Cozumel: A dolphin encounter thanks to Gleason Initiative Foundation
Our family likes outdoor adventures. My husband Mike and I met at a summer camp where we ran an adventure travel program together, so I literally fell for him while biking, hiking, canoeing and camping. Our two teenage sons, Luke and Josh, share our outdoor enthusiasm (when not gaming), so we try to get out into nature as much as we can. We call these trips “sojourns”.
In the last few years, going on sojourns has become more difficult. Mike was diagnosed in 2014 with Progressive Muscular Atrophy, a variant of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), a terminal neuromuscular disease. While continuing our adventures is sometimes more difficult, it is also more important than ever.
This year we took a dream family vacation for spring break: a 7-day cruise to the Western Caribbean. As you can imagine, it was an expensive endeavor, but it was a good fit for us. We could settle into a handicap-accessible stateroom for a week and know that basics like bed, bathroom and food were covered, while still exploring amazing new places each day. As for expenses, we saved up. Passports were our gifts to each other for the holidays, and family spending was scaled back overall. While planning the trip and thinking about adding excursions (off-boat adventures while at different ports) we were conservative.
Our first port was Cozumel, Mexico. One of the excursions offered is called Dolphin Encounter, which I immediately wanted our family to do. I reviewed the activity description but found myself looking away from that program because of the cost. I looked at a lot of options, told the guys about them, but couldn’t decide on anything. Mike took charge, asking “why not the dolphins?” I said it was too expensive. He reminded me that this was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and we should go for once-in-a-lifetime experiences. He was right, of course.
(This is a common theme in our travel adventures, by the way. Mike says “Let’s go for it”, and Jenny says “We can’t.” And Mike says “Sure we can!” And Jenny says “OK” and finds a way.)
When I finally set my intention to find a way, inspiration struck. I remembered an ace I’d been keeping up my sleeve: The Gleason Initiative Foundation.
Steve Gleason is a former New Orleans Saints football player who was diagnosed with ALS in 2011. The documentary GLEASON came out in 2016. It was compiled from video blogs that Steve and his wife Michel made for their son Rivers, who was born the same year as Steve’s diagnosis. Anyone who has seen GLEASON will tell you it is both devastating and uplifting at the same time. You’ll cry like a baby but you’ll come out completely inspired as well.
Along with the movie, Steve and Michel started a foundation called the Gleason Initiative Foundation. One of the three goals of the foundation is to raise public awareness toward ALS by providing and documenting extraordinary life adventures for individuals with muscular diseases or injuries.
It was perfect!
So I sat down and wrote a letter to the Gleason folks asking for help, and guess what? They decided to fund our family dolphin adventure!
A Gleason team member called me, and before long we were planning the excursion together. We exchanged texts to discuss details, she called ahead and made arrangements, and then she told me to book the excursion by phone and tell them to call her for payment. Wow! They made it so easy! They also sent us tee shirts to wear on the day of the trip, rented us a water wheelchair to use all week, and encouraged us to add the photo package on site if we wanted. This was really happening!
Then we went and swam with dolphins. And it was great! The end.
Not quite. It wasn’t going to be that easy. To quote Steve Gleason himself: “Awesome ain’t easy.” I feel compelled to tell folks about the whole adventure - both triumphs and pitfalls, highs and lows, because someone may follow in our footsteps, and I want them to know what it takes to pull off a great adventure.
Before I launch into the rest of the story I just want to say a huge THANK YOU to the Gleason Initiative Foundation. Without them we would never have booked the Dolphin Encounter and never have had the series of adventures that did eventually lead to this moment:
I will be telling the story of this adventure until the end of my days, and I will continue to raise awareness of your amazing foundation everywhere I go. Thank you!
Back to the beginning. On the first day of our cruise, the day before Cozumel, Mike and I decided to stop at the excursions desk to make sure everything was in order. A very nice cruise employee named Anita pulled up our file - and sure enough - we had booked the dolphin encounter. However, she had no record of Mike needing special accommodations. All those details that are crucial for a wheelchair-user, including adaptive transportation, whether the facility has ramps, how will Mike get in the water - all of it was a big question mark now. I explained about Gleason Foundation and all the arrangements that had been made in advance. Unfortunately, none of those plans were in their records. Anita called the dolphin excursion vendor and no one there had heard of us either.
My heart sank. I didn’t have cell service or internet. I didn’t even know the phone number of the business providing the dolphin encounter. All the research and due diligence I usually put in when I plan our family adventures - I hadn’t done any of it this time. I had left it to someone else, and didn’t take the time to double check.
