Day 5. Guiding Light?

Now we arrive at Day Five (actually took me a few minutes to work out the rhyme, I hope you appreciate it). Day Five is the perfect example of how “disaster” and “fun” are in the eye of the beholder. Sander loved Day Five (except for the fishing-stay tuned), I spent all of Day Five thinking either, “I got soooooo taken,” or “Am I going to have to kill this guy to make sure we get back alive?” By the end, I realized that “this guy” or “James” was just trying to make an extra buck, was really trying to show us a good time and was never a threat. But yes, there was a time when I was definitely looking at my exit scenarios. Unfortunately, exit scenarios are limited on a tiny island where the boat is on the other side of a mangrove swamp. Quick side note, James recommended bagging the “Monkey River” trip. It was hot and the bugs were supposed to be a nightmare, plus he said the monkeys have retreated deeper into the jungle to escape the afore mentioned heat and bugs. “Hot, buggy and no monkeys,” didn’t have to tell us twice. Plus, we like to think that we’re at least as smart as the monkeys.

So the plan is for James to take us Fishing and Snorkeling. With the snorkeling focused on the inshore reefs near his resort. Now, whenever someone with no shoes begins telling me they have an island resort, well I hate be by cynical, but I am skeptical. We arrive at the dock and get into his boat, boat about as long as my forearm, and a boat with no cover. When I asked him about the lack of cover for an all day excursion on the open water in tropical sun, he says, “Um, oh, I just took it off this morning. It’s hard to fish with the shade up because it gets in the way.” Sure, OK, he’s the guide. Except that I notice that most of the other fishing boats manage to both fish and provide shade for the customer. But, being the optimist that I am, I figure I can use my charred flesh for fish bait. So I lather Sander up, put on his hat and sun-glasses and hope for the best (Editors note. Sander returned from the fishing trip sans sunburn. There was much rejoicing in the land.). So we’re off to snorkel the inner reef, have lunch on his resort island, do some more snorkeling and then catch the late afternoon tide for fishing.

So we cross the channel on the tiny ship, and the tiny ship was tossed. I have to give Sander credit here, he never complained and he never asked how much longer, he just rode it out. After about 20 minutes we arrived at the island and the reef. James says the inner reef is “so much better than the outer reef. Its more colorful and there are more fish. But no one comes to the inner reef, so this is a real treat.” Great! So we get into the water and start looking around. Now I don’t want to get into a “he said/he said” but as I looked around I saw fewer fish and blander colors. Oh, and everything seemed to be covered in some kind of silt. I kept thinking, “Buddy, I’ve already been to the outer reef, maybe you should try the ‘the inner reef is better’ line on someone who hasn’t been to the outer reef.” (Editor’s note. I also thought, “I’ve been to the outer reef, I’ve swam the outer reef, and this sir, is not outer reef.”) But Sander was really digging it, so I keep it to myself. I have to say, James did his level best to be an A+ guide. Showing us stuff, giving us local names for sea-life, “donkey dung sea-cucumber” being our favorite, and letting us hold coral and things like the donkey dung sea cucumber. We also saw some lobster and a couple of nurse-sharks that were lying?…laying?…resting under some boulder coral. So looking back and distilling it down the highlights, its sounds like a fun morning. But for some reason, I remember spending a lot of time thinking, “you gotta be kidding me with this trip.”

