Onward to Belize!March 18th found us sailing for San Pedro, Belize. The wind was blowing just north of east. Off the wind, rolling rail-to-rail made an unbearable morning. I tried sailing with just the jib. Nope. Main only. Didn’t help. “Screw it! Were going this way.” I announced to no one in particular, and turned southeast. No… It wasn’t the direction I wanted to go… but, it was a much more tolerable ‘beam to’ sea. After a couple of hours, we turned to run dead downwind, and this was absolutely wonderful. Wing and wing at 7 knots. It was almost boring. We dragged two lures again, and still no fish. In Florida, we had to stop fishing because we caught so many tuna. We catch Mahi Mahi regularly in the gulf, and the Bahamas, but… this area appeared to be seriously over fished. The guide book we had was almost ten years old. The author reported good fishing in one place, conch in another, lobster over there. Well… we had yet to hook a single fish. The only lobster we’d seen were tiny juveniles about six inches long. Much of the reef we swam was dead, littered with empty conch shells. Very disappointing.It is a sad fact that the people who would appreciate nature (adventurers like us) can’t fish the banks, or pick-up shells, or spear fish on the reef. Cruisers would harvest only enough for dinner. Maybe 10 sailors a month would actually hunt for their own food. How much of an impact could that possibly have on the marine life? Yet, commercial fishermen can drag huge nets and indiscriminately clean out the entire area, legally. It’s hard to accept.The entrance to San Pedro was tricky, but, hey… we were ‘crusty old salts’ by now! Lov-E replaced our Mexico flag with our Belize courtesy flag, and we took in our new surroundings. A number of charter boats were anchored about, as well as other cruisers like ourselves. We picked a nice spot, and I unleashed the huge Bruce anchor. It vanished under the soft sand on the first pull. I felt comfortable enough to go ashore, and swim later. We gathered our paperwork and dirty laundry, then steered the dinghy towards the beach. The smell of Bar-B-Q pulled us down a sandy side street, where we came upon an old lady sitting in a lawn chair on the side of the road. She was grilling Jerk Chicken on a small homemade pit, and it smelled delicious. Some people I know would never eat food from a street vendor. But boy, if you would have smelled that chicken! “Ain’t ready yet.“ She reported.
I tried my best Schwarzenegger impression. “I’ll be back.”
Unimpressed, she just nodded.
Checking into the country of Belize is free, but we stopped at the bank for some Belize dollars, just in case. The young Customs guy had a beautiful, expensive bicycle in his office and we got a nice conversation going. This post was his punishment, he told us. A “hardship” assignment. His boss actually transferred him because he was trying to stop smugglers from driving 18 wheelers full of stolen cars across the border from Guatemala. The boss directed him to arrest the guy trying to sneak in a one pound bag of corn flour for tortillas instead. “Sounds like the U.S.” I admitted.
“Now, I ride my bike, and look at the ocean all day mon.” he boasted.
“Not a bad job.” I acknowledged. “Say… what’s all that?” I asked, pointing to about 50 neatly arranged bottles of liquor and a cardboard box full of cigarette cartons in the corner.
“Someone tried to walk through the airport with all that in duffel bags.” He reported.
“What happens to it now?” I raised an eyebrow.
“It all goes to Belize city.” He frowned. “They sell it at an auction.”
Not wanting to miss an opportunity, I decided to push my luck and try to make a deal. “Auction, huh? I offer five bucks for that Tequila.”
The young officer looked at me, and the frown slowly turned into a grin. I got real nervous. Did I just cross the line? Am I gonna spend the night in jail?
“If you would open your bag and shut your mouth, you can have it for free.” he said, still smiling. I silently unzipped my Old Navy bag.
