After 11 days of fiascoes we packed up our stuff and headed back from Caye Caulker to Independence.
1 boat ride, 4 bus segments, 1 walk. When we arrived we found a boat in the marina under water. Now if we only had some tools and a winch maybe we could do something about it.
Winding our way through the labyrinth of mangroves we stopped at a spot with not obviously different than any other. Bryan declared this to be “the spot”, he had been shown the location by another fisherman. Soon we were pulling in pretty good sized snapper. After an hour we had enough for dinner for the three guys staying at the marina and headed back. I walked into town and bought some potatoes. Phil smiled when he saw that dinner had been caught and went about his usual, deep frying.
With everything packed and ready to go, I set my alarm for 6:00 in the morning allowing plenty of time to get to town for the 7:15 express bus. I read a couple of more chapters in my book, rolled over and went to sleep.
A spectacular orange and red sunrise started the day followed by a couple of fried egg sandwiches.
When I entered this country I only expected to be here for a week. Unfortunately, that is the amount of time I was afforded. So I had to visit immigration, file for an extension and pay a fee of $50 Bz for the privilege. The whole process took about five minutes.
Bryan and I walked the length of town visiting every hardware store, gas station and chino (the grocery stores are usually owned and operated by the Chinese). One store had some metric tools but nobody had a 5 mm socket. We walked down to the airport and inquired as to the cost of visiting other parts of this country. I assure you, Independence is not a place to hang out. We stocked up on fixings for spaghetti at the final store and came back to the Marina.
Bryan phoned around and Steve agreed to deliver his socket set. The carbs on the motor were worked on and the engine roared to life with the first pull. We were hoping to get our hands on some Sea Foam, an amazing product that clears injectors, valves and carbon deposits. Philip thought he had some at the shop but was unable to locate the can. More puttering around and reading; another hot, boring day in the tropics. A man could quickly learn to loathe this place.
We woke up yesterday morning, Bryan smoked cigarettes and posted on Facebook for hours. Finally we headed out to town bought some groceries and walked back. It was pretty damn hot for being only 9:30 in the morning. I read while he facebooked until late in the afternoon.
After six pulls the engine still would not start. An investigation revealed that the new fuel line was shedding a silicone liner, clogging the primer bulb. This may well have been the cause of problem a couple of days prior.
We trolled for snook, without success, the center carb was leaking at any speed lower than a fast cruise. I suspect the seal on the float was inadequate, the carbs have never been rebuilt, just taken apart and reassembled, the gaskets and seals are not available down here. At the end of the mangroves within site of Placencia we attempted a little snapper fishing with shrimp, I caught one, less than eight inches. We headed back to the house and Bryan put on jeans to fight off the sand fleas, I grabbed a book and we headed out again. Within a minute he caught a tuba but failed to catch another keeper in the next half hour. Disgusted, he drove us back to the marina with no food for dinner.
After a couple of hours we walked into town, grabbed a couple of chicken chow meins and water, I shouted the order over the counter 5 times before the idiot behind the cash register could hear me. Bryan and I were the only two paying customers in the place, the guy might have turned the stereo down enough that a conversation could be had but that was contrary to the spirit of Independence. We saw Philip driving by, I threw the cashier a twenty, we hopped in his truck, came back to the marina and retired to the house and air conditioning.
I only expected to be in Belize a few days. I have been here a week and near as I can read my visitation limit has expired. Today I have to go to town and try to get an extension. This should be pretty routine.
The gringos that live in Belize seem pretty disgusted with the place.
A 39 page newspaper reports the following:
Bank robbery next to police station customer shot in head, guard shot in chest, killers escape in rented Sidekick.
Robbery at store robbers and police shoot it out.
Man shot in front of Fried Chicken restaurant.
Journalist on bicycle robbed at gunpoint.
As I read online I see that this is not an unusual day.
It’s Monday, almost 7:00 in the morning. I am sitting in the “Marina” in Independence, Belize, a man made harbor cut out of the ground by Phil. We have been sleeping in house owned by a friend of Bryan’s in big comfortable beds, with air conditioning and hot showers.
Water is in a frying pan, heating up so I can make some instant coffee. I will start blogging backwards.
We have been sitting in on the water outside Independence, Belize. We have been unable to fish for lack of a boat and the boat is in Monkey River, 20 miles away. The road is under water. We have been looking for the keys for the Chris Craft. Bryan unlocked it last night and that is the last time anybody saw the keys.
I cooked up some omelettes and Phil cooked up some fry jacks. We finished off a pot of coffee. The next 5 hours were frittered away with not a single memorable activity.
After three days of trying to figure out how to get to Monkey River, a boat owner at the Marina showed up. Bryan knew him and asked if he was heading out to Monkey River. Fortunately, he was. Bryan hopped in the back of this truck and was about to take off, when Phil asked if I wasn’t intent on going.
