by

The Bucket List

The water was blood warm and pool clear while lacking any discernable current. The cliff and the 8 foot long stalactite before me was formed eons ago of a light-grey limestone which reflected the intense Caribbean sunlight, channeled down to us by the vertical walls. The illumination gave us the false sensation that were not very deep and safe, but in reality we were passing the 110 foot mark as we plunged deeper into a geological feature which has claimed the lives of many well trained divers before our attempt. The dangers of the dive were starting to become apparent and they had nothing to do with the 6 foot long reef sharks circling above and below.

As an 11 year old boy growing up in Burlington Ontario Canada, I was fascinated with the sea, a condition brought on by faithfully watching the television series, The Undersea World of Jacque Cousteau. One particular show that stuck with me was Cousteau’s documentary account of diving and exploring the Great Blue Hole of Belize. Then known as British Honduras.

Half Moon Cay.

As a pre-teen, I had not heard of nor understood the concept of a “Bucket List” but apparently I had unknowingly started one as I had decided then I would dive the Great Blue Hole, but I could not imagine at the time that I would have to wait 54 more years to do so.

Maiatla at anchor at Half Moon Cay

The Great Blue Hole is a large marine sinkhole. It lies near the center of Lighthouse Reef, an atoll 42 miles from the mainland and Belize City. The hole is circular in shape, 1000 feet across and 400 feet deep. When the seas levels were much lower, rain water permeating the ground for millennia, eroded the soft limestone to create a massive cavern. After the last ice age the sea levels rose to flood the coastal shorelines. The ceiling of the now submerged cavern collapsed, creating a perfectly round sink hole.

Stephanie admires our anchorage and the crystalline water Half Moon Cay

In March, three friends joined my sailing vessel, Maiatla for a little fun in the sun sailing cruise of Belize with the focus of venturing out to the Great Blue Hole.  On board was an old sailing buddy Marina Sacht, her sister, Adriane Polo and her daughter, Stephanie Sykora. Stephanie was an avid diver and when I suggested we team up to dive the Great Blue Hole, she was all in.

Adrian and Marina, best crew ever!

 We arrived and anchored off of Half Moon Cay, dropping the hook onto a glaring white sand bottom. Half Moon Cay is a national park, and one of the cays that boarder the perimeter of the massive atoll. We wasted no time in heading ashore to announce our arrival to the park rangers and to pay our fee that would permit us to visit the Blue Hole. At $10 USD a head, it was a bargain. Aside from the rangers, the park was deserted giving us free rein to explore. At the small and dilapidated visitor’s center, there was a cross-sectional artist rendering of the Blue Hole. The hauntingly cathedral-like structure was almost mind numbing.

Sign on the wall at the visitors center.

Our group asked many question about the Hole, but is was Adriane who asked about the presence of sharks around the atoll. The ranger, a middle-aged fellow of Mayan decent, smiled and seemed too please to share what he knew.

“Oh yes we have lots of sharks, Grey and Black Reef sharks, Hammerheads, Bull and Nurse Sharks.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding. “But don’t worry, we haven’t have a shark attack in over two years.” Again he paused to gauge our group’s reaction. I believe it was Adriane who queried further about the attack. 

As recounted by the ranger, he said. There was a group of divers who had returned to the boat after a successful dive. To add some excitement to the experience, the tour group operator began chumming the water to attract sharks which quickly turned into a feeding frenzy. He said that a woman decided to jump back in to swim with the feeding sharks. Subsequently she was attacked and lost a leg.

I performed an internet search and found this. “A 15-year-old girl named Annabelle …. suffered a serious shark bite in Belize’s Blue Hole in August 2024. She lost her leg in the attack and had to be airlifted to a local hospital. The shark was reportedly a reef shark, about 6 feet long, and the attack occurred after she finished a scuba dive tour with her family. 

Doesn’t sound like the same event as the details are so different. But it is unlikely we are talking about two separate events and we will probably never know the truth. Either way, the story unsettled Adriane as the following day I was planning on taking her daughter deep into the same hole with the same sharks.

Andy and Stephanie walking the beach at Half Moon Cay

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the island’s pristine beaches and hiking trails meandering through the interior to visit the nesting colonies of Boobies and Frigate birds. We ended the day by taking a swim off the sandy beach at the west end. It was a beautiful spot and the heat had us all done in. It may have been the shark attach story that kept Adrian out of the water while the rest of us waded into the shallows. If anyone thought Adriane was just being a bit paranoid, well that thought would have quickly vanished as moments later, Stephanie called out as she stood in waist deep water. “A shark! A big one right in front of me!” I quickly headed over to where she was to see what type of shark it was, but I needn’t had bothered because after nearly colliding with Stephanie’s legs, the shark turned to bolt at high speed and directly at me. Standing fast, I watched as a frightened 5 foot nurse shark shot past.

Island hiking trails

Frigates over head

Swimming Beach at the west end of Half Moon Cay where Stephanie encountered the shark

Back aboard Maiatla that night we watched as a full moon rose from the east and over the following 8 hours, the moon vanished only to reappear as it went through a full lunar eclipse.

Sunset in the Lagoon.

Sunset swim as the Moon began its full eclipse.

 

The following morning was beautiful, cloudless and azure. After breakfast we made preparations to get underway.  We were soon weaving our way through the reef and bommie-strewn atoll on our way to the Great Blue Hole. Our goal only lay approximately 7 miles to the north. This would be my third trip into the blue hole so I was fairly confident as to my route, but I still took extra persuasions by placing Stephanie up on the bow, armed with a radio to stand as a lookout. By 10am the sun was high and off to our starboard so we had a good view of what lay beneath the surface.

