It was Tuesday, September 22nd. Our last full day on Mahe Island in Seychelles. We had been there 5 days at this point and every day was beautiful, even though the forecast had called for rain or storms during every one of those days. But it never rained. Until September 22nd.
Two days prior we had booked a ferry to nearby Praslin Island so that we could visit Vallee de Mai, a primeval palm forest and designated World Heritage Site. I was excited because we would get to see another World Heritage Site, and up until that point we had done nothing but sit by the pool and the ocean. Don’t get me wrong, sitting by the pool and the ocean with adult beverages was awesome and just what we needed, but I definitely wanted to do some hiking and stay active. Well, I got all the activity I needed in that 1 hour ferry ride to Praslin. Here’s how it went down.
When we woke up that morning, it was pouring. We talked about it for a while, and even though we had already pre-paid for our ferry, Anthea’s gut was saying it was a bad idea to go, and I reluctantly agreed. When I went downstairs to the front desk to cancel our taxi, it just so happened that our taxi driver was already there. What? No one is ever early on island time! As I was explaining to the front desk that we wanted to cancel our taxi because of the weather, I didn’t know the taxi driver was standing right next to me and that he used to work at the hotel so he knew all the staff. Awkwaaaaard.
The driver explained that it was sunny up in Victoria at the port and that we should give it a shot. So do I go against Anthea’s gut knowing that she is prone to sea-sickness, or do I play it safe and chill out at the hotel? Let’s just say the knight from Indiana Jones would tell me I chose poorly.
We arrived at the port and sure enough it was sunny and the inner harbor even looked calm. I start to think this might actually work out.
We took off for Praslin and the first 5-10 minutes of our hour long ferry ride went pretty well.
Then, once we left the friendly confines of the inner harbor and hit the open water of the Indian Ocean, all hell broke loose. The sun went away, the wind picked up, and the boat began to nosedive over mammoth waves. Imagine a kid in bathtub playing with toy boat, rocking it side to side and front to back as hard as possible. That was our boat. It was a scene from The Perfect Storm, except none of them got sick.
I have no pictures of this event because I was too busy trying to hold on to something and get barf bags for other people, so you’re just gonna have to believe me. And seasickness knows no race. First was a Chinese woman, then an Indian woman, then an Arabic woman had to lie flat while the staff fanned her, then there was the French guy pacing back and forth as if that would subdue his urge to vomit, and then there was Anthea.
Poor Anthea.
I went to ask the staff for a cup of ice because apparently that helps, but as I was getting up she turned to hurl over the back side of the boat. The French guy saw this and raced to get vomit bags for her. I didn’t get to thank him because shortly after, he lost his breakfast in a bag too.
There was vomiting, there was crying, there was desperation. Oh, we’re only halfway there? Perfect.
The scene remained the same for the rest of the boat ride, and when Praslin finally came in to view, I’m sure there would have been celebration if people actually had the energy to cheer. Instead, there was silence and people handing their barf bags to the staff like it was some kind of prize. I asked Anthea what she wanted to do and all she could say was “get on land.” Excellent, we have a plan.
We pulled in to Praslin at around 11:30am, and the only thing we had planned was to hike around Vallee de Mai, so our return trip was scheduled for 5:30pm. That same day. Woof.
At this point, people scattered across the island, while Anthea and I stayed at the port terminal so she could lie down and try to recover for the boat ride back. She insisted that I go without her to Vallee de Mai and she’d be happy to just see pictures. There was no way I was going to leave her alone, but she didn’t want the boat ride from hell to be for nothing, so after she started to come around a bit, I grabbed a cab and took the 15 minute ride to Vallee de Mai. I explored on my own for about an hour, doing the entire outer loop, and then came back to the port to sit and wait for our return trip.
When I got back, Anthea was walking around and even though I was happy about that, we both knew we still had 1 more hour on that damn ferry back to Mahe.
After waiting a couple hours for our return ride home, Anthea popped in 2 Dramamine in addition to the 1 she had taken earlier in the day (which obviously didn’t help). A girl from the first boat ride came up to us in line, desperately asking if we had some motion sickness pills, so Anthea empathetically handed her 2 pills. Our boat finally pulled in and we got a seat in the back, the only section exposed to the wind, so at least Anthea could have some fresh air hitting her.
Turns out that the waves could hit her too.
On the earlier boat ride, a French woman told Anthea to focus on something steady along the horizon. It would help ease the effects. Anthea took that advice to heart and focused on specific clouds during our return ride. In fact, she focused so hard that every time a wave came up and slapped her in the face, she brushed it off like Ali brushed off Foreman. The strategy seemed to be working – that, and 3 Dramamine – because she was hanging in there like a trooper. Even though she was content with getting pummeled by Poseidon’s wrath, I finally convinced her to move a seat over so that she wouldn’t be getting the brunt of it. Still going strong.
Finally. Mahe Island! What a sight for sore eyes.
Our taxi driver from earlier had promised to come pick us up when we landed, and when he spotted us and how rough we looked, his whole demeanor changed. He felt bad. I jabbed a little saying the boat ride was terrible, and we never should have gone. He got the idea.
Now that we were back on sweet, sweet land, we still had a 40 minute taxi ride back to the hotel on winding roads. Not the best cure for seasickness, but Anthea went full beast mode through it. The hotel we were staying at, the DoubleTree Allamanda, offered an “arrival” drink, basically an iced green tea with lemongrass and probably one of the most delicious things I’ve ever had. After one of those and a fish soup fit for hangovers, Anthea was a new person and luckily felt 100% by the next day.
I assume that the ride we experienced was an anomaly. Otherwise, I don’t see how that ferry company could stay in business. Plus, every other day we were there was beautiful and the water looked fairly calm.
I guess the moral here is that if you’re traveling in an unfamiliar place and your gut is telling you that something feels off, trust your gut. I admit that my excitement to see another World Heritage Site, especially one so remote, trumped all the reasons for not taking that boat ride. We can look back now and laugh, and hell, we got a great story from it, but if something went wrong on that ferry and we got stranded in the middle of the Indian Ocean or worse, would it really be worth it?
Has anyone else had a similar experience while traveling? How did you deal with it?
Aisha says
Yes!!!!! We took the boat today from mahe to praslin and it was a nightmare!!!! I needed a sick bag and my husband couldn’t even talk he had a cold sweat and it was like he was feeling the worst sickness and could do nothing about it! That was the longest hour esp the last half hour!! Never again! Will deffo spend the extra money for the plane journey back to mahe.
Thanks for your post made me and my husband laugh out loud!