Cruising the coast

Imagine this: Lying on the deck of a catamaran, surrounded by warm tropical seas. Dolphins are swimming next to the boat. Your days are spent sunbaking, eating, drinking and snorkeling the coral reefs.

Many people asked me how and why I chose Belize, of all places, to come to before Yoav and Samantha’s wedding. The opportunity of taking a catamaran cruise along the coral reefs had a pretty big influence over the decision.

The cruise started at Caye Caulker and finished 3 days later, 88 km further south at Dangriga. We looked at a few YouTube videos of the cruise and suspected that we would be the granddaddies of the trip and yep, this was the case.

We departed on time with a crew of 5, tending to 18 passengers. One was the cook, one the captain (who was about my height, was twice as broad as me and would have weighed 150 kg, but moved like a ballerina. Quite a sight) and three young, cool deckhands. Besides a Canadian family with a fascinating backstory whose mother was about our age, everyone else on board was less than thirty years old. Surprisingly there were no Americans. They were mostly Dutch, with two Swedish women, a Brazilian newly-wed couple and a Romanian guy. We weren’t in the slightest bit self-conscious about the age difference and in fact, were treated with a mix of respect and deference, but also accepted as one of the gang. It was very refreshing for us, being related to and acting like a twenty five year old again.

We initially sailed for about two hours (sailed is literal, under 3 full sails pushed by a fresh breeze). Despite the wind, the waters were calm as we were sailing between the reef and the mainland. Choppy seas are rare as its protected by the outer reef. The two hour sail to our first snorkeling stop allowed everyone on board to get acquainted. The Canadian family of four was the largest group. The rest were either couples, two people travelling together or singles. There is always the risk that a random group of people thrown together for three days won’t get on and it will be socially difficult, or worse. Or you can have our case, where from the very beginning everyone just clicked. Susan and I were very aware that Israel is not exactly flavor of the month in Europe these days and weren’t quite sure how this would affect our interactions. We certainly weren’t willing to hide the fact we live in Israel, but we weren’t sure how these young Europeans would relate to us as Anglo Israelis. Let me say that there was not a single moment where we felt anything other than total acceptance for who we were…. Ancients acting as youngins. Nothing else was relevant. As time went on and we all felt more comfortable with each other, we did have some political/war conversations. But not a lot and the fact that we are not exactly aligned to this government’s policies and were extremely critical of a lot of Israel’s behavior probably made these discussions easier. Yes, we heard things we didn’t like or agree with, but no-one was on board to have political discourse and in many ways any political discussion was just part of any other conversation, borne out of the respect that everyone showed to each other.

But snorkeling the world’s second largest coral reef was the reason we were all on the boat and we did plenty of that. The days had a sort of rhythm to them. Sailing, snorkeling, eating, sailing and sunbaking, snorkeling eating. Rinse and repeat. Could be worse.

The crew divided us randomly into three groups and each of the three cool deckhands acted as snorkeling guides. Our guide would dive, point to a type of coral or fish and then would tell us what it was. They obviously knew to pick up on things under the water that we would otherwise miss and their knowledge added much to each snorkeling stop. And each stop had something different to see: brain corals, sea fans, and staghorn corals in a variety of sizes and colors. Too many types of fish to describe but also in every color imaginable. The sargassum weeds that stank so much at Caye Caulker are totally different when they’re anchored to the seabed. They resemble fields of underwater wheat that sway in the “wind” of the undersea currents. It’s only when they come loose, are washed ashore and start to rot do they smell so bad. Nurse sharks accompanied us on one dive and a giant manta ray, with an 8 metre wing span glided a few feet under us another time. Elsewhere we swam above coral canyons that looked as if there were rows of coral that had been planted in straight lines with deep ridges between the rows.

The 150 kg captain, when not sailing the boat, was in the water, spearfishing or diving for conch and other edible mollusks. His catch would be handed to the chef, who would bake, fry or saute the fresh bounty for the upcoming meal. He’d also make ceviche, (conch ceviche is amazing), as a between meal snack, just for the fun of it.