Stephanie with Radio on Bommie watch.

We navigated through the reefs reaching the Blue Hole without incident and easily took aboard the large mooring line that was set for the big dive boat, The Aggressor. Fortunately, it was the weekend and the Aggressor was not due back until Monday.

Off to dive the Great Blue Hole!

Stephanie and I wasted no time in suiting up and took the dinghy to the far side of the Blue Hole where there was a diving buoy to which we could moor. This would only be my third dive with my new partner and previous to this trip, it had some years since her last dive so I would have to pay close attention to her, in case she got into trouble. After completing our pre-dive checks, we rolled into the water.

The anchor, which consisted of a bolt embedded into the coral lay 40 feet below, just a few feet from the edge of the deep drop off. The visibility was excellent giving us a view of the schools of fish milling about the coral perimeter. On the bottom we peered over the vertical edge giving us our first good look at the deep abyss. We could see down perhaps another 80 feet or so but then the waters turns black.  I gave Stephanie the all ok sign, without hesitation she smiled behind her mask and repeated my hand signal. With that, we launched ourselves headfirst over the rim. The wall was vertical, but rugged from having large chucks of limestone breaking away. As we descended, I noticed that there appeared to be a near constant avalanche of coarse coral sand cascading off the edges which was often caught by tiny ledges and shelves. This white sand helped to reflect the penetrating sunlight from above.

Stephanie checks her gauges as she hovers on the lip before we dropped into the great abyss.

The rugged wall of the hole is covered in course coral sand which reflects the light.

the wall at 90 feet with some colorful soft corals under a ledge which protects it from the cascading sand from above.

There was very little marine growth on the wall, which I presume was due to the scouring effect of the abrasive sand as it migrated towards the bottom.  From a depth of approximately 100 feet, the surface appeared as if it were a mirror or even a giant moon suspended above.  I stopped our decent a couple of times to have a face to face with Stephanie to make sure she was ok and to see if I could detect any signs of narcosis. Normal air, for all practical purposes is 21% oxygen and 80% nitrogen.  At depth, a diver can experience Nitrogen Narcosis a condition is caused by the large concentration of nitrogen which creates a drunken affect, instilling a sense of euphoria with the retardation of senses, mostly common sense. Onset can begin around 100 feet and start becoming acute around 130 feet.

What appears to be the moon shines from above

 

Our last stop, the ledge.

The ledge with a coating of coral sand.

A celebratory selfie while sitting upon the ledge. Notice the clarity of the water.

Aside from her constant broad grin, she seemed fine. Keeping within arm’s reach, we descended further. Directly below me I spotted a large ledge, perhaps 3 feet wide and 20 feet long and what struck me was that at one end appeared to be a massive stalactite clinging to the cliff face. We disturbed the sand on the ledge as we landed, causing a mini avalanche to flow over the edged. On our knees, we glanced about. The tranquil scene was surreal. Shattered shards of light sliced down to us from above, piercing our escaping air bubbles as they shot back to now unseen surface.

Above and below was the silhouettes of a circling sharks. Apparently paying us no heed. The only sounds were our breathing and rush of fleeing bubbles. When I held my breath, I could hear my own heartbeat.  I had been constantly monitoring our depth and when I did a final check while on the ledge, my gauge read 150 feet.

I point out to Stephanie a thrasher shark circles above

A total of 6 sharks were spotted during our dive, but all at a distance.

An ancient stalactite clinging to the wall.

Not my photo but it gives a better perspective of the stalactites.

It was there on this ledge that it finally occurred to me why this dive had claimed so many lives. By all accounts it was an easy dive, too easy. Straight down while clinging to the safety of a wall, no discernible current, abundant lighting, great visibility and warm, soothing water.  The whole experience gives you the illusion that you could just carry on down to the unseen bottom. And when you inject the Nitrogen Narcosis factor, that illusion can easily turn deadly.  Other factors also can come into play in the form of inattentive dive masters or trying to watch too many divers’ with various diving skills. Old and improperly serviced rental dive gear has also been factors in some of the deaths here as my research showed.

As a former commercial diver on the Artic oil rigs, I was very familiar with my own limits concerning narcosis and comfortable working at depths up to 330 feet. So I was hyper-focused on my charge and dive buddy Stephanie, who by all accounts was doing fine as she took in the sights from our perch.

Five minutes was all we had at this depth. Stephanie was our official time keeper and when she tapped the face of her watch, it was time to start our slow assent.

Stephanie begins her accent from the ledge.

After inflating my bouncy compensator with a little air to assist, we began to fin our way up on a diagonal line so we could explore more of the cliff on our way up. We performed several switchbacks so we would emerge from the hole approximately where we had entered. On our accent we again noted the lack of marine life below the rim. The only exceptions being a pair of spiny lobster sitting boldly upon a tiny ledge. My first though was to rescue these poor creatures before they fell into oblivion, but when I approached they declined my help so I let reluctantly let them be.

A pair of friendly lobsters.

After topping the rim with still forty feet of water above. I moved us up to our first decompression stop. Checking Stephanie’s and my remaining air supply, I was pleased to see that we both had ample air so we spent the next 17 minutes decompressing and exploring the upper edges of the reef. 

After dive Hi five.

The newly anointed Blue Holers return.

Another tick on the bucket list. I will dive the “Hole” again, but that will have to wait till next season as Hurricane season was fast approaching and it was time to start thinking about heading back to the Rio Dulce in Guatemala.

by

Super Yacht Shipwreck, and Maiatla Hard Aground!

