Tobacco Caye
When we travel we try to pick routes that offer the opportunity for spectacular views and landscapes or which take us through interesting towns and villages. We use Google Maps for route-finding and navigation, and normally it does a pretty good job. Sometimes, however, things go awry.
Once, near Valladolid, Mexico, instead of picking a much better/shorter road that branched off only one hundred yards further on, Google routed us down a rough track right past the town dump.
On our drive from La Milpa to Crooked Tree we had a similar experience -- instead of taking us back through Orange Walk on the main highway, Google Maps sent us down a primitive road through the cane fields. And, as an added bonus, we got to drive past another dump site!
Belize supposedly has one of the highest murder rates in the western hemisphere, if not the world, and OSAC has given Belize a ranking of "Level 2: exercise increased caution."
Of course, the statistics are skewed by the fact that Belize has only 350,000 inhabitants, and it only takes a few murders between gang members to drive the ranking up. Still, when one encounters less-privileged people in remote places, it does heighten one's concern.
We know that traveling the world is not always greenery and grandness. Sometimes the tourist-brochure veil is lifted and you can't help but get up close and personal with the harsher realities of human existence.
In this case, we breezed by the garbage pickers, who barely looked up as we passed.
After a couple nights camping at Crooked Tree, we made the connection with our son Andrew at the airport in Belize City, then headed to Dangriga.
At Dangriga we were scheduled to catch a boat to Tobacco Caye for three days of island living. Again, Google Maps picked the shortest, but not necessarily the easiest route.
Our truck suspension hardly creaks on these kind of roads, but a breakdown on a lonely highway would not just interrupt our scheduled departure, it leave us uncomfortably exposed.
As it happened, nothing happened, and we pulled into Dangriga with plenty of time to catch our boat.
Tobacco Caye is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sized island about thirty minutes boat ride from Dangriga. Approximately two hundred yards long and a hundred yards wide, you can walk from one end of the island to the other in a few minutes.
With bars at both ends of Tobacco Caye, however, there's really no need to expend that kind of energy. Belekin beer tastes the same, regardless of which cooler it came from.
We had booked three nights at Windward Lodge, a simple, low-key establishment with a restaurant, and conveniently, one of the island's two bars.
The cabins were up on stilts away from bugs, faced the rising sun, and benefited from the gentle cooling of the sea breeze. Hammocks were strung everywhere, inviting you to do nothing but swing and snooze the day away.
The lure of the hammocks, strong as it was, didn't prevent us from being active. The island has great shallow-water snorkeling, and our lodge provided free gear for its guests to use. We took advantage of the opportunity to get face to face with the colorful reef and fish.
As nice as the snorkeling was, Andrew and I also signed up for a day of scuba diving. It would be my first opportunity to share an underwater experience with Andrew.
Although all three of us are advanced open water divers, years of competitive swimming as a child have left Karen's ears a bit scarred. Consequently, she has a hard time getting down the first thirty feet, where the pressure change is the greatest. And, with a two tank dive costing $125 per person, scuba is an expensive activity in Belize. Karen opted to save her ears and the money by spending her day in the hammock.
I hadn't dove in the past twelve years, so I was understandably nervous at the prospect of being ninety feet underwater, breathing air from a steel tank strapped to my back. It didn't take long, however, for the old feeling of being "one with the fish" to return.
Over the years, Karen and I have dove some pretty spectacular sites, including Monterrey Bay, Cozumel, Grand Cayman, and Jamaica. Compared to those locations, I would say that Tobacco Caye, without big underwater structures or vertical walls to drift past, was not at the top of my favorite sites list.
Still, it was good to get back into the water after such a long layoff, and the dive site was a mere five minute boat ride away. In spite of the cost, we were happy we made the trip.
A day of bad weather prevented us from any more diving, but we did kayak in the shallows off the north shore of the island.
Looking back at Tobacco Caye from the water, you can get a sense of its tiny footprint. The wide angle perspective distorts the view of course, but not by much.
Garifuna Country
After three days on the island we boated back to Dangriga, retrieved our truck, and made our way an hour south to Hopkins. More touristy than Dangriga, Hopkins is the center of Garifuna culture in Belize.
Garifuna are the descendants of escaped slaves, who over the years have migrated from St. Vincent in the eastern Caribbean and who now populate numerous islands and villages throughout the region.
The Garifuna culture is expressed in their food (usually featuring spicy chicken, fresh fish, rice and beans), their friendliness (everyone welcomed us with a big smile and a hearty "hello"), their raucous, vibrant music (Belize's Garifuna are particularly famous for their drumming), and their generally relaxed, laid-back way of life (a worthy objective we all share, no?).
With a full spectrum of accommodations from cheap hostels to fancy resorts, and with a range of food options from local "cool spots" to more upscale bistros and restaurants, Hopkins has become quite popular with international tourists seeking to experience this unique Caribbean lifestyle.
We had booked a week at Coconut Row, a hotel/guest house right on the beach. And even though our camper knocked the sign for the inn off a tree when we pulled in, we were welcomed with a smile and a cold coconut-rum drink.
Our accommodations were pretty deluxe, relatively speaking, and perfect for celebrating Karen's upcoming birthday.
