In 1961 Hurricane Hattie ravaged the coast of Belize, battering the reefs and actually cracking the island of Caye Caulker in two. When we were returning from our snorkel tour, however, the rift now known as the “Split” served only to frame a sunset that was already made-for-postcard beautiful: a kitesurfer gliding over the water, the dark silhouette of his parachute bathed in the glorious backdrop of a Caribbean sunset. Breaking the silence, a crewmember said “It is okay to shed a tear.”
Minutes beforehand, he and the captain had anchored the Ragga King so we could catch the sunset before finally heading back to the docks. This was to be the capstone to a day full of activity, amazing wildlife, great company, and generous amounts of potent rum punch.
The schedule consisted of three snorkel stops, each exponentially more impressive than the last. The Coral Gardens in the Caye Caulker Reserve was our first site. Plagued by unregulated overfishing, this location served little purpose besides getting landlubbers acquainted to kicking with fins and breathing through a snorkel. While the Caye Caulker Reserves are right off the shore, Hol Chan takes longer to get to, and as a protected reserve, it only allows visitors to enter with a designated guide. For this reason that the tour is only offered as a full-day package. It is well worth the extra time and money – for an extra $15, we had the chance to swim amongst a swarm of nurse sharks and stingrays, watch the guide coax a massive grouper straight into his arms, free dive under a cove where there were a nest of parrot fish attempting to hide from us, and have green turtles flip around our feet. Incidentally, they must be some of the happiest creatures on the planet, along with puppies, dolphins, and otters. (If you're wishing that we had an underwater camera to capture all this, think about how we must feel).
When we climbed aboard from the last stop, ecstatic about all we had seen, the disappointing realization sunk in that we had done our last swim and had to begin the long haul back to shore. Fortunately for us, the crew at Ragamuffin Tours was adept at keeping us distracted in the interim. To begin, they are one of the few tour companies that uses a sailboat. One can forgive the slower pace when you compare the relaxing rhythm of the wind beating against the massive canvas tarps to the boat mechanical sputtering of a boat motor. We were also accompanied by the singular sounds of Caribbean music. Under normal circumstances, I believe most of us could agree that reggae music can be kind of... well... annoying. That predisposition dissolves once you're actually at an island location. None of us seemed to mind that we had listened to what may have been the entire Bob Marley discography. Twice. This may also have to do with the 10 gallons of rum punch they made-- the allegedly “small refreshments” promised in the brochure. There was a 17-year who couldn't partake in libations, so the captain gave her the distinct privilege of steering the boat. This privilege was stricken when he finally realized she had been driving us even further away from our destination, but by that point any lingering hints of American urgency or scheduling had long fled. We were on island time.
It's for this reason that there were no complaints about an unexpected stops or delays. Which brings us back to the beginning – a completely impromptu sunset tour. As we all know, the sun always sets a lot faster when it is being watched. Giddy with a combination of exhaustion, dehydration, and inebriation, we shared a quick, fleeting moment of hazy appreciation. Then, rather unceremoniously, one of the crew members wrapped his arms around Zack and forced both of them into ocean. Laughing hysterically, we all joined him in the warm water – finding yet another excuse to keep the day going.
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