There is a saying amongst Cruisers, “There are those who admit to having run aground, and then there are liars!”

Maiatla under full sail

The offshore islands of Belize are a natural wonder to be sure with its hundreds of beautiful islands and white sand beaches. The water is blue-sky clear and is teeming with marine life and what makes it all possible is the coral barrier reef, the second longest in the world next to Australia’s Great Barrier Reef.   

Belize, 150 mile long Barrier Reef and three coral atolls.

It’s an increasable diving and cruising ground for sailors with its countless anchorages and rustic beachside bars and restaurants. But despite all that it has to offer, this mecca has a dark, hidden side which come in the form of poorly charted reefs and shifting sand bars which often migrate during hurricane season.

Bommies, hundreds if not thousands of small coral heads are scattered about, often hidden by only a foot of water, a literal minefield in which one must navigate by sight if you wish to pass. 

Stephanie, on the helm.

Maiatla was tied to our friend’s dock in Placentia Belize, our crew of Marina and Adriane had departed the boat and were winging their way back to the great white north; not a place I want to be in March. Stephanie, Adriane’s daughter and my sailing apprentice, had later flights to take her back to work in the hills of Mexico where she was employed as a Geologist.  We had three more days before she had to depart so we decide to head up the coast to find a place to scuba dive.  After diving the Great Blue Hole the week previous, most anywhere would likely be a disappointment, but we were game to try. 

We cast off early and once clear of the Placentia cut we hoisted the sails and made our way over to Lark Cay where we hoped to find a spot to dive. We had a grand light air sail as we tacked our way up wind but when closing in upon the Lark Cay, the wind turned fickle so down came the sails as the motored was fired up.

Nestled amongst a handful of Mangrove islands we dropped the hook and prepared to dive as we found a likely looking spot. After donning our gear we dove to find bottom at 70 feet. We worked our way into the shallows towards the reef. By all accounts, it was a dismal lunar seascape with scattered coral bits and few fish. The highlight was spotting a lone lobster under a coral head.

Heading out for a dive

I made an attempt to invite the little guy for dinner but he declined my invitation. Back aboard Maiatla, Stephanie seemed to have enjoyed the dive despite being less than remarkable. I was still hopeful of showing her something spectacular so we wasted no time in pulling anchor and headed north. 

The wind had filled back in so under the headsail and mizzen, Jib and Jigger as we call it, we had another great sail. As we tacked up wind we came upon one of the many islands in the vicinity. Crawl Island is a ragged shaped mangrove covered island.

On its west end there were a few thatched roof houses and what looked like a small resort. But what caught my eye was what appeared to be a very large sailboat, perhaps 90 feet long or more. As we closed in on the island and through the binoculars, we saw what appeared to be a large sailing vessel in distress, canted over on a sharp angle with tattered sails flapping in the breeze. It was a shipwreck and a recent one at that.

The Super yacht MAS TAZ with Maiatla anchored in the back ground on a later visit.

“Wow that looks so interesting,” Stephanie said as she studied the wreck through the binoculars. “I’m going to get my big camera” she said as she dropped below.  We sailed in as close as we dared before veering westward around the tip of the island.  My research sometime later would reveal that the wreck before us was the super yacht, Mas Tas, out of Texas. 28 meters long and had sunk here in 2022. 

Sails in tatters, a forlorn looking vessel.

We were still speculating on the ships likely demise when I suddenly noticed the water shoaling, and fast. The bottom had risen from over 50 feet up to less than 10feet in a couple of boat lengths. A quick check of the Navionics chart indicted that it should still be over 50 feet of water beneath us. Charts show the theoretical, the depth sounder shows reality.

Abruptly we made a course change to head beck the way we had come. After several minutes I attempted to resume our original heading but almost immediately we found ourselves in even shallower water with less than a couple of feet below Maiatla’ s keel.

Crawl island- Maiatla drone shot shows the dangerous banks that extends to the east.

We made another abrupt course change but this time we swung well wide of the western end of the island. Apparently there is a shallow bank that extends outward from the island for almost a mile and surprisingly the charts failed to mention this.

“Wow that was scary”, Stephanie said once we were clear of the bank. “That’s probably why that ship was wrecked,” she then added, “do you think seeing it was a bad omen?”

I’m not the superstitious type so I quickly dismissed the notion, but perhaps too quickly. As the wreck fell behind the point, we sailed onward to our planned anchorage for the night. It was getting late, about 3 o’clock and I suggested that by the time we get in it would be too late for another dive, but we could try in the morning.

 Our destination was Northwest Cay with its almost entirely landlocked lagoon. A perfect anchorage as it was surrounded by islets and reefs. It would be a bit tricky but once in we would be safe from the fiercest of night gales.  Still under jib and jigger with Stephanie at the helm, I handed the sheets as we tacked for the entrance. With one eye always trained on the chart plotter we closed in on a tiny island. At about 500 foot distance, we initiated a tack which would send us back across the channel. No sooner had I sheeted in the big headsail, Stephanie called out. “Andy I see the bottom!”

As I glanced over the side I was horrified to see weed patches just below the surface. Before we could react, Maiatla ground to a dead stop. Quickly I let loose the jib sheet and furled the sail.  I ran the length of Maiatla to see how much trouble we were in. The bank appeared to consist of soft sand and weed, and it was shallow. I estimated that up to 2 feet of Maiatla’s great keel was buried in the bank. I then called on Stephanie to start the engine and give it full reveres.  After a few minutes I called out, “I think we are moving” Stephanie’s response after looking over the side was, “I don’t think so Andy, I’m still looking at the same patch of weeds.” Ok, it may have been wishful thinking on my part. “Stephanie is the tide rising or falling? She checked her watch and I did not like her answer.

