Solo Traveling in Greece Made Me Jump Off A Cliff

Just so you’re up to speed, my name’s Alia, and this is my secret travel journal. I’m a 20-something American girl living in my self-converted shuttle bus. This is where I share it all—the hilariously embarrassing truth about my adventures. Today it’s, “Solo Traveling in Greece Made Me Jump Off A Cliff.”

That’s really all you need to know. Now, go on, step inside… Welcome to the mayhem.

Main Characters Are Boring

Unpopular opinion: I don’t want to be the main character.

It’s not because I don’t think I am a “main character,” or whatever, but because they are always the boring ones in the story.

Hear me out…

I want to be the person the main character meets along the way, who shows them fun and excitement and danger, who they fall in love with and then disappears into the night. The supporting character always has personality and something real to say. They have spunk.

I’d rather be the girl in “Bridge to Terabithia” with the bright light inside her and the explosive imagination, not the depressed boy with sharpie’d shoes. I want to be the girl in “Paper Towns,” a wild adventure, not the boy love struck and obsessed with her.

The main character never knows who they are, never has their shit figured out, and life usually just happens to them until they are forced to face it.

I don’t want that role. I don’t want life to just happen to me, and I so badly want to have my shit figured out.

This notion, my friends, literally lead me to jump off a cliff.

The Day Before The Splat

I was sitting on the very end of a long cement dock in the harbor of Old Town Skiathos, Greece. The morning sun was rising behind the tree line and the clouds were golden, flaky patterns in the sky. I was listening to church bells somewhere in the distance as I watched tiny, red fish circle the ivory rocks beneath my feet.

It was in that moment I realized I was going to spend my entire life trying to figure myself out, and it would be an impossible task. This is mainly because I will constantly keep changing.

It’s ironic really, how I was sitting in such a beautiful moment on the Greek sea, the kind of moment I thought would be healing, and I was questioning my entire existence, personality, motives, and sense of self.

(If you’re following my story, this little backpacking trip occurred right after the incident I mentioned in The Adventurepreneur Origin Story Pt1: the breakup with the so-called love of my life that had me on my sister’s couch at age 25, $4,000 in credit card debt and my bus/tiny-home broken down a thousand miles away. Yup, I flew to Europe with money I technically didn’t have, as a little quarter-life crisis remedy. That’s where my sanity was at. Anyhoops, continue.)

Did I even like watching sunrises? Or was I up that early because I told the café employee to save me a croissant in the morning and I didn’t want to go back on my word. Was I out and about because of adventure, beauty, and wanderlust, or guilt of disappointing a stranger?

Was I even the adventurous person I believed myself to be or was I simply lost? Were the fish I was watching even red? They shined silver when they turned… Fuck.

The Woo-Woo Call

I gazed across the bay and saw a looming cliff jutting out from the land. I had noticed this cliff a lot in my week there and knew it was a lookout spot for tourists.

In that moment, at the risk of sounding too woo-woo… The cliff beckoned to me. Well, “taunted” is probably a more accurate word. It called out across the bay saying, “think you’re brave? Think you’re the spunk of the story? Alright then… Jump. Bet you won’t.”

The sun breached the tree line and I could feel it’s warmth now. My skin turned golden along with the ivory rocks, and a shimmering stream of sun glowed in a straight line along the ocean’s surface, pointing towards me. It’s like the sun had raised it’s arm, choosing me, encouraging me.

That sounds like some main character shit.

Fine. I don’t have my shit figured out, but if I’m going to be a main character, no way in hell am I going down as a boring one. (I later proved that I am not, in fact, a boring one when I thought I had lice while living vanlife… Maybe I’m a stupid one, but that’s besides the point. You can read about that chaos here: Lice, Laundromats, and Losing My Mind)

I shot up from my seat on the dock, thanked the sun, and spun on my heel.

Stick to Tradition

I had been backpacking around Europe for a couple months at that point, and I had developed a little deal with myself: the morning before I left wherever I was, I had to go for a swim (whether that be in the ocean, a lake, a spring – if it was wet and natural, I was diving in. This little tradition had me skinny dipping at 3am, playing chicken with jellyfish, and leaving sandy footprints through half of Europe’s airports. I loved it.

So there I was, my last morning in Skiathos, with my camera gear packed, swimsuit on, and heading out to the lookout spot with what I’m generously calling “a plan.”

