Unbelievably hungover we set off early to descend into another country. We unfortunately had to start the ordeal with a painful sprint, complete with heavily loaded packs on our backs, backpacks on our front, all our hats on our head, and in sweltering heat. Absolutely pissing sweat from all orifi, we then waited for half an hour while the bus driver had a ciggie and visited the baño. By the time I was seated I couldn’t speak for two hours afterward. Poor Sam (who was faring much better than me due to her earlier bow out of the evening) had to deal with my mute, useless self all the way to Belize.

After what felt like a minute we had arrived at Chutamel where we then had to get ourselves to the port to catch the ferry to San Pedro and then another boat to Caye Caulker. It was touch and go for me. We shared a cab to the port with an Aussie couple Sam happily chatted to, and me barely able to muster a smile at.

Waiting for the ferry was even harder, particularly now because I acutely aware of a cold sore taking up residence on my lip. Finally a tiny little water taxi arrived. Once seated my head was soon nodding back and forth like a dog as I fought sleep off for two hours to San Pedro. Violently woken by my own head banging against the seat in front of me, I realised we had arrived. To my horror, had to pile off with all of our stuff, line up in single file in the boiling heat (cold sore festering) while officials with gnarly looking guns went down the line and checked our passports AND THEN move into the office where we were screened twice more. After a two hour process, we all had to load our packs back onto the same water taxi and wait for another hour. I could tell by Sam’s sympathetic glances at me, I was looking a real treat by this stage.

By dusk, my coldsore had grown into a fully fledged adult and we were finally pulling into Caye Caulker. The English-Creole speaking island sung out in Jamacian accents and boat horns as swaying palm trees danced to the melodic sounds. The sand roads were dusty from golf buggies and tipsy tourists and everything was pretty much ocean facing because we could see from one end of the island to the other. The water itself was a magnificent turquoise colour offset by a rocky and jagged border. We strapped on our packs for the last time and waddled toward our accom, passing seafood shacks, an Irish Bar, drunken locals and makeshift markets.

The next day eager for a swim, we soon discovered this was not a simple case of running and bombying into the water in front of us. There were designated swimming spots which were man-made to include jetties and “fake” sand. The Split was the most common area, complete with the Lazy Lizard bar and cemented bungalow umbrellas and tables in the water. Although it felt more like we were entering a public pool then the ocean, it was still refreshing and the water gloriously clear.

We tried to order a coconut but were told the coconut delivery guy hadn’t climbed up any trees yet, so settled for a rum. Our shady table was in hot pursuit and we were soon accompanyied by a group who had just finished volunteering on a Mayan Ruins Excavation project. Complete with tarantulas in their tents and snakes in the toilet we were mesmerised with their stories. Unfortunately with the wind, water and hot sun beating down hard, my coldsore was now expecting twins. I excused myself and headed back into the safety of our non-air conditioned dark hostel room for the arvo.

The shine of the place had worn off (ever so) slightly by the end of our two days here, as there were no beaches to chill on, restaurants were reasonably expensive, poverty was obvious and the streets became a little rough at night. A couple of days to explore was more than enough and for our last night, we opted for a takeaway pizza. Wanting to catch the sunset, we took it down to one of the island’s many forgotten jetties, jumped over the missing slats and took up front row seats to the glorious explosion of colour. Not getting through our two massive orders, we gave out the remaining slices to hungry locals (mainly kids) wandering the little sand streets on our way home. Before we knew it, we were boarding our catermaran for our three day sail!

R A G G A M U F F I N  T O U R S

For two nights and three days we set sail on the Ragga Empress across the Caribbean Sea. Our Rasta crew were phenomenal – they constantly sang their Creole tunes, caught us lobster and Barracuda a-plenty for dinner and kept our cups filled with rum. There were 19 of us altogether and from all over the world. We were the only Aussie reps which was good and instantly gravitated toward a kiwi couple who were travelling for year, two teachers from Manchester, an Irish girl, her new Tinder boyfriend and an Italian duo. We left Caye Caulker early on the first day for a full day of sailing. Taking up residence on the roof of the caterman, time stood still as we ate fresh fruit, tanned ourselves, and thought of a name for my unfortunately large cold sore – soon christened Mel.

The anchor dropped at about 1pm where our Captain and Driver back flipped into the middle of the ocean and took us on an underwater snorkelling tour. We were introduced to incredible schools of fish, nurse sharks, rays and coral before returning to a massive spread of salads, rice and fruit.

Our final destination and home for the evening was the uninhabited Rendezvous Island – which was more like a sandbank than an island. About 200 metres in length, I couldn’t help but think if a freak wave crashed over us we would be gone forever. The only standing structures other than palm trees were leafy cabanas and a jetty with a small kitchen attached.

