Writings By Date| Boats, Planes, and Chicken Buses: Getting Around in Belize | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |
For longer water crossings, the principal mode of transport is the water taxi. This is usually a 40+-foot motorboat with four times the horsepower of Erin's car. In about an hour, it speeds across the waters among two or three cayes and the "mainland", Belize City. The men that operate these boats seem to be completely impervious to waves, even if the passengers aren't, so it's imperative to remember that parkas are not included. At about one-quarter the cost of a plane ticket, it's a bargain; sure, it takes four times as long, but when you're talking about a difference of 45 minutes, it's a good deal.
Still, airplanes are more common than one might think. There are more than two dozen flights coming into San Pedro every day, although all the passengers put together wouldn't fill even half the seats in a typical commercial shuttle flight. Our first plane flight was from Corozal, just over the Mexican border, to the island of Ambergris Caye. Total capacity of the plane: eight people, including the pilot. It was the first plane I'd ever been in where you could open the window to get some air. And if that wasn't enough of a thrill, our plane from Belize City to Flores, Guatemala was a Cessna 172. We failed to consider how small this flight was when the woman at the ticket counter said, "The flight is scheduled to depart at 3:30, but we'll probably just leave around 3." However, we did start to get suspicious when the ticket agent at the gate met us and said, "So you must be the passengers."
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| Flying Shotgun |
When we walked onto the runway, we passed by small jets, smaller jets, and finally made it to our plane, which I only saw after I tripped over it. The Cessna is a four-seater: there's the pilot, copilot, and a bucket seat for two passengers. Since there was no copilot, Erin was promoted to the post from passenger, and thus got to ride in the "front". I tried to assume the duties of flight attendant, but there wasn't even an aisle down which to push the beverage cart...not that a cart would have fit in there, either.
Erin spent the next 75 minutes looking out the front window of a plane, and checking out all the action on the dials and controls of this twenty-year old puddle-jumper. (I learned the age after reading the "in-flight magazine" found in the seat pocket in front of me: the Cessna 172 Operators Manual.) She proudly kept a straight face, even when the weather turned bad, with clouds thickening up and rain coming down in sheets pretty much right over where we needed to land. The captain shouted (only way to be heard over the engines) that we may have to turn back, but her persistence in finding an approach further to the north paid off, and we saved ourselves the indignity of having to turn around or run out of fuel, which is good, because as small a plane as it is, it's still no fun to have to push.
