As 2014 comes to a close it is time to look back over the year and to highlight some of my favorite photography. In 2014 I traveled less far-afield than during previous years but simultaneously spent more time familiarizing myself with the intimacies and breadth of texture present within Denmark. The image above is of the abandoned lighthouse at Rubjerg Knude in North Western Jutland. Upon the sand berm the individual posing is my younger brother. One of my goals this year was to work on my portrait photography and to add people into some of my shots. Hopefully you enjoy the result!
For millenia the Bosphorus has served as an influential gateway that has, and continues to leave a powerful footprint on human society. It has been a key actor and primary muse in the generation of numerous empires and provided a fertile trade and bread basket to the peoples and civilizations that have controlled it. The Bosphorus is a relatively short waterway which connects the Sea of Marma and greater Mediterranean with the Black Sea. It serves as a dividing line between the European continent to the west and the Asian continent to the east, and is straddled by the great city of Istanbul, formerly known as Byzantium and Constantinople.
The Kadıköy (Kadikoy) Ferry
For visitors based out of hostels and hotels on the European side of Istanbul the ferry docks located just off of the Eminönü tram station offer a budget friendly, and convenient way to see the Bosphorus. You’ll find three harbor stations (one was under repair during my visit) that offer several different routes. Having heard that the Kadikoy district on the Asian side of Istanbul was well worth a visit I opted to give it a go. I also recall that the Uskudar line leaves from the same location.
The ferries are considered part of the standard public transit infrastructure and run regularly. You can purchase tokens at the small ferry terminals for 2 TL which are good for one voyage, though you could theoretically continue to ride the ferry back and forth for the duration of its shift. The ships are large and pedestrian only which varies them somewhat from many of the other local ferries I’ve ridden in the past.
I can never quite place my finger on the origins of my love of ships. I suppose it might date back to times spent as a toddler in Puerto Penasco, Mexico where we’d spend a month every winter as a family. Boating, fishing, swimming. There’s just something about the rocking of a boat, the smell of fresh salty air, and the sound of gulls and waves that is soothing. The Turkish ferries have large open deck areas as well as cozy interior seating with big windows allowing you to get the most out of the relatively short trip back and forth. Oh, and then there’s the Turkish tea of course which is dirt cheap and a must!
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts my timing was both fantastic and dreadful. I ended up in Istanbul smack dab in the midst of the worst cold front and snow storms they’ve had in 25 years. The result was an unusually snowy Istanbul, incredible light, and very, very, cold weather. While this made spending time out on deck rather rough, it also shortened the days and resulted in visually stunning views from the ferry as the European side transitioned from three dimensions to silhouettes, and then faded into the haze as Istanbul’s famous lighthouse and the Asian side slowly emerged and became visible. The lighthouse which, is perched on a tiny island just large enough for the building and a dock, is gorgeous and has been featured in a number of movies the most famous of which was featured in The World is Not Enough, the semi-recent James Bond/007 film.
I can’t stress enough how incredible the light was. This photo highlights the deep yellow/golden color of the light as it struggled to cut through the sea haze and snow clouds. You can see a mixture of snowflakes and birds in this photo which are semi-indistinguishable. The entire trip back and forth felt as though I was somehow caught in the midst of a 17th century oil painting.
One of the things that really surprised me about Istanbul was the number of major mosques and their size. These structures are incredible. They’re gorgeous. They’re ancient and they’re massive. They also created a really impressive silhouette. From time to time as a traveler you’re greeted with moments that take your breath away. This was definitely one of those moments – the type that, if I was religious, I would call divinely inspired. For me, they resonate as the type of moments where I feel an even deeper awe at the beauty and depth of the universe, humanity, and our relationship with nature. If I could have paused and drawn out that moment, I’m sure hours would have passed without me noticing.
The Tourist Cruise
The following day I opted for one of the actual harbor tours. In retrospect I should have just gone with one of the longer ferry routes. Still, it only cost a few dollars more and was a decent enough experience that I didn’t feel like it was a waste. As we left the docks and steamed in the general direction of the Asian side, the first third of the route was similar to the previous day, only instead of heading to the right we turned left when we reached the coast.
This took us up and past a number of beautiful old buildings that included administrative structures, palaces, and the Turkish military academy. It was a fun look at buildings and areas that were considerably less touristy than the city’s historic center.
