We had the forethought the previous night to pick up some groceries for breakfast as we knew we'd be getting up before any of the restaurants opened. We packed our bellies full of yogurt and granola, fruits and newts, and we were off to the dive shop early. When 7:15 came and went and no one was there, we were getting slightly nervous. Finally a guy pulled up and I engaged him immediately. The jist of our exchange was that they were already gone to the other shop to prep. "I'm going to burn down their boat", I thought to myself. Fortunately, it turned out that this individual was mis-informed, and the mini-bus showed up a short while later to take us to their dock.

After some meet-and-greet and equipment setup we made our way out to the dive site. I was expecting a bit of a look-around to try and find some spawning snappers, but we basically boated out, stopped and jumped in. They probably would have been well served to have searched a little harder because the site they picked was quite easily the most boring, uneventful, lifeless dive of all my nearly 50 dives. I could count the number of fish on one hand, and after about 45 minutes we surfaced. No fish and, more importantly, no whale sharks. Jes and I both discussed later that we had a lot of difficulty with this dive too. Jes went in really anxious and was scared in the open water. Because there was no bottom and no marine life to use as a reference point, we both had difficulty with depth perception, having a hard time not going too deep or too shallow. I was also having issues with the fins I was given; they were a terrible fit and gave me numerous blisters on my previously-mangled toes. My feet were in rough shape so I found some tape, wrapped them up and crossed my fingers as we got ready for the next dive.

Prior to the second dive we made a quick stop on the reef for lunch and snorkeling. We were served chicken, potato salad and the Belizean dinner staple, rice and beans. Watermelon and cookies followed for dessert. After scarfing down my food I donned my mask and set out to find some marine life on the reef. I left my fins aboard to give my blisters a break and just swam around the coral gardens, poking around at the "untouched" reef, as described by our boat captain/dive master. Apparently no one really knew about this snorkel spot, so I was happy to scoot around our own secret site. Jes stayed on the boat, chatting with our fellow divers, Sean Connery (actually just a sound-alike) and his hot-old-lady wife (Jes still talks about her hot-old-lady body). They were on the roof of the boat spotting spotted rays and turtles. At one point they implored me to race out and play with a nearby turtle, but their spotting abilities were apparently limited to fairly close range as my search was unsuccessful under their direction. I was a bit bitter that they couldn't do their part as I had heroically squeezed into my fins for the hunt, braving the abrasions covering my poor piggies. 

One poor young woman on the trip was basically crippled on the way out by the sudden onset of an intense migraine. Rather than suffer through the next short ride out to the second dive site, she elected to stay with the park rangers, on their boat on the reef. We dropped her off and headed out the site, another deep blue open water abyss. 

This time we hit the spot as there were schools upon schools of mutton snapper swimming around below us as we descended. Localized areas of the fish cluster started spinning in unison, rising from below in tornadoing fish-spires, ejecting a sudden cloud of particulate at the apex before dispersing and re-joining the cluster. Big bull sharks circled below the gathering of snapper, seemingly cruising around just to take in the show.

My cousin Cindy and I had been through an eerily similar whale shark run-around in Western Australia a few years back. We had to book a last minute tour and catch an impossibly tight-scheduled flight out afterward and it worked out better than could have been imagined. We saw one, 6m in length, a baby by whale shark standards, that seemed as big as a school bus. I regularly describe it as the most adrenaline packed moment of my life swimming alongside the great fish, busting past our guide to snap some close up pictures despite his warnings to keep our distance and stay behind him. We also made our last minute flight, the whole trip turning out as a serious of fortunate events.

So I really felt we were in the right place at the right time, a can't-miss scenario for whale sharks. Crushingly, it did not happen. We watched a 45-minute fish sex show and surfaced to a world of massive disappointment. I had some air left so I stayed in the water until the last gasp, head down, camera ready, waiting for a dramatic last-minute appearance. I was last to board and alas, no whale sharks.

The disappointment was palpable, especially after we were regaled with stories of the dolphin show put on for the full length of one of the previous days' dives. They at least got dolphins. We got nothing put horny snapper. Brutal. 

We made our way back to the reef to pick up the migraine lady. During the stop to pick her up, I jumped back into the sea for my 14th urgent piss off the trip. I don't what it is about diving, but I very nearly exploded on the boat ride out, during and after the first dive, after lunch, after snorkeling, during and after the last dive....you get the idea. I surmise that it's something to do with the water pressure on the body, but who knows. All I know is I peed through my undies by that ranger boat for a solid 5 minutes, holding up an impatient boatload of divers. I could have just gone during the dive, but I had one such experience in a wetsuit during my very first training dive. That experience has stuck with me throughout my diving career as something I never want to go through again. And coupled with the general grossness of peeing in a wetsuit, we were about to travel through the night and the entire next day. I did not want to make that journey coated in a film of salty pee.