I didn’t know how the mix-up happened, and I still don’t, but I’m not a “dweller”. My Grandma Alma used to say “Don’t dwell on it”, and I sincerely take that to heart in all that I do and how I live every day. Drama won’t do any good. Worry won’t do any good. Let’s get to solutions. I just wanted to get it fixed.
Again, though, I didn’t have my usual resources to tackle the problem - so we were completely at the mercy of the cruise ship staff. Anita promised she would go to work on it - starting with emailing the vendor, Dolphinaris. She said she would be in touch.
I checked in with her several times, providing dimensions for Mike’s wheelchair and other information she asked for. Whatever was wrong, Anita was going to fix it. I’ll never forget her dedication to our family. Around 8 pm the night before she said we were good to go.
The next morning I woke up early. I wrote in my trip journal “It is 6:20 a.m. and I can’t sleep. Today is our first excursion, and there are so many moving parts. I do not know if I’m going to pull this one off.” Then there is a list of questions - “Will they let us use the water wheelchair? Do we bring towels? Do we bring a change of clothes? How much does a locker cost? How big are the lockers? Should I pay a porter to carry the water wheelchair?” Finally this: “When do I let go and trust that this will all work out?”
Eventually I put down my journal, woke my men, and we headed to breakfast in our matching Gleason shirts. (I thought the boys would give us a much harder time than they did about matching their parents. What troopers!)
After breakfast we headed down the elevators to disembark.
This can be a busy time on cruise ships, and it was definitely crowded, but lines were moving quickly. Luke was pushing Mike in his manual chair and Josh was pulling a rolling bag with all our supplies. (When in doubt, I bring everything.) A porter was carrying the water wheelchair, disassembled, in its bag, and I was carrying a backpack and a camera bag. At the gangway I heard a voice calling for me. I looked around the crowd of disembarking passengers. It was Anita, about 15 feet across the crowd. She shouted to me “They might change your tour. It’s going to be great!” And she gave me a thumbs up and smiled. Having no idea what she meant, I just gave her a thumbs up back and continued off the ship.
We went to the end of pier and waited with others under the sign that read “Dolphinaris”. We checked in, and I made sure the Dolphinaris employees had an accessible taxi coming. They assured me they did. Then staff members came around and distributed wristbands that read “Dolphinaris” and “Swim and Ride”. While waiting we chatted with other folks on the tour about what to expect. Everyone was super friendly and excited.
After about 20 minutes a staff member came over and sat next to us. He said, “I have some bad news. We cannot have anything in the water with the dolphins, so the water wheelchair cannot go in the water. I’m very sorry, but we must change your husband’s tour to observer.” I wanted to say something, but I looked at Mike. He said “That’s OK. I understand. It’s alright. Thank you.” The staff member reached over to Mike’s wrist, removed his “Swim and Ride” wristband, and replaced it with a white one that read “Observer”. I felt something rip inside.
I fought to hold myself together. Not only was Mike watching me, but so were the boys and about 100 other guests. I smiled, looked down and fiddled with my camera. I massaged Mike’s shoulders. In a couple minutes I strolled away casually, blinking back tears. How did this happen? Wasn’t it all arranged? Why doesn’t anyone understand?
After a bit longer, the rest of the group left while we were told to wait right there. A Dolphinaris staff member waited with us, and then asked us to follow him. The port elevator was not working, so we exited by a side door that let to the street.
Unfortunately the street in front of the port was under construction, so we were required to walk down the street to a driveway in order to maneuver the wheelchair across to the taxi meeting spot. The Dolphinaris guy kept talking into a walkie-talkie, saying “ramp taxi!” and about a half hour later an accessible taxi arrived. The ramp worked fine, and the trip was only 5 minutes long to Dolphinaris. (We were still carrying the now-useless water wheelchair, but they made room for that, too.)
Upon arriving at Dolphinaris it was overwhelming. It was very crowded - and since we had arrived about a half hour later than everyone else, I’m pretty sure we missed some sort of orientation. A nice staff member stored the water wheelchair for us and guided us to the palapa which served as the starting point for the dolphin encounters. Someone with a clipboard was taking names and giving numbers, but we didn’t really know what was going on.
On top of the crowd confusion, one of our sons kept telling us he didn’t feel well and just wanted to be an observer too. This really bothered me, because I was already upset about Mike not going in the water, and my son had had no symptoms prior to this. I suspected it had everything to do with Mike not being allowed in the water, and I had no idea how to fight a psychosomatic illness on top of everything else. Everything was starting to seem completely out of control. I was not accepting the situation very well. I told Mike and the boys that I’d be right back, and I walked away.