They were in widely varied states of repair and it was clear that many were used semi-seasonally to take advantage of Istanbul’s warm weather and plethora of small islands during the summer. Most featured small docks and a few had built in boat garages, which were a really cool touch.
One of the most memorable buildings along the route was the Beylerbeyi Palace which is a historic Ottoman era summer palace built in the mid 1800s. A beautiful structure, it unfortunately sits immediately beside one of Istanbul’s largest suspension bridges. Despite the jarring visual clash between the two, it does serve as an interesting reminder of how things change. I know it’s a small detail, and perhaps i’m just easily entertained, but one of my favorite parts of the palace were the series of harbor gates set up along the water. They added a certain fantasy element to the palace which tugged at my romanticized daydreams of princesses, queens, and luxurious sea yachts. Granted, of course, that this was the Ottoman Empire and the names varied. Still, it definitely had Disney-esque potential.
The final leg of the tourist cruise took us back towards the Maidens Tower. I highly suggest spending time on either one of the cruises or the ferry around sunset. Even though the skies were partly cloudy, the city silhouette was something I was impressed by once again. It’s also fascinating to see the hundreds of ships lined up south of the city waiting for permission to make their way up and through the straights, fill up on freight, or to unload their cargo.
The tower/lighthouse has been used in some capacity or another since at least 1100. At various points it has served as customs station, military installation, lighthouse, restaurant and even a quarantine area. It also seems to be a very popular destination for the local birds. While I may find my way out to it during a future trip, my hunch is that it is best enjoyed in passing as a beautiful and historic oddity.
By the time we prepared to wrap up the cruise and return to the docks the snow had returned which treated me to another gorgeous sunset. There’s something about the minaret spires and domes of a mosque that really lends itself to brilliant silhouettes. Add in diffused sunlight reflecting off of dark water, a few birds battling snow and you end up with a very unique experience. Perhaps part of what makes it such a powerful visual is the seemingly exotic clash between the two. Though I know it is inaccurate, I always associate mosques and Turkey with Arab cultures and the desert. To see it and its occasional palm trees covered in snow in the midst of a light snow storm was definitely a bizarre contrast. Yet, perhaps that is fitting for Istanbul and Turkey as a whole – a city and a nation that sits astride two continents and is caught at the center, standing astride two vastly different cultures and worlds.
The city of Stavanger is an interesting one. Located at nearly the same latitude as the Orkney Islands in Scotland, it’s situated on the inward side of a large peninsula on the southwestern coast of Norway. The city is the third largest in Norway, though still serves as a home to fewer than 300,000 people and is home to a large portion of the country’s oil fleet.
Most of the city’s old town sits on one of two small hills which partially surround the old harbor – a picturesque area full of small cafes, parked ferry boats, and a few masted sailing vessels. In addition to the cafes the harbor opens up on a large square (which is on a bit of a hill), a small 4 or 5 station fish market, and the entrance to an old shopping mall. From the harbor it’s easy to see the large suspension bridge which connects the city of Stavanger proper with a series of small islands which serve as home to some of the city’s more affluent population. You can see part of the bridge as well as the masts of small sailboats, and the warehouse-turned-residential buildings in the photo above.
To my surprise it turned out that Stavanger was hosting the Conoco Phillips world beach volleyball championships. They’d brought in tons of sand and set up six full-sized beach volleyball courts along one side of the harbor, in addition to constructing a small free standing stadium around a final match beach/field. I’m not much of a beach volleyball fan, but was excited to have stumbled onto the event. In sharing some of the names in attendance with friends who play, it turned out that the event was actually fairly major and had a lot of the most well known women’s international players/teams in attendance. What made the event that much better was the open (free) access which was available to the six practice/elimination courts which almost all had games going constantly throughout the day. The events drew huge crowds which filled the harbor area and added to the level and sense of energy in the air. Not to mention the general appeal of a bunch of attractive international volleyball players wandering around the city.
A brief 5 minute walk from the old harbor, up a small hill, past a squat old cathedral and back down towards sea level takes you to a large pond which rests directly in front of the rail/bus station and is surrounded by a variety of shops, hotels, and other like-kind establishments. The pond is pretty, if not overly beautiful, and serves as a home to ducks, fountains and the occasional swan.
The city’s smaller side streets are typically beautiful cobblestone walkways lined by an odd assortment of heartily built structures. The town’s wet climate is reflected in the green vegetation and moss which can be found everywhere – including growing between the cobblestones. I found myself pleasantly strolling through the city’s quiet side streets surrounded by flowers – some planted, some seemingly wild – which line the city’s streets and decorate the town’s residential buildings.