I remembered that it was me that should be in a rush to get back to shore so I squoze out the last few drops and climbed aboard for the race to shore. We made it back in record time and our favorite shop guy was there to pick us up and take us to the airstrip...the same guy whose memory, the night before, I had to jog about us even being on the trip and needing guarantees for airport times. Well, he forgot our bags. So back to town we went, going from time-to-burn to no-time-to-spare in a blink. Fortunately, as noted in previous posts, the "security" for these domestic flights is preety relaxed, so when we arrived 15 minutes ahead of departure, everything was cool.

We flew to Belize City and cabbed over to the bus station, almost 2 hours ahead of our last-minute, last-minute, last-minute plan. We boarded an earlier bus than we had planned and arrived in Corozal ahead of schedule, but not without event. Part way through, an older, swaying Belizean boarded, holding an open Beliken. This took me back to our bus-dash in Belmopan where I foolishly stranded my nearly-full beer by the roadside. Who knew you could board a public bus with open beer!! I guess I stood out on that bus because he bee-lined straight for me and engaged me in conversation about our trip that was. I humored him, telling him about our trek into the interior and whale-sharking disappointment before he started going off on a tangent about how we saw all the wrong places. When he started loudly repeating himself, I realized just how tanked this guy was. I told him I was sorry to have disappointed him in my trip decision making, threw on my head phones and tuned him out as I watched his mouth continue to run in connection with his wild, flailing hand gestures, now to no one in particular. Shortly thereafter, he started being real shady, ducking under the seat in front of him, doing who knows what. I was in the seat behind him, Jes in the seat beside me, when she motioned for me to urgently move to her side of the bus. She could see exactly what he was doing: heaving that beer all the rest of his recently consumed items all over the floor of the bus. I alerted the bus staff and after some arguing he eventually found a suitable stop and disembarked.

A short while later we found ourselves in Corozal, closest bus stop to the border. We got off the bus and I don't think we actually stepped foot on the ground before we were in a cab. At least I thought it was a cab, Jes was less certain. Might have just been a dude with a van, but regardless, we hopped in asked him to take us to Chetumal, Mexico. He wouldn't go that far, but he was quite helpful in getting us to the border and lining up another cabbie on the Mexico side. 

A noteworthy experience for those planning on duplicating our Belize trip, do NOT pay going into the country. We were given the option to pay upon entering or pay when leaving the country. For some reason we paid going in and I immediately thought we probably made a mistake. Well, we did because we were forced to pay again. The entry guard said to just show the extra stamp he gave us to the exit guards and we'll be able to pass right through. I hope he had a wild night on our US$40 because I'm sure it went straight into his pocket.

The cabbie on the Mexico side didn't speak a lick of english, but fortunately I can piece together a sentence or two of the espanol, so we managed to find our way around. We had exhausted all our funds on planes, busses, cabs and crooked border guards so we had to make a quick stop at a nearby ATM. I'm not gonna lie, I was mildly nervous when I went into the bank while Jes waited with all our bags in a strange Mexican taxi cab. I made it as quick as I could, got the cash and dashed back to the cab. No need for nervousness after all.

We made it to the bus station ahead of time, and tickets were available for the last bus going to Playa that night. We gorged ourselves on tacos and tortas at a nearby stand and were on the bus a short time later, shortly after midnight by this point.

We both did well to catch a few Z's on the bus after a long day of diving and travelling. We found ourselves in Playa del Carmen at a limbo time, too early to get any food, too late to bother with getting a hotel. We spent a couple hours sitting around, with a jaunt or two to check for any open restaurants. By the time something opened, we had just enough time for a leisurely breakfast, a bit of souvenir shopping and headed back to the bus station from whence we came. An hour later we were at the Cancun airport with enough time to spare to enjoy a quick meal and beer at Bubba Gump's restaurant. A little taste of the Americanized world before we headed home.

Belize Day #13

When we woke up, Jes informed me that, for the second time in the last few nights, she had dreamed that we saw whale sharks. I had a similar dream the night before, so we took these as good omens for the day to come. This was sadly, painfully off target however... 

