Belize

Toying about with Narks & Sharks, Caye Caulker
19th March, 2012

I'm drifting weightlessly between the verticals of a deep narrow canyon. Around us abounds an endless array of life, ranging from miniscule, easily bypassed micro-systems, to creatures much larger than I am...such as this sleek, thousand-toothed killing machine. What do you do - 80 ft down, surrounded by vast endless ocean, when you find yourself face to face with a shark? Well there's not much you actually can do, except keep on keeping on, eyes fixed on that trawling gaze; maybe clench one hell of a smile out from behind your regulator, and hope Mr. Man-Eater here winks back with a cheeky grin of recent satisfaction - "it's alright mate, never worry now. I've already had me my fair share of shredded flesh for one day. Let's hang out a while shall we??" To be honest, I'm slightly exaggerating the scenario; these little critters are apparently harmless nurse sharks, but it's not every day I get to boast such a feat, and someone did mention hammerhead!!

Staring down Mr. Shark in the depths

This is my third day out diving the famous barrier reefs off the coast of Belize, part of a chain that runs generally north-south from the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico, past the Bay Islands of Honduras, before petering out off Nicaragua. Learning to dive for me, has always been an unforeseeable aspiration; something I felt I would love to try, but being unsure where or when I would ever find the time or opportunity had simply remained a minimal priority. However, since rocking up here in Caye Caulker, where the pace is slow, the vibe is fresh, and island life understandably evolves around these tranquil waters - how could I dismiss the temptation?? So before I begin to delve anymore into my new found underwater philosophies, I should back this story up a little...

If only I could enter more countries with the same steeze & style I seemed to pull off here in Belize. I'll start with the boring bits...If you can float, catch the boat! Airports and buses suck. I found weaving in and out of the mangrove tangled shorelines a lot more entertaining than being constrained for another five hours watching crappy Hollywood hits, overdubbed in Spanish. So it was, that Dave (one of my new drug-loving Canadian pals) and I managed to escape the enslaving tentacles of Tulum, a place of too much fun; from where we made our way to Chetumal, a hot & busy port-side town from where we could wave our goodbyes to Mexico. On arrival, in a similar raping fashion that I hadn't encountered since Padangbai over a year ago, we were swarmed upon by prospecting 'representatives' of competing ferry companies. "Half price tickets sir! Here, here, come HERE!! Yes?? YES! Let's go!!" I couldn't help have a moment - "fuck off! We're catching a taxi..." One of them even chased our ride, sticking his head and tickets through the passenger window before the driver also told him to "piss off!" and pulled away. In my experience it's best to buy these things at the at the ports of departure, directly through the company, where you can see the vessel, chat with the operators and receive a receipt. We thanked our cabbie, brought round trip tickets to Belize City and finally got ourselves stamped out of the country...after a 'small' fee of course.

Now normally I don't freak about customs clearances, but normally I'm not traveling through customs with Dave - who only a few nights ago had been so juiced up on cocaine, that as a consequence he'd hardly slept since. Adding to this abnormality, it's not often I've been met by an array of army officials totting big, black machine guns and what I'm sure could be corrupt sniffer dogs. However, safely through our security check, we were on our way; often catching slight previews of an island fever perfection that awaited us.

Small sail boats at Caye Caulker

Docking in San Pedro, approximately 90 minutes later, we now had to pass through Belize border protection, which as you will soon discover, is obviously non existent. I was amazed by how quickly everything seemed to change. Less than two hours ago I'd been eating tacos, fumbling pesos with money handlers & officials in a stuttering display of broken language; and now here I was in San Pedro, flirting with the customs girl in perfect English! It blew me out. Back home in Tasmania, it takes a good seven hours or more by plane to get anywhere slightly different in culture, linguistics or ethics. Here the food was different, the beer was different, the money, the faces, the surroundings and most noticeably - the overall atmosphere. So much so, that Dave went for a little walk and came back 5 minutes later with a fat wad of sweet ol' Mary Jane. Picture this in any other country around the world - we're just past customs; no wait...we are still literally standing at customs, and here is Dave inspecting this stuff right in front of his face, hanging over the dock railings...Ahh fuck it. No one seemed to care. I could smell the stuff drifting on the breeze since I got off the boat anyway. "I'll grab some beers hey??"..."Alright dude, I'll go roll one up for us. Meet you over there on the beach in a second." So there we were, laying out on the white sands of San Pedro - as happy as Larry, passing spliff between Belikin beers; watching pelicans & our first Belizean sunset over the piers and 'customs shed,' hovering above the Caribbean.

