#62. An excellent snake-bit excursion in Puerto Rico: 9-11 Feb 2026

It seemed too good to be true. Bill and I found four days in February when his interest in visiting coffee plantations in Puerto Rico aligned with my interest in hiking in El Yunque National Forest with fellow doggy camp participant Jen Lentz. True, I would have to fly from the freezing temperatures of Maine into the tropical climes of Puerto Rico. Perhaps a larger issue was hauling around a single suitcase that included two puff jackets, two pairs of boots, and ski pants, as well as a bathing suit, shorts, and trekking poles.

It WAS too good to be true. Ten days before the trip, Bill texted me that he had finally gotten a long-awaited medical appointment in New Orleans -- scheduled for the first of the four days of our trip. Still, he wanted to make it happen and proposed to cut his trip to two nights in San Juan. Around the same time, I learned from Jen Lentz, who would attending a professional meeting in San Juan, that she could only get away for the afternoon on the day we had planned to hike. Should I too cancel the trip?

I went into high gear to identify interesting opportunities for the two days I’d be solo and found the all-day group  hiking tour: El Yunque Rainforest "Off the Beaten Path.” It sounded amazing! I was on the verge of confirming the El Yunque tour when I heard back from Bill a second time. The person he planned to visit at the coffee plantation wouldn’t be back until April, so it seemed pointless for him to travel from New Orleans to Puerto Rico for one day in San Juan. I totally got it. Yet by now, I was intrigued by the idea of hiking in the rainforest. 

Given the multiple changes in plans, I decided it was best to confirm that the rainforest tour would even take place. Might it be canceled for a local holiday? Too few people? Other reasons? Did they have an upper age limit on participation? The nice lady at Bespoke Lifestyle Management (tour company) admitted that they occasionally do cancel due to rain, and in fact, they had canceled it that very day. Not a good sign. But she was optimistic, and I decided to go forward with the trip. Yet before I boarded the plane, I called about the El Yunque tour one last time; everything seemed to be a go.

I arrived in Puerto Rico on the afternoon of Super Bowl LX, which would feature Bad Bunny in the halftime show. Given the media frenzy over his performance, I was intent on viewing it at my Airbnb in Viejo San Juan. How could I be in Puerto Rico and not watch it? In my somewhat bedraggled state, having gotten up at 3:40 AM in Portland, Maine, that morning, it was all I could do to get the TV to work, confused by the two remote controls that supposedly operated it. By the time my Airbnb host answered four hours later, I had resigned myself to watching the Super Bowl in Spanish. Despite my reasonable proficiency in the language, I understood nothing of the nuances of the fast-talking Spanish-speaking commentators, but I could read the score and see who caught the ball. I was glued to the TV during the halftime show, but immediately fell into bed after it, knowing I had an early morning pick-up for the rainforest hike the next day.

Fortunately, the pick-up spot was the I❤️ San Juan sign in the Plaza Colón, two blocks from my Airbnb. The other people on the tour proved to be a very international set: one fashion plate from Egypt, a well-traveled young Moroccan guy who lived in Miami, and a French woman whose husband was attending the same conference as my friend Jen. Rounding out the 10-person group were three college kids from James Madison University, a young couple from Iowa, and another gray-haired woman. The two of us were at least 20 years older than anyone else on the tour, but she mentioned that she frequently hiked and traveled with Backroads to international destinations.

En route to the park, we made a pit stop at a roadside stand catering to tourists visiting the Forest. Jason, our guide, encouraged us to buy water shoes (despite the earlier instructions for hiking boots) and waterproof covers for our phones. At the entrance, he equipped us with helmets and lifejackets.

The distance covered by the hike would be about 3 miles out and back. Within minutes, it started to rain lightly, even though the forecast for San Juan had been sunshine all day. As I started to complain silently , I reminded myself that there was a reason they called it a rainforest. For the first hour, we would stop every hundred yards for Jason to explain what we were seeing in the rainforest: the plant whose leaves would drop and play dead when touched, the sprigs of a plant that could pass for a tarantula and scared everybody  Although part of me objected to the slow pace, I had to admit that Jason’s observations about the rainforest greatly enriched the experience. In addition to being extremely knowledgeable, he was charming and upbeat.

My second unspoken complaint was the very modest gain in elevation, making me question whether this excursion would meet the “physically challenging“ criterion that I’d set for my eight annual adventures.

I need not have worried. The challenge began when Jason explained, “We need to crawl down that rat hole,” a muddy gulley that nature had carved into the side of the hill. Halfway down, we edged over the roots of the Banyan tree that made for treacherous going. Little did we know that these were baby steps compared to what would follow.

We soon came to a large pool in the river, which would be the center of the action for the remainder of the tour. Other groups were scattered around the pool, participating in the three attractions advertised for the tour: a water chute (waterpark-style), a rope swing (Tarzan style), and a leap from the rocky ledge into the pool below.

A golden retriever service dog swam happily in circles in the water, becoming agitated only when someone leapt into the pool from the rocks above: was it his job to save them? 

Would that these three activities were the worst of it. Jason had mentioned we’d have to do some “rock climbing,“ but it hadn’t been clear what that might entail. We soon found ourselves scrambling over slippery root systems, followed by giant boulders wet from the rain and the moisture from the waterfalls. Jason gave several of us the option to “stay down below” and forgo the rock climbing, but hadn’t I come for an adventure? 