Most of the natives of Hopkins, of course, live in much, much simpler accommodations than we had at Coconut Row. While the influx of foreign tourists brings money and jobs, it also drives up the prices of everything from food to housing. We wondered how long it would be before the locals could no longer afford to live there.
A Visit to Cockscomb Basin
Hopkins has another advantage -- it is located near several prime eco-tourist attractions. One of those is the Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary.
The sanctuary protects 150 square miles of forests, rivers, and mountains on the central coast. Purportedly, it also has a large concentration of jaguars (spoiler alert: we didn't see one).
With numerous trails for hiking, Cockscomb offers a chance to swim in the pools of cascading waterfalls, float a cool jungle river, or just stroll along searching for birds and other animals hiding in the thickets.
We took the trail to Tiger Fern Falls, where the promise of a swim in a cool pond was kept. We didn't see any jaguars, of course, and as it was the middle of the day, birds were hidden away in the cool of the deep forest. We enjoyed the hike regardless. Just imagining that wild, feline eyes could be staring at you from the hidden recesses of the jungle is thrilling enough.
After descending back to the trailhead, we each grabbed an inner tube for another short hike, upriver from the entrance. The trail led to a easy flowing river, just perfect for a lazy float back down.
Red Bank Scarlet Macaws
Another day we drove to Red Bank, hoping to see the scarlet macaws.
The macaws spend about half the year in the Maya Mountains to the west, but migrate down to the lower foothills along the coast in the winter. At times, flocks of several dozen birds gather in the trees around town. Or so we were told.
We met our guide in Red Bank, who led us on a short walk to the edge of town, and within minutes we spotted a few of the colorful birds perching in the trees. Unfortunately, the macaws were pretty far away, and we didn't get more than a quick glimpse through the binoculars before they flew off.
Our guide then led us on a sweaty hike up a steep hill nearby, hoping for another sighting. The guide was looking for specific trees where the birds come to feed. Unfortunately, the trees were empty, the forest silent. The macaws were proving to be elusive.
Our guide then thought we might have a better chance at a nearby river. With the additional promise of a waterfall, and perhaps a cool swim, we all jumped in the truck and drove off..
Unfortunately, recent rain had turned the track into a muddy slip-and-slide. Soon we were drifting completely sideways, front wheels in the ditch on one side of the road, rear wheels in the other. With no desire to get hopelessly mired, we decided to turn around.
Turning around on a narrow, muddy track is not so easy, and for a nervous few minutes it looked like we might have to use our recovery gear to get right with the road.
Luckily, after airing down the tires, we had a bit more traction and were able to slip-slide through the slop back to firmer ground. We breathed a sigh of relief and drove back to Red Bank.
While airing back up, we did see a few more groups of macaws flying through the trees, but we never got a closeup view. So much for that.
The next few days we spent just hanging out in Hopkins, sampling grilled lobster and smoked ribs, and playing far too many games of Cataan.
Flyfishing for Bonefish
On our last day with Andrew, the two of us drove to Placencia for a day of fly fishing on the flats offshore.
We had signed up with an outfit called Hardcore Fishing Charters, a name which called to my "can't get enough" attitude toward fly fishing.
I had spent the summer recovering from shoulder surgery, and once fit enough to cast, spent hours on the Eagle River in Vail Valley as a form of therapy.
Andrew is also an avid fly fisherman, and although a guided trip to hunt for bone fish was hugely expensive ($350 US -- yikes!), this seemed like a "once in a lifetime" opportunity for us to share an incredible experience, one I had dreamed about for years.
We met our guide at the dock in Placencia, and soon were underway.
Now, I don't do well on boats at sea, and if the swell is up, can go from happy to hurling in a matter of seconds. I hoped the Caribbean would treat me kindly, but as we slammed our way through the waves out to the first island, I began to worry how the day would unfold.
Soon we threw our first flies into a shallow lagoon of a small caye. All thoughts of rough seas were immediately shoved aside when both Andrew and I hooked up--he with a small bone fish, me with a small jack. Neither were impressive--just enough to whet our appetites.
We then tried a few other islands, but met with little success--although once Andrew did hook into a nice bone fish, he was unable to land it. I guess bone fishing was going to take a bit more work.
Then the guide pulled into a nice broad flat next to a sandy-shored island. The turquoise water glowed with promise. Sure enough, the guide soon pointed out a school of about fifty bone fish, darker shapes which hovered just above the deeper green of the shallow water corals.
With instructions from the guide on where to cast, how to retrieve, how to set the hook, then how play and land the fish, it wasn't long before we both were hooting and hollering as the silvery torpedoes ripped off hundred-yard runs, taking our fly lines well into the backing.
The Caribbean sun is extremely hot and harsh, particularly when reflected off the silvered mirror of the sea. I guess neither of us were prepared for the effect, as soon even the cold water from the cooler was having a hard time staying ahead of our growing thirst.
When Andrew showed me the pink glow of his sunburned legs, we knew it was time to head back. With a tailing wind the seas were kind enough, and although our arms ached from the effort of a thousand double-hauls on the rods, we both had smiles on our faces.
Suddenly, the week with Andrew was over We drove the long (but smooth) way back to the airport in Belize City.
When Karen agreed to drive around the world, it was on the condition that we fly our kids to see us from time to time. It was great to have Andrew with us, if only for a short while, but saying goodby was tough.
Now it was just the two of us again, with the rest of Belize (and the world) to explore.
