The Caribbean stretched out before us, shades of blue varying all the way to the distant reef, where the small waves broke, adding a white line that was the only distinction between the sea and sky. The pelicans had claimed their spots on the various pilings. A lone cormorant bobbed on the surface of the water before diving for a bite to eat. The sun was hot on our backs as it began its descent, but the wind was a perfect foil to its intense heat. Besides the sound of the wind rustling the palms at our back, only the shrieks of a bunch of local kids playing in the shallows could be heard. At our feet, on the sun-bleached dock, sat one of our dry bags, pressed into service as a makeshift cooler, filled with ice, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a handful of Belikan beer bottles. “We’re self-distancing” Heather said, in reference to the advice of maintaining a healthy distance between bodies during the current pandemic. “Definitely doing our part” I replied. And so a perfect afternoon is spent out on Caye Caulker, Belize.

Belize, too, is doing its part. When our ferry docked in San Pedro, just to the north on Ambergris Caye, where we would go through the immigration process after leaving Chetumal, Mexico, and prior to making the thirty minute crossing here to Caye Caulker, the boat was boarded by the local public health director and one of his nurses. The nurse gave us a rundown on their concerns over the spread of the coronavirus, a list of symptoms we should know, as well as the location of the public health facilities on the island should any of us start to exhibit symptoms. Then, one by one, she took our temperature before passing us along to the director, who recorded our recent travel history and our intended addresses in the cayes. Finally, we were allowed to disembark and, again, one by one, enter the small immigration office to present our passports for stamping, but only after a guard watched each one of us clean our hands with sanitizer before entering. Those of us who completed the immigration process milled around on the dock waiting to reboard the ferry for the last leg to Caye Caulker and swapped stories about travel disruptions they had experienced or had heard of others talk about. An American couple had been on a bus from Mexico bound for Belize City but were turned back at the border due to the presence of one Asian traveler (who was actually an American citizen) on their bus. A couple of Danish travelers were concerned over their chances of returning home after hearing that their country had just closed its borders. Another American woman voiced disappointment that she had already been directed by her employer to self-quarantine once she returned home. So, while no cases have been reported here in Belize, the government is certainly not sitting back and waiting for the virus to make an appearance.

While the spread of the virus is on everyone’s mind, and a topic of conversation, it still seems to be business as usual out here on the islands. The water is still stunningly blue – and pleasantly warm; the breeze is welcome and cooling; the charcoal grills outside the beach-front restaurants still get fired up each afternoon and send the wonderful aroma of jerked chicken and fresh grilled seafood wafting through the streets; and the sun still makes its way across the sky to set into the sea each evening. Like Isla Holbox in Mexico (see our previous post), we had visited Caye Caulker before – twenty-five years ago. As surprised as we were by the growth on Isla Holbox after only three years, we had prepared ourselves for the changes on sleepy Caye Caulker that we anticipated. Yes, the island was busier. Yes, there were many more buildings and far fewer open spaces. Yes, the number of restaurants and bars had multiplied. But, like Holbox, Caye Caulker still retained it’s charm and still exuded a laid-back beach vibe.

After a couple days on the island, we sensed a shift in attitudes. Stories began to circulate – the ferry from Chetumal (the same one we had taken just days before) had been turned away; the government announced that the whole island would be quarantined if a single case of the virus was detected; Europeans were being refused entry to the country. This  was getting real. We were determined to push on with our travels, though. We felt fairly comfortable here in Belize – no cases of the virus, yet, while the number of infections back in the US, and our home state of Colorado, continued to climb. As I said earlier – it seemed to be business as usual here – until it wasn’t. Each day of the four we spent on Caye Caulker got a little quieter. Folks were leaving the island but far fewer were coming in each day. We had made a reservation for a three-day sailing trip from Caye Caulker to the southern Belizean town of Dangriga that promised sun, sailing and snorkeling. We nabbed the last two spots out of twenty-two available. Then two days before departure the cancellations started, but we still had the minimum number required for departure. At a briefing the day before, two more people dropped out. Then the charter company announced they would cease the trips after this one, as there certainly wouldn’t be enough people around to fill another boat. On departure day we were excited to go, as was the crew. We left the island mid-morning (8:30am ‘Belizean time’ – which is 10:00 to the rest of us) under sunny skies. At midday we stopped along the reef for a snorkel, then feasted on Chef Andre’s lunch of chicken, rice and beans, and cole slaw before hoisting the sails once again to move south along the barrier reef to our second snorkel spot. Once out of the water Captain Shane announced “happy hour” in his sing-song Belizean accent and rum punches were served along with shrimp ceviche. Just before sunset we arrived at Rendevous Caye, our stop for the first night. Tents and sleeping pads were unloaded and we made camp on the white sand before assembling for more cocktails and the chef’s dinner of baked snapper, shrimp curry, vegetables, rice and salad before retiring under a star-filled night sky.

Day two of our sailing adventure began with another of chef Andre’s sumptuous breakfast spreads before boarding the boat to continue sailing south along the barrier reef. By midmorning we had snorkeled another pristine reef, then had lunch underway to our afternoon snorkeling spot, followed by the “happy hour” call, when Marvin, the other crew member, served icy pitchers of rum punch and more of that delicious shrimp ceviche. We visited tiny Tobacco Caye, home to three resorts, before moving on. Late afternoon we got our first glimpse of tiny Ragamuffin Caye, our home for the night. We were pleasantly surprised to find that we would sleep in actual beds tonight inside over-water cabins. We indulged in cold-water showers before assembling in the dining cabana (also over-water) for reggae tunes, cocktails and Andre’s three-way preparation of the fresh fish that had been caught on the trolling lines we had trailed throughout the day – grilled snapper, baked and fried barracuda, along with the ever-present rice and beans, salad, mashed potatoes and cole slaw. Had the allure of comfy beds, clean sheets and soft pillows not been calling, I’m sure the crowd would have stayed up much later to enjoy the music and drinks, but we were all soon retired to our cabins.

 

Our last day between Caye Caulker and Dangriga began with a trip out to a small spit of land covered in mangroves – home to a bunch of frigate birds in the midst of courting. The males were perched in the trees, puffing out their red throat sacs, trying to coax a female, hovering above, to join them. We then sailed into a mangrove-lined lagoon, where Captain Shane hoped to spot a manatee. Sure enough, one manatee surfaced a number of times between foraging for sea grass at the lagoon’s bottom. Following another snorkel stop we returned to Ragga Caye for our final meal from chef Andre – barbequed chicken, fried plantains, rice, salad and cole slaw. Then it was time to pack the bags, take the last pictures of our tropical paradise and prepare for the short boat ride to the mainland. Thoughts of sting rays, turtles, corals, “happy hour” and Captain Shane’s infectious laughter would be left behind, to be replaced by news of flight cancellations, closed borders, closed businesses and all the rest of the real world issues that we had put out of our minds for three days. Heather and I would travel down to the small coastal town of Hopkins, where we hoped to regroup, assess the world situation and try to develop a plan for returning home. Or not.