From the rail/bus station I decided to brave one of the city’s hills. While not a significant climb, I’ll confess to being a bit lazy. The walk left me somewhat winded and my shins burning as I wound up the steep cobblestone streets. Despite a little huffing and puffing the climb was well worth it. When I finally reached the top I quickly found a small hole between two pitched slate rooftops and enjoyed the view: the bridge, bay and one of the nearby islands was about as picturesque as a highly urban landscape can be.
As I meandered through the city streets I found myself continually drawn towards the bridge. After all it was large, no doubt offered a unique view of the city and….well…it was there and let’s face it, that’s often more than enough reason in and of itself. Before long my feet found their way to the ramp leading up to the pedestrian walkway across the bridge. Dodging the occasional bicyclist I walked about 1/2 of the way out onto the bridge then paused and looked back at Stavanger. The view was one of a prominent cathedral, pointy pitched roofs, a few converted warehouses, and brought to mind the mental image of an old city given life in an even older story – a city near slumber, late at night, lit by oil powered lamp light and echoing with the quiet rattle of wagon wheels bouncing across cobblestone streets.
An odd visual to have in the middle of the day on a bright sunny day? Perhaps – but it brought a smile to my face and some how, some way, seemed to fit the city’s skyline.
From the bridge I continued my aimless meandering, wrapping back down towards the harbor, but not before winding my way through the city’s thriving shopping district which is full of middle-upper class shops and ritzy street cafes. As I wound my way up side alleys and down main streets I was constantly entertained by the large number of odd murals that decorate walls and street corners throughout the city – most done in a graffiti style, but showing far more care, time, and artistry than random graffiti scribble. Most were bizarre, but creative and fun in their quirkiness.
Tired, footsore, and feeling more than a little starved I eventually decided it was time to track down a supermarket, pick up some relatively cheap food (though still ridiculously priced) and then head home to the Hospihostelhotel. Watch the clip above for a look at the meal (sorry about the image/color quality, I was having issues with a lens at the time).
Let me just say, that shopping in foreign countries can be difficult. Especially when you’re in a supermarket and the local language is anything but easily recognizable. As I stood in front of the cooler I couldn’t help but shrug, sigh, and scratch my head as I grabbed what looked like pre-cooked and shelled shrimp tails and what I assumed was pre-cooked BBQ chicken. The whole time I couldn’t help but wonder if I was going to poison myself by accidentally buying something that wasn’t completely cooked (like the chicken). Luckily, the extent of my surprise came in the form of the “shrimp” I’d bought. It was only after getting the container open, draining off the water and tasting a few that I google translated the words on the lid. Shrimp? Not so fast. Turns out they were crawfish tails. The good news was crawfish was equally acceptable and delicious as shrimp in my book. Still, I couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at myself. It’s the little adventures that stick out…and this was no exception.
The final meal consisted of several small pieces of bread, a coke, diced barbecued chicken, arctic fish roe/caviar, and pre-cooked/salted crawfish tails. The end result was an odd, but strangely complimentary assortment of tastes that left me stuffed and content – even though I’d faced more than a few surprises.
With a full belly and tired legs I crawled into bed, checked my e-mail, and watched a bit of Norwegian TV which surprisingly was mostly in English with Norwegian subtitles. The following day promised an adventure – it was time to say goodbye to Stavanger and hello to Bergen.
My final day in Oslo was spent meandering the city’s cobblestone streets, wandering through the old harbor, and resting lazily in the park reading my book. I’d paused at the local rail station during the previous day’s walking tour and picked up a discount reservation for an overnight train from Oslo to Stavanger on Norway’s western coast. To my disappointment, my Eurail pass only reserved a reclining airplane like seat, but – it would have to do. The train left late in the evening – 10PM if memory serves and would take just over 8 hours as it wound its way along the southern coast, before hockey-sticking up through the Fjords to Stavanger.
The late departure gave me the entire day to explore the city and relax. Hildur was off work at 4:30 which gave me a sold 4 or 5 hours to explore. Eager to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I struck off down towards the old harbor. My path took me along major streets with old buildings, showcasing an eclectic mixture of architectural styles from all over the world. Despite the inherent beauty in most of the buildings, one stands out in my memory: the US Embassy. The building stood on the corner of the street which encircles the Palatial Park/Main Palace. It was an odd building. Ringed by an imposing 10+ ft tall black fence, the building was all blacks and grays. About 3 stories, it was square, with an odd architectural design, one which had arrow slit like windows. The whole thing oozed a sense of…I don’t want to say Evil…but perhaps…unfriendliness is a better word. It may have just been the color and the architectural era it hailed from. Either way, it left me feeling disappointed and misrepresented.