The realization that we were in quite a predicament quickly set it. We were fast on a bank, a long way from any potential help and the sun was beginning to set and the tide was falling. On the bright side, the bottom was soft, no coral and the boat was not damaged and the wind and waves was dropping for the night.

Stephanie, who had never experienced something like this was scared, I could tell by the tenor of her voice. I did my best to relieve some of her anxiety by stating that neither us nor the boat is in any real danger and that we would get her off.

She asked how and half-jokingly I said. “We can always wave down a passing pang and ask for a tow.” My remark did not help, in fact I think it did the opposite in giving my apprentice a sense of hopelessness in us helping ourselves.  

Looking off the stern I could see the dark blue of deep water and leading back to it was the grove Maiatla excavated when we plowed into the bank. A sight that brought me hope.

We would have to kedge ourselves off. “Kedging off a bank” refers to the nautical technique of using a kedge anchor and line to pull a grounded or stuck vessel off a sandbank or other obstruction by hauling on the anchor cable.  Decades ago, I had anticipated such an event and had worked out a plan and fortunately, I have never needed to perform the maneuver, until now. 

With Stephanie’s help, I loaded the big Danforth that I use as a stern anchor, into the dinghy. We dug the spare anchor road and chain out of the locker and I went about setting the anchor as far off the stern as the length would permit.

Back aboard, I wrapped the rode around the portside primary winch and heaved the line tight. As Stephanie throttled up in reverse, I cranked on the winch. With the anchor rode bar-tight as it attempted to pull us astern and engine at full throttle, it quickly became obvious that we were not moving. “What now?” Stephanie asked dejectedly as she throttled down. 

“More power is what we need,” I said. With that, I went forward to release the bow anchor. Back in the dinghy, Stephanie fed me chain as I drove the big CQR anchor out into deep water off the stern.

Once again I cranked on the winch as Stephanie worked the throttle and the anchor windless button on the consol. The first few pushes of the button did little more than stall the 1000 lbs. anchor windless. But after several attempts, I noticed I was finally able to crank in a foot or two of the stern anchor. The bow winch would retract a few feet of chain before stalling once more. We repeated the process over about 20 minutes. Suddenly the bow began to swing around as the boat made some sternway. The sky had fallen completely dark by the time Maiatla slid off of the bank and back into deep water.  Stephanie emitted a cheerful laugh. We were off, but we still had a lot of work ahead of us.

Clearly visible from the air, the bank was uncharted on my Navionics program.

Night had engulfed the seascape with the stars filling the moonless sky. Stephanie was concerned because were still preciously near the bank. “Don’t worry,” I offered, “we have two big anchors out in deep water and we are fine”. In fact, it took over an hour to retrieve both the anchors as they were so well buried into the bottom that neither wanted to come up. As the last anchor came aboard, Stephanie skillfully steered Maiatla on a reciprocal course, following original path in.

We took a wide swing around the western end of the island then turned for shore, creeping in under the guidance of the chart plotter and radar, (again, one theoretical the other actual) until finding 30 feet of water where we dropped the anchor for the night. With the hook down we poured a couple of stiff drinks to celebrate.

 I later examined the recorded chart plotter and I was amazed to see that at the very spot where we had run hard aground, the plotter claimed that we still had 70 feet of water under and all around us. The only indication of an issues was a tiny heart shaped dashed line which was hardly noticeable. Placing the cursor atop the line, only a single word appeared which read “Obstruction.” I have seen many such dashed lines on the charts here but none have ever represented a problem before. In Belize, the prudent mariner must view nautical charts with some degree of suspicion and whenever possible, travel with the sun high and behind you with a good lookout on the bow to avoid such, “Obstruction.”    

Was sighting the wreck a bad omen? Perhaps.  But if so, perhaps the massive shooting star that we momentarily paused to witness during our struggle, was a good omen, a sign that all would be well.

A sailor is born!.

The apprentice, under a baptism of fire, passed her final exam.

by

Under sail in Belize

 Adriane Polo

The following is a post made by my crew and friend, Adrian Polo, who wrote about her recent adventure aboard Maiatla. I thought she captured the essence of the voyage well and with her permission I reprinted here. Andrew Gunson

 

 March 30, 2025

Exhilarating and terrifying are the two words that come to mind when asked about our sailing trip around Belize.

How else can I describe the feeling as my sister Marina and I sat on the deck shivering as Stephanie (first mate-in-training and my daughter) and Andy (our interpret captain and friend and owner of the Maiatla II, a 50′ sailboat) dove into the abys known as The Great Blue Hole, located in the middle of nowhere. We knew we were powerless to save them if something went wrong. There was nobody around, and neither of us knew how to dive. We had to trust them and trust the safety they imposed on themselves. “What time is it?” I kept asking Marina. Her answer was always the same: “Adriane relax. You cannot make the time go faster”. This went on for 40 minutes, as that was their dive time. At 36.6 m(120 ft) below, they can only stay at that depth for 5 minutes, then ascent halfway and wait 15 minutes to decompress before surfacing. Minutes dragged by, and I’m sure time ticked much slower for us.

The Great Blue Hole (GBH as the cool folks call it) )is a National Monument, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Belize, home to many sea creatures like sharks and sea turtles. Did I mention sharks? Yes, and not the friendly reef sharks and nurse sharks, but also hammerheads, bull sharks, and black tip sharks. This sinkhole lies in the center of Lighthouse Reef. The hole is 318 m (1,043 ft) across and 124 m (407 ft) deep.

