Aruba: Private Catamaran Snorkeling Tour with Open Bar

4.70

(158 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

“We’re really doing this,” I said, wobbling a bit as we stepped off the little shuttle boat onto the Octopus catamaran. The water around Palm Beach looked almost fake — glassy and blue, but not in that postcard way. More like someone spilled a bucket of turquoise paint and forgot to clean it up. Our captain, Jairo, grinned and handed us cold drinks right away (that “Aruba Arriba” cocktail is dangerously easy to drink — sweet, fruity, with a weird kick I couldn’t place). I didn’t expect the breeze to feel so soft out here. It’s quieter than you’d think too; just the sound of ropes creaking and people laughing at the front of the boat.

The first stop was the Antilla shipwreck. I’ll admit, I hesitated before jumping in — something about swimming over an old sunken freighter gives me goosebumps. But our guide Li swore it was safe (“Just watch for eels — kidding!”), and honestly, floating above that shadowy hull with tiny fish darting everywhere was surreal. The water tasted salty as ever (I always forget not to smile underwater), and every time I surfaced, someone from the crew was checking if we were okay or needed help with our masks. That felt good — like they actually cared if we swallowed half the Caribbean or not.

Catalina Bay was next — shallower, warmer somehow. There were these little blue-and-yellow fish everywhere; one nibbled my finger when I tried to point it out to my partner (she’s still laughing about that). The sun hit the water at this angle that made everything shimmer green-gold for a second. After snorkeling, we sprawled on those weirdly comfy lounge seats with muffins and bagels they’d brought out (the smoked salmon one is legit). Someone played music from their phone but kept it low so you could still hear the waves slapping against the hull.

I keep thinking about how laid-back everyone was — even when a kid dropped his sandwich overboard (“Fish lunch!” Jairo joked). No pressure to do anything fancy or pose for photos unless you wanted. When we finally sailed past Arashi Beach heading back, I realized my shoulders had dropped about two inches since we left shore. Might’ve been the rum or just Aruba working its magic — who knows?