The Deep Blue Sea

One of Roatan's claims to fame is the Meso-American Barrier Reef.  In fact, at the far tip of West Bay Beach, reef meets beach and one can access the wonder just steps from the shore

After rain earlier in the week, the water was clear enough today to snorkel our favorite area again.  I snapped my first underwater photos and found out how hard it is to capture those elusive fish on camera!  The only easy subjects are slow moving like the one in the turtle swim trunks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Craig tried his hand at underwater photography snapping a photo of me.  How'd this happen? It looks like a photo that's been edited with a crazy filter.  I may have to frame this one!

 

 

We'll be back to this area again tomorrow for more beautiful views above and below the sea!  We depart on Saturday, so we'll be seizing our remaining time Friday!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Be Careful What You Wish For . . .

Craig and I just commented to each other on Saturday that we really wouldn't mind seeing a little more rain before we leave because it's been hot and sunny for the past two weeks.

We must be fools.  What's the old adage?  Be careful what you wish for? 

We were thinking maybe a few hours at night or a morning rain delay, but we got torrential rain that began yesterday morning and really hasn't let up.  After eating crackers and cheese for lunch yesterday and ordering pizza again last night (because it's the only restaurant that delivers on the west end of the island), we were both suffering from cabin fever and pizza overdose this morning.

We lounged around trying to enjoying the roar of the waves breaking over the reef below and the rain pounding on the roof, but we'd had it by 11 a.m.  We decided we wouldn't melt and if needed, could slide down the steep slick hill on our butts to get out of here.  We donned raincoats and headed to West Bay.

We made it to town slightly drenched and decided quickly to head for the the Hangover Hut before all the dry seats disappeared.   We walked the beach on the route to the restaurant and felt sorry for all the people off cruise ships who would see Roatan at its worst today.

They'll return home with a memory of a gloomy island where the rain never stops.  The bay looked grey and one lone boat was parked where there normally would have been a huge flotilla waiting to taxi crowds to West End for shopping and snorkelers out to the reef. 

 

 

The shore was full of sargasso today, something we haven't seen here during the past month.  Resorts were raking it as it landed and wheel barrowing it to these trucks to haul away.  If the sun's out tomorrow, the beach will be clean and beautiful for the five shiploads of people in port.  (And we'll be hanging elsewhere!)

 

 

Some diehards were trying to tough it out at the beach huddled under the palms or umbrellas in the rain hoping for clear skies.

 

 

We ran for the restaurant because we knew the squall was coming from the cold wind blowing in off the beach.  Shortly after ordering a hamburger and fries, the sky began dumping buckets.  For hours.  (And it's still pouring at 10:30 p.m.!)

 

We thoroughly enjoyed our three hours in West Bay sitting at our perch in the diner.  Cruisers with yellow armbands wandered about with no Plan B shivering under wet beach towels wading through the large grey stream running down the sand road.

Aren't these umbrellas gorgeous?  All the locals seem to carry them.

 

We spent an hour and a half under the tin roof waiting for a break in the rain that never came.  Finally we decided to test fate and wade through the huge puddle at the end of the road.  The waiter showed us the back way to the West Bay Mall (a small little strip mall with a few stores, deli, and a coffee shop), but it involved walking through a field of high grass (probably full of mosquitos and ticks).

 

We chose the well-traveled road and went in up to the ankles, something I avoid like the plague in countries with less developed infrastructure.  I took a long shower when we finally got home and gave the walking sandals a good rinse.

 

 

While waiting for a taxi, the fruit/vegetable truck pulled up.  He evidently makes scheduled stops on certain days because there were quite a few people waiting to make purchases.  Now I know (since we're leaving Saturday).

 

We waited under an awning until a man approached Craig to ask if we needed a ride.  He drove an unmarked taxi which probably means he has to be low key about soliciting fares because he's not licensed or a member of the cab union?  Don't know, but he was an extremely polite safe driver and the only cab we saw on a rainy day!

 

Guess what we had for dinner tonight?  LOL  Leftover pizza really comes in handy.

 

Hopefully the rain ends soon!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Journey to a Hole in the Wall.