It was formed during the last Ice Age, about 14,000 years ago. The cave flooded and collapsed. Amazing stalactites hang from the cave, and abundant sea life, including lobsters. (No crab hunting here; they are protected in the hole)

In 2018, a crew from Aquatica Submarines found two human bodies. It is a dangerous place and not a novice dive.  As Marina and I held our breath, we saw two heads pop up. We breathed a sigh of relief. They made it! And now, the bragging rights are theirs. They are the Great Blue Holers, and Marina and I are the Great Blue hole rimmers (we snorkeled around the hole). But we do have to work on a better name for us. 🙂

This called for a drink. We mixed up a cocktail we named after Maiatla (after the sailboat). Here is the recipe: 1 shot of coconut rum, 1 shot of pineapple juice,1 shot of coconut water, and a squeeze of lemon or lemon juice.

Marina and I were all ears as they recounted their dive. Did I mention we had the whole place to ourselves?

Under anchor at the edge of the Great Blue Hole in Belize

Heading for the Great Blue Hole for a dive

How did we get there? Let me start at the beginning.

Andrew W. Gunson (Andy), a friend of Marina’s, owns a sailboat called Maiatla II, in which he and his wife Janet have been sailing to different parts of the world for decades. Marina sailed with them on a few legs, including the Galapagos. For this leg, he invited her, her sister (me) and my daughter Stephanie. We had planned to join him in December, but Andy fell on drydock and broke his ankle. So, we postponed the trip for a few months while he healed. This is how we found ourselves headed to Belize on March 4th. We flew into Belize City and got a hotel for the night right by the water. That night, we treated ourselves to a fabulous dinner and discovered Belize’s national drink…the Panty Ripper! Embarrassing to order, but the reward of that smooth Caribbean coconut rum adorned with fruit juices goes down so smoothly. Too smooth. A few drinks later, we took a cab instead of a 3-block walk. Hmm…it must have been the heat!

Trying the national drink of Belize, the Panty Ripper.
Sampling the local fare

The next day, we visited the local museum to learn about the history of Belize.

Once a thriving Mayan civilization, Belize became a British colony in 1840. Then, after a century, it finally got its independence in 1981. The language spoken here is English, and the currency is Belizean dollar, which is traded at 2:1 ratio to the US dollar, which is used here most of the time. The people are friendly, and the country is a tropical paradise.

We met up with Andy at the grocery store, where we stocked up on supplies for our voyage, before taking a taxi to pick up  Stephanie at the hotel. We were not surprised to find her at the bar having a “panty ripper”.

When we finally arrived at the Old Belize’s Kukumba Marina, we got our first glimpse of the boat moored by the dock. She is a beautiful ketch just beckoning us to come aboard. We did, and after unloading all our luggage, we sat on the deck full of enthusiasm as our captain laid out safety drills and the sailing plans, which, I might add, are fluid, as a sailboat is weather and wind dependent.

In the morning, Andy took us for a walk to show us the Kukumba Marina’s amenities and for a quick dip into the saltwater pool before the high tide signaled our departure time. Well, you don’t show someone a seawater clear pool with slides and swings and lawn chairs and concession stands with cold beer. That is how we found ourselves drinking beer at 9:00 am, sunning and swimming and burning. Yes, I said burning. Since we missed our departure time, we just surrendered to the sun. It was a big mistake which would prove to cost us a lot more than burned skin. Naturally, we felt nothing until that evening. Lesson no. 1:” Always use sunscreen even if it is a quick dip.”

As evening came, we slathered each other with gallons of aloe vera and set on the deck, cooling. It was cool and breezy. Andy told us to use bug spray. And did we listen? No. So we became dinner to no-see-ums and other flying insects. Lesson no. 2. “When on the dock or by trees, use bug spray.”

Ahh that saltwater pool….
Beer anyone?

We left on high tide the next morning. Beautiful, calm seas until we got out of the bay. Then the seas became confused, rough, the wind blew fierce. A rude awakening for me. ‘This is no cruise ship’ I thought as I was tossed around like lettuce in a salad spinner. I crawled below deck, holding on to everything imaginable, as I tried to dig out my gravel ginger chews and tried to keep them down. Then I remember an old saying from a sailor friend, “When you anticipate the motion, you will never get seasick!”  Lesson 3: “Stay above deck and watch the waves.”

Trimming the sails

After 5 hours of this, we reached Caye Caulker. It is called a Caye because it is formed on top of a coral reef made by sand and coral debris. We threw an anchor in the shallow waters quite a way from the shore. Andy, to make sure the anchor was well positioned, jumped off the boat like some kind of Sea Tarzan and dove deep to check it. He did this at every anchor site, in the buff. They don’t call him “the naked Canadian” for nothing. Satisfied the anchor was good, he came aboard for a celebratory beer in the cockpit in which we all partook. We did this at every destination. Now to launch the dingy and motor to shore.

Caye Caulker is a small island split by a small channel called The Split. The south part has restaurants and bars and roads that are for bicycles and golf carts only. Around 3000 people are living on it. There are beautiful sandy beaches, and in the bay, the locals feed stingrays every evening so people can go and pat them and watch the tropical sunsets. The north part of the island is a Marine Reserve featuring dive sites on the Barrier Reef. That is where Andy and Stephanie went via dingy for a dive, while Marina and I snorkeled around the anchor point looking for manatees and, of course, sipping Maiatlas on Maiatla. That evening, we enjoyed a grand tour of the island (30 minutes) and dined on some local offerings at Swing Restaurant.