Though I’d poked around the main Harbor the day before, I relished the opportunity to continue my exploration. The harbor is home to some 5-10 “tall ships” which is to say old/classically modeled sailing vessels. Many have been converted into tour vessels but others are still classic sailing ships. All offer a beautiful ambiance to the harbor which is ringed by cafes and small kiosks not to mention an incredible view back towards the down town area.
From the harbor I struck back up, re-tracing the previous day’s steps, towards the Parliament building and central greenbelt. From there it was up and down the main shopping street. Lined with people, the street also provided a wide selection of street performers. From jugglers, to musicians most of the usual types were in attendance. Some of the more a-typical ones, however, included a puppeteer playing the piano, and cripple using his two crutches to alternately perform tricks while bouncing a ball with them. The sights and sounds left me chuckling at times, wincing at others and of course scratching my head in bafflement at yet others.
The street eventually led me down towards the main train station, where I headed to the left, and quickly ended up in a picturesque square which was doubling as a flower market. The market was awash in colors, scents and people as passerby’s paused to relax, pick up flowers, or wound through the square on their way to some errand or meeting.
Eventually my meanderings took me back through the warren of H&M stores and small cafe’s towards the old National Theater. The boulevard it sits on is split down the middle by a series of small fountains, flowerbeds overflowing with blooming flowers, and of course the usual assortment of relaxing and sunbathing Norwegians. I paused briefly next to one of the fountains to capture the photo above – two young children at plan. There’s something about it which just seemed to strike me as being a bit classic. Boy meets girl. Boy wears blue. Girl wears red. Both enjoy the innocence of youth, combined with the joys of a youthful, inquisitive nature, while relaxing in front of a gorgeous fountain on a beautiful blue day.
From the fountain I decided to see if I could explore the inside of the city hall. It was, after all, a rather unique building. It seemed only natural that the interior would be equally interesting. The 5 minute walk down to the main structure was quick and enjoyable. I say walk, but it was more a lazy meandering as I lankily ambled my way along the sidewalk. The building – a massive red brick creation – served as a picturesque backdrop for various pieces of artwork, often added seemingly at random. A prime example is the large clock shown above, which I found all the more beautiful due to the relatively basic and plane brick backdrop that it had been set within.
The building’s main entrance was equally interesting. Though not completed until 1950 due to the War, the building was started in 1931 which is reflected in its general feel and appearance. Parts of the design left me thinking of a simpler, less ornate version of the Chrysler Building in New York. Interestingly, the City Hall is also the site of the award ceremony each year where Nobel Peace Prizes are awarded.
The building’s immediate interior is a massive open room. The room has a variety of different murals – all done in a similar style – decorating each of the walls. The murals reflect the nation’s history and toils, while conveying a very propaganda-esq artistic style. One which, at least in the US, we’ve often come to associate with former Soviet and more Socialist governments. The murals focus on the people, their labors, culture and wars. Not surprising given the building’s history and completion in the immediate aftermath of World War II.
After leaving the City Hall, I found my way back up past the Royal Palace before connecting with Hildur, who had just gotten off work. After a quick nap, we decided to pick up some Sushi to go (which to my surprise was only slightly more expensive than fast food), before heading to the park to enjoy the weather. We ate, chatted, and enjoyed the weather before saying our goodbyes. It was time to head to the rail station and to continue my exploration of Norway’s culture and natural beauty.
My stay in Oslo was incredible. Made that much more delightful by my incredible hosts, who truly went out of their way to share their city, culture and local cuisine with me. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude and will always have very fond memories of Oslo, in no small part, due to their hospitality.
The following morning we struck camp; laughing at the slow, stiff movements and pained, hungover looks that plagued our group. The tents proved every bit as difficult to break down as they had been to put up leading to small frustrated mutterings and no small shortage of lighthearted teasing.
We paused briefly for breakfast, then began transferring bags, sheets, tents and bodies back onto the cramped confines of the Ragga Queen before saying goodbye to the Island and its surprising wealth of local wild life.
