Into the Wild

Just Another Day in Paradise?

Pinch me!  Am I really living in the tropics?  Will I really spend the next year here soaking in the zen?  My first night in paradise I watched the full moon rise, just after sunset, out over the plains below.  Very zen.  After a hot muggy night learning to sleep with a breeze wafting through my window rather than climate controlled a/c I woke to the 5:30 sun breaking the horizon in perfect alignment with my eyeballs.  It’s become far more reliable than any alarm clock.  Stepping out my bedroom door onto the veranda, last night’s full moon was hanging in a purple morning sky over the jungle covered horizon getting ready to slip out of sight.  It was sort of spooky spectacular.

But just as Adam so rudely discovered, no paradise lasts forever.  So, sure the heat is like swimming in hot soup and we’ve all lost pounds sweating into our clothes, which leaves one sticky and dampish almost all the time.  But by the end of the first day my body was waging full scale war against our environment.  To be perfectly honest every one of us had digestive challenges one way or the other.  Mine turned into a full scale flush so I spent day two in paradise passed out, sweating and starving in bed.  The Gilmour’s trouble was more of a ’lord of the flies’ variety.  By day two Kevin’s legs looked like the crater pocked face of the moon, only bright red.   He claims over two hundred sand fly bites and two weeks later they are still a scabby disgusting mess.  Not one of the Gilmours escaped the sand flies which made Erica a little mad at me because I guess I just don’t taste as good to bugs.  Dying from Montezuma’s revenge but I don’t taste good to bugs.

Water in the Wilderness

So by day three, with none of us eating much we decided to seek some relief from the sun.  On the way in Rodney mentioned the in-ground pool his grandpa recently built.  Curiously however, he built in right in the middle of a cow pasture.  Not as crazy as it sound once you realize it’s sitting right on top of a natural fresh water spring. Show up, cover the drain, let it fill.  Minutes later full sized, cool blue, cow pasture refreshment awaits you.  It has been a good place to meet the community.  This was also the location of subsequent encounters of the strangest kind.  But that was later.

Getting Out of Dodge, Take one. 

Well, we were still sickly and slightly unwell but we didn’t come here to sit around and fester so we made plans to find Orange Walk, our local ‘metropolis’ and see what there was to see.  The Gilmour’s had an Explorer on loan but no insurance so they can’t leave the ‘reserve’.  We debated the merits of going without insurance and we were glad we didn’t as my host Annie came through for us and found a Toyota 4x4 rental pickup. 

Strangest rental experience ever.  We pulled up and Peter asks me if I want it cleaned as the archeologists just used it in the deep bush.  No, I’m good so what ID or paper work does he need.  “Nothing, just bring it back here when you’re done.  We’ll call you if we need it sooner.”  And I’m off.

So we threw a sponge in the back and six intrepid explorers set out down the spine crushing 35 miles to town.  The locals would have laughed at us but half way there we were forced to stop for a breather to fend off motion sickness.  The three girls who were thrilled to sit in the box at departure were now petitioning to crowd the tiny bench seat inside. 

Now, according to the tour book, Orange Walk has a couple historic churches, an impressive town square, and a charming commemorative park to explore.  We think we saw the churches somewhere under a pile of rubble, a market in the closing hours of business might have been the town square and a little, dusty, heavily littered green space was most probably the infamous park.  Not much to write home about, even though that’s what I’m doing right now.  We did manage to find the famous chicken taco stand and those of us with our guts under control had our fill of, 3 for $1, tacos and enchiladas.

I Shot the Sherriff

Satisfied that we had seen what we could, our adventures seemed over and we braced ourselves for ‘the road’ home.  Little did we know what was waiting for us just out of town.  Cursing merrily down the road, vigorously debating whether a pot hole is better taken at full speed or slowly, getting the full scale slam in slow motion, we rounded the corner to see the police check point.  There were officers with shot gun slung over their shoulders, barricades and a line of drivers being arrested, complete with vehicles bound for impounding.  We quickly rehearsed the facts of our story as we nervously pulled up to the Belizean officer who glared at me threateningly his shotgun swinging in the air.  As I was starting to blurt out why my drivers license wasn’t Belizean he took a glance at the insurance stickers on the window and waved us through without a word.  They take insurance at least, very seriously here.  So, we survived our first foray into the wilds of Belize.  We’ve had some closer calls since then but one successful adventure at least was done.

You'd Better Belize It!

This is the tale of One Spenst and five Gilmours (Kevin, Erica, Nikki-9, Neve-7, Sadie-4) who traveled to the far reaches of civilization seeking high adventure.