On anchor at Caye Cauker
The island is literally split in two.
On Caye Caulker all the roads are sandy
Night ritual on the island: feeding and playing with stingrays.
Enjoying a beautiful Caribbean sunset

In the morning, we were all ready to leave, but the motor did not start. Andy fiddled with it for a while and went to shore trying to find parts. There were no parts available, so he would have to take the ferry back to Belize City the next day for parts. We had no working motor. Yes, we were worried. If a strong wind blew in the wrong direction, we could have found ourselves smashed to the shore, since our motor did not work.

Bad luck. Andy tried to leave in the morning only to find out it was Election day. Everything closed! We would have to wait until the next day.

That night, our fears came to fruition, as a strong, fierce storm came in blowing and howling towards the shore, as we sat on anchor, helpless.  As the night approached, we were worried the anchor would drag. Andy had set an alarm, but regardless, we all poked our heads out throughout the night. It was a sleepless night, but the anchor held. We were okay.

The next day, while still dark and blowing, Stephanie motored Andy via dingy to shore, where he walked to the other side of the island to catch the earliest ferry at 6:00 am. Marina and I sat on the deck in the dark with binoculars, anxiously watching for Stephanie’s return. We were worried because it was still dark, windy, and the outdoor motor was finicky and had died on us the night before. Andy wanted us to have the dingy in case something happened, and we had to leave the boat. (Note to Andy: We would never leave the boat). That’s where the maitalas where after all. 🙂

Finally, on the horizon, we saw Stephanie in the dingy heading back with some Jack Fry’s she’s picked up for us to share. They were still warm! Thank you, Stephanie. In the afternoon, the wind died down, and the sun came out. We motored back to get Andy, and a few hours later, with a very dirty and tired Andy, we were ready to depart. Andy jumped in the water for an ocean dip as we raised the anchor and motored out of harbour.

Captain Andy teaching Stephanie navigation while Marina chills
Adriane enjoying the good life

We raised our full complement of sails, as the winds rocked us along, gently caressed the sailboat and bathing us in gorgeous colours of crimson, indigo, peach and lavender.

Stephanie (aka The Young Apprentice) quickly learned her way around the sailboat, and she looked at home raising and lowering sails and helping Andy steer the boat, while Marina and I looked at home lounging on the deck, giving way to wind and sun.

Stephanie at the helm

That night, we anchored in the protected bay of Drowned Caye’s mangroves. We were the only boat there, so we slept with fully open hatches and were treated to a symphony of chirping and clicking. We later found that not all sounds are friendly as a few flying insects made it inside the boat for an evening meal (us).

Captain Andy adjusting the course
Stephanie, very happy to be here

In the morning, we counted new bites, mosquitos or no-see-um? We never heard them, so we take it they were no-see-ums. With sunrise comes a new day, the bugs disappear, the wind picks up, our spirits pick up, and our sails rise, and off we go.  

We reached Turneffe Atoll by midday. Turneffe Atoll is the largest atoll in Belize and a designated marine reserve. It is home to turtles, sharks, reef fish, lobsters (No, you cannot eat them, they are in a nature reserve) and rays. It is called an atoll because it is a ring-shaped island formed of coral that surrounds a lagoon. We anchored in 2 feet of water below our keel. The reef was right there. We could see it and hear the waves breaking over it. Andy launched the dingy, and he and Stephanie went for a scuba dive about 10 minutes from the boat while Marina and I made dinner. When they got back, Andy took us into shallow water where we snorkeled. We saw the most magnificent coral of all shapes and sizes and textures and all the fish that call it home. And then we saw a shark. But it was a reef shark, and they are harmless. More scared of us. It was one of the best snorkeling experiences I have had in my life. The diversity of coral was grand.

A sailboat came and anchored right beside us. They were from Quebec. The crew dove in for a snorkel. A gentle breeze lullabied us to sleep after a freshly caught tuna dinner and a few Maiatlas on Maiatla.

Turneffe Atoll. Look how close the reef wall is.

Refreshed from a morning swim, we hoisted the anchor and set sail to Halfmoon Caye to see a park ranger about getting a permit to dive the Great Blue Hole. As we approached Halfmoon Caye, which is in the Lighthouse Reef, my heart jumped and rejoiced. I have never in my life seen such colour of ocean. It was transparent. So, clear you can see the bottom. Because it was so shallow, we had to anchor way out and take the dingy to shore.

The Polo sisters, Adriane and Marina, in their duffus hats. Note the sun burn blisters on Marina’s lips.
Anchored at one of the most beautiful places on earth.
Our dingy tied to a dock at Halfmoon Caye
This island looks like its from South Pacific!
Admiring Halfmoon Caye

Halfmoon Caye got its name from its shape. It looks like a crescent moon. The Caye is a national monument. The first marine conservation area in Belize, it measures 45 acres in size and is home to about 4,000 red-footed boobies. This island reminded me of the South Pacific. We were the only tourists there. From the first step onto the island, I felt the magic of the place. Something out of prehistoric times it reminds me at every step that we are just a miniscule part of a bigger story. Hundreds of hermit crabs scurried beneath our feet as we traversed, keeping an eye on the moving floor. Andy and Stephanie walked around the island as Marina and I stared into the ocean and absorbed its natural beauty.

“Come, I know a spot,” Andy’s voice broke the silence. We followed, and he showed us a small beach perfect for a dip. All three of them jumped in the water while I contemplated the meaning of life, staring into the ocean. Listening, opening to it, letting its energy fill my soul…  “Shark!” yelled Stephanie, breaking my trance.  I jumped up and yelled, “Everyone out of the water!” as the shark beelined for Marina. Andy jumped in front, but it was a false alarm. It was just a frightened nurse shark.

