While vacationing in
Belize, I convinced my boyfriend that it would be a great idea for us to go kayaking.
He’d never been before and cannot actually swim, but hey, we only live once, right!
right?
‘That small island over there,’ one of the bartenders at the restaurant informed us, pointing out to the sea, ‘has some great snorkeling on the other side; you should go over there with the kayak.’
‘That sounds awesome, let’s do that!’ I foolishly exclaimed.
So, on that absolutely beautiful mid-morning in May, we set off from our hotel’s beachfront in the free kayak they provided us, snorkel gear in tow. Even the sun seemed to be smiling at us, just like that one from the Raisin Bran Crunch box who always hands out not one, but TWO whole scoops of raisins.
It only took about 45 minutes for us to reach the small paradise on the east side of the island - and the bartender was right, it was a great place to snorkel. We saw several schools of fish, sea snails, colorful plant-life, starfish, and coral. What a fantastic day, how could anything go wrong?
I should have seen the signs….but by then, an hour had already passed, and we hadn’t noticed the storm coming in from the north.
Sign 1 that was missed: The sea snails I had seen and taken pictures and video of did seem to be glaring at me. I thought about the conch I had eaten the previous night mixed in with the salsa we were served before dinner. Did they know? How could they have known? (I reviewed the underwater footage a few days later. They definitely knew.)
Sign 2: Some fire coral (I’m not even sure if it’s native to that island or area of
Belize or not) seemed to come out of thin water to jump out and scratch me for no apparent reason. I was sure the snails had something to do with it.
Then, as if Neptune himself had some grudge against us, the sky turned black and the wind created some very rough water. We tried to leave the island from the north side but ran aground on our first attempt. Out of nowhere, large rock formations seemed to have appeared.
We were surrounded and couldn’t get through or around them. After 10 minutes of trying, we headed back around to the south side of the island.
For some reason, I had a memory of watching “The Perfect Storm” on television recently.
This certainly wasn’t the
North Atlantic, but we weren’t exactly in a 72-foot commercial fishing vessel either.
The mainland looked a lot further away than I remembered traveling.
It only got further and further, as the fierce winds kept blowing us toward
Guatemala. It seemed like the harder we tried battling the waves, the worse off we became.
After about two hours of this, I could go no more. There were calluses already forming on my hands, my arms felt like wet spaghetti, and the pain from the massive scrape on my side from the aforementioned coral o’fire was getting worse. It was over for me. So, with the same determination George Clooney had drowning with the
Andrea Gail, I had accepted my fate and was prepared to sink with the kayak.
But then I pictured poor Mark Wahlberg floating all alone in the middle of the
Atlantic after his fishing boat sank. I turned to look at my boyfriend. No, we CAN do this. With a renewed energy, I began to paddle as quickly as I could toward the mainland
Belize.
As expected, my energy reserves didn’t last very long and my arms soon gave out. We washed ashore about 2 miles down from our starting point and had to walk the kayak and snorkel gear back to the hotel. Our 3 hour leisure trip had turned into a 6 hour battle on the high seas. Well played sea snails. Well played.
