Exciting swim earns our seal of approval

If you had asked me how I would react if I encountered a seal while swimming in the ocean, I imagine I'd have said it would be a truly amazing, memorable experience. And it was, once I got over the initial adrenaline rush and instinctive trepidation. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was in Cabo San Lucas with my boyfriend on a weeklong vacation. It was relaxing and comfortable, but something was missing. It just felt so well-planned. Don't take me wrong — I enjoy being pampered as much as the next girl, but there came a point where my audacious streak was itching for an adventure, to experience something off the beaten path.

Gary Erickson, the founder of Clif Bar, once wrote that there are two types of roads marked on any given map: The red lines represent freeways, while the white indicate smaller country roads. The red road is all about the destination. It is the sure and familiar path. You know when the next offramp is and where to fill up the tank. In contrast, the white road is about the experience. White roads are simple and adventurous, and you just might end up experiencing something new.

That sums up how I was feeling. I was stuck on a vacation red road when I yearned for the thrill that comes from venturing down a white road.

One day, we were on the beach when a man hopped out of the boat he had just pulled onto shore. We overheard him say that he had just finished a water tour on the other side of the peninsula, and they had seen turtles and all sorts of beautiful fish. My boyfriend looked at me with a big grin on his face, and I knew we had found our adventure. Sure enough, Georg the Scandinavian agreed to take us to this special area the following day.

We awoke the next morning to a bluebird day. No wind, about 85 degrees, and the water was clear and inviting. I couldn't wait to get in and see all there was to see under its surface. As George motored us out to sea, we were getting to know each other in a comfortable, creative banter of Spanish, English and sign language when we rounded a rock outcropping and all conversation immediately stopped.

There, in front of us, was an entire colony of wild seals. There were about 25 or 30, ranging from mature adults to youths just past the pup stage. It was incredible.

George cut the motor, and we dropped silently into the water. We swam to the rock where many of the seals were sunning themselves. Slowly, one by one, they slid into the water to join us, as their curiosity about the strange-looking two-legged aliens who had just crashed their party got the better of them.

I took off my snorkel and started to coast along with one seal in particular who was agreeable to me hanging out with him. We gave playful chase for a good 15 minutes, getting closer as we got bolder. I could have reached out and touched his smooth, silky skin, but instinct told me not to. It was enough simply to be in this beautiful animal's presence.

Suddenly, the seal stopped. He turned onto his back and threw me a look as I tread water. Then, without warning, he turned and swam away as quickly as he had come.

He had bid goodbye. I didn't follow.

Paige Stringer lives in Seattle.

The Travel Essay, written by readers about an adventure or insight, runs each Sunday in The Seattle Times and also online at seattletimes.com. Essays, which are unpaid, must be no longer than 600 words and will be edited for content and length. E-mail to travel@seattletimes.com or send to Travel, The Essay, The Seattle Times, P.O. Box 70, Seattle, WA 98111.