Friday, October
19, 2012
The wind was
blowing out of the northeast when we went to bed. I was a bit worried that
it would shift during the night as it had other nights. If that
happened, there was not enough room on the other side of the spot
where we had dropped anchor, and we would drift into the mangrove
roots. It didn't happen.
Instead, the
wind died completely and the night was hot and sticky. To add to the
discomfort the still air next to the mangrove swamp on Lark Cay was
populated by those tiny little gnats that people call "no-see-'ems".
Small enough to squeeze through a regular window screen, they have a
hearty appetite, and sleep was frequently interrupted with sharp
little pinprick bites.
The lagoon where we were anchored behind Lark
Cay was mirror-still in the early morning twilight, reflecting tall
dark cumulus clouds with bright edges, back lit by the rising sun.
The others on
board were still too sleepy to go adventuring, so I took the
inflatable dinghy by myself to explore the shoreline. Actually there
was very little shore visible.
Dense mangrove thickets crowded right
down the edge of the lagoon, creating an impenetrable barricade of
aerial roots all the way out into water. They plunge down a foot, two
feet into the muddy or sandy bottom, holding the land in place
against all but the fiercest of hurricane-driven wind and waves, and
create a labyrinthine refuge and nursery for all sorts of sea life.
Beyond
the reach of the roots, colonies of coral grow in the clear, sunlit
water. Seemingly infinite in variety, composed of uncountable
billions of tiny sea-creatures living in symbiosis. These polyps eat
microscopic plankton and floating organic debris, but also are
nourished by the photosynthesis of specialized cells of plant algae
that live inside the coral's tissue. Each individual coral polyp is
capable of sharing the nutrition with all of the members of the
colony. Their supporting calcium carbonate skeletal material,
accumulated over countless generations builds the massive coral reefs
of Belize.
As
I skimmed along the surface I was fascinated by the constantly
changing contours of the bottom beneath the Zodiac. One moment the
water would be that infinite deep cobalt blue of the tropic ocean. As
I sped over different depths the color would change to a lighter,
shadowy blue, then emerald, then apple-green, dependent on how close
the coral heads were to the underside of the dinghy. By the time I
got back to the "Lovely Cruise" the rest of the crew was
almost ready to haul up the anchor.
There
is a long coral and sand bank that stretches a long distance out from
the shore of Lark Cay, and we were not eager to repeat the previous
day's tense moments of crossing that shallow water.
John set a course
south toward Bugle Cay, and I stationed myself on the forward deck to
watch for shoaling water. As soon as we were certain that there was
deep water to starboard John set a new course directly toward the
town of Placencia. We dropped anchor in twenty feet of water a
hundred yards or so off the town waterfront, joining several other
cruising sailboats already there.
A
shouted conversation with the captain of the closest boat indicated
that the new town dock was still under construction, and that we
should tie up to that rickety-looking low wooden dock that stretched
out a couple of hundred feet from the beach.
As we motored in on the
dinghy we could see that the outermost section of the dock consisted
of nothing more than pilings, the decking having been carried away in
some storm. We tied up the dinghy midway on the dock, walked
cautiously toward land, stepping over loose planks and missing
pieces.
A
long panga fishing boat with a high, rounded bow rested on the beach,
and people sitting in the shade just beyond the sand enjoyed the
gentle late morning breezes. We were enticed by the delicious odors
of cooking food coming from a vendor's hut at the edge of the beach,
and stopped to talk with the owner for a few minutes, promising that
we would come back to try some of her edible wares after we explored
the town a bit.
Placencia
is spread out for several miles along a very thin spit of sandy land
with the ocean on one side and a vast salt water lagoon on the
other..There is one dirt road that winds from the waterfront up the
peninsula toward connections with the other largely unpaved roads
that pass for highways in Belize. We strolled past a Shell gas station, and were a bit puzzled that there were no cars getting gas until we read the hand lettered sign taped to the front of the pump!
The Guiness Book of World Records
lists Placencia's Main Street as the world's narrowest main street.
It is really nothing more than a cement sidewalk that reaches for
over a mile through the long skinny center of the town, raised a few
inches above the loose sand. We walked along it for a bit.
Scattered
along the main street are small shops selling clothing, shops selling
touristy souvenirs, guest houses and bed-and-breakfast
establishments, beach cabanas, an elementary school, brightly
painted houses with metal roofs and gutters to catch rainwater in
cisterns, well-kept gardens, and sandy vacant lots. No place in town
is more than a few blocks from the water. We walked out toward the
ocean side and found a beautiful narrow beach where the
three-inch-high waves broke in small ripples against golden yellow
sand.
On a side "street" we found a charming little open
air bar, and stopped for some lunch. The
couple who own the Pickled Parrot were recent arrivals fro New
Jersey. He had been a truck driver, and when his wife retired from a
teaching job and suggested that they move to Belize, he eagerly had
embraced the idea. He runs the bar and she does the cooking in the
kitchen of the adjacent house wherwe they live. They have been in
Placencia less than a year, and are loving it. We stopped by the
beachside food vendor's spot to buy some home made candy on the way
back to the boat.
By
late afternoon we had navigated the thirteen waypoints on the GPS
that marked the shallow channel back to the Sunsail Marina. Two
marina workers came out to meet us as we approached, pulling
alongside to let the pilot come aboard to steer the big catamaran
back into the tight quarters between the boat slips.
With a practiced
flourish, one hand advancing the port engine and the other hand
reversing the starboard engine, he pivoted that clumsy square boat
with ease, sliding it backwards smoothly in between the pilings into
the slip. Someone else tossed the mooring lines. They were cleated in
place, and with that final nautical action our voyage was over.
It
did feel wonderful to take a long, hot shower, to put on clean
clothes, and to walk with the others down the road to Robert's Grove
for a delicious dinner on the deck overlooking the water, but I was
already feeling nostalgic for the time we had spent on this Lovely
Cruise.