As the boat gently drifted away from the Island I was once again taken by its small size, pristine beauty and the unique flavor of the adventure. As you might imagine, a plethora of movie references and great cinematic moments filtered through my mind – always an entertaining narrative and realization: that epiphany that you’re living the adventure often delivered as fairytale across the world’s silver screens.
The day was beautiful with hardly a cloud in the sky. The sun kept us warm and left us relishing each opportunity that arise to pause and dive into the water to fish, snorkel, hunt for conch, or just generally relax and cool off.
As we neared our first snorkeling stop I was relieved. The weather was fantastic, the group with the exception of one bratty girl, was an absolute delight and the adventure was unfolding nicely. I’m always wary of any sort of extended duration tour. While something like the Raggamuffin tour tends to only attracting the more laid back, younger and heartier traveler – all it takes is one or two people to really turn what should be a 3-9 day adventure with new found friends into an absolute nightmare. As you can tell from the photo above things were rather tight and personal space was at a premium. That said, everyone took it in stride and worked to chip in.
Our first stop was along a steep wall along the reef. As I first jumped in and looked down, I felt my stomach surge towards my throat. The water below me was some 20-30 feet deep on a steep incline, drifting quickly into a dark blue abyss. The seafloor was covered in coral, fans and schools of fish and I couldn’t help but think I stood a good chance of seeing an open water shark.
Allowing my nerves to settle, I began to explore the area. The sea wall offered a great opportunity to see a different type of reef life. Some of the fish were different, the corals were slightly different and the general feel of the place had its own unique flavor. As we snorkeled around the area I made my way along the wall watching rays and schools of fish go about their daily business. Eventually, I made a wide loop that took me into the shallow water – that which was 4-10 feet deep – and towards the areas where the reef broke free from the sea. There, in the shallower water I was greeted by large spiny sea urchins, vibrantly colored, albeit smaller, coral dwelling species of fish and even a lazy sea turtle enjoying the open sea grass. The video I’ve included above is shown in near chronological order, and while you may recognize it from my previous post – it covers all 3 days.
Tired and hungry I made my way back to the boat for lunch. After a quick meal, it was time to set off again. Sail up, bodies sprawled across the decks, the subtle sight of soft white lines decorating our bodies where we’d missed a spot of sunscreen.
Our next stop was similar. This time, however, it was a series of small sea mounts that rose from the ocean floor (about 30-40 feet) to a depth of some 10 feet below the surface. The mounts were small but packed with coral and sea life.
Once again we struggled into our fins, held our breaths and jumped over the side before fanning out in all directions to explore. Some were armed with spear guns, others with cameras. As we slowly explored, we found ourselves pointing off into the blue, motioning, and trying to speak through snorkel filled mouths. All the while sharing little discoveries – a large school of 5 or 6 barracuda, a lazy sea turtle taking a nap on the ocean floor or a particularly beautiful fish.
It was during a foray in towards one of the larger mounts – one with significantly shallower water – that I came across the largest barracuda I’ve ever seen. You’ll notice him in the video I posted above, though the size doesn’t really come across. Easily four feet in length the monster oozed predatory confidence as it slowly, ever so slowly drifted through the shallow water.
Eager to get video and see it up close, I followed. All the while wondering….was it truly a good idea? After all, the plastic housing for my camera reflected the glint of sunlight and was lined in bright dive orange rubber, looking more like a giant fishing lure than anything else. Luckily, neither I nor the Barracuda listened to the nagging voice in the back of my head – leaving us both to watch each other warily, enjoying the moment.
From there it was back onto the boat for more fishing, sunbathing and drifting. Pausing periodically to hunt for Conch, Lobster and to give the captain an opportunity to put his spear-gun to work. We feasted on fresh lobster, conch and fish ceviche, fresh fruit and cup after cup of fruit punch before eventually arriving at our second destination: Tobacco Caye.
The small (albeit significantly larger than our last) island was home to a series of docks, a small forest of large coconut trees, small restaurant, series of cabanas and small circular beach bar.
We quickly set to setting up our tents in a small clear space in the middle of the island, before grabbing a Belkin – Belize’s delicious local beer – and setting off to explore the island. Some 5 minutes later we found ourselves back at the dock eager to snorkel off the dock.
The area surrounding the island itself was sheltered by the reef behind it and offered a large expanse of smooth shallow water sea grass which stretched out and away from the island on the remaining 3 sides. The grass itself attracted large schools of fish and a large number of rays and the incredible looking eagle rays which are black with white spots, a long streaming tail and in many ways look like a manta ray. The eagle rays are an absolute delight to watch – not only are they graceful and beautiful, but they periodically leap free of the water, throwing themselves several feet into the air.