Didn't some wise person say -- it's not the destination, it's the journey?  Maybe on this part of our Sunday journey, it was the destination since we were headed to Hole in the Wall, an outpost bar on the side of a canal in Jonesville, Roatan.

 

Oh oh oh!  When I saw the boat above, I wanted to ride in that one!  I soon realized with all the museum curated displays and stuffed animals hanging from the roof that it must be part of Roatan's wooden boat museum.
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Alas, we were destined to ride with our friendly informative Captain (his name now eludes me) in the Happy Landing, a super dooper seaworthy old wooden boat that swayed from side to side with any small movement or shift of weight from its passengers.  For a sum of $25 apiece, he would transport us to the Hole in the Wall restaurant/bar and give us a tour of the canals and mangroves in the Oakridge/Jonesville area of Roatan.

As we boarded, we were told to sit exactly in the center of each row (unless we wanted to go for a swim).  It reminded me of a canoe with a motor!  I was thinking positive thoughts that Happy Landing = Happy Ending!

After several attempts by Captain Morgan to start the sputtering motor, we were off on our adventure.  Ever heard that song "Papa goin' fishin', Mama goin' fishin', rockin' in a wooden boat?  Papa's choice of t-shirts on Sunday was extremely unfortunate because everyone behind him (just me and Junior, our taxi driver) were destined to look at that Arrogant Bastard the entire trip.

Along the way, we saw lots of fishing boats and colorful homes.  Evidently the owner of Twitter has allowed his yacht to become a rust bucket.  Who would have thought!

I'll save the bulk of my boat tour photos for another post since this one is actually about the destination.  Or is life supposed to be about the journey?  Now I'm confused!

I think these homes along the canal are in Oakridge, but then again, it could be Jonesville (which was supposedly a settlement where everyone belonged to the Jones family).  I snapped 300 photos with three different cameras during tour day, so my facts may be faulty!

After a rockin' ride in the wooden boat (and I mean that literally), I saw an oasis in the distance.  Could it be the famous Hole in the Wall?

We have arrived!

 

 The famous Hole in the Wall bar! 

The place was completely decked out in the rustic chic that is so popular now.  They were even playing bowling on the big screen in the lounge!  If only it'd been the Seahawks game, Craig might have paid the captain to come back for us in three hours!

Soon after we'd consumed our lobster burgers, more arrivals pulled in to tie up.  Best boat award goes to a tiny homemade barge on pontoons with occupants relaxing in two white plastic loungers anchored to the deck.  They have a $25 buffet on Sunday's with conch soup and all the seafood you can eat.  It really pulls 'em in!

More dock decor!  You can leave your name anywhere with a magic marker if you like!

They evidently heard the clothesline queen was coming because they even had a nice display out back in my honor!


Stay tuned!  I'll post more photos from the wooden boat/mangrove tour later.

Happy 2016!

New Year's Eve on Roatan was quite the cultural experience.  We decided to skip the restaurant with the fixed price holiday party and pick a nice place on the beach to enjoy a beautiful sunset and meal.  We always dine early here to enjoy the sunset, but also because the only reasonable way out of this hillside home is on foot down to the water since there are no taxis driving up and down this hill. 

Not to change the subject, but we opted out of renting a car for a month.  Primarily, that would be because I don't want the stress of driving around here, not to mention the island has a reputation of being a place where a car can acquire multiple dents within days of departing the airport.  (There are two little rental cars sitting up on the casa's parking pad this morning, and I notice one already has a new Roatan dent in it that will entail taking it to a body shop for repairs or having huge charges slapped onto the credit card when they depart.  The owner's truck also has a brand new dent in the rear fender with a missing tail light, but I don't think the two vehicles' dents match.)

Anyway, we dressed in appropriate New Year's Eve island finery and added a full body spray of our favorite island cologne -- Deep Wood's Off -- in preparation for our hike and big evening in town.

 

On the way into West Bay, we passed cruisers lingering at Gumbalimba Park for their last glimpses of Roatan before they boarded the van back to the ship.  The beach vendors were having their own little New Year's Eve pre-party at a picnic table and one of the many untrained massagers was squirting baby oil on a guy in a lounger. 

