Writings By Location| Journey to Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
SAN PEDRO, BELIZE — Today, our goal is to wait out the bad weather that's preventing us from our diving (not to mention my recovering state after spending most of the last three days on the toilet and in bed) by going to Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary, back on the mainland. I pooped a lot this morning, and Erin peed a lot, which made for a bit of a nervous start. However, we decided we could always back out before we got on the bus in Belize City, so we'll just hope things subside quickly.
We will be returning back here to the Hideaway Hotel tomorrow, but Jerry asked us last night if we could pay up our tab first, just to be safe. So we went to take care of it, but Joyce was behind in totalling up the tabs from the night before, so she told us to just take care of it tomorrow when we returned. They said we could keep our stuff in the room, and they'd just move it if they (miraculously) filled up. They are so nice!
Chap told us to catch the water taxi to Belize City on Fido's dock, so we walked briskly to town, grabbed some pastries along the way, and went to the dock, but found that it wasn't the right one from a couple of people there — also extremely friendly. They sent us to the right dock, a few down, and we bought our round-trip tickets just as the boat was preparing to leave.
The water taxi was actually a 40-foot boat with twin 200hp engines, allowing to scream across the waves as we sat near the front. I've always wondered if I was prone to water sickness, and this was the perfect test. The boat jumped up and down two or three feet every time it sailed over the tall waves, and skidded from side to side every so often, spraying us with just a bit of cool salt water. The bumpiness didn't really bother me, but the side-to-side motion (the "yaw", for the pilots out there) was really unsettling. We talked a little to two Americans across from us, who were going to Caye Chapel, a small island that was entirely a golf course, just past Caye Caulker. That blew our minds: an island that was just a golf course. Now I see why American tourism is so hot here.
What amazed me the most on our trip over was how Erin sat there with a full cup of coffee the entire time, without spilling a drop, even over the big waves. Even the boat operator was impressed she had the cajones to bring it on board. Amusingly, the golfers we talked to guessed we were from Seattle — gee, could the coffee have been the clue they picked up on?