It took our group of 15 to 20 minutes to reach the first holding area on level ground. With hikers from different tour companies traversing a single path, one group followed the other in single file as the line inched upward. In the group ahead of us, two of the female hikers with oversized derrières were sporting string-style bikinis, a sight hard to avoid from our vantage point below. 

Jason was skilled in pointing out the best places to step and natural handholds to grab. We had all signed our waivers at the start of the tour, but the potential risk posed by this number of inexperienced hikers scrambling over wet, jagged boulders in water shoes was nontrivial. We were grateful that ours was one of the few groups sporting helmets.

Three of us stayed back as the rest of our group climbed upward for the waterslide experience. Minutes later, we saw those blue helmets heading down. A flash flood had caused the water to rise, making the waterslide unsafe.

Activity 2 was the jump from the ledge into the pool below, from a height of 20, 10, 5, or 2 feet. I screwed up my courage and went for the 10-foot jump. Jason captured each of us on video as we flung ourselves off the ledge and into the water. If we hadn’t been totally soaked before that, the swim to shore left everyone wet and shivering on the shoreline.

The rope swing was still ahead. All the guys and two of the women climbed back across the root structure up to a ledge with a long swinging rope, knotted for improved grip. After each person hurled themselves over the pool and released with a dramatic splash, Jason followed – adding a backflip for good measure. My only regret of the trip was not giving the rope swing a try, since it was doable. Perhaps I didn’t want to push my luck too far. My elder mate on this trip was not faring well (cold, defeated, probably embarrassed to be the weak link in the chain). Jason quickly rounded up the group and walked everyone straight back to the car, not stopping to point out interesting flora on the way. He gave the woman in distress a chance to change into dry clothes before the 30-minute ride to the restaurant. The rest of us climbed into the van with our wet clothes and shoes, begging him not to turn on the AC.

The tour included lunch at a típico restaurant en route back to San Juan. We quickly changed into dry clothes, and the hot food lifted our collective spirits.  By 5 PM, I found myself back at my Airbnb in San Juan and under a hot shower. The excursion had exceeded my wildest expectations. Yet it made me painfully aware of the thin line between pushing one's physical limits and taking risks that fast become someone else's problem.

With two more days in Puerto Rico, I signed up for a second tour: the Bioluminescent Bay Kayaking tour. Again, pickup was at a central location in San Juan, followed by a one-hour ride (same route) back to the eastern part of the island. The van pulled into Kayak Village, where 12 companies coordinate tours in the area. I was paired with Jesús, a PhD student in audiology from Virginia who was also attending Jen’s conference. Our guide took the lead as we paddled single file through a narrow, winding waterway in a coastal mangrove forest, a shady tunnel underneath intertwined root systems.

As we started out, there were kayaks in front of us as far as the eye could see. We were directly behind a group of middle-school-aged kids who failed to grasp the concept of synchronized paddling. The dipping and hoisting of the paddles gave the impression of butterflies fluttering their wings against the setting sun. Jesús and I were Type A when it came to paddling, and our biggest challenge was to slow down and stay behind our guide in the lead kayak.

By the time we emerged into Laguna Grande, the sun had set. The guide made the mistake of giving us free time, and Jesús and I took off, temporarily losing the group in the darkness. She called us back in, lined up the five kayaks, and clipped us together side by side. She then produced a large tarp that served to totally cover the group of kayaks, creating further darkness. By swishing our hands through the water, we produced sparks of blue light – the bioluminescence. Unique as this experience was, the best part of the tour was the eeriness of paddling through the mangrove swamp well after the sun had set.

For Day 3, I had researched the options for returning to El Yunque forest with Jen, the original motive for the trip.   She couldn’t get away until the afternoon, which didn’t allow enough time for El Yunque. Instead, we booked a sunset cruise with Sail San Juan Bay. This hardly met the standard of physically challenging, but we looked forward to seeing yet another aspect of the island.

As Captain Joe motored the boat out of the marina and hoisted the sail, dark gray clouds gathered over us. Within 10 minutes, the skies opened, and we passengers headed down below deck. Shortly thereafter, Joe’s assistant announced that they would have to cancel the ride, but we’d get full reimbursement. The consolation prize was sangria from a juice pouch, not bad on ice. Captain Joe sent us off with two recommendations for local restaurants: Deaverdura (where I’d eaten the day before; Jason has also recommended it) and El Jibarito. We tried the latter and liked the típico atmosphere, but within minutes, the noise was overbearing (forced alegria?). Jen and I gulped down our mediocre food and found our way to the door.  We were glad we’d given this place a try, but we wouldn’t need to return. As we started to say our goodbyes, we realized we’d see each other again in three days: doggy camp!

This trip had had more than its share of setbacks: Bill’s cutting his trip from four to two days before canceling altogether, Jen’s schedule change that ruled out El Yunque for her, and the cancellation of the sunset sailing cruise. Yet for me, the chance to hike in El Yunque, the only tropical rainforest in the U.S. National Forest System, made the trip to Puerto Rico well worth it. This snake-bit trip had been glorious.

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