We ate breakfast around the corner from the Splash dive shop at the only open restaurant we could find at that hour. I use the term "restaurant" loosely as it was basically some nerd's computer repair shop that happened to have a small kitchen in it. After charging us BZ$27 for a couple eggs, a slice of ham and a burnt bagel, we left without tipping to live out our previous nights' dreams.  

We got to the dive shop right on time at 8:15am and I immediately found it curious that we were the only divers there. Still, there seemed to be a fair amount of hustle and bustle going on in the shop, so the thought was fleeting. The dive shop steward, a mid-20s Belizean, sat us down and started with "First off, I don't know how to apologize...". Turns out a paying member of the day's dive party had an afternoon flight to catch, and to facilitate him catching this flight, they bumped the departure time ahead by one hour. They were able to give notice to every other member of the group, except the ones who didn't write down their hotel name on their form: Jes and I. Because we had just come right off the boat and took the first place offered to us, we didn't catch the name of the hotel before we waltzed out to sign up for our whale shark trip. So, I suppose we have to take some of the blame for this, but to our credit, we described the location to him with supreme accuracy and also, they never gave any inkling that a time change was even a remote possibility and we should get back to the dive shop later with the hotel name. Bottom line, the boat was gone, and we weren't on it, a crushing way to start our day and even more crushing to finish our trip with no whale sharks.  

After the initial pain of the depressing reality weakened, we started scheming. We had alotted the next day (Sunday) as a travel day back to Cancun, with our homebound flight scheduled to depart at 12:30pm Mexico time on Monday. We thought maybe we could push the return flight back a couple days and not only try the whale shark tour again, but also increase our chances at seeing them, as we had learned by this time that the best chance to see them was a day or two AFTER the full moon. 

We finally were able to get in touch with WestJet after a lost morning of buying phone cards and messing around with pay phones. The only option was to postpone our return until Wednesday and pay them a gazillion dollars for the difference in the cost of flights, plus a change fee of course. 

We nixed that idea and explore another last ditch alternative. We scouted around for some info on flight and bus schedules, as well as allowable border crossing times, and we were able piece together a travel plan that would get us to Cancun in time to catch our flight AND allow us to take the whale shark trip on the Sunday. We did have to consult the dive shop to get a guarantee that we could be back in time to board the 4:25 flight to Belize City, the very last flight out of Placencia. They gave us their word and told us that we would leave an hour early again. "Not a problem, thanks for telling us this time", I sneered, still hot from getting shafted earlier. 

So we had a plan. A far-less-than-ideal plan, an impossibly-improbable-to-go-off-without-a-hitch plan, but a plan nonetheless. We would do the whale shark trip, be zipped back to land in time to catch the last flight of the day out of Placencia, catch the last bus of the day out of Belize City, cab across the border into Mexico and catch the latest possible bus out of Chetumal back to Playa where we'd have a leisurely breakfast, catch a few last warm rays of sun and catch the bus to the airport. That's a lot of catching!

We could have taken the easy route and gone whale-sharkless, but they, along with the blue hole, were one of the defining attractions of our trip to Belize. We were not about to give up that easy.

This left us with an unanticipated afternoon of freedom. We decided to use it to let off some steam from our stressful morning by kicking back with our books on the beach. We spent the better part of the afternoon drinking, eating, and drinking some more, beach-side at the Kozy Korner. We also got in some last minute trinket-shopping and had some soft-serve ice cream on the main drag, enticed by the unending free samples. 

In the early evening we returned to the dive shop to confirm our departure and inquire about the success or failure of the outing that day. Maybe I was wearing my hat differently or something...I hadn't seen a lot of gangly white dudes who didn't fit through the dive shop door without ducking, but no joke, the guy looked at me a bit puzzled, as though he'd never seen me before. I was ready to rip into him when he clued in and confirmed that we were good to go in the morning. We'd leave our big packs in the shop and they'd arrange everything to get us to the airstrip to catch that flight.  

Second order of business was to hear about the million whale sharks they saw that day, that we missed because of their nonchalance. He informed us that they didn't have any luck that day and didn't see a single whale shark. Relief washed over me in an awesome wave. Maybe things were going to turn out for the best after all. 

We left with renewed confidence to go find some supper. 

We settled on a small joint called J.Dee's on the main road that had a live reggae organ performer scheduled. We had delicious meals of barracuda and pork chops, maybe the best of the whole trip, and the musician was quite good. We left in a much better mood than that with which we started the day (the booze helped), and went back to the hotel to await more visions of whale sharks dancing in our heads.