As with the day before, the sunset on Tobacco Caye was every bit as incredible. This time framed by sailboats, a small panga, and picturesque palm trees. We ate a delicious meal with fish and shrimp before settling in for another night of stories, drinks and jokes before crawling into bed. Stiff and exhausted from a long day swimming and relaxing in the sun.
The following morning greeted us with more blue skies and warm weather. After breaking down our tents and re-packing the boat we set off once more. This time on the final leg of our trip to Placencia.
The trip itself was fairly lazy. We paused several more times for seafood and caught a few fish by line. With each stop the number of us that jumped overboard to explore diminished until there were only 3 or 4 of us left that dove in at every opportunity. We swam, laughed and relaxed for the remainder of the day before arriving in Placencia about 3 or 4PM. We disembarked and set to the task of finding accommodation.
It was Christmas eve and the town was quiet, although not completely shuttered. Before long I found a small budget hotel with a room for $40 BZD ($20USD) a night. To my delight the room had 3 beds, and a private bathroom. The shower didn’t offer warm water (not unusual in Belize), and consisted of a PVC pipe with a small turn nozzle. It was more than I needed.
I settled in, read my book, grabbed an evening meal and then dozed contentedly. Life was good.
The morning was damp. The occasional sprinkle fell to challenge our merry mood. Despite the weather’s best efforts we could sense that the storm had blown itself out and was able to but threaten more rain, clouds and wind. The cold front had claimed its three windswept days and now the cycle began anew with sun breaking through the clouds on the horizon with rays of golden light.
The trip I’d booked was the three-day two night Raggamuffin Sailing trip from Caye Caulker, down through the Cayes and along the 2nd largest barrier reef in the world to the small peninsula town of Placencia. We left on Tuesday and would arrive on the 24th – Christmas eve. The all-inclusive trip cost $350 – which included a $50 premium for travel over the holidays/Christmas.
We loaded our bags then slowly piled onto the small motorboat that would shuttle us out to the still small, albeit slightly larger sailboat which would be our home for the next 3 days – the Ragga Queen.
With an old battered pirate flag flying, we set sail and with our backs to Caye Caulker began a new adventure. As we sailed south the sun slowly began to break through the clouds. Bringing with it a warmth that left us all pinching ourselves – trying to remember that it was currently late December. With a grin and a shrug we stripped down to swimsuits and lathered on sunscreen.
The sailing was easy and the three-man crew took care of most of the work. We’d help periodically as they raised sail or made small adjustments, but beyond that we were mostly left to our own devices. We mixed, mingled and got acquainted with each other. Told stories, played card games, napped, read and fished from the stern of the ship. Before long we noticed an odd structure – seemingly rising out of the water. The fishing shack which during low tide sat on an exposed sandbar rested on pillars: sandbar completely submerged. The small structure was fascinating. Not because of its complexity, but rather the fact someone had not only managed, but also decided, to build a structure literally in the middle of the ocean. In many ways it reminded me of the structures built for the movie Waterworld, only far less complex and obviously still anchored in sand. The building itself though was an odd reminder that we were sailing in shallow water – a poignant reality I had learned several nights previous when the ferry I was riding on ran aground multiple times.
The fishing was decent, though slow going. The first day we caught two – a decent sized barracuda and what I believe was a Spanish Mackerel – both served as the foundation for a delicious dinner later that evening. Unfortunately, despite no small amount of time spent manning one of the two lines – I ended up skunked. Still the fishing itself was plenty rewarding, as I watched the barrier reef and various islands slowly slip by.
We paused several times during the first day – dropping anchor seemingly at random just off the reef. The water was typically between 8-25 feet deep and crystal clear. Eager to explore we pulled on our fins and snorkels, paused briefly at the side of the boat and then jumped. The water’s embrace was warm – a delightful contrast from what you’d expect which made the transition far easier than I’ve grown accustomed to in the Pacific, Atlantic and even northern Sea of Cortez.
It never ceases to amaze me how big a difference fins make when snorkeling. Truly, they’re more a necessity than anything. Recalling my childhood dreams of being a Marine Biographer I double checked my Flip Ultra Video camera and marveled once again at how well the $35 underwater case was working out. Then without thinking, snorkel in mouth, I turned my sights to the seafloor, only to quickly get a mouth full of water and a quick reminder: snorkels and ear to ear grins seldom make good bedfellows.
