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In the summer of 2000, my journey took me to western Cyprus
where I, a budding archaeologist, joined a dig at the Tomb
of the Kings, Paphos. Working in 90+ farenheit degree
weather daily takes its toll on the body, so on off-days our
director arranged various field trips to check out local sites.
These included natural attractions such as the Akamos Peninsula
on the western coastline, a stunning range of cliffs and beaches.
Still bare of hotels and tourists, it seemed like an ideal
place to roam and play. So our crew ventured forth with plans
to combine a bit of sea cave climbing with a walk in a nearby
gorge.
To reach the caves, you disembark cliff-top, tunnel down through
an opening in the ground and emerge onto a stunning vista
- waves crashing against the cliff face with you standing
there viewing the entire event close-up. I leapt at the chance
to explore the other caves cliff-side.
To move along the cliff face one has to jump 1+ metres onto
a large reef-based boulder in the sea and leap back onto the
shelf. No problem. The first cave we peeked into had its own
guests - large irritated bats so we departed to the next.
Deciding after another one or two that it was easier to climb
up from the original cave, I along with a fellow student headed
back along the shelf.
After leaping onto the boulder I was startled when a huge
wave hit me. Deciding it would be best to jump at this point,
I did…only to miss the cave floor and fall ever sooo
slowly into the Mediterranean (did I mention this isn't a
beach!?). My hands managed to grasp onto the cliff floor while
my body crashed onto the wall of rocks, leaving my head and
hands peeking above the floor at my horrified co-worker with
my body slammed against the face of the cliff. Feeling a mix
of panic, adrenaline and embarassment, I screamed that I really
needed help since my left knee felt broke.
Deborah managed to grab my wrists reassuring me she wouldn't
let go but we soon realised the quandary we were in: I was
too wet and heavy to pull up and the pain in my legs prevented
me from moving plus there was nothing to grab onto besides
my rescuer! I'll spare you the discussion/shrieking/legs flailing
bit. I finally got out by having Deborah release my left wrist
so I could slam it down and hoist myself up by dragging my
body against the cliff face (ouch!). I felt like a silly Indiana
Jones. We somehow got back on top by screaming for help above,
but not before falling down on my poor rescuer's face while
attempting the climb.
We wrapped up the near-death experience with a litre or two
(the carafe never left my shaking paw) of village wine at
a mezze lunch we went to next. All in all, not the experience
I had in mind but a definite wake-up call in some ways (p.s.
don't wear runners when sea cave climbing!) and now I have
my own war-tale of sorts to tell about life in the field.
Text © Caroline Puzinas, All Rights Reserved |
Travel Writers: Cyprus Aphrodite, Calamity! by
Caroline Puzinas