Belize Day #12

We got up early to catch the 7am bus out to Dangriga. It was pivotal that we catch this bus or we'd be hitching on some hick's 2x4s again, just to get to the highway. I thought it would be smart to get back into town anyway to catch the bus at it's starting point rather than trying to fight onto an already-full bus. 

We caught the bus on time and it quickly filled to comic proportions. There were 3 to a seat in spots, 4 if there were kids, and the aisle was shoulder to shoulder with sweaty Belizeans. Jes and I hogged a full seat to ourselves. Not a lot of option as I take up a lot of spaced with my legs spread wide to fit behind the seat ahead of us. As noble as it would be to volunteer my seat to an older citizen, I'd have to hunch over, ear to the ceiling for the entire bumpy 30 minute ride. Not happening.

We paid the fare with the last of our Belizean dollars, so my first order of business was to get some cash which I did after a BZ$10 cab ride into town and back. There were no direct buses to Plancencia for a couple hours, so we decided to take the next one to Independence, just across the water. Placencia is on the tip of a little peninsula so the bus routes don't frequent it as often. We would jump on the water taxi from Independence and be in Placencia before the scheduled departure of the Placencia bus from Dangriga, plus we'd get to see a new stretch of road, so we went for it.

In Placencia, we walked straight in off the dock to the sidewalk and accepted the first room that was offered to us by a kooky but friendly Canadian woman. At the mere utterance of the letters A and C strung together we were sold, as I was sweating profusely in the tropical heat, which seemed decidedly hotter on this day. Upon closer inspection, we realized we may have made a hasty decision as this place was a bit of a dump, but it was too late. We dropped our packs off and cooled off for a while in front of the air conditioner before setting off to book a whale shark trip. 

We went back to Placencia Dive School, the company who had told us to come back closer to the full moon when we visited them during our first stay in Placencia. 

It was 11:30 and there was no one available until after lunch, so we decided to find some grub and try them again later. Jes and I stopped into the Kozy Korner for lunch and ordered a chicken burrito and bbq chicken dinner, respectively (with beers and a delicious nutmeg-infused banana milk shake). Neither us were prepared for Jes's order to come out and cover the entirety of her plate. The burrito was colossal, the kind you would expect a note under on the menu offering it as a free meal if you can finish the whole thing. I've packed on at least a couple pounds on this trip and it's thanks to orders like that. Jes would struggle through half and then, not one to waste such tasty cuisine, I'd take over, AFTER mowing down my gigantic chicken dinner. The oceanside ambience was great and the prices were low for a tourist joint, so it was a pretty good lunch stop. 

We went back to the dive shop and there was still no one around, so we decided that these guys didn't have their shit together and we'd find someone more competent. We went to the end of the sidewalk to a company called Splash who said they had their first April whale shark trip going out tomorrow. We didn't have a lot of options as our flight was on Monday at noon, which left Sunday as a travel day back to Cancun. We had to sign up for the Saturday trip. We plunked down a deposit, signed up and were told to be at the shop for 8:15 the following day. We were going to see whale sharks!!

We had some time that afternoon to scout out some souvenirs as this would be our last chance in Belize with the dive day tomorrow and a long travel day back to Mexico the following day. Jes talked a wood-carver into parting with one of his seracote salad bowls for a mutually agreeable price (don't ask how much).  

We had some drinks and food and listened to some bad loud music at the Tipsy Tuna. Jes finally got to try some conch, in ceviche form as an appy with nacho chips. She enjoyed it, but had to choke back the rum punches to keep up with my Beliken-crushing. An awkward interaction with one of the servers was enough to send us outta there and back to the hotel for the night. Visions of whale sharks were set to dance in our heads....

Belize Day #11

The alarm went off at 4:30, I hit snooze once and headed out to the shore to watch the sun rise over the Caribbean Sea. The horizon had a light tint of color already, so I thought my timing was pretty decent. I'm not exactly an early riser, so sunsets aren't my forte. Little did I know it would be another couple hours before the sun actually break over the horizon, so for the next while I was watching more of a "gradual brightening". 

Jes came out at a more sensible time and we both read our books, sitting on our towels a couple feet from the shoreline, noticing the odd little sand crab poke out of his hole, only to scuttle swiftly back inside at the slightest flinch from Jes or I. The owner-lady was up early to tend to the perfectly manicured sand-lawn in front of the cabins, raking up the debris brought in by the tide. Eventually the sun came up and I was glad to have started my day so early. 