We set up tents in the thinning light before making ourselves comfortable on the jetty for a long table dinner of fish and lobster, listening to Shane’s latest rap. As the night wore on and rum punch became stronger, we all started divulging our travel tales – which eventually led to poo stories from around the world. It was a real bonding session. With promises of a sunrise wake up, we retired about 11pm to our little two man tents, which were pelted so hard by the wind I reckon I got three hours sleep.

Sam’s photo of sunrise with me finally asleep inside the tent.

The thing is, who needs sleep when the next two days are spent on board the Ragga Empress? Dunking ourselves in crystal clear waters of the Caribbean to wake up, we quickly packed up our tents and boarded our beautiful boat for another full day of sailing, snorkelling, eating and drinking. A couple of hours in, Shane hoisted up a massive Barracada and then proceeded to pour rum down its throat. Apparently that’s the only way to kill a fish.

The afternoon was spent island hopping, and pulling into tiny little island communities before reaching Ragga Caye around 5pm. Expecting to camp again, we were all pleasantly surprised to find there were dorm rooms built on the island for us and a big dining room where the chef had already started prepping The Last Supper. Both buildings were sitting on stilts in the water and attached to the main land by jetty. Aside from our little ship of people, it felt truly incredible to be the only person around for miles!

Waking up knowing we only had one more day with our Caribbean pirates was bittersweet. On the plus, Mel had dramatically shrunk overnight.

We began our graceful glide through the seas around 9am, with the Rasta sails billowing out behind us. Hitting the first stop by about midday, our crew were delighted to point out a massive heard of manatee (sea cows) rearing their heads around the Ragga Empress! In hot pursuit, Marvin killed the engine and silently tailed them. When we had drifted away from the reef and into the safety of clear waters we were allowed to grab the snorkelling gear and jump on in. With a lot of inexperienced flipper-users splashing and slapping the top of the water, white wash coloured commotion was everywhere. The massive creatures were now acutely aware of floating spectators and eased themselves deep into the shadows. Spreading out and away from the churned up water, Sam and I headed off in our own direction. Within minutes, Sam was madly signalling at me and struggling to remain calm herself as 5 massive manatee swam directly under her. It was absolutely breath taking to watch! And I LOVE cows!

We spent the rest of the afternoon submerged as half human half fish in this in between world we would dip in and out of.

Before we knew it, the sun was setting and our catermaran was pulling into our last stop. Relishing in salt, sand and new friendships, we reluctantly climbed up into reality and onto the jetty in Dangregia. With hopeful spirits we exchanged travel plans with all of our favourites, did the goodbye ritual, and turned in the opposite direction toward town.

DANGREGIA

We were not in the safe, sheltered waters of the Caribbean anymore. Instead we were looking out at it, through the eyes of the only tourists walking around this dusty Belizian town. We found our hotel easily enough, and after confirming there was a lock on the door, accepted the room and decided to venture out for dinner. The hotel owner was a lovely-eyed Belizian grandfather who had many a tale to tell once he saw our open faces. What started as a “Where do you recommend us eat?” question, ended with a historical lesson of the founding fathers, but we had nowhere to be and were really interested in what he had to say. Lovely Eyes let us know the only conflict now, comes from the influx of Chinese who have started setting up restaurants and grocery stories which undercut local prices. This was the reason his father had to sell their shop and why they put all their savings into the hotel. Enquiring about the couple of fancy houses (which really stood out compared to the rest of the streets) we had passed earlier he said simply “We all work hard to survive here, any house bigger than a man needs comes from dirty money”.

The restaurant LE recommended was a simple enclosed shed with two larger than life women running the show. That night the special was Cow Foot Soup, but we politely declined and opted for a hamburger. As we thought it best to walk home as early as possible, we left the restaurant around 7:30ish and decided to quickly stop in a nearby deli for the essentials – water and chocolate. Now armed with peanut M&M’s we started walking out when I remembered our toothpaste was running low. I went to turn around but then quickly retracted as I caught sight of the huge bouncer sitting on the deli step armed with a battered baseball bat. We suddenly realised we had visited a Chinese owned deli and that bat must be used on locals. Our toothpaste supply would need to be rationed, it was time to get indoors.

Our early morning flight to Guatemala (via San Salvador) was at 8:30am. Lovely Eyes calmly drove us to the airport at 8:15am. Grimacing, Sam thanked LE and sprinted into the tin box of an airport, throwing our passports out to the official. A very relaxed young guy shook his head to the passports, checked our name off a list, offered us cookies his wife made and told us we could board in about 10 minutes. “Avion grande” the guy excitedly said as he pointed to the 12 seater plane we were about to fly in.