And then we met the Turtle Man who walks the beaches with a platter of stone turtles.   He asked us at least four times on our way to town if we'd buy a tortuga.  He asked as he passed, then waited for us on top the bridge, speed walked forward and turned around to come back at us on the next stretch of beach, on and on and on . . . .

Once we put our toes (actually walking sandals) into the sand of West Bay, we quickly settled on the Argentinian Grill for our New Year's Eve feast.   They're known for excellent steaks and seafood.

As we were enjoying Happy Hour Cuba Libre's, the little turtle guy once again climbed up to our table with his platter of tortugas.  He either never makes eye contact to remember faces, or he's just that persistent.  LOL 

You no like tortugas?  You got it Little Daddy!  Hate the damn things!

After a beautiful sunset and wonderful feast of grilled lobster tails, we continued our walk down West Bay beach in the dark.  The New Year's festivities would not begin for hours, so we decided to hit the tiny West Bay mall and buy something so we'd have change for a cab for the ride home.  We feel perfectly safe walking into West Bay during daylight hours, but there's no way I'd attempt the jungle/beach walk after dark.

OMG!  There was Big Daddy!  I've been looking for this particular Big Daddy for over a week because we want to schedule a day land tour with him!  Skinny Daddy (not sure if that's his son?) asked us if we needed a cab and soon we were headed back out to Tamarind Drive making plans for our Sunday tour of Roatan.

When we climbed up the stairs to our Seaview Apartment, we noticed the fan lights were on.  That's the tell-tale sign that the generator has once again kicked on due to power outages.  We're SO glad we picked lodging where they have a generator because I can't imagine how many days/hours we would have spent without electricity this past week without it. 

The hill was completely pitch black below us except for some small flashlights in the compound down the hill.  They have a very noisy generator down there, but I'm guessing it's only hooked to essentials inside the house.  Normally that area is lit up like a shopping mall, but we can tell when the power's off because we only see lanterns and flashlights.

Fireworks have been blasting off for days in the hills around us, but we both woke up at midnight.  Ka-BOOM!  West Bay and West End evidently have a competition at midnight on New Year's Eve answering each other with volleys of fire power.  We could see the brilliant light in the sky over the hills, but only a few were shot high enough to actually see the beautiful colorful formations over the tops of the large hills between us.  The blasts went on for over a half hour, and then the conch blowing competition started.  We'd hear a conch blow from one direction, then be answered from the other.  I finally dropped off to sleep, so I'm not sure who won that match.

As Craig pointed out, no snow this New Year's Eve!  Last year we exited a party to find six inches of snow on the roof of our car.  This year we slept to the rustling of wind through the palms and little bombs being blasted through the hills.

Hope 2016 is a wonderful new year for all of us full of love and new adventures!

The Road to Kismet

I noticed a post on an Isla Mujeres Facebook page yesterday complaining about the crowds of tourists and daytrippers who have discovered the place. 

Wednesday was a four cruise ship day on Roatan.  I thought I'd snap a photo to let anyone suffering on Isla know you're not alone.  The entire stretch of West Bay Beach looked like this yesterday. It shall be called Zooland.

Wednesday is definitely the day we don't go to the beach -- at least this beach.  So what do we do on a Wednesday?

We escape to the unknown.  (Well, maybe it's not that unknown.)

The road less traveled is sometimes not easy.  It's a steep uphill climb, but there's a glimpse of the world you're leaving through a keyhole in the jungle.

 

 

 

 

As we climb higher, we find ourselves in a rural wonderland with wild flowers and lush tropical vegetation. 

 

Banana anyone?  They're as ripe as the simulations we find at the grocery store in the U.S.

 

 

Suddenly, we've found our path!

 

Our Kismet!

 



We were never meant to be among the teeming masses jammed between a woman getting a cheap unprofessional massage with baby oil on a beach lounger (seriously?) and some fool smoking one of his fake Cuban cigars.

We've found our own deserted beach.

