Day 10 Back to Cay Caulker

Since a few of us had too many blisters to snorkel and Ricky's ear canal was swollen shut we decided to just continue on to Cay Caulker. We had all day to get there, the boat was due back at San Pedro at 10:30 the next morning.

Fortunately the wind was good and the surface wasn't too rough and we made good time. The trip back was relaxing. We were old hands at this point and we took turns at the wheel. It would have been easier if the autopilot worked but at least the weather was nice.

We arrived at Cay Caulker at 1:30 that afternoon and anchored behind several other boats. There was a French boat on our left and a British boat on our right. I guess that made us Belgium.

Behind us on our left was a mono-hull with two people, three dogs, and a cat. I couldn't imagine what their cabin smelled like. They took their dingy to shore a little later, all three dogs hanging off the bow.

Amanda and I jumped in the water and swam around the boat. It felt nice to cool off but I worried about all the raw sewage dumped into the bay.

Our guide book said there was a blue hole a little off shore and the local dive shops would lead guided tours into it. A quote from the book:

Cay Caulker sits atop a large underwater cavern which is entered through a small blue hole a short distance north of the dive shop's dock. Diving in these caverns is recommended only for experienced cave divers. Not for the claustrophobic types, the dive begins down a long narrow tunnel just wide enough for one person. After descending a 100 yards or so to a depth of 90 feet, it opens up to a large chamber with massive stalagmites and stalactites. The cavern ceiling rises to about 35 feet below the island. These and other underwater caverns in Belize were formed during glacial periods when worldwide sea levels were low.

We went ashore at 3:00, locking the dingy to the dock. As we climbed out Ricky discovered he was missing a sandal. Fortunately Simon's sandals were still in the dingy and he wore those.

We wandered through town, revisiting the bakery to buy sweet bread for tomorrow morning and then to the north side of the island where the music blared and the tourists gathered. Amanda pointed out the hipsters with tiny shorts and ironic mustaches. We also passed four Texans wearing john deer caps, goatees, and white t-shirts. Their beer bellies hung down over the front of their jeans. An hour later we saw them again and two were wearing Rastafarian hats with fake dreadlocks.

Brian bought beers at the tourist bar and we sipped these as we read the graffiti scrawled on the wooden walls. From the deck we could look down on the sun bathers and people swimming in the channel and see the people learning to kite surf.

One woman taking lessons got disconnected from her kite and it sailed up onto the beach where it was caught by some bystanders. Her instructor ran through the shallows to fetch it.

When a man wearing a shirt declaring him the "tourism police" walked by I went downstairs to take his picture.

After our beer we walked into town to find a restaurant. Most places were still closed (until 6pm) but there were people standing in the streets imploring us to come inside or make a reservation. One man sat in front of a fire pit roasting a whole pig on a spit. He turned it with a steering wheel welded to one end.

After wandering around arguing with the restaurant people for a half hour we decided we'd go to the habanero restaurant based on reviews in our guidebook. We had to wait a half hour for them to open and I dragged everyone along to a bookstore where I had seen a French comic book I wanted to buy. I noticed it a week ago when we were looking for sweet bread and it had stuck in my brain. I really wanted the book and I was worried it might be gone.

The book shop was small and mostly filled with maps, tourist guides, and trash pop novels but a cardboard box on the floor was full of French comics. They'd been dropped off, I imagine, by some salty Frenchman. I pawed through about half the box and selected a comic by Edgar P Jacobs called La Piege Diabolique. The owner of the shop had stepped out and Amanda and I waited for her to return.

When I handed over the comic she asked, "Do you collect these books?"

I said, "Yes"

"$15 Belize".

I was a little worried she'd marked up the price because I was a collector but Amanda pointed out she was just asking because she wasn't sure if I wanted her to stamp the inside cover.

Amanda bought a book by a Canadian hippie that had gone on a road trip and settled in Cay Caulker called Wildlife Wild Places. The book is a diary of his life, filled with photographs of local wildlife and stories about the hurricanes that sank his boats and destroyed his home and the snakes and crocodiles lurking around his bird feeders.

When I mentioned I was worried about taking my book back with me on the overburdened dingy, Amanda found a plastic bag in the street and sniffed it before handing it over.

On our walk we passed a pharmacy and went inside to get Ricky some real ear medicine. The small room was air conditioned and lined with glass cases and hundreds of bottles. The pharmacist gave him a small bottle of anti-inflammatory and antibiotic drops. He applied them there, leaning over a chair in the small room.

We had drinks and appetizers at a bar on the beach while we waited for the restaurant to open. I took a pictures of the drinks menu:

Bambooze Special Drink
Calm Down My Pussy
Duck Fart
Adios Mother-Fucker
Cay Caulker Zombie

A little after six we returned to the habanero restaurant and I ordered the lionfish special. The waitress returned 15 minutes later and said they were out of lionfish, they'd only caught 7 that day and the people that came in just before us ordered the last ones. I had the tiki snapper instead. The food was very good but I wondered what I missed.

From our table on the open deck we could hear the sound of water splashing around the corner near the bathroom. We joked that it was the toilet emptying into the street but I think it was the sink. A small gecko crawled out of a crack in the ceiling above us and I struggled to get my phone to take a picture in the low light.

It grew dark during our meal and we realized we'd forgotten to turn on our anchor light. I also made everyone a little nervous with my worries about the amount of gas left in our dingy. It was getting low and I wasn't sure how many more trips we could afford to take back and forth. Freddie's stories about people stealing dingies and breaking into boats while their owners were on shore also didn't sit well.

It was dark when we finished our meal and started our walk back to the docks. The path took us away from the more crowded side of the island where the street lights were infrequent. We walked past darkened houses and overgrown yards. I was already a little tense when Amanda screamed and grabbed my arm. She'd seen a boat-billed heron on the dock.

We unlocked our dingy by the light of our cell phones and I kept the comic book clenched tight between my knees as we drove back to the boat.

That evening we sat down and started to work out our schedule for the next few days. We had one more three hour sail to San Pedro to drop off the boat, and we were going to spend that night in a hotel. Amanda and I were scheduled to fly back the next day but the others were planning on taking a bus into Guatemala.

I was working on this journal under the deck light when I overheard Ricky say, "Sorry I farted on your head Brian."