We went for breakfast at Thong's Cafe a couple doors down. We had pretty much conceded that we were not going to make it through the day on our Belizean currency, and so resigned ourselves to dipping into our American Dollar stash that had been set aside to get us back through Mexico. With our thrifty ways behind us, I ordered a big Mexican breakfast, Jes had a meager bagel, toasted, buttered and smeared with jam. Together with a coffee each, the bill was BZ$25. I plunked down the bills and topped it with a couple dollar coins for a tip. I could feel something burning all of sudden when I looked up and saw the stink-eye glare from Jes, aimed directly at me. We weren't on the same page when it came to tacking a tip on top, what with the limited funds available to us. The previous night she was happy to buy BZ$9 worth of jam that could be found anywhere outside of Hopkins, but leaving a $2 tip for these poor folk got me the evil eye every time. We went back to the cabin after grabbing some chips, salsa and fig newtons (hereforward known affectionately as "Newts") for snack/lunch. We mixed ourselves some mid-morning rum and cokes and I relaxed on the beach, trying to capture some color while Jes stayed out on the veranda, both of us crushing our books (and drinks). The better part of our day was spent this way, minus the sunning as I could only handle so much.

Later, around 4pm, and having skipped lunch in favor of chips, newts and booze, I started feeling peckish. We went south to the same location as our supper the previous night, wanting to try the Yu Ga Da Cafe across the street from Innies. We arrived to find it wasn't open until 5, but Jes was adamant we were trying this place, so we popped into Innies and split a burger while we waited. A short bit after 5 we made the switch to Yu Ga Da only to find higher prices and pretty much the same menu. We tried to escape with the excuse that it was too hot in there (which it was, I was pouring sweat out of every gland in my body), but she cracked the windows, opened the doors, turned the ceiling fans on and was generally just a bit too nice to skip out on. We were loaded and feeling greasy, so we ordered another burger and fries each. They were claimed to be homemade, but tasted suspiciously like McDonald's. Regardless, we plowed them into our faces and headed back to continue binge drinking.

Back at the cabin I poured myself a drink and we sat out and read books some more. It wasn't long before Jes decided she'd head inside and lay down, which I found a bit odd as it was barely 7pm. About an hour later, I heard a barely discernible, muffled moan over the crashing sound of the waves. It was coming from inside so I peeked in and it was Jes, curled up in a ball, calling for me. She was in some serious discomfort, similar to the stomach pain that we had taken her to the hospital for less than a week prior to our trip. She had been doing so well for the first 10 or so days of the trip that it wasn't even in my mind anymore, but very clearly, she wasn't 100% free of her ailment. We never did get a definitive answer on what was wrong with her, and this time around, we didn't have a definitive answer on what could have caused this sudden bout of extreme stomach pain. We surmised it may have been the wad of grease she'd just mashed into her pie-hole, but it could have been the fact that she had forgotten to take her meds, which were supposed to be taken on an empty stomach, until after her breakfast that morning, something she hadn't waivered on all trip until that morning. It could have been something else entirely, we just didn't know. Whatever it was, about an hour after her cries for help, every morsel of liquid and food in her body made a swift and sudden break for the nearest exit in an uncontrollable wave eminating from her abdomen in both directions. 

After a prolonged period of purging her body, the pain subsided. At Jes's request I went next door to the convenience store to source out some Tang and water to get some liquids back in her body and keep her hydrated, something without acid to avoid disturbing the bubbling cauldron inside her. Jes has got some weird aversion to drinking just plain water, but after what she'd just been through (and what I'd been through by mere proximity to the bathroom), I was in no position to question the request. Similar to her water-aversion, I have an even stronger grocery store aversion. 

For instance, my arch nemesis is the Real Canadian Superstore. Jes lives pretty much beside one, so has learned the ins and outs of the store quite thoroughly. I, on the other hand, couldn't find bread in the bakery there. She asked me to find a pillow in Superstore for her once, one of those fancy, curvy, memory foam deals. She assured me they were in there, so I went in with confidence thinking there are only so many places to find pillows in a grocery store. I was unsuccessful after a thrice-over scour of the pillow aisle. "How many pillow aisles can there possibly be in a grocery store!!!!", I steamed. I left in a rage, only to be lead by the hand, by Jes the next day, to that very pillow aisle and grab precisely what she had asked for. To this day I swear that it wasn't there the previous day and they must have re-stocked overnight. 

