SPORTS 'N SPOKES

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Sink or Swim

Exploring the waters of Thailand is a journey for the adventurous and wild at heart—and, as one group found out, should include rigorous pre-trip planning.

"You feeling strong today?" asked the tall, thin Simple Life owner. Seth McBride, our Paralympic gold-medal-winning travel mate, gave an unsure nod in reply, looking like he wondered just what that might mean. He wondered how strong he would have to be. And what if he wasn't feeling strong?

We bumped our way down a dirt road in a pickup truck, heading toward our starting point at the docks. We were in the Gulf of Thailand on a tiny picturesque island called Koh Tao—a slow-paced, palm-tree-lined scuba divers' Mecca. Just a week before, a group of about 15 friends and family, myself included, watched McBride dismantle the world as part of the American wheelchair rugby team, earning a gold medal he kept tucked tightly away in his backpack.

From Beijing, the host city of the 2008 Paralympics, held in September, we had taken a 27-hour train ride to Hong Kong and then a plane to chaotic Bangkok. From there it was a jarring bus ride and queasy ferry trip to the idyllic slice of island life known as Koh Tao, far removed from the mega cities where we had spent the last few weeks.

Nothing Comes Easy

McBride, 26, soft-spoken and ripped throughout the upper body and arms, is an adventurous one. After a skiing accident in 2000 fractured his cervical spine, he quickly took to the hard-hitting game of rugby, where he regained the joy of competition and physical sport. In addition, he has since been skiing and bungee jumping, taught English in Latin America, and completed a marathon. Scuba diving, we envisioned, would be a breeze.

We weren't entirely sure how someone paralyzed from the waist down was to go through the logistics of diving. But after all, we thought, that was exactly why we paid for accredited, professional guides to ensure we weren't out there alone.

As we pulled up to the docks, we saw boat after boat jamming the port in the early morning heat, which was already causing our pasty Caucasian skin to bead up and drip with sweat.

"Sometimes we're the first boat in line; sometimes there's seven or eight," said the Simple Life owner, politely and barely above a whisper.

Because only the first boat in line is located adjacent to the dock, if our boat was anywhere further along in line, we'd have to move from boat to boat to reach our vessel. With no apparent good way to transfer McBride, this seemed like a very daunting situation.

The company owner then ceased to explain any more. Did he have a plan? Had he thought this through? Did he have an understanding of the difficulties of third-world travel in a wheelchair? Our previous curiosity turned to a disheartening realization: We, our group of friends, were going to have to figure much of this out on our own. And as we stared out at the clunky two-story-tall boats without a service ramp in sight, it didn't look easy.

We didn't see it happening this way, and we didn't want it to. We had asked the company if they could accommodate McBride. It was a simple question for Simple Life. They said yes, with a sort of "Yeah, don't be silly; we do this stuff in our sleep, so stop worrying and let's get on with it" tone. We took this in earnest, which was, perhaps, our first mistake.


The group found out that planning is important long before the journey begins. Read more in the May SNS.

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