Elizabeth wanted to do some luxury shopping, since our last provisioning was done from the back of a pick-up truck. We hit the local market and scored a rare treat. Bacon! I checked the hardware store for a chain to repair the anchor windlass. Nothing the proper size, but the woman at the store did laundry. I immediately dropped the ‘dirty’ bag. On our way back the boat, we stopped and bought a whole chicken, plus all the sides, from the Bar-B-Q lady for $5.00us. Lov-E and I were all smiles on our way back to the beach. Check-in free, and get a bottle of tequila. Belize was looking like my kinda country! The dinghy was still right where we left it, and we sped back to SOEL to feast on street food and free liquor. The sky slowly turned from a deep Caribbean blue, to a multicolored cloudy mix of yellows, oranges, purples, and reds as the sun set. A few clouds farther west caused the suns rays to fan out like a peacock tail and streak the blue sky with beams of light . It was as if some exquisite painting from a museum had been hung right behind our boat. I transferred our margaritas to the top step of the swim ladder, and we dove into the clear, clean, warm water. I backed my butt into the last rung of the teak ladder, and Lov-E half floated / half sat, in my lap with her head laid back on my chest. We soaked in the sky, the country, the moment. Now THAT was what my idea of cruising was supposed to be. Sailing behind the reef was fantastic! All of the wind and none of the waves. It was just like lake sailing around our home waters of Clear Lake, Texas. The one nerve rattling difference was the water. You could actually SEE the sand, and grass, and rocks, and it was only 9 feet deep. Galveston Bay is 8 or 9 feet deep also, but, you can’t see the bottom. You don’t get alarmed at what you can’t see. The anchorage at Cay Caulker was a mix of cruisers, charter boats, motor boats and sailboats, big and small. We sailed in and set the anchor between a modern new catamaran named Catalyst, and an old, tiny, homemade, wooden double ender. We jumped in the dink, headed for the beach, and explored the little island village of Cay Caulker, walking the sand streets barefoot. The local market had bicycle chain for beach cruisers… $3.00. That might work. On the same road we happened upon a tiny blue building that looked like a lemonade stand kids in the U.S. would prop-up for the afternoon. It was a fruit stand of sorts, constructed of plywood and masonry blocks. They sold, of course fruit, but also, the freshest juices you could imagine. Mango, pineapple, orange, and any mixtures in between. Elizabeth bought bananas, limes, a bottle of orange, and a bottle of pineapple-coconut… thinking it would complement the rum we had on board. Next stop… the ice house. As we walked up, the operator appeared to be finishing up a transaction with a local native fisherman. I understand English, and can follow French and Spanish fairly well, but I didn’t catch a single word of what these guys were saying. Later, the ice house guy told me it was actually English… sort of.We helped the fisherman sail away from the dock, then the ice operator explained. Those four men had just brought him 1,600 pounds of Conch meat. They had been out fishing only three days! Wow! How is it possible that these guys can clean over one hundred pounds of Conch, just meat… per day… EACH! Yet, I’m not allowed to catch a single freakin lobster for dinner? WELL… That explains why we hadn’t caught any fish. The cruising couple on Catalyst were out on the transom as we rowed home, and they waved us over. Sue was cutting Rob’s hair, and she asked where we had been and where we were going. I made up some smartass answer but, they still invited us for dinner that evening. “Hell Yea!” we accepted in a Texas accent. Apparently they had invited everyone in the anchorage, because after we showered and prepared a dish to bring, we looked up to see a dozen dinghies tied to Catalyst’s stern. I just love a party! We met a crowd of fellow gypsies, and shared our experiences, concerns, and beverages. At the moment of sun set, all of us witnessed the rare "green flash." After dinner, Sue asked if we would like to sail out to Light House Reef with them day after tomorrow. Elizabeth and I smiled at each other and nodded. That was a planned stop on our list anyhow, and going with another boat sounded fun… and safer. Rob gave us a copy of a hand drawn chart with waypoints to an anchorage. Apparently, someone found a break in the reef, logged it in a GPS, drew a picture, and passed it around freely to other cruisers. Another truly memorable evening. March 22nd found us under way again, heading south for Water Cay, the “staging area” for the four boats heading out to the Light House Reef atoll. Somehow, SOEL was in the lead departing from the anchorage. I’m always racing! The catamaran with the shallowest draft was supposed to take the lead, but, them 'slow pokes’ couldn’t catch me. We sped through Porto Stuck, without getting stuck, and were finally overtaken by the faster multihull less than one mile from the chosen overnight anchorage. Catalyst fell off the wind and dropped/furled the sails while I kept a bee line for our chosen anchorage spot. We sailed right up to the perfect spot and dropped the sails. SOEL’s anchor was the first one wet.As soon as we anchored, E-Liz and I jumped in the dinghy and went off exploring the lagoons of Water Caye. No Manatees, no saltwater Crocodiles, no cool shipwrecks to climb over. Just clear water and beautiful mangroves. Back aboard SOEL that afternoon, the $3.00 bike chain was a perfect match (and a cheap fix) for the broken part in the anchor windlass, and I repaired it in three beers. That’s how time was measured at anchor. Most boat projects take me only two beers. While up on the bow, I watched a panga visit some of the other boats anchored around us. Fishermen peddling their wares. I bought a slab of fresh Grouper for $6.00 BZ - or $3.00 US, and whipped up a delicious dinner. Meals normally took about one beer to prepare. The logbook updates typically took me one beer also. The next morning SOEL was again the first boat moving. Hoist the main, weigh anchor, fall off the wind to gather some speed, head up and hoist the jib. Elizabeth and I were getting pretty good at this cruising shit. Halfway to Glovers Reef we were joined by a pod of dolphins, swimming off the bow. A dozen adults and two babies. So cool how the little ones stay so close to its mommas side, changing direction, and even surfacing to breathe at the same time. We never tire of watching dolphins, and they swam with us for hours. We rounded the southern tip of Glovers Reef and began the hard work of tacking up wind to our destination. I finally started the engine when we could see the brown coral of the reef at Long Cay. The little diesel hadn’t accumulated any time on the hour meter since we picked our way through the entrance at San Pedro, almost a week ago. Lov-E dropped the sails and took up a position of lookout up on the bow. I slowly piloted SOEL through the narrow slit in the reef. “LOOK!”, she pointed. I crapped a pineapple, fearing the worst, until I realized she was pointing at a beautiful spotted eagle ray swimming the reef.We picked a good spot, tossed out the hook and took in our surroundings. Six boats were anchored out. Four were flying Texas flags. Apparently we were in pretty good company. 