 

And there's a beach bar with a waiter named Linton to serve us whatever we desire for lunch!

This . . . is . . . KISMET!

It's our destiny after that long walk over the hill to be served an icy cold SalvaVida (translated = lifesaver)!

 

 Then a Port Royal with a large plate of tasty fish tacos!

 

 

And some amazing fresh red snapper fish fingers, fries, and watermelon for Mama.  (Yes, that waiter called me Mama, but I've found my Kismet, so he can call me anything he wants!)

 

 

 

It's Wednesday's fate, and we'll probably make the long trudge over the hill again on the next four cruise ship day!

 

(In full disclosure, one woman did show up during our time and pulled a lounger underneath a palm tree.  Taxis can be hired on the other side of the hill to drive customers to Kismet, but we figured the steep hike might help burn off the beer, tacos, and fish fingers!)

 

 

Just Call Me Mama

Around here, I assume it's meant as an endearment or a respectful way for younger (or even older) men to refer to older women.

When the water taxi pulls up, the captain or a helper immediately reaches out to assist me down into the panga.   Grab my arm Mama.  Step onto that first seat Mama.  Watch yo' head Mama.

Sunday after I carefully climbed down the steep stairs from the bridge at Gumbalimba, I walked past a boat pulled up in the canal.  The captain inquired  How you feeling today Mama?  You okay?  How was your Christmas?  I recognized him as a water taxi captain who's picked us up a few times. We had a little chat about our holidays before I walked on down the beach.

I'm adjusting to my newfound status as Mama.  I guess I shouldn't feel bad because half the men I meet here on Roatan introduce themselves as Big Daddy. 

Yesterday, we took a water taxi into West End to snorkel Half Moon Bay.   The boat captain who pulled up at the dock greeted me as Mama and rushed to help me into the boat.  (I guess they don't want anyone falling into the drink.)  When we pulled up at the Half Moon Bay water taxi dock, another young guy came running down the ramp to pull me out of the boat.

Watch yo' step Mama.  I wanted to answer -- Will do Big Daddy!  LOL

There's a cute little restaurant, Dix, with decent lunch right in front of our snorkeling spot.  The waiter Marco stashes our belongings behind the bar while we snorkel in exchange for drinking and eating there.  Their freshly grilled mahi mahi tacos are pretty dang good, and I don't think Marco's ever called me Mama!

The view from the table cries out paradise!

 

If you swim out around these rocks towards the bay's entrance, you see a variety of large colorful fans and fish.  Brightly colored parrotfish, squirrelfish, tiger grouper, trigger fish, scorpion fish -- the list goes on and on. 

After snorkeling, we let the salt dry and ambled down the main road in West End toward the mini-mart and fruit stand.



 

As I passed the roundabout by the palm tree with the Land's End sign where the land taxis all hang, I heard a yell -- You need a cab Mama?  Okay, enough already!  This island is starting to make me feel old! 

 

After buying a pineapple, three bananas, and an assortment of snacks, we headed back toward the dock.  A man sitting by a palm tree on the beach popped right up and said he'd give us a ride back in 10 minutes if we could wait.  He reminded us he'd brought us into West End and knew we needed to be dropped back at the Isabella dock.

 

 

The boat with the blue awning awaits us at the Half Moon Bay dock. 

 

Soon, a young helper ran down the ramp to help Mama into the boat.  He appeared mesmerized by the 20-something girls in bikinis who jumped right into the taxi with no hesitation. 

 

 

The number two mate was so distracted by the non-Mama's in bikinis, he accidentally dropped a wad of money from his pocket into the water.  The captain turned around quickly and soon everyone in the boat was fishing floating bills out of the Caribbean.  Craig scooped up a 100, but don't get excited because that's less than five bucks.  Soon we were off again!

 

 

After another gorgeous trip home on water, Mama got hoisted out at the Isabella dock so she could walk the 2/3's of a mile straight up the hill. 

 

Too bad the guys at the bottom of the hill with the golfcarts at the fancy boutique hotel aren't worried about Mama!  I'd love to hear someone yell -- Hey Mama!  Need a ride up that hill?