Tucson, Arizona
Greetings from the real world,
I hit the ground running with work, but fortunately I did not have to face Minnesota or Zurich weather as some of our traveling companions did. I finally looked at my photos last night. Some of them are attached.
So, we decided to rejoin the sea kayaking trip out of Placencia on day three. The weather in Placencia had been nice, and Ajinder told us it should be better in the next few days. When I asked how things were going with the kayakers, he talked about his repaired motor boat, the Havana, instead. That should have told us something. A boatman took us in the Havana out to Little Water Caye, about 20 miles off shore, put a two person kayak in the boat, and headed to one of the Silk Cayes, where our group was camped. The ocean was reasonably calm until we left Little Water Caye. Then the wind started blowing and the ocean got choppy.
When we landed on Silk Caye, the campers were amazed to see us. Some thought we had come to rescue them, and they couldn't believe it when we unloaded our cumbersome gear and the boatman departed in the support boat Ajinder had borrowed, leaving the Havana behind.
Things had not gone well for the intrepid travelers. After an night on the sand fly caye during which the sand flies bit the campers all night, they crossed the ocean in bad weather in their kayaks. Fortunately, all were experienced kayakers. When they learned that Steve and I have never been in a kayak, they told us it was a good thing we didn't have to make that passage as our maiden voyage.
The caye is only half an acre or less. There are about 8 palm trees on the west side of it, and some viney ground cover with big round leaves. The kitchen and dining areas are here, as well as the tents for the 3 guides, captain Louis, leader Barnaby (both Belizeans) and G.A.P. guide Isabeli from French Canada. The east end narrows down to a point and has no vegetation. Here 6 tents are set up for the 11 tourists, and the kayaks were all beached. The only other decorations were some drift wood, drift garbage (even here!), the blue tarp covered toilet teepee, pelicans, sandpipers and hermit crabs. No bugs, thank goodness.
The night before we arrived had been a nightmare. At 2 AM, the wind kicked up to 40 mph. The tents were pressed against the campers, who had to lie on their backs and push back the tent walls with their feet. Then the rain started. Some of the campers were afraid they would be washed out to sea. The tour leader, Barnaby, wanted to go check on the other campers, but thought if he got out of his tent, it would blow away.
No one slept much, and when we arrived, the sky was grey, the wind was blowing, and the Coast Guard had a small craft warning. Everyone was haggard from lack of sleep and most were bored, because they weren't allowed to kayak or snorkel due to the wind. They were making lists of things they would have brought had they known they were going to be abandoned on a deserted island. When the wind settled down, they planned a triathlon: swimming, running and kayaking around the island. The entire race would kill about 5 minutes.
This was starting to look like a bad idea, with 2 days left in the trip. If the wind didn't stop, I wondered how we would get off the caye. What happens when we run out of water and food? I knew the cell phones didn't work out here, and I thought that Ajinder wouldn't miss us until we failed to return by 5 PM on day 5. Nobody else seemed to be worried, so I decided not to ask questions, and just assume things would work out. It wasn't until we had been there over a day that I learned that the guides were in touch with Ajinder by radio, who was giving them the Coast Guard warnings. I also noticed on our second day that park rangers came ashore to schmooze with the guides, collect landing fees, and make sure we weren't fishing in the preserve. So we were not as isolated as I had thought.
One of the campers caught an 8 pound barracuda, which the guides prepared for our dinner. Delicious, but bony. By the light of the kerosene lanterns, Barnaby told us ghost stores about his days plundering Mayan ceremonial caves. He said when he was a boy in the 80s, selling stolen Mayan artifacts was the second biggest source of income after marijuana. For all its faults, eco-tourism has created a lot of new job opportunities here.
The wind kept up all night, but the tents held up better on this second night the campers spent on this caye because 5 gallon water jugs had been tied on the upwind side. Our tent was staked with thick dried palm leaf stems, buried 18 inches in the sand. There were no more water jugs, so our tent was anchored to a 70 pound piece of coral. The wind filled our tent with sand, but there was no rain and our first night on the caye was not traumatic.
Day 3 the sun came out and the wind finally died down. We were supposed to break camp and kayak to another caye, but this was deemed unfeasible for some reason that we never learned. We took the Havana out to the barrier reef, the longest (175 miles) in the western hemisphere. The snorkeling was okay, but the wind had stirred up the sediment, so we didn't see much. I did float above a school of blue tangs, dessert plate sized electric blue fish, as we all slowly moved together through the waving fans on the coral.