The lookout was a compilation of big, sliding ivory rocks that formed a cliff overlooking the ocean. It stuck out from the island like it was reaching for the sun in the morning sky. The tallest point was about 20-30ft from the water. Looking down, you could see granite rocks through the clear ocean. They were covered in sea urchins and deep cracks that probably hid other sea life.

I took a deep breath. I was going to jump off this cliff.

The Prep

I set up my camera on a neighboring rock so I could catch the epic jump in all its glory. Next, I grabbed my GoPro and made sure it was working, then I set up my phone camera at a different angle. This was only happening ONCE, so I had to make the most of it.

I walked to the very edge of the cliff, looking out over the water. The height was daunting… The sea urchins were even more so.

The water looked deep enough that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t die, and I could see where I needed to jump to avoid the biggest rocks. But if I was estimating the depth wrong, or jumped in the wrong spot… Walking away unscathed was unlikely. At the very least, I would get some sea urchins stuck in my ass. Not ideal before a long plane ride.

I didn’t count the number of sea urchins that would poison me should I jump wrong, because I don’t hate myself, but there were definitely enough to cover me from head to toe.

The Plan

Slowly I started to take off my tank top and shorts, pulling out my towel from my bag, and setting it out so it was ready for me.

I went over the plan in my head, staring down the cliffside at my fate.

1. Jump between big urchin rocks one and two, about seven feet out.
2. Spin 360 degrees as I fall with the GoPro outstretched to get an epic shot of me and the whole setting.
3. Tuck in my legs cannonball style right before I hit the surface so that I don’t hit the rocks below in case I misread the depth.
4. Swim around a bit in the warm sunshine-feeling of a successful mission.
5. Climb up onto the rocks at the base of the cliff without stepping on sea urchins (I mapped my route with my eyes one last time.)
6. Continue to climb up the face of the cliff back to the top. (And don’t think about what happens if I slip.)

Yes, rock climbing was involved. What, did you think there was a ladder waiting for me at the bottom after this potentially illegal, completely unnecessary cliff jump?

Solo Traveling in Greece Made Me Jump Off A Cliff

I inched towards the edge, breathing deeply, heart pounding, head getting dizzy, staring at the target spot of water. It was about a six foot wide target seven feet from the base of the cliff. There was little room for error. My breath quickened.

You’re doing this, Alia. It’s your last day, stick to tradition! I thought on that statement a moment. And don’t be a little main character wimp.

I leaned back and forth, mustering the courage (or stupidity, however you want to spin it) and inching my toes forward until they were hanging off the edge, feeling the breeze slide underneath them over the open water. I stood there, gulping air through the nerves… for like, 15 minutes. Yeah, honestly that long.

Then, all of sudden, like some force of the universe was tired of waiting on me, without a 1,2,3 and with more of a “fuck it,” I jumped into my graceful 360 spin.

Well, my spin was less a spin and more of a sideways tilt. I was barely off the rock when I realized the bad-ass, wide-shot, athletic-people spin I had imagined myself doing was definitely not a thing my body was casually capable of.

Shit shit shitttttttt…

Side Flop Celebrations

The surface hit fast. I was in the air for about a second before my body thudded against the wall of ocean in a hard side flop. I could hear the splat sound ringing even under water.

So much for spinning and tucking.

Thankfully, the flop meant I didn’t go deep, and I came to the surface grinning. Half my body stung, but I was grinning all the same.

I did it.

I tilted my head way up to see the top of the cliff.

I just did that! And I didn’t die! A lot of my stories were beginning to end with the excited phrase, “and I didn’t die.”

I turned toward the sun and raised up my chin to meet it, my arms stretched out beside me. I twirled in the water like a mermaid, hair gliding around me.

As I swam for a few moments more, I thanked the water, the sun, the breeze, and Skiathos for making that moment possible.

Then I swam slowly towards the base of the cliff looking down for urchins as I went. I was still on a mission, had a plan, and I wasn’t done yet.

The Evil Urch On My Shoulder

Wading towards the base of the cliff, I eyed the sea urchins around me. They were everywhere: beneath me, in front of me, covering every rock in sight. When I looked over my shoulder, all I saw were spikes, like little looming angel and devil shellfish. “Don’t step there,” “do it, step on me, I dare you!” “Don’t listen to Evil Urch, take your time,” “hurry up, silly girl, we’re multiplying!!!”

Carefully, using the sun as a guiding presence, I mapped out where I could place my hands and feet. I placed a toe here, hooked a finger there, and with a grunt, hoisted my body onto the rock at the base of the cliff. I stood slowly, tall, and planted my hands on my hips with a chuckle. Piece of cake!

