly anticipated caves.
Everything we dreamed of and all to ourselves at 6:30 in the morning, the caves and water are gorgeous and refreshing. Look at our 360 video to decide for yourself if our journey was worth it.
Walking back to the car, I looked at the hill we had to drive back up. It was practically a 90 degree angle that went on for at least half a mile, but with Eva in the driver's seat and the SUV's four-wheel drive I decided I had nothing to worry about.
As the car rolled backwards on the third attempt up the hill, I decided I had something to worry about. "We're going to have to drive up the hill backwards," I struggled to tell the group. Kristen and Mariel looked at me in shock as I told them the blog post we've been following explained how a couple who parked at the bottom of the hill did what we would have to do.
"No problem," said Eva as she shifted to reverse to position the front of the car facing away from the hill. Without sweating or shaking even once, Eva drove us up that right angle of a hill with Mariel guiding and encouraging and Kristen holding my hand, telling me everything would be ok.
Had this been in ancient Greece, Eva would be the hero of her own epic poem. Shakespeare would have written a sonnet proclaiming her bravery if he had the chance to be in our SUV. Sinatra would croon on about her self-assuredness and only Frida Kahlo would be able to capture her essence in a portrait.
We joined our group just in the knick of time, our nerves still shaken from the last leg of our adventure, but pride in our decision to rent a car well intact.
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