12: from Belize to Honduras

Clare and a tube

The ATM caves were a hard act to follow, but the next day we went on a cave tubing trip. This basically involved a bit of a walk through a forest carrying a large rubber ring, after which point we jumped into the river sitting on said ring.

Sadly our tour guide didn´t seem as interested in us as the ATM guys were, so we didn't get the same sort of helpful narrative about the surrounding area, aside from him serving up termites. I can't remember if Clare ate any, but she certainly knew that they tasted "minty". Unfortunately the idea of eating live bugs straight from their nest didn't really appeal, so I passed.

The site was much more set up for tourists than the ATM caves were. There was a big reception area with  picnic tables and a restaurant. The walk to the river entrance had steps put in and rails where the ground was a bit uneven; where the ATM caves were so raw and rough, this felt almost a bit Disney-fied. It was fun though. After we had launched into the water, we floated down under a giant cave roof in virtual darkness and past giant formations. After a while, as the river got faster, we all had to link up and float as a group. The guide pulled us in the right direction using a rope, and all I can say is that he must have had incredible strength to do so in the weight of the water. We went over mini rapids and under a swarm of bats, and it was enjoyable, but rather sedate. One of the more exciting moments came when one of the more adventurous boys decided he was ready to go the rapids alone, and popped his tube.

The next morning we teamed up with Kim and took a couple of buses to Placencia, right on the south east coast, the intention being to take the boat from there to Honduras. Placencia is known as a place "for US retirees", and sure enough, the building happening along the road down the thin strip of land was astounding, a bit like being in a sort of mini-Florida. We managed to get ourselves set up in a decent hotel right on the beach, and spent the next day doing absolutely nothing but lazing on the sand (Kim went diving but I passed as I still had a cold). Clare went down to the office to get our boat tickets and came back empty handed: our boat had engine problems so we would have to go back to Dangriga, further up the coast, and catch our bus from there.

refugees?

After an evening of very rich coconut shrimp curry and various quantities of rum, we got back on an early bus heading north. The driver changed CDs, and soon we were listening to Dolly Partons Christmas Classics; I don't think I need to explain the incongruity, but it was very very funny, and the driver himself was laughing so hard he was almost crying. Kim left us along the road to Dangriga to visit the Jaguar ecology centre.

I'm not sure what I imagined the ferry to Honduras to be like, but as I sat there waiting for Clare to get her passport back and get on, all I could think that there were an awful lot of people, queueing for a very small boat. Eventually the boat got so full that people, including Clare, were sitting on the floor. The guy sitting next to me was a prime example of why travellers should have a shower as often as possible; at one point he stretched his arms up and I was nearly sick. It was a good three hours to Puerto Cortez in Honduras, a lot of it spent bumping up and down, but at least I had a seat; poor Clare was sitting on the floor unable to lay back due to the risk of squashing a small sleeping boy.

The boat arrived to chaos: taxi drivers touting for business crowded the boat so much that we were practically being pushed back into the water, but by this stage we had teamed up with a couple of doctors called Huw and Lowrie, so we stood our ground and walked up to the main road to get a cheaper taxi to the immigration office. It's always a bit nerve racking not having your passport (especially not being "officially" anywhere), but we soon had them back and jumped on a colectivo to San Pedro Sula. Along the road I was struck how developed Honduras is; there were loads of great shiny shopping malls and restaurants lining the road, and the bus station at San Pedro Sula was simply huge. Just when we thought we would not be able to catch a bus that evening, we decided to try the posh bus company Hedman Alas, and managed to get on our way to La Ceiba.

spot the shrine to bananas

The next morning we took the ferry from La Ceiba to Utila. It was a proper ferry, with proper seats, which was a bonus. On arrival we met up with Utila Dive Centre and they showed us the hotel we would stay at: a leafy pleasant place with a pool and pizza restaurant called the Mango Tree; then took us down to the dive centre to talk about options. Clare signed up to do her Advanced Open Water again, and I signed up to do Rescue Diver - more about that later! We weren't starting for a couple of days, so explored the island and did boring things like laundry. There is a curious place that's a bar and hotel called the Jade Seahorse, and it seems to be a sort of outdoor art gallery too, with all sorts of weird sculptures made out of bottles and bits of tile and coloured glass. Hanging everywhere were big banana spiders (not sure if they're called that because they eat bananas or look like them; they're yellow, anyway).

... aaaaah ...

The open air pizza restaurant at the Mango played movies a couple of times a week, and so we relaxed over pizza and pasta whilst watching Shutter Island, a sadly disappointing DeCaprio/Scorcese production, sitting with who were to be our friends that week: Aaron and Bryce (Aussie), Dave (US) and Marina (Aussie). We all bonded over a kitten, which seemed to be wandering round ownerless and I succeeded in getting to sleep in my lap for the duration of the film. Clare didn't bond over the kitten of course, she just rolled her eyes and sighed, but didn't go quite so far as saying she wanted to kick it.