Of course you have.
That's half the fun of writing, seeing things through the eyes of your characters and having experiences you might never have in real life.
How sad for non-writers, who don't get to live vicariously through a fictitious person. They don't spend hours endlessly searching the Internet for information about a location, or zero in on it with Google Earth, look at photos of it on National Geographic‘s website, or watch videos of it on YouTube, then recreate that place in their heads, in perfect 3D detail, like we do.
For such experiences, they have to actually hop on a plane and zoom off to a real location (after being groped by TSA at the airport), arrive with jet lag, trudge along a beach or a path in a rainforest, pay exorbitant prices for trinkets at tourist traps, empty sand out of their shoes (and possibly their underwear), and sit down in a cafe at the end of the day with a yummy drink with a little umbrella in it, making goo-goo eyes at the hot, native bartender.
Oh, wait ... um ... what was my point again?
I got lost somewhere between the little umbrella and the hunky guy with dreamy eyes and sun-streaked hair and rippling muscles.
I think it was something about research being great, thank God for the Internet, but if you have the chance to actually wander out there in the real world instead, go for it. And don't forget to use those real-world experiences you've already had.
Such as, the horror story I'm writing looks like it may meander off into a jungle, all viny and buggy and hot as hell. A jungle. A jungle? The closest I've been to the Amazon is Amazon.com. Thus, much online research will be necessary, since I don't personally know anyone who's ever been there.
I've not had a lot of exotic, exciting real life experiences, myself. But should I eventually write something that takes place in mountainous woods, I have been there, done that. Ok, once. I was a passenger being driven through the woods to Klamath, Oregon. Real woods. Not like the parks back home in the big city. Fern leaves bigger than my head. Trees tall enough to qualify for Jack & The Beanstalk. Utter silence except for twittering birds and, yes, actual babbling brooks. Also, naked people lounging in hot springs in the ground, under the trees, surrounded by snow. My brother & sister-in-law had stopped the car to give me an up-close-and-personal look at nature, and there they were, four people au naturel, waving howdy-do as if their lower halves weren't naked and imitating a lobster cooking in a pot and their upper halves weren't freezing. To a city girl, this was far beyond bizarre. The image is etched onto my brain.
But, like I said, don't waste past experiences. One day those naked-as-jaybirds people will end up in a scene in one of my novels. I suspect they will be horribly murdered.
Think they'd appreciate the honor? Neither do I. But as anyone who's seen an '80s slasher flick can tell you, when you prance around bare-assed in the woods, stuff is gonna happen.