I told them to wait, ran over to the house, got my shoes and my camera and hopped in the truck. We stopped so Bryan could fetch a replacement fuel hose and primer bulb; his has been stolen. We drove down about 10 miles of dirt roads next to flat grass lands and turned down another road when things rapidly become dense jungle. The road was washed over periodically but as we got closer to the sea, the river that ran parallel to the road started becoming one with the road. The water washed out of the dense foliage and across the road with a current. The road was never underneath more than about 18 inches of water, but it was submerged for up to a mile at a stretch.
Finally we reached the end of the road, crossed over a barrier and walked to the water’s edge. The sediment laden river spilled forth a creamy chocolate colored muddy water, the sea was mud colored as far as the eye could see.
We grabbed a couple of 5 gallon buckets and walked back to the river. The boat was tied up, stern to shore near half submerged with water nearly up to the gunwale. Twenty minutes of bailing later we untied it, pulled it off the beach, swung it bow to shore against a pier and bailed the water that flowed underneath the glass deck to the stern.
A six inch piece was cut off the hose and attached to the exit end of the primer bulb and the long end was affixed to the other end. The hose was fed into a one gallon bottle through a 1/2 hole in the top. The bulb was primed for a couple of minutes. Bryan took the top off of the 50 horsepower four stroke Honda. In the narrow seat at the stern was a 48″ piece of polypropylene rope attached to a stick. This was wound around the pulley mounted atop the engine above the crankcase gear operated by the started motor.
With a single pull the engine started. Bryan warmed it up for a bit and declared us good to go. We walked back to the house, where his stuff was all packed. A tackle box, a bunch of rods, a 120 quart cooler and a battery were all we had to move. We walked parallel to the shore for 150 yards to the other house owned by 24×7 Martha, so named because she is always stoned. Nothing happens very quickly in Belize. She smoked a few cigarettes, surfed a bit more, some local came in and Martha showed the girl how to connect to the internet. Bryan and Martha smoked more cigarettes followed by vapid conversation and more cigarettes.
Finally we headed back to house 1, loaded the gear into the back of her truck and she drove us over to the boat. The gear was put aboard. The boat had no life preservers, no signalling equipment, no paddle, no anchor, no radio, no fire extinguisher; she was not fit to be at sea. It is impossible to shift this engine once it is running because it stalls at idle speed, so I had to plant a pole in the bottom of the river and hold the boat while it was started in forward. Off we went across the river, in hope of buying enough gas to get this thing back to Independence.
We entered a cut upstream and pulled the boat into the reeds. I took a two gallon can and walked up to a house, behind which were at least a dozen 20 gallon cans of gas and bought a couple of gallons of gas for $21 Bz. The homeowner took a 3/4″ section of plastic tubing, inserted into the big can, gave a big suck and filled two one gallon water bottles, the contents of which were transferred to my gas can.
Back on the boat we poled out, faced it down stream and took off again. After half an hour the boat started sputtering. A short while later, wide open would push us barely 3 knots. If we made it back this was going to be a long trip. No other boats were to be seen anywhere.
Four and a half hours later we finished our 16 mile trip, pulling into the marina. We pulled the gear off, stashed it in the house. My face was burned as I had failed to grab my hat in my mad dash to get on the truck.
Steve brought over some beans and shrimp. Phil gave Bryan a lift to town, where he bought some spuds and we had the obvious for dinner, courtesy of Phil’s cooking. I washed up and we sat around and jawed a while. In the middle of a conversation I said I had to go and dashed off to the house to avail myself of the toilet after which I laid down on the bed feeling less than wonderful. I fell asleep and didn’t wake until dawn.
These are just my notes, but I’ll probably never flesh it out, so, here you go.
11:00 I took the Tica ejetivo hoping that it would approach a Peru bus in comfort but found the seats to be narrow with extremely limited leg room. Worse yet there was no air conditioning and the windows wouldn’t open. Shortly after the bus departed we were treated? Subjected? to an endless series of American comedies that thankfully were played in English.
14:43 A vile meal of extremely overcooked spaghetti, boiled meat, bread and an unidentifiable substance was served in a styrofoam container its temperature dictated by the residual heat of nearly four hours. The tray on the seat ahead of me sloped down at an angle of thirty degrees as the seat was fully reclined. The tiny plastic tray wouldn’t latch into position anyway. I had to place the meal on my lap and attack with the little plastic fork.
18:03 We have reached the Panama/Costa Rica border. We got out, paid our $1 exit tax, got out passports stamped. I bought a few skewers of pork for $1 each.
TODO panama bag inspection DOG. Hand in bag. TODO tool extract.
Bags back on bus.
We walked 200 meters into Costa Rica . At the immigration office a man was attempting to provide entertainment. He wore white plastic eyeglass frames without lenses, banged on an empty half gallon vegetable oil bottle and made noises with his mouth.
TODO We took our bags back out for inspection in Costa Rica. Concrete slabs that looked like beds.
After an hour I gave the girl my bags and my practiced bored look. She guessed I wasn’t smuggling anything and waved me on. Wait 45 minutes for the inspectors to show up, TODO describe steel fencing. TODO called by name.
Back on the bus, I used my leatherman to remove the screw in the window lock that prevented me from opening the window. The ride started to suck quite a bit less.