The reef was rich with life – while not as tame and prolifically populated as the Hol Chan marine reserve, the reef was still awash in life and color. With vibrant coral, giant sea fans and sprawling beds of light green sea grass the reef was an absolute delight. Make sure to take a few minutes and watch the video at the start of this post. I’m afraid that all I have is underwater video, no photos.
As I made my way carefully into the shallower water, I paid special attention to the currents and my fins. Careful, ever so careful, not to make any contact with the reef or plant life. It sounds easy enough, but given the ebb and pull of waves, long sweep of fins and 5-7 feet of water it quickly became a challenge. We took great care to stay horizontal in the shallower water – keeping our feet, and fins well away from the seafloor where they might potentially do damage that would take years – if not decades to heal.
We snorkeled for half an hour – or was it an hour? – before making our way back to the boat and relaxing as we quenched our hunger with ham sandwiches and fresh conch ceviche. Then, settled in for another brief sail before a series of quick pauses, this time in much deeper water, where those willing set out in search of conch for dinner. Unfortunately, most of us found the water too deep and the conch too hard to spot – still we searched, swam, and enjoyed as the captain and crew who had more free diving experience made to 20+ foot journey to the sea floor and back easily. Later, the captain an ex-fisherman mentioned that during his fishing days he would regularly make 90+ foot free dives.
As the sun began to race towards the horizon we reached our destination for the evening. A delightful, tiny speck of sand with a deep water dock for the sailboat, 7 palm trees, and a small one room hut for the island’s steward. With 15 passengers and 3 crew, our little boat was overloaded. There was ample sitting room during the day, if you didn’t mind getting a bit cozy, but not even the faintest chance of fitting us all at night.
Luckily the island had room (if just barely) for 7 tents. We paired up, unloaded the tents, gear and sleeping pads, then set to assembling our tents. Some teams did better than others, leaving a few to grumble, huff, and curse gently under their breath as we all struggled to figure out just how the slightly off-center, somewhat worn tents had been designed.
Hartmut – a gentleman from Germany, my tent-mate and a friend I’d bump into during later travels – and I quickly got our tent assembled and began to wander the island. Despite its small stature the island was absolutely gorgeous.
The island’s white sands were soft, warm in the afternoon’s fading sunlight, and a beautiful white that picked up the hues of the sunset and seemed to blend seamlessly with the lapping waves.
The locals themselves – mostly seagulls and pelicans – were also quite hospitable. Lazily sharing the island with us, and periodically taking flight to feed or just circle the island in an incredible show of grace.
The pelicans themselves, while wary, seemed comfortable with visitors. More than that though, they seemed almost eager to show off their natural agility and skills.
Antsy, I wandered a bit more – pausing at an old tree stump that now held a dried coral fan and several conch. As the sun set behind it – I held my breath in anticipation.
As we paused, enjoying our dinner of fresh seafood and garlic bread the sun continued to set. As each minute passed it revealed new beauty, new colors and my smile grew.
Words cannot describe the incredible beauty of the sunset as it set the sky afire. The leftover clouds – those straggling behind the cold front – picked up the sun’s evening song and magnified it ten fold. The waves of the ocean gently moaned as they slowly tickled the white sandy beaches – turned golden by the sunset.
It had been a good day. An incredible one, that I’ll remember for the rest of my life – but as the sun set and we settled in around a campfire I quickly realized that the day held one last surprise. As complete darkness settled over our small island, with the fire slowly burning down – I sprawled lazily across the sand and looked up.
The stars were incredible – so vivid, so densely packed and so bright that I could hardly contain a soft sigh. Living in the city, the stars are always dim and far away. On the rare occasions I escape into the countryside camping or return back to my parent’s home in Prescott I can always count on vivid stars but even those barely compared to the sight that greeted me.
It was as though the galaxy itself sat just out of reach. The depth and richness of the stars something beyond the norm, something special, something incredible. Then breathing slowly, eyes roaming the sky I saw the first shooting star. Then another. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth…they blazed across the sky in incredible arks. As luck would have it – I was witnessing what I believe was the Ursid meteor shower. The view that night alone made the trip well worth it.
Stay tuned for part II of this post covering days 2 and 3. Can’t wait? Check out my Belize photo stream on flickr. Q9VRSZ4BCZXJ