I stood there for a while, arms out to give the sun a hug, basking in my accomplishment. I felt brave.

Bravery is not the absence of fear, I thought, it is pushing through that fear to do the thing. My train of thought stuttered. Or it’s having too much stupid in you that there’s little room for feelings of self-preservation.

I turned and looked up the cliff, searching for foot holds. This was a whole new beast.

Scaling Cliffs Like Batman in a Bikini

Instead of stepping on a sea urchin and getting a slight sting, this risked slipping off the side of a cliff, crashing against sea urchin infested rocks, and breaking my neck. But I couldn’t think about that. I had to get up this cliff, there was no alternative at this point.

So, I made my way up. My muscles were shaking – partly from adrenaline, partly from the reality check that one slip meant a much less graceful meeting with those rocks below. In a moment of what I can only describe now as sheer delusion, I thought, I’m like the goddamn Batman… If Batman was afraid of sea urchins instead of bats… And sported a bikini… Urch-man? Woman? Shellfish? Fuck me, FOCUS.

The rough limestone scraped against my palms as I delicately clawed my way up. Sea water still dripped from my hair and my heart was doing a drum solo in my chest. Each handhold was a small victory, each push upward a middle finger to that voice saying I would never do something like this – could never do something like this.

Just go slow, I assured myself. Make sure you’ve got a good hold before taking the next lunge. If something feels too hard to do, find a different route. See, I was being safe!

Five minutes of focused climbing (and creative swearing) later, I hauled myself over the top edge.

Cliff Conquered

I laid there at the top for a moment, letting the cool air dry me. I couldn’t stop smiling.

That wasn’t so bad. I teased myself, getting to my feet.

As I went to gather all my camera gear, looking over the edge of the cliff I just conquered, sadness twinged my cheeks.

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to celebrate the feeling longer, and stay in that moment forever. But I had a flight to catch, and a croissant waiting for me.

With one last look towards the sun, I practically skipped away into the morning.

For the record, all the videos were SUPER anticlimactic and honestly shit… (:

A Lil’ Self Reflection

I understand now why I was so scared about jumping off that cliff in Greece. Besides the height and the rocks and sea urchins, of course.

I was scared because I was alone.

I’ve jumped off much higher bridges into the sea, tree branches into dark lakes, and out of an airplane twice, once at 18,000ft. The act of jumping wasn’t something I had never experienced before. I’m familiar with the butterflies of looking down, and the feeling of your gut flying into your throat as you first start to fall.

But, I had never done it alone before. This time, it was sunrise and most of the town was still asleep, cozy in their homes. I was the only person out there, and if something were to happen, I was the only chance I had at saving myself. No one would hear me scream, no one would hear the crack of bones breaking on rocks, no one would jump in if I was drowning. It was up to me.

And most importantly, pushing through my fear to actually jump was up to me, too. There was no nagging friend, no cheering crowd, and no reason to do it besides the fact that I wanted to prove to myself that I could. So, could I?

Was I the kind of person who was brave enough? Adventurous enough? Strong enough to handle any consequences I might bring upon myself? This was more than, “I don’t want to be a boring main character.” But… that was probably obvious to you from the start.

Advice for the Next Adventurepreneur

Backpacking solo can sound like a scary and lonely thing, and it definitely is sometimes, but it’s also the best thing I could have ever done for my self-esteem, mental health, and overall way I see myself.

The fear, the struggle, the uncertainty – I’m a better person because of it. I found I am the kind of person who would jump off a cliff alone, simply because I thought it was cool and fun. The confidence and self-assurance I got from this moment, and so many other nerve-racking travel moments, was something I needed to simply exist as myself in the world. But, I would have never known that if I wasn’t out there testing myself.

The reason I still do vanlife: moments like these. The reason I continue to have a small business after so much failure and doubt (read about that HERE): the confidence I gained knowing I can do anything I set my mind to, including jumping off a cliff.

So basically, what I’m trying to say is… I’m the friend your parents were always talking about. I jumped off a cliff, and I urge you to do the same. Say fuck it, and come to the dark side.

(But, maybe with a little less stupidity than me… It’s fine, you’ll be fine.)

Love you, good luck, stay sane (or at least sane-adjacent)

Alia

Next time on Sent Packing: Alia’s Secret Travel Journal

Officially buying the shuttle bus I would convert into my tiny home and driving it for the very first time… Plus, all the mayhem that immediately followed.

Feel free to read about the process of choosing my little chaos vehicle here: The DIYer’s Guide to Choosing a Vanlife Vehicle