It’s called “stand up paddleboarding” for the obvious reason that you’re supposed to be standing up doing it. The chicken in me stayed on my knees as I was scared of losing my balance and falling into the water but that’s only half the truth.

The other half had everything to do with my eyebrows and makeup if I do.

I mean, this was the first activity in our itinerary. We had the rest of the day slated to do other touristy stuff, of which photos would definitely be taken and God forbid I look ugly in them. You know what I mean?

Call me whatever, I don’t care, but I will die on this hill looking presentable, at least. The mortuary cosmetologist won’t have any problem with me, although I am a bit fussy with my nose contour.

The irony is, I was actually the one who suggested paddleboarding to my sister who was organising our trip. I thought it would look cool on the pictures. I thought it would be fun.

Don’t get me wrong, it was fun. At first.

But, man, 2.8 kilometers is no joke! And paddling back to base under the raging heat of the late morning sun — AGAINST THE CURRENT, may I add — definitely made me question my will to live. Like, whose dumb idea was this again?!

It was exhausting!

My husband and sisters might argue that I was helped push by one of the guides like I was some kind of VIP so I had it easy but the truth of the matter is, as thankful as I was of his effort, he didn’t exactly push my board all the way through so I was a bit bummed about that. I mean, bruh, where do you think you’re going?!

He deserted me. Right when I was getting comfortable and cruising along! Which was a bit rude. Left without a choice, I did what I had to do: keep paddling or die trying.

In the end, I almost died paddling.

And while we’re trauma dumping here, allow me to add that at one point, I paddled STRAIGHT INTO THE FUCKING BUSH! I kid you not. I couldn’t control my, well, speed and I didn’t know how to reverse either so I thought it would be easier to “brake” into it, you know what I mean? Kind of like crashing your car into a concrete wall to slow down the momentum. Which sounds stupid but totally makes sense. It was cool. I got out of the brief darkness eventually.

Meanwhile, Jeff was working double time under Raven’s tyranny. Sitting at the front of the board they shared, she kept urging, “FASTER, PAPA, FASTER! I WANT TURBO CHARGE!”

So much so that he decided to forgo the paddle and use his arms like a lunatic instead.

Catching a glimpse at them through the window of my own misery, I was like, what the fuck is he doing?

It was quite a funny sight.

Nevermind not knowing how to work the paddleboard but for the love of God, Are there any crocodiles here? That was the first question asked by the group during orientation.

A fair enough question that warranted its urgency rather than curiosity. I mean, looking at the mossy green waters, I, myself, wondered the exact same thing.

The answer was NO. There are no crocodiles in Loboc River. Thank goodness for that!

All in all, it was quite a fun experience. I would most definitely do it again, for real. Except maybe I’d do it early in the morning or late in the afternoon so it’s not scorching hot. Because the view along the river is simply stunning and if you don’t mind your aching arms, it’s actually quite peaceful gliding along.

*Raven at 9 years old