 Back to Belize, and this "convenience" store might as well have been called "Belizean Superstore" because I'll be damned if I could find some Tang in there. I went up and down every aisle twice, knowing full-well that if Jes asked for it, she had seen it in there in one of our previous trips. Eventually, I gave up and assumed that she could only have meant the powder soy-based drink that I was standing in front of, pouring over the contents and mixing instructions. It said mix with water, it was fruit flavored, not acidy....I thought this must be it. A Belizean woman walked past and said "ohhhh, don't get that!!", and made a face like she just swallowed a bug. I was screwed, so I asked for help. "I'm looking for juice, but not juice. It has to be in powder form....powder form? Y'know, to mix with water...?", I quizzed. "Tang??", she asked. "YES!!", I exalted, shocked for some reason, thinking that such a product must not exist here. She enlisted her pre-teen son and daughter to join in the Tang-hunt, and not more than 10s later I heard "found it!" From the center aisle. There it was, almost exactly mid-store. Center of the center aisle, MY eye height, and not just one flavour, it was the Baskin Robbins of Tang, what looked like 31 flavors. I had gone up and down the "Tang aisle" and not noticed the Tang. 

 I bought the goods and quietly left, boiling inside. I mixed the drink, got it to Jes and she promptly crushed it saying, "Oh, you almost should have bought 2." 

 I rolled over and went to bed.

Belize Day #10

Although we knew where wanted to go, we had nowhere in particular to be and nothing in particular to do this day. So, we woke up late and had a leisurely breakfast (actually TWO leisurely breakfasts cuz Jes's first choice was atrocious) before jumping the bus coastward. Our plan was to get to the small, seaside town of Hopkins, of which we knew virtually nothing about other than its geographical location relative to the rest of the country. Nonetheless, we had designs of making our way there and finding us some whale sharks. 

We hopped the bus again and a couple hours later we were at the Dangriga bus station where we'd make the switch to the bus south to Hopkins. We grabbed our packs, got off the bus and asked when we could get on the next bus to Hopkins. "About 4 hours from now", we were informed. No chance we were waiting that long, so we approached the hoards of taxis who were eager to give us a lift out. "80 Belize" was the first quote given, high enough for us to swing around in unison and immediately get back on the bus. We knew the bus was continuing south to Punta Gorda, and the junction to Hopkins was only a short ride from where we were on any bus heading south. The problem was that between the Hopkins junction and Hopkins was a 5-mile dirt road under cover of nothing. We'd have to hike it in the sweltering heat or pray for a lift. 

We took our chances and went to the junction. We had seen an English girl get off there on our way north from Placencia to Belmopan and in the time it took for her to step off the bus and the bus to depart, we could see her already throwing her bag in the back of a pick up. So we were confident we would get a ride as it seemed like there was a solid amount of traffic at the intersection, probably doing regular pick ups of folk just such as us. 

When we got off, a couple of late-adolescent Belizean boys got off at the same time. They were making their way in the same direction. They immediately went and found shelter from the sun under the bus stop at the corner and we probed them as to how to get to Hopkins. "Pray for a short wait", they said. It was a million degrees out and I was sweating in the shade so there was no chance of hauling our packs that far; we were waiting for lift. We busted out our books and zoned out for a short time while the boys kept an eye out for potential rides. Only a few vehicles made the turn without stopping to offer a lift before a beat up old flat deck pick up carrying a big load of 2x4s stopped. "Let's go, if you want to travel the local way!", said the boys. Perfect! We threw our bags in the back and rode those 2x4s into town, eating dirt, rocks and sawdust the whole way. When we got to town we jumped out and the mysterious driver sped off, not leaving time enough even for a thank you, let alone a glimpse inside the cab of the vehicle. We were there and it didn't cost any extra, so we were pleased.

We had done some light research in our Lonely Planet and determined that we wanted to stay at Laru Beya cabins. When we got there, we were more than delighted by these spacious seaside cabins with A/C and verandas with only palm trees blocking the view of the incoming waves and the blue on blue horizon in the distance. At US$55 per night, we were laughing. 

I paid the hotel keeper, a hilarious old lady from Belize City, in to tend for a couple days for her brother, the owner of the place. Upon doling out the loot, I realized we were running a bit low on dinero so I asked where the nearest bank was. "Oh, there's no bank in Hopkins!", she laughed. No bank, no ATM, no credit cards taken....we were in trouble. I did a quick count and found we had BZ$140 (US$70) to get us through supper that night, 3 squares the next day, breakfast and our trip to Placencia the following day. Oh, and plus any drinking we wanted to do...which we wanted to do a lot of. "We can do this", we figured, we'd just have to budget. We really didn't want to make the painful trip back to Dangriga and burn a good portion of our oceanside beach time to go get cash.