From Ice Box to Frying Pan

And We're off!

The freezing Winnipeg winter weather that drove Erica to discover a little village school in the hills of Belize has suddenly transformed from a vague notion into an intense reality before us.  Just getting here we have discovered sleepiness, pain, adventure, heat, people and sights.  As with all good adventures this one started with its share of problems.  3:30 AM on our first morning Kevin was loading two taxis with all his family’s worldly belongings, when he tripped and dropped two steps with a 49 pound bag in his hand and landed on the concrete, bleeding with a badly twisted ankle.    As it turned out pushing Kevin around in wheel chairs helped us jump the queues (leave it Gilmour to find a way).   However, we caught two planes only to miss our third.  While the airport dude was wheeling Gilmour around, mocking him for faking his ankle to pick up girls, the valve on the airplane broke and they had to find a new plane.  This actually worked out well as we enjoyed a mini vacation in Huston compliments of United airlines.  We were all happy to catch a breather because no one slept well the night before.  The next morning we started with a Starbucks breakfast picnic on the airport terminal floor due to Kevin’s mobility issues.  It only cost us $45 for our airport coffee and muffins but luckily the airline was paying.

The Belize River looms large below as we come in for landing

Through the Looking Glass

So one day later than planned but feeling much more rested we made the last leg of our trip out over the Gulf of Mexico and finally the tropical rain forests of Mexico and Central America.  Who knew what all the research, stories and expectations would finally turn into?  The couple next to me on the plane said to be sure your car insurance is always good because there are police checks everywhere and no insurance means you go to jail.  This latter proved to be a fact.  Our first authentic experience came no later than our customs check where the guy decided that our 16 bags were worthy of a random search.  The end of this painstaking half-hearted process came up clean but then we were required to surrender our baggage carts and pay the porters, a minimum of 2$ according to the sign, to reload them on new carts and take them from there.  This translated into a ten meter walk through the next room to the curb  where the bags were dumped outside the airport so we could wait for our pick up.  Oh, and the 2$ was per bag not total.   Kevin ended up paying the grumpy porter something in the middle of his expectations and ours.  We had only minutes to take in the wall of heat now descending upon us, the mix of people, the sounds and smells before our hosts found us and welcomed us to Belize.  Rodney and Margaret from Blue Creek helped us load those 16 bags into two vehicles and we were off.

A Tale of Two Cities

It quickly became clear that we not in Kansas anymore as we drove past the racial mix of people living in everything from stilted hurricane shacks to charming tile roofed castles.  Taking the Northern Highway, which happens to be the only highway, road or path, Rodney frequently slowed his little pickup to a crawl for the non-stop speed bumps in every village and town we passed through.  This annoyed Rodney because his A/C only really works well when he has the truck up to 70 miles an hour.  I wasn’t sure that the speed bumps were as much for safety as to aid the local vendors in selling their wares.  They set up ramshackle huts selling everything from roadside tacos to a fine collection of well used clothing.  Vendors and hitchhikers.  Every other speed bump had a scruffy looking dude or dude with his family looking for a ride.

The Gilmour's front porch

John and Annie's coconut trees

A quick stop for lunch in Orange Walk, 2 hours quick, we’re on Caribbean time now, and we were heading down the last stretch to Blue Creek.  This road was awful.  But potholed, wash boarded and narrow, didn’t stop Rodney from flying down it to keep his A/C going, as he explained that the European Union has provided a grant to pave it but corruption has stalled the project with a lawsuit.  One hour, fifty kilometers, five poverty ridden Spanish villages and one sore spine later the undeveloped flatland savannah opened up to the lush cultivated hills of Blue Creek Belize.  To say the transition was dramatic would be an understatement.  First the pavement started.  The community paves its own roads.   As we climbed, climbed, climbed the escarpment we passed the mini hydro dam made by one of the farmers from the engine of a crashed airplane.  It used to be the only electricity in town.  School, church, a general store and many homes sit atop the hills to catch the breeze that rises from the plains below.   These neat white homes may not have been much in Canada but after what we’d just seen they looked the essence of civilization.  My hosts Annie and John live in a two storey home with a veranda wrapped around the second floor.  The view from the balcony outside my bedroom is nothing short of spectacular as the lights of San Fillipe and the Mexican village L’Union,  across the river, glow in the darkness down on the valley floor.  The biggest disappointment about Blue Creek might have been that, no, there isn’t so much as a puddle actually named Blue Creek?!!!

Ahhh, serenity.  The view from the veranda of my host family