After more hanging out on the caye, which we all knew very well by now, we were taken out to a fishing boat where the fishermen were cleaning their catch and throwing the guts in the water, attracting rays and sharks. We got in the water with our snorkel gear and watched the rays and sharks. The sharks were harmless nurse sharks, about 4 feet long. The rays were the southern sting ray, which we had seen before, and the fabulous spotted eagle ray. Both these guys are about 3 feet in diameter. A new sighting was the enormous manta ray. He looks like a circular blanket, about 6 feet across, fluttering through the ocean, trailing a six foot stinger behind. Very elegant. The rays don't want any trouble, and unless you touch them they will not sting you. When the manta ray glided under me, I stayed perfectly still so I wouldn't accidentally touch him with my fins. The guides bought some lobster and conch from the fishermen, which they later made into a wonderful stew for our supper.
The guides then decided to take everyone on a kayak trip to the next caye. After Steve and I got it through Isabeli's head that we have never kayaked before, she finally attempted to teach us, but she wasn't very helpful, because she is French Canadian and admits she has trouble remembering the correct English words for left and right. She shouted contradictory and useless instructions (in a charming French accent) and put her kayak in our path until we just decided to ignore her and try to figure it out ourselves. The kayak was very unstable, and we were constantly making little adjustments in our weight to try to keep upright. Unfortunately, the waves were still about 2 feet high, and we both shifted in the same direction at the same time, and tipped the kayak over. Most of our lesson was spent pumping the water out of the kayak and learning how to get back in the kayak. The others, who all believe that kayaks are very stable and practically impossible to tip over, were amazed that we managed to dump ours, but to us it seemed inevitable. After we got back on shore, the guides promised us a wider, more stable kayak the next day, one with a rudder that works. We were game to try to get the hang of this kayaking thing, but the next day, the wind kicked up again and all but 3 kayaks were towed behind the Havana back to Little Water Caye. Only 2 guides and the 3 strongest tourist paddlers were allowed to paddle. We were amazed that it only took them a little longer in the kayaks than we took, pounding across the waves in the motor boat.
Our last night in Placencia was spent at the facetiously-named Paradise Vacation Hotel. Don't stay there! It's a dump!
Greetings from the real world,
I hit the ground running with work, but fortunately I did not have to face Minnesota or Zurich weather as some of our traveling companions did. I finally looked at my photos last night. Some of them are attached.
So, we decided to rejoin the sea kayaking trip out of Placencia on day three. The weather in Placencia had been nice, and Ajinder told us it should be better in the next few days. When I asked how things were going with the kayakers, he talked about his repaired motor boat, the Havana, instead. That should have told us something. A boatman took us in the Havana out to Little Water Caye, about 20 miles off shore, put a two person kayak in the boat, and headed to one of the Silk Cayes, where our group was camped. The ocean was reasonably calm until we left Little Water Caye. Then the wind started blowing and the ocean got choppy.
When we landed on Silk Caye, the campers were amazed to see us. Some thought we had come to rescue them, and they couldn't believe it when we unloaded our cumbersome gear and the boatman departed in the support boat Ajinder had borrowed, leaving the Havana behind.
Things had not gone well for the intrepid travelers. After an night on the sand fly caye during which the sand flies bit the campers all night, they crossed the ocean in bad weather in their kayaks. Fortunately, all were experienced kayakers. When they learned that Steve and I have never been in a kayak, they told us it was a good thing we didn't have to make that passage as our maiden voyage.
The caye is only half an acre or less. There are about 8 palm trees on the west side of it, and some viney ground cover with big round leaves. The kitchen and dining areas are here, as well as the tents for the 3 guides, captain Louis, leader Barnaby (both Belizeans) and G.A.P. guide Isabeli from French Canada. The east end narrows down to a point and has no vegetation. Here 6 tents are set up for the 11 tourists, and the kayaks were all beached. The only other decorations were some drift wood, drift garbage (even here!), the blue tarp covered toilet teepee, pelicans, sandpipers and hermit crabs. No bugs, thank goodness.
The night before we arrived had been a nightmare. At 2 AM, the wind kicked up to 40 mph. The tents were pressed against the campers, who had to lie on their backs and push back the tent walls with their feet. Then the rain started. Some of the campers were afraid they would be washed out to sea. The tour leader, Barnaby, wanted to go check on the other campers, but thought if he got out of his tent, it would blow away.
