We were going to float through caves [on our inner tubes]. Once inside the pitch black cave, we turned on our lights, scared fruit bats into diving at our heads and tried to keep our jaws shut as Julio pointed out million-year-old stalactite and stalagmites, Mayan ritual sites and millennium-old pottery still in place.”
on a pier hanging over the Caribbean which looked like something out of Lonely Planet), trying to “swing rings” (a game consisting of swinging a brass ring, suspended from the ceiling by fishing line across a 20-foot gap and onto a nail attached to a post). You might be surprised how many rum punches you can down trying to lasso a nail. I might install this game on my patio at home. It’s addictive. I was becoming an absolute pro at the art of doing nothing. I found accomplices. A mixture of bored locals and ex-pats that had moved here to start a new life or escape the one they had. I met Lynn and Eugene on my third day in the country, a former school teacher and truck driver respectively. They had moved to Belize after vacationing with the intent to purchase a bar. They were somewhat busy as they juggled hanging with me and refurbishing their recent purchase, The Pickled Parrot. We spent time together drinking beers, swinging rings and even took a cruise up the Monkey River. The Monkey River was a unique expedition and a great distraction from the “Ring Swing.” We chartered a small boat and guide who escorted us 30 miles south to the tiny village of Monkey River. This village was home to our guide Brent who informed us that it had only obtained electricity in 2009. He took us four miles upstream pointing out iguanas, alligators, Jesus Christ lizards as well as all sorts of flora and fauna. We docked our boat on a sandy beach and began our trek in search of Howler monkeys. The aptly named Howler monkeys make a noise that startled me every single time, and I thought about running back to the boat. We found a group of five within minutes and were able to photograph them from yards away. It was intense. We returned to our boat and were served a wonderful local meal of stewed chicken, beans, rice, split pea soup and coleslaw at Brent’s aunt’s house which doubled as a restaurant called the Black Iris. The meal was wonderful and one that I went back for repeatedly during my visit.
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| Holiday 2012 Issue
After the Monkey River tour I needed a few days to recover. I went back to my routine enjoying Belize’s beach bars like Cozy Corner and D’Tatch during the day and enjoying wonderful meals at Rumfish Y Vino, The Purple Space Monkey, The Galley and The Secret Garden every evening. The food at these restaurants was fresh, the people were wonderful and the ambiance was amazing. I ate ceviche at nearly every stop, doused most of my food in Belize’s own Marie Sharp’s hot sauces and washed it all down with a month’s supply of the locally brewed Belikin beer. My plan to unwind was working. I had not looked at my phone or computer in days. The first eight days went by in a blur (in part, thanks to the rum). I made a decision to widen my Belize experience and asked locals for suggestions. Everyone advised me to head to the jungle. There were a variety of activities offered near the capitol of Belmopan that could not be offered near the sea. I went online for the first time in nearly a week to investigate new adventures. I stumbled across Ian Anderson’s lodge about 12 miles south of the capitol. They boasted jungle lodging along a river, optional tree house accommodations and a list of activities and tours. I made reservations, jumped in my mini SUV and braved the potholed Hummingbird Highway again. In a little under two hours I arrived safely at Ian Anderson’s resort. The resort was gorgeous. It was tucked a half mile off the highway along the Caves Branch River. I was standing in the middle of the jungle in a botanical oasis. Ninety variations of Orchids, indigenous plants marked with signs and quaint windowless huts. It was manicured in such a way that I was instantly reminded of Fantasy Island. Where was Tattoo? I left my bags at the front desk and was escorted to the tour I had signed up for the day before. My guide’s name was Julio and he doubled as the bus driver on our windowless 70s-era school bus. We took a twenty-minute ride
down the freeway which included driving through an orange orchard and forging a knee deep river. We parked near an unmarked path and unloaded along with our inner tubes. We were going to float through caves. When we arrived at the stream, we were given headlamps and little other instruction. We back paddled nearly 500 yards upstream to the mouth of an enormous cave. Once inside the pitch black cave, we turned on our lights, scared fruit bats into diving at our heads and tried to keep our jaws shut as Julio pointed out million-year-old stalactite and stalagmites, Mayan ritual sites, and millennium-old pottery still in place. The tour was one of the most memorable of my life. When I returned to the resort, I dropped my bags, showered outdoors and made the quick half-mile hike to the second most famous Blue Hole in Belize. The Blue Hole was made famous by Jacques Cousteau and assuredly is more beautiful and more notorious than its lesser known little brother off the Hummingbird Highway but could not possibly be more serene. At the conclusion of the hike I was exhausted by the heat. I made my way down the hundred or so moss-covered steps with all the ease my tired legs would allow. I was rewarded at the bottom by a beautiful turquoise swimming hole filled naturally by a geyser, brimming with fish and a perfectly cool temperature. I stripped down and dove in, ignoring the “DO NOT JUMP” sign. I floated in the water for hours, chasing the tiny fish and exploring the attached cave. This
was the Belize I had come searching for; a paradise that released my stress and an experience I will never forget. I recommend that you jump, too.
Special Thanks to Sunset Pointe sunsetpointebelize.com 904-471-3599