When not snorkeling, we often had dolphins accompanying us. If not dolphins, there were a few different types of fish that also jump out of the water as they swim in front of the boat. Some giant sea turtles came up to say hello. On the second day some fellow travelers and I saw something bobbing up not too far in front of the boat. The captain saw it as well and knew exactly what it was. It was a herd of manatees. The crew was even more excited than we were as this was their first sighting in over six months. The boat stopped in the water and these shy sea mammals, about twenty in the herd, swam right next to us, raising their heads and flippers. When they swam off and the boat started moving again, we resumed standard procedure for when we weren’t gaping at marine life: sunbaking on the deck or perching in chairs that jutted forward of the bow.

This might all sound very luxurious, maybe even spoiled. And I will admit, with the attentive crew, alcohol on tap, an onboard chef expertly transforming fresh seafood into delicious meals, lounging on deck, it was a once in a lifetime, dream experience. But remember, it’s geared for twenty-something adventurers, not fat old codgers. And twenty-something adventurers don’t need lux accommodations. Or at least on this trip they/we didn’t get it. On the first night we docked on a tiny atoll, 50 metres long and 20 metres wide. We were handed 3-man tents and shown how to set them up. We spent the night (“spent the night”, not “slept”. There is an enormous difference) camping on the sand. I guess it was fun for one night. On the second night we stayed on a slightly bigger caye, with “improved” lodgings. A sort of hostel, of the type that some of us may have stayed in when we were 25 years old, forty years ago. After 36 hours of sea and sand, even a shower that was merely a pipe coming out of a wall, was greeted as the height of luxury. And there was sort of internet. That almost no-one used. We were all quite happy to be cut off from the outside world for three days. Modern European 25 year olds aren’t quite as used to roughing it as we were at their age and it was a little rustic even for them. But in terms of street cred, these young Europeans were super impressed with us two ancients, who for three days forgot that we were forty years their elder. More than once we heard “Wow, our parents are in their sixties and they would never do what you are doing”. I won’t deny that it was a nice feeling.

When you’ve been sailing, sunbaking, snorkeling and eating all day, what is there to do at night? Drinking games, of course. So there we were, on Rendezvous Caye, sitting around a long table, or standing in a circle whilst participating in another game, having cheap, sweet coconut rum poured down our gullets after every mistake. There were a few of the youngins who woke up a little worse for wear the next morning.

Some of the conversations towards the end of the trip were quite fascinating. Belize appears to be part of a Central America route, where many of our fellow travelers were taking their four weeks annual leave (Europeans, remember) and traveling between Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico and Belize. I like to think that I’m pretty worldly, but Central America has never been on my radar (And still isn’t, to be honest. Belize is a worthy outlier) Places I had never heard of and still have no idea where they are, rolled off their tongues as if they were planning a day trip from Amsterdam to Utrecht. And they related to four week trips as a normal occurrence, a natural and god given right.  Ah, to be a young European.

On the third and final day, after our morning snorkel, we docked at another small caye, where we swam in the warm, hip deep water. It appears that the boating company has a strict policy of finishing the trips with zero leftover alcohol. The cool crew set up floating bars and made sweet fruit cocktails, successfully disguising the cheap local poison. After two night, I decided that I had had enough booze. Susan wanted one last opportunity to drink the Dutch under the table (or water). It is very difficult to outdrink the Dutch. She did succeed in helping the crew achieve their aim of returning to dock sans alcohol, and was well and truly shitfaced, sleeping through the final meal and two hours of sailing to our departure point. But she earned lots of cool-points from the youngins.

She was, however, awake and sober enough to share in final hugs and kisses, amid promises that we would all visit each other at some point. Whether we see any of our fellow travelers again remains to be seen, but for these past three days we’d all shared quite an experience.