No one slept much, and when we arrived, the sky was grey, the wind was blowing, and the Coast Guard had a small craft warning. Everyone was haggard from lack of sleep and most were bored, because they weren't allowed to kayak or snorkel due to the wind. They were making lists of things they would have brought had they known they were going to be abandoned on a deserted island. When the wind settled down, they planned a triathlon: swimming, running and kayaking around the island. The entire race would kill about 5 minutes.
This was starting to look like a bad idea, with 2 days left in the trip. If the wind didn't stop, I wondered how we would get off the caye. What happens when we run out of water and food? I knew the cell phones didn't work out here, and I thought that Ajinder wouldn't miss us until we failed to return by 5 PM on day 5. Nobody else seemed to be worried, so I decided not to ask questions, and just assume things would work out. It wasn't until we had been there over a day that I learned that the guides were in touch with Ajinder by radio, who was giving them the Coast Guard warnings. I also noticed on our second day that park rangers came ashore to schmooze with the guides, collect landing fees, and make sure we weren't fishing in the preserve. So we were not as isolated as I had thought.
One of the campers caught an 8 pound barracuda, which the guides prepared for our dinner. Delicious, but bony. By the light of the kerosene lanterns, Barnaby told us ghost stores about his days plundering Mayan ceremonial caves. He said when he was a boy in the 80s, selling stolen Mayan artifacts was the second biggest source of income after marijuana. For all its faults, eco-tourism has created a lot of new job opportunities here.
The wind kept up all night, but the tents held up better on this second night the campers spent on this caye because 5 gallon water jugs had been tied on the upwind side. Our tent was staked with thick dried palm leaf stems, buried 18 inches in the sand. There were no more water jugs, so our tent was anchored to a 70 pound piece of coral. The wind filled our tent with sand, but there was no rain and our first night on the caye was not traumatic.
Day 3 the sun came out and the wind finally died down. We were supposed to break camp and kayak to another caye, but this was deemed unfeasible for some reason that we never learned. We took the Havana out to the barrier reef, the longest (175 miles) in the western hemisphere. The snorkeling was okay, but the wind had stirred up the sediment, so we didn't see much. I did float above a school of blue tangs, dessert plate sized electric blue fish, as we all slowly moved together through the waving fans on the coral.
After more hanging out on the caye, which we all knew very well by now, we were taken out to a fishing boat where the fishermen were cleaning their catch and throwing the guts in the water, attracting rays and sharks. We got in the water with our snorkel gear and watched the rays and sharks. The sharks were harmless nurse sharks, about 4 feet long. The rays were the southern sting ray, which we had seen before, and the fabulous spotted eagle ray. Both these guys are about 3 feet in diameter. A new sighting was the enormous manta ray. He looks like a circular blanket, about 6 feet across, fluttering through the ocean, trailing a six foot stinger behind. Very elegant. The rays don't want any trouble, and unless you touch them they will not sting you. When the manta ray glided under me, I stayed perfectly still so I wouldn't accidentally touch him with my fins. The guides bought some lobster and conch from the fishermen, which they later made into a wonderful stew for our supper.
The guides then decided to take everyone on a kayak trip to the next caye. After Steve and I got it through Isabeli's head that we have never kayaked before, she finally attempted to teach us, but she wasn't very helpful, because she is French Canadian and admits she has trouble remembering the correct English words for left and right. She shouted contradictory and useless instructions (in a charming French accent) and put her kayak in our path until we just decided to ignore her and try to figure it out ourselves. The kayak was very unstable, and we were constantly making little adjustments in our weight to try to keep upright. Unfortunately, the waves were still about 2 feet high, and we both shifted in the same direction at the same time, and tipped the kayak over. Most of our lesson was spent pumping the water out of the kayak and learning how to get back in the kayak. The others, who all believe that kayaks are very stable and practically impossible to tip over, were amazed that we managed to dump ours, but to us it seemed inevitable. After we got back on shore, the guides promised us a wider, more stable kayak the next day, one with a rudder that works. We were game to try to get the hang of this kayaking thing, but the next day, the wind kicked up again and all but 3 kayaks were towed behind the Havana back to Little Water Caye. Only 2 guides and the 3 strongest tourist paddlers were allowed to paddle. We were amazed that it only took them a little longer in the kayaks than we took, pounding across the waves in the motor boat.
Our last night in Placencia was spent at the facetiously-named Paradise Vacation Hotel. Don't stay there! It's a dump!