Now it’s lunchtime. When we originally signed up for the “James Adventure Trip” he said that we would, “Do some snorkeling and then BBQ on the island. Then lay under some trees and rest.” I forgot this was Belize, so what he meant was, “We should buy some lunch in town, hope it doesn’t get soggy and gross sitting in the heat for a few hours and eat fast on a bug infested island.” It’s one of those local things like in England where “I’ll knock you up” doesn’t mean what you think it means. Anyway, we head for the “resort.” At last, we’ll see the “resort” he’s been talking up since we met that morning (Oh, he also said that he owned the guide service that we used to look for whale sharks, but that he gave it to his ex-girlfriend. I’m assuming this was after he “started the whole whale shark game.” See he was “the first guy to swim with a whale shark, and then I had the idea to start the whole game, you know.” Seems like he should be able to afford a pair of shoes. Oh, we also had this conversation. James, “How much was your iPhone?” Me, “Don’t know, it was a gift.” Him, “Any idea, like a couple hundred dollars?” Me, “Well, I didn’t want to be rude and check the price, you know, it was a gift.” Him, “Could you send me one because it would sure help out my business, and I could wire you the money or something? Me, “Yeah, yeah, let’s talk later.” Me, thinking to myself, “Maybe if you didn’t ‘give away’ the biggest business in this whole town, you could buy one. After you buy a pair of shoes. And a bike or something, so I wouldn’t have to drive you around town in my golf-cart.” Anyway, James is clearly a player, and we arrive at his Players Club. That’s the picture of his resort. Yes THAT’S the resort. There’s also a picture of Sander next to, what I assume, is the clubhouse. Look, I’m not trying to dog the guy, but he just kept referring to it as his “resort” he’s building, and how yachts can dock near it. Not his home, not his second home, not even a project. I wouldn’t say a word about any of those, but “resort?” Come on. So if you’re booking a stay on an island resort, and the guy’s name is James, be warned.

So we lunch at the resort. The picnic table we’re sitting at breaks when I sit on it, so I have sander sit on a log. The food is soggy and nasty, and Sander tries, but there’s just no way. So he eats a small bag of Doritos (the official meal of the Fodder and Son team). After getting swarmed by bugs, and struggling to find shade, we call it. James says he’s going to go back and get the boat (it was anchored on the opposite side of the island) and starts to wade out into the water. But the mystery guy who’s building the resort (yes, one guy, that’s his laundry you see in the pic.), call’s to him and they conference. James then tells us that there’s a back trail to the boat through the mangroves. This strikes me as odd, because James has said no less that 537 times that he owns the island, he knows it like no other, how he plotted the land and picked the perfect spot to build his resort. How does he not know about the short-cut? So when James and random guy huddle up away from me and Sander, start talking in low tones in another language and send furtive glances our way, I get a bit, well, I look for something big to wield. All of this is tempered by the fact that I’ve pegged James as a talker. It’s much more likely that this isn’t his island, that’s not his resort, and that he’s just making up play as he goes along. But still, I’m not loving it. So I spend 20 minutes going back and forth between, “I think I can take these two guys” and “Chill.” Then James brings the boat around, all’s well, and I feel like an idiot. Sander, by the way, loves the idea of living on a tiny island off the coast of Belize. He was all into it. Except for the bugs. He could do without the bugs.

So round two of the snorkeling begins and we head to another island reef. We arrived at what I christened “Cartoon Island.” It was a tiny little island, all white sandy coral; it was just missing was the lone palm tree. The reef around it was beautiful. We had a really nice time on the Cartoon Island reef. James said it used to be huge, with a beautiful house on it, but a hurricane blew it all away. OK, maybe.

So now it was time to fish. James started talking, and I started doubting. Whenever someone starts talking and saying things like, “Yes sir. We’re going to catch some fish today. Good day for fishing. Catching the tide juuuuuust right. Got my lucky lures, this one never fails, etc,” well, unless its your Grandfather, someone’s trying to talk themselves into something. So we start trolling, and trolling, and trolling. For hours we were trolling. I caught seaweed. By the end, James was saying things like, “Well, the morning tide is really the better tide.” And I’m thinking, “Dude, I was here when you said this was the best time. It’s not like I just got on this boat.” So fishing was a bust. We never really had a nibble. But we did see a barracuda jump, that was cool. Sander was really bummed; it was the first time we struck out, ever, on a fishing expedition. But I explained that that’s part of it (I didn’t explain that bringing home bubkus isn’t really what’s supposed to happen when you hire a guide. But I guess, technically, we didn’t really hire a guide, so it didn’t happen today either). So we docked, gave James a ride to where we returned our cart, and said goodbye.

And that was the last we ever saw of James.

And no, I didn’t send him an iPhone.