I'd never heard that the ocean in Acapulco, Mexico was dangerous. Maybe I'd had my head in the sand all my life, but I sure leaned about it when I traveled down there.

I'd been in the pool at the Fiesta Americana Hotel, watching the wind whip the palm leaves about. The surf sounded louder and more powerful than it had before. Curiosity got the best of me; I had to see what the ocean looked like today.

Before passing through the gate to the beach, I looked around for the flag to see if the water was safe. It turned out flag was atop a pole at the gate, too high to be noticeable as I looked around. I stood in the wind on the beach and watched as the waves crashed. Then powerful foot deep surf headed up toward me. From the distance on each side, the wash on the beach headed sideways, meeting in front of me. I'd seen the water move sideways before, but when it splashed together, it had made no impact. This time a yard tall, a tumultuous, churning mass resulted when the swift waters met, white water splashing high above it. It formed a long wall down to the ocean. Suddenly, as if taking on a life of its own, it became as fast and mighty as a jetliner, shooting back into the ocean and the next incoming wave, far ahead of the rest of the retreating surf. The riptide.

I'd never seen surf slide sideways across the beach from each side and cascade together before ripping back to the ocean before. I had heard of the riptide, but never seen it or had it defined to me. Acapulco Bay is curved with small peninsulas jutting out into it. A huge rock outcropping rises 30 yards from shore.

One wave came surging up onto the beach, under the tables and grass roofs that had been placed on planted sticks early in the morning. People dashed back to the outdoor café, or lifted their feet under the tables. The water lifted up a 40-gallon drum, tipped it over, spilling paper cups, Styrofoam plates and other garbage out onto the foaming water. Moments later, it all raced out on the water, the black barrel rolling on the surface. With the next wave, a waiter ran to retrieve the barrel as it surged slightly back.

A few people stood with their feet in the water along the edge of the water, so I did too. As the surf came up and surrounded me, it tried to pull me off my feet. I had to keep jumping to get away from its incredible pull. I later found out that many people had been drowned here when calf high water had pulled them off their feet and swept them out.

The beach dropped off sharply at the water.  On a calm day this  created about a 15' deep wall of water as the surf pulled back before moving in. Today it was even higher.

I wished I had my camera. It was back in my room. The riptide crashing into its twin and racing the undertow back to the ocean was a priceless photo.

I stood for a long time and watched as the water slid farther and with more force than I'd seen it previously. I'd never seen it so much farther inland from where the waves broke. It splashed repeatedly into some rocks and cleaned the footprints from the beach. I was interested in seeing it from another angle so I walked around the corner of the high rocks and stood alongside the towering boulders beside one about four feet high. The tide was breaking about 50' back from me, so I felt quite safe.
A few people sat on the high rounded rocks near the beach.

Suddenly, a huge amount of water came crashing sideways into the rock. A fountain of fuming sand-filled water crashed and splashed above and over it, pushing me to the ground as I ran to get away. It covered me with about a foot of water and shoved me headlong for 15' into some flat rocks, skinning my knee and washing me with sand.

Horrified at the water's power, I scrambled away from it, stunned and scared. I also felt quite foolish, the only gringo in the crowd, the only woman and the only one the water had grabbed. This time.

I climbed up and sat for a long time on the high brown rock out of the reach of the water, unable to move as I took stock of what had just happened. I didn't even bother to cover myself up as I usually did. Sand filled in my newly braided hair, covered my face and my legs.

My towel and I were drenched. It took awhile before I remembered that I'd been wrapped in my towel when the water hit. I later surveyed the area and saw that the spot where I was pushed was slightly higher and therefore the tide wasn't as powerful against my weight.

A young Mexican man came over and talked to me. I asked him where the sign and the flag were and he didn't know, just like the man who'd been sitting in the lifeguard seat, he too was unaware of the water's classification. I spoke to them in my broken Spanish, which sounded better than what I could understand, so they answered in rapid Spanish, leaving me wondering at their entire half of the conversation. Other than the men and boys on the tall rock, the beach was deserted. 'Fuerte' or strong, was the adjective of choice in describing the water.

I couldn't believe the foot deep surf had lifted me up and floated or forced me along the beach, covering me entirely and leaving me with salt in my mouth and sand in my hair.

The friendly fellow speaking to me had seen a lot in his time. Too bad I couldn't understand much of what he said. He'd been surprised the water had knocked me over too, but it was as tall as I was when it had hit the boulder beside me.

Eventually, I mustered up enough strength for the stairs back up to the pool and the Fiesta Americana where I was staying. As I approached the gate, I saw a black flag waving furiously in the wind. Black. So that's why it had been so strong. I shuddered as I read the definitions on the wall placard. 'Extremely Dangerous'

I never did come back down with my camera, at least not onto the beach. I got as far as the gate and stood watching the water from the distance. I was too far away to get a photo of the riptide. It was an exceptional photo, but it wasn't worth the risk. It was one photo I'd never get, but it was indelibly etched into my memory.

Nancy V. Sont - NVS Editorial Services
Website: http://www.travelwriters.com/nancyvsont
E-mail: nancysont@hotmail.com