With bigtime budgeting in mind, we set out on a booze cruise. We scored a bottle of One Barrel for BZ$12, but the coke mix wasn't our best purchase at BZ$4 a liter. And we had to get 2 to get us through the night. We picked up a chips and salsa snack as well, so we weren't off to a very good start on the budget. We started getting gooned on the veranda, reading our books and crushing rum & cokes. 

I was marvelling at the view when it dawned on me that I could probably grab a coconut from the nearest palm tree from right off the deck. It was a bit of a stretch, but I decided I was going to make that happen. I got up on the railing, wrapped one arm around the rooftop stantion, leaned out as far as I could and plucked that golden fruit right off the tree. It was still warm to the touch from the sun when I started trying to get inside it. We were pretty limited on tools, so I started trying to give it a jack-o-lantern-style top opening with the cabin key. I had the key fully inserted into the coconut in a couple spots but nothing was coming out. This was proving to be a lot more difficult than imagined. Then Jes had a brainwave: "Use my corkscrew!". Having, on a number of occasions on this trip, used my flip-flop-mounted bottle opener, I thought, "That's my girl!". Always prepared if there's an alcohol-opening emergency. I made quick work through the shortest side of that coconut and we each sucked a swig of the sweet nectar from the corkscrew wound before I poured myself a tall glass of freshly uncorked coconut milk. We threw that cononut, plus one more, into the fridge with the anticipation of finding a knife on the cheap at some point and cutting out the fruit from inside. This plan never did materialize, however I did make use of the juice as a cheap (read: "free") mixer, making several tasty rum concoctions. 

Soon enough Jes started getting owly and I knew it was time to feed the beast. We walked to the south end of town to Innies restaurant where we dined on some local Garifuna plates. Naturally, with our budget and our state of inebriation, these choices were very nearly the most expensive on the menu. Still, it wasn't that bad at BZ$37 for both meals, a beer for me, plus tip. 

Revelling in the pleasure of our state of fullness and intoxication, we decided to check out the convenience store for some cheaper cashew wine than the BZ$20 bottle offered in the gift shop. We spotted the exact same bottle for BZ$9 and I guess Jes was feeling sentimental because, despite our monetary misgivings, she decided now was a good time to pick up some jam for Grandma Fritshaw. And one wasn't enough, so we got one banana jam and one guava jam for BZ$4.50 each. So, to recap, after setting aside our bus fare to get to Placencia, we were down to our last BZ$55 that had to last us through the entire next day and we just spent 18 of it on wine and jam. 

We must have been loaded. And the worst part was that the cashew wine was one of the most heinous tastes to ever touch my tongue. I couldn't even finish my glass and we wound up leaving the full bottle in the cabin, minus a drink each for Jes and I. Note to Grandma Fritshaw: You better like your jams!!

We had another early night in preparation for an early morning to watch the sun rise.

Belize Day #9

The arrangement made with Pacz Tours was that we were to be at the Teakettle Village junction at the A.T.M. sign at 9am sharp. Having only a vague idea of how long it would take to get there (sources told us about a 1/2 hour), we got up early to hit the Tuesday market for breakfast before catching the 8:00 bus westward.

I scored a tasty ham and egg breakfast burrito and Jes sourced out some fresh-sliced papaya, watermelon and pineapple. We both had banana smoothies and the whole meal cost a pittance, not even worth remembering. Jes also picked up a couple bananas for a Belizean quarter (6 US cents a piece) and we bought some banana bread, apples and nectarines for the trip.

We hopped on the bus and were under that A.T.M. sign with time to spare, which was spent marvelling at the locals parading around on the street as we cowered from the sun in the shade of the sign. 

We had packed some closed-toed shoes and a change of clothes, as recommended on the phone by the tour guide operator the previous night. Beyond that, I went into this with no clue what to expect. A tour guide from one of the other companies doing the A.T.M. tour was also waiting by the sign and was happy to answer some of our questions. We found out that our closed-toed shoes would be getting wet as there would be numerous river crossings. He also mentioned that we would have to give our camera to the guide until we were inside the chamber about a mile into the cave, at which point, we'd get it back and continue through the cave in our sock-feet. I was confused.