20:50 Passport check.
21:48 Passport check.
03:02 We pulled into San Jose transfer station, much confusion, bus not leaving until 5 no it leaves at 3.
Had uncheck and recheck my bags with the same guy.
Exceptionally bad, rubber pizza microwaved 2 h2o 2 snickers 2. Fucked over exchange rate 570 colones to the dollar but when the items came to 1250 wanted 3.
The bathroom door TODO
3:00 Boarded bus. Seat 45 was occupied. I told the guy, but he insisted that the seat was his. Looking forward I saw two adjacent seats unoccupied and decided not to fight it.
10:05 Managua, Nicaragua.
TODO Buddy, chocolate
I took the taxi, TODO hotels. Stayed at the TicaBus hotel went to dinner.
Washed my clothes and hung them up to dry.
19:32 Went out to dinner
4:00 I need sleep. Check in on bus
Aug 22 23:54 The one eyed guy behind the counter woke up with a bang when I took his picture.
4:45 At the head of the line for bus check in .
5:02 I wanted breakfast but there was no time the man just showed up on the bus.
No cambio necessito.
5:07 Eggs scram salty cheese that tastes like sardines and salt with the texture of set cauck. An enormous helping of very salty rice and beans.
5:20 The bus backs up with a rumble bud no engine noise. My kindneys feel as though I am being massage by a massuese with a vibratror. The bus is near empty perhaps 10 people.
7:15 The guy wants 8 dollars and my passport.
8:13 We mill about waiting for the bullshit to finish
8:39 Presumably in Honduras we mill about some more.
9:08 Back on the bus. No luggage checks. Passport handled by bus companuy.
12:50 Last night
Three taxis 7 (change trick) internet 2 ice cream 3 lunch 3
13:03 Sandwich gum and water 4.74 (is this where I got sodomized on the currency exchange?)
13:11 And we are off
15:40 Stop for lunch
2 piece of chicken
Potatoes au gratin
water 90
donut 20
17:37 Pulled in, it is raining
17:54 Purple lightning big modern building
22:59 attempting to get food the 12 b gone the loud family at the hotel
7:07 On my way to Puerto Cortez. Downed power poles. Earthquake last night 3.6.
7:29 Air shocks $5000. Suspension. 170 km/hr. 397000 km never touched the engine.
Warranty. Swerving. Braking. Brake fail, have to slow.
Paid the 970 for transport to Puerto Cortez
8:01 Flash struggles to top off the tank, shaking the truck, at least a minute of clicking.
9:06 3 Dollar exit fee from Honduras
Had to trade out 300 limpia for 86 quetzales.
9:42 Passport check 80 quetzales
Breakfast 5 quetzales and 1 dollar
eggs and bread far too hot to eat.
10:18 And we are off to Belize
internet, chat awareness that I was not where I was supposed to be.
1:55 The local who wanted to guide me.
14:18 Local asked where I was from , bamboo story
15:49 5 belize for taxi to water taxi
15:52 10 belize for hokey pokey water taxi.
16:23 At cozey corners.
Came back guy asleep on the floor popped up like he was being shot at when I took his photo.
TODO describe seat recline
TODO money exchanges
TODO managua mall
San Pedro Sula, Hondura
TODO leaving San Jose, breakfast rubber eggs flour based product
TODO Tegucigalpa 10 minute layover
This is really too much of a pain in the ass to continue.
Only one person who reads this regularly doesn’t already have a facebook account. The rest of the hits are random peckerheads who found references on google.
That having been said.
I woke up and showered. I came downstairs ate breakfast and plotted the utter destruction of my nemesis, coded for a while, took a shower, headed out for a 2 hour amble through town. Came back and showered.
Headed to the attorney figuring out how my assets could be buried so deep God himself couldn’t find them, came home and showered.
Went to the fish market, bought a bunch of fish and cooked 8 pounds of fish. The smell of sauteed fresh fish is far more stimulating to women than any cologne. than the smell of my shirt after a quick two hour walk. That cost me about 5 bucks in supplies, but I only provided the fish..
My Facebook post on this was:
Recipe for Success
Go the the fish market. Look at all the damn fresh fish, pick up some snapper, some cordiva, some curry, a couple of pounds of lime, some seafood spices, in little plastic bags. Go hog wild. Bring back 8 pounds of fresh fish with the sid…es for $5. Wonder why the 19 year super hot black chick is flirting with you. Assume the worst and just tell her you don’t pay for it. Go back to the hostel and cook up a whole bunch of shit and just tell people you are practicing because you need to practice. People falling all over themselves to get to the samples. Some just made it dinner. Six girls in the kitchen asking if they can help. Damn, that was a lot of fun. And.. I didn’t have to do the dishes.
Showered.
What the hell I drink 5 to 6 8 oz glasses of water and hour and I don’t piss. Why do you think I need to shower so often? This humidity is a bit over the top.
Can we call this a blog entry?
Sorry, I know I owe your for the last month, but, my audience calls to me, 200 people on the lowest level of Luna’s Castle.
Jonathan Allen LaFleur