An hour later and we were dropped at Caye Caulker, and for what seemed like a fairly empty island at that time being - No Vacancy signs hung from pretty much every gate we wandered on up too. A local comes up trying to sell us his place (and who knows what else), before pointing us in the direction of Bellas hostel, "if you want somewhere cheap guys, and you like to party with the pretty ladies, Bellas is your stop tonight." Sounded good to me; Dave didn't really have a choice. I was bee-lining - but started getting second thoughts when this sunburnt Swedish toss stumbles on down the front steps and nearly pisses all over us. We managed to get him upright...his eyes were glazed, lost with that look of doped out insanity, and he was definitely not speaking Swedish! Upstairs was more of the same...yet before we were spotted, a few were busy serving up some kind of broth around the reception desk/dinner table. It felt like I'd just walked into Joe's Garage, everyone dropped what they were doing and gave us 'the look.' "Heya! How ya's all doin'?? Just wonderin' if you'd have a couple'a beds available for tonight?" One of the sombre bunch steps out from behind the table and chokes out a "yea...what's your names?" - "Well, I'm Nick Morgan from Austr-..." he sharply cut me off, "just your first names..." Alright then, we sure have one happy chap here! "I'm Nick and this is Dave." - "Downstairs, any bed without sheets. Pay me later on." I wish I did pay him later, later on - halfway through the night I fell straight through the bottom of my bed. The wooden ruts weren't bloody long enough for the side supports; and thinking I'd fixed it once, gently crawled back in...only to go SMACK!! to the floor all over again!

Dave must have had a rough night as well. He ditched on the first ferry out the following morning. You could tell by the look in his face that surprisingly, this was too much even for him. I felt I could give it another night or so - and after all, I'd only come this far with a single purpose in mind. I spent the day sussing out the different dive companies, hoping to snare a deal where accommodation was thrown in somehow; and after discussing course outlines with Arbel at Frenchies Diving, hooked up a 10% discount if I crashed at his sisters place. Settled. All I had to do now was sneak out of Bellas alive. I grabbed all my shit and forced it down into my backpack, sprinting out into the pounding rain - ironically the first rain I'd had since leaving Australia - and dodging golf buggies & mud puddles crossed the soccer field, bursting through the front door of my new home, a little pissed that no one actually gave a hoot just how quickly I'd pulled this miraculous relocation off!

Later that afternoon, once settled from my epic tropical struggle, I discovered the best thing about this island I wish I hadn't found...No I was yet to go diving at this point; that's still to come - but at this very moment my eyes laid upon Gods own creation. An explosion of excitement overwhelmed me at what I had here in my hot little hand. A wonder I hadn't had the privilege of tasting in many...too many years!! Ohh, glorious fig bars! I've munched through five packets of the things in the past four days, submitting to an uncontrollable urge of addiction, seeded early in childhood by my dear grandmother. It was lucky I ran back into Chris & Ash, who dragged me away to party across at the I & I "reggae" bar, which I am still yet to hear blast anything other than doof & trance.

Assuming I'd merely be stuck in a classroom for my first day of the dive course, I wasn't fussed by the lingering hangover I'd accumulated from last nights rum drinking antics. Turns out we were heading straight out...setting up our gear, before rolling off the side of the boat and taking my first breaths under water! Admittedly, I kind of freaked out to begin with...and shot back up to the surface to get my head together. But after a short reassurance from my instructor, I was down on the bottom again - soon feeling more comfortable with all this once alien equipment than without.

Heading back to the island

I've done some cool shit over the years, but this definitely knocked the rest for six. Maybe it's cause it was so different to anything else I'd tried previously and a little uncomfortable to begin with; but it's astonishing to think how a whole new world of possibilities has suddenly opened up around me. Over three days of diving, I got the chance to witness and interact with an amazing multitude of aquatic life; bright corals, small colourful fish, moray eels, barracudas, rays, lion fish, turtles, jellyfish and dozens of sharks! Add to this some spectacular ocean topography, a posse of fun fellow divers, the learning experience itself, and I've had myself some of the best days of my life.

Goofing around on the reef

After passing our final exams, a few of us went out for some celebrative beers up at the split. Discussing each others plans for the future, near and far, I found myself torn on what to do. I could quite easily never leave this place; I had even contemplated applying for a bar job I saw advertised down the road. But I know that this is just the beginning, and that at each corner of this journey, endless experiences await if I'm able and willing to take the plunge.

The Split

This Internets expensive guys, so suck it up! Wish you'all were here.

Much lovin' always...over & out from Caye Caulker! Nicko xx