To move from our ship, the Tip Top II to the various islands and back we take pangas or small motorized rubber boats. There are two of them on the ship that transport the 15 of us and our guide, Eduardo.
There’s a real art to getting on and off a panga. Basically, you step from a secure non-moving place like a dock, a beach, the back of the ship, or a rock onto the side of a bobbing, shifting rubber raft. We (almost) always wear life jackets and are carrying at least our backpacks and sometimes our snorkel bags—all the while wobbling like ducks trying desperately not to fall into the bottom of the boat or out the other side. Nobody does this gracefully and everyone has had at least one face plant in the panga.
To get out of the panga you repeat that process, only backwards—stand up in a wobbly, shifting panga carrying all your stuff and step quickly onto something secure like a dock, or the back of the boat, or a rock.
Then there are the wet landings. With these, the panga gets close enough to the 
beach for you to throw your legs over the side, hop out and walk through the water to the shore with all your stuff AND your stinky shoes tied around your neck for safe keeping. Wet landings work pretty well if you are 6 feet tall. Not so much if you aren’t. There is a certain height required to swing your legs over the fat panga sides and plant your feet firmly in the surf without looking like a sea lion climbing out of the ocean onto the rocks.
We have two to four excusions a day so we are always getting in and out of the pangas. You’d think we’d get good at this but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Just 
when you think you have the hang of it, you misstep and lurch into someone almost knocking them off the panga.
Now imagine if you couldn’t see while doing this. Bill, one of our traveling companions, does this blind and he does it just as well or as poorly as the rest of us.
The first question for everyone each morning is, “Wet or dry landing, Eduardo? We are not fond of either!