As I walked to the front entrance I saw three staff talking together. I went up to them and asked “Could you direct me to the manager?” A gentleman named Manuel stepped forward and said “How can I help you, ma’am?” And so I explained...from the beginning. Pre-arrangements have been made for me and my family… my husband has ALS and is in a wheelchair … Gleason Initiative Foundation … matching tee shirts … etc etc. As I started to tell him about Mike’s wristband being changed to “Observer” I started to choke up again. I wiped the corners of my eyes and held it back...mostly. I took a deep breath. I finished by saying “I understand if we cannot make it work - you seem very busy - but I thought I would ask one more time with the person in charge in case you had been given knowledge of the plans that had been made - to see if anything can be done to fix this.”
At first Manuel was quiet. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had heard nothing of these plans. He understands I am unhappy, but they are very busy and he cannot help us. He said he may be able to make it work another time, but it is far too busy right now and he does not have the staff. Also, he would need two things: 1) a note about the plans that were made. Who did we talk to and who made us these promises, and 2) He cannot provide a person in the water to hold my husband. Would he be OK in the water by himself? I told him that my sons and I can support Mike in the water, but require help on the steps getting him in the water. And that I’ll give him the name and phone number of the person at Gleason, should I go get my phone?
Manuel must have seen that I was determined; that I would not give up easily.
He sort of sighed.
He went to get a clipboard - one that lists all the tours that day - and examined it at length.
Finally, he made me an offer: if we would like to wait until it is less busy - say about 1:00 pm - he would have an extra staff person at that time who could help lift Mike in. As long as we could support Mike in the water, he could make these arrangements. We could have lunch first to pass the time.
“YES!” I said.
“Thank you!” I said.
“Perfect!” I said.
Together we walked to the area where the dolphin experience would take place. He showed me that it was steep, but there was a ramp all the way there and the steps into the water are wide.
“Yes! Perfect! Thank you!” Things were looking up!
It was 11:00 am by now and my family needed to eat anyway. Lunch it is!
We found a table by the lunch buffet and for the first time, I was able to relax. To breathe. I also had time to walk around a bit, to really make sure there were ramps to all the important places we might need to go. Luke helped me check that the restrooms were handicap accessible. (This was important now that we were spending a longer day there). Josh helped me find the virgin daiquiris. :) I snapped a few photos as I walked around. It really was a beautiful place.
A short while later, we were back at the palapa, in line for our life preservers. The staff hesitated when seeing Mike’s wheelchair. “Manuel approved it,” I said. Other staff hesitated when they saw Mike’s "Observer "wristband. “Manuel changed it,” I said. Naming Manuel worked every time.
The crowd size was large until we got down to the water by area #1. Then another group peeled away and there were just 14 of us. We stored our belongings and were encouraged to get in the water.
A small, tan, wiry dolphin trainer in a wetsuit came out of the water to speak to Mike and I. I explained my agreement with Manuel, and that one staff member was supposed to come down and help me lift Mike into the water. He patted his chest, said “me!”, and smiled.
And so we did it.
We lifted Mike down the steps and into the water. Along the edge it was shallow, only about 4 feet deep. Mike put his arms around Luke and I, and we supported him under his thighs, making our own human water wheelchair for him. Marci the dolphin came over to say hello, and the rest... was magic.
There are no photos of Mike’s time in the water...I don’t know why. Maybe because he stayed in the shallow area. Maybe because he wasn’t doing the typical photo-friendly activities. But the photographers did capture pictures of the boys and I. We took turns holding Mike and doing the activities during our 40 minutes in the water. We were able to give Marci high fives, feed her, swim alongside her, and get kisses from her. We “shook hands” by holding her fins. She also gave us rides one at a time - holding onto her fins for about 25 yard in the water. Luke also got to cradle her in his arms! The trainer made sure Marci came over to the shallow area and greeted Mike several times.
I can’t speak to anyone’s experience but my own, but for me it was powerful. Marci was a majestic sea creature but also playful and fun and somehow relatable. It was indescribably cool to be so close to her in the water and to see and feel her power.
At the end of it all, we felt pretty amazing. We reviewed and ordered the pictures they had captured, which were put on a CD for us to take. We took a couple of pictures by the waterfall out front of Dolphinaris, before peeling off our wet “No White Flags” tee shirts.
An accessible taxi was summoned and arrived much faster this time. I just barely had enough time to seek out Manuel, thank him effusively and stuff a large tip into his hands.
It wasn’t easy, but it was awesome. Our enduring thanks go to the Gleason Initiative Foundation (especially Josette,) Norwegian Cruise Lines (especially Anita,) and Dolphinaris (especially Manuel.)
If you are thinking of having an adventure with your family, don’t let little things like people or money or obstacles get in your way. Just go. No white flags! Be persistent, be brave, be honest, and you will always find a way. (Marci whispered that in my ear when she kissed me.)