Regardless, our guide showed up and whisked us off to the site after a quick stop to wait for the rest of the crew. After some confusing directions about what to bring, we brought our packs, stuffed with lunches provided by the tour group, dry socks, drinking water and one helmet each. After a mild amount of hiking including three river crossings in my brand new running shoes (the only closed-toed shoes I had brought on the trip), we reached a staging area where we'd leave our bags and later return to for lunch. We marched onward with nothing but the clothes on our backs, the shoes on our feet and the head-lamp-adorned helmets on our heads (and shorts on our bums), having given my camera to the guide to stow away into his dry-bag inside a dry-bag inside a dry-bag. It wasn't long before it was made patently clear why the triple water-tight seal was needed. We entered the cave and started our descent into the darkness with a short swim across which even my lengthy frame couldn't touch bottom; I was neck-deep, doggie-paddling to the next rock ledge. 

The next two hours were spent meandering through a network of caves as grand as cathedrals to body-contortingly tight with water levels varying from neck-deep swim-throughs to shoe-top-high cricks. Eventually we came to the chamber and had to remove our shoes and continue in our socks. Jes and I were smart enough to have stored our socks in dry location: under her helmet, so we had the added luxury of carrying forward with dry feet. The descent was not yet complete however as the was still some walking, climbing around and even ladder climbing to get to the end of the chamber. 

Along the way, the guide regaled us with theories of these underground Mayan customs while pointing out many pieces of broken pottery and skeletal remains, all said to be authentic archaeological discoveries, in place just as they were discovered. Carbon dating placed some of the artifacts back to 730 AD. The piece de resistance was a full-skeleton of a woman at the end of the cave. 

 We headed back from whence we came, passing all the same artifacts, stalactites and stalagmites we had on the way in. The one big difference on the way out was passing all the other tour groups on their way into the cave. We were fortunate enough (or fast enough) to have been the first group in that morning, and once we heard the first echoes of the second group as we left, we were grateful to have had such a peacefully quiet experience inside. 

I'm not sure if it was for the scare-factor or to prove that he knows these caves like the back of his hand, but at a certain point, our guide had the six of us line up in a row, hold hands, take one last, looong look in the direction we were headed.....and turn off our lights. I will never be in a literally darker spot. I may as well have not had eyes, as there was no difference between opening or closing them. Our guide then marched our human-chain forward, describing to the next person in line the obstacles in front of him, would relay the descriptions to the next person, and on down the line. We turned a corner, felt the water get deeper, up to our chest (well, my chest...I had to help the short girl behind me from going completely under), over some rocks and suddenly after what felt like 100, maybe 200 meters, maybe more, I saw a sliver of daylight and things started coming into focus. It was pretty fun experience and an impressive display by our guide, who, no doubt, was not leading this tour for the first time. 

We exited the cave, had our pre-made chicken sandwich lunches, headed back to the van, changed clothes and were outta there. 

The guide dropped us off at a gas station a little closer to town than we'd been picked up, and recommended we grab a beverage at the attached convenience store to sip on while we waited at the bus stop. We partook in his brilliant recommendation and engaged in a relaxing beer/cooler sipping session at the bus stop, which was on the wrong side of the road for the direction we wanted and behind a parked truck, impeding our view of any oncoming traffic. It didn't take me long to lose myself in the frosty bliss of my suds, so I was fortunate that Jes was paying mild attention to the road. I wasn't a quarter into my beer when she shouted "BUS!!". I looked but could scarcely see the road for the parked truck in the way, but I couldn't see one so I assumed she was joking. I thought she might not be joking when she started scrambling her bags together and running out to the road, during which time I stood up and saw our bus barreling down on us. Jes managed to flag the bus down in time and, for a brief moment, I thought of some way to get my alcohol onto this public vessel but took the high road and left the poor thing there, undranken. Meanwhile, Jes was running ahead of me to an impatiently-waiting, and very full, high-school-style bus. I managed to catch up with her and noticed that her thought process regarding her beverage had taken a different branch. She was running full-tilt, pack on her back and open alcohol bottle in hand. As I passed her I was thinking "we're screwed, we're not getting on this bus and it'll be an hour till the next one". She, however, had something more crafty in mind. As I raced past her, and to my dismay, she slyly stowed her open drink in the water-bottle pocket on the outside of my day-pack. I was too rushed to do anything but go along with this sneakery, and needless to say I deeply regretted having left my beer to swelter alone in the Belizean heat by that bus stop once I had successfully smuggled Jes's drink aboard. As retribution, I drank a good portion of what remained of that drink, but losing that beer is a sorrow I won't soon forget. 

We had supper at our hotel restaurant, which wound up being a bit of a lengthy affair as we were back fairly early, being the first group in and thus, the first group out of the caves. We racked up a BZ$100 bill of appies, supper and booze while we internetted and texted on the wifi and called it a night shortly thereafter.