Nature walk
A male frigate bird inflating his pouch
Andy holding up a piece of coral that washed to the beach.

A tropical isle sunset

After they had toweled off, we hiked up to the Bird Observatory. From the platform, we could see the birds’ nesting. There were lots of Frigate birds, with the males inflating their red throat pouch to attract the females. It looked dramatic, and we were captivated by the sight. We also spotted the rare Red-Footed Boobies.

That night, as we anchored by the coral reef wall, it was quiet. Marina slept on deck. We all got up multiple times at night to see the full moon and the lunar eclipse. The moon looked huge and outwardly.

The next day, we fired up the motor as we headed to the Great Blue Hole where Andy and Stephanie would dive. It has been on Andy’s bucket list for decades.  Andy is an accomplished diver, and Stephanie has her PADI and did a few deeper dives as a novice. They were both excited and ready. They dove to 120 feet, and when they came out, they were forever changed and bonded by the mutual experience. Down there, all you have is each other, and you trust them with your life. A video of the dive is to come.

We spent the night tied to a buoy that the diving charters use, right at the edge of the hole with coral reef all around us. It was windy, and I did not get much sleep. As dawn broke, I was up first making breakfast, as they launched the drone to get some aerial videos. A coast guard boat came beside us and asked if we were okay and to see our tickets. They were impressed to see us there, wondering how we got a boat of that size through the reef?”. Depth sounder, careful navigation by our skilled captain and Stephanie at the bow calling out for obstacles!

Stephanie on a lookout for bommies
The different colors of ocean by the Great Blue Hole
Marina and Adriane dressed up for the occasion

The return trip was easier as we motored back through the coral reef, following our trail on the chart plotter. That took an hour. Once out and in the open ocean, we raised the sails, put on some music and enjoyed rolling along the six-foot swells.  Yes, they were big, but not scary. The boat pitched and rolled and glided along the waves. We were happy and relaxed and enjoyed every minute of the five-hour sail to the southern tip of Tobacco Caye. There is where we discovered Reef’s End Restaurant right on the water. This small Caye, which is a resort, houses Reef’s End, a bar. They also offer all inclusive stays at their eco-friendly cabanas. Run on a solar system that provides more than 95% of power, the water they use for showers and basins is rainwater from their roofs and stored in tanks.

Reef’s End
Stephanie posing after a grand meal
At Reefs End
Land Shark…yea, and not just the beer

After a few drinks and watching the sun set, we were getting hungry. We tried to order dinner, but because it is a small place they only make enough for their guests and those who reserve ahead of time. Oh well, we were resigned to fill up on drinks when a couple from England told us their captain wouldn’t be joining them and there might be a spare dinner. We jumped at the opportunity and asked the lady in charge if we could buy it. She agreed, and luckily, there was another no-show, so we were able to buy two dinners with desserts that we shared amongst the four of us. We were very thankful and gobbled everything. We even licked the bones of the fish and ate the fried fish tail. Yumm.

With full bellies, we dinghied back to the boat under the moonlight. But guess what? The motor died five feet from the boat. Out of gas. I had images of Andy jumping in and pulling us, but when he didn’t, I asked, and he said, “You cannot swim against the current!” I asked for the paddle, but again he answered, “You can’t paddle against the current”. My heart sank, and I was scared for a moment. Images of us adrift in a small dingy for days, no food, no water. I wished I had not read “438 Days at Sea” before coming on this trip. But Andy was prepared. Lesson 4: Always have a back up. And he did. He had extra gas. When Marina asked what would happen if the motor quit, he said that he had an anchor on the dingy that he could use to anchor us or pull us closer. That Andy is a smart guy! I was so glad we were in such capable hands.

Cruising along at 6 knots
Under the sails
Marina getting ready for a snorkel

That night, Stephanie slept under the stars while Marina and I snored away, hatches fully opened. Best sleep ever.  As morning broke, we set sail to look for a place to snorkel. About an hour in, we found a perfect spot. Close to an island that had a resort under construction. It was the weekend, and the place looked empty. We anchored and jumped off the boat for some fabulous snorkeling around the reef. I had to cut mine short because I spotted a jellyfish, and I am kind of scared of them. (I know, never mind the sharks and the barracudas and the stingrays, it’s jelly fish that frighten me.)

Happy snorkelers
Enjoying the wind

After a terrific, leisurely sail, we reached Placencia, where we tied up at the dock of Andy’s friends, Chris and Shannon. They live there in an open concept house with their dog and cat, to whom we had to pay a toll of treats for passage. They also have a boat; it is a large powerboat that runs on used vegetable oil. They were gracious enough not only to let us moor on their dock but also to open their house to us and let us use their laundry facility and their pool. After a few beers and good conversation, we retired for the night and slept like babies.

In the morning, we dinghied over to town to go explore it. Placencia is a small village located on the southern tip of the Peninsula. It is a popular place for boaters and tourists. There are many artisan shops, local restaurants, and homemade gelato and rum. Rum is cheap, and it flows freely during happy hour. So, after a few, we went to the beach and had a long swim. We were the only ones there. It was overcast but not raining. The water was warm and inviting, and we swam and swam and did not want to go out. We eventually did, and air dried, then headed to Barefoot bar where Chris and Shannon met us. We dined on seafood and had more of those “panty rippers” drinks and danced the night away with the live DJ and popular music. We eventually headed for the dingy to get back to the boat. It was dark, and we swayed and sashayed like a bunch of drunken sailors (which we were). When we reached the dock where the dingy was tied, Marina overreached and did a face plant. “Blame it on alcohol,” she said, laughing hard. Earlier, she had had the distinction of being “cut-off” at the bar. An unheard of event according to the locals. We knew we were leaving in the morning, so we were very liberal with drinks. We motored back to the boat, where we attempted to pack. That was a mistake, so we just threw things into our suitcases to finish in the morning.

Open concept house on the docks at Placencia
A final dip in the ocean at Placencia beach.
Happy hour drinks
Our sailing family
Our friends Shannon and Chris joining us for dinner and drinks

We barely slept when, at 5:00 am, Andy had the dingy ready, and we finished packing. Marina and I were very sad to go. Stephanie was staying for a few extra days with Andy for some more diving and snorkeling excursions. As we reached the shore where the taxi was waiting for us to take us to the airport, we turned and gave Andy a big hug. In the background we looked for the boat silhouetted in darkness. We knew we were different people leaving. The experience changed us. It brought back memories of when we sailed with our parents and boating was a big part of our lives. We were grateful to relive some of those sailing experiences and to feel the thrill of sails and the fill in our hearts. We will forever be thankful to Captain Andy for letting us share a small part of his world with us, and we were happy that he will always be our friend and our sea Tarzan.

Captain Andrew W Gunson

You can ready Andy’s Blogs here: https://thenakedcanadian.wordpress.com/

You can purchase Andy’s books here: Amazon.ca: Andrew W. Gunson: books, biography, latest update

FacebookTwitterPinterestEmail

by

Maiatla update 2024-25

Cruising in 2024 into 2025.

This post will be a brief update to help you all get you all up to speed as it were.

Well I had a great sailing plan for this winter but what often happens to cruisers, the fickle winds of fate decided to blow a tempest into the mix.  In November, I flew from Vancouver to Guatemala City with my friend Richard. Rick agreed to take a month and help me get the boat ready for a voyage to Belize where we I had planned to spend a couple of months.  Friends and family were going to join me in Belize, Cuba and Jamaica with a side trip to the Cayman Islands then finally to Roatan Honduras. I had grand plans making for an epic voyage.

Well, a week after our arrival in the Rio Dulce we had finished all of our boat chores and we were ready to launch, but before we could hit the water, while carrying a bag of laundry up the ladder to the boat, I fell 10 feet to the concrete. The result was a broken ankle that required screws to put my foot back together.  performed at a local clinic located in Frontaras, Rio Dulce Guatemala.  I was rather hesitant to be operated on in a third world country, but when I learned that a Van of specialist was being dispatched from 5 hours away in Guatemala City to perform the surgery, I relaxed… some.

The operation went well and in two days I was back at Nanajuana Marina, checked into a room as Maiatla was still on the hard and there was no way I was going to attempt to climb the ladder anytime soon.

Rick brought meals to my room while he continued to prepare the boat for launching. A week later, Maiatla was put back in the lake. Armed with crutches and knee pads, I wasted no time in moving back aboard.

Bored stiff in my hotel room after surgery.

Well Maiatla was ready to hit the high seas but I was not. The dock would be home for me and Maiatla for the next 6 weeks. Unfortunately, after four weeks Rick had to leave so I was left alone to fend for myself. With the help from other cruisers, like Bill and JoAnne of Altrua. I survived.

JoAnne, Bill and Rick at diner at Nana Juana. These people made life bearable back at the Marina.

I spent Christmas alone on the boat but I was invited to a large cruisers Christmas day dinner. I was treated like royally as people that I hardly knew, took turns bring food, and drink. I even had an escort to make sure that this drunken sailor on crutches, made it back to his boat at the end of the night.

Life at the dock in Nana Juana Guatemala

I turned down an invitation to attend the New Year’s Eve celebration at the Nanajuana Marina restaurant. Choosing instead to make popcorn, sip on mediocre box wine while cruising Netflix. At midnight I retired to the aft deck to watch a spectacular display of fireworks that lit up the entire harbor.

My home of convalescents at Marina Nana Juana. All dressed up and no where to go!

Rick and I chilling by the pool.

After another two weeks of lying about, an old friend and shipmate, Al decided to fly in and give me a hand. Al also had an ulterior motive for his visit as he wanted to check out Belize as a potential retirement location. He said he was done with North Carolina and all its rednecks and with the re-election of Trump, he thought he best get out of the country.

Cruisers Christmas diner.

Al arrives to give me a hand.

Well six full weeks after my fall, I had follow up x-rays with the specialist who said that I was healing well but to stay off it for another two weeks. So with those encouraging words, Al and I prepared to cast of for a short day sail for Punta Gorda, Belize.

We arrive in Belize, customs dock at Punta Gorda.

I was there also!

We would spend three weeks exploring the magnificent islands of Belize as we made our way north to Belize City where we took a dock for a few days at Kukumber Marina. The place boasts a massive saltwater lagoon with a monster water slide with beachside food courts. And of particular delight was the bevy of tanned, bikini clad beauties laying about. 

Anchored at Moho cay.

Kukumber (Pronounced Cucumber) was a great place for a couple of weary sailors fresh from the sea to hang out for a couple of days. Kukumber was the only marina in Belize City with enough water for Maiatla’s deep draft of 6 feet. Reluctantly, Al traveled inland to look at property while I headed back out to the Drowned Cays to hang out in peace and work on the boat.

By now my foot was healed and if it were not for the 6 inch long scar on my ankle, I would have forgotten all about it. No pain or discomfort. I was cured.

Al at South Water Cay

Al had intended to be gone for a week but he returned after just a couple of days as he had caught a bug and was sicker than the preverbal dog. While he fought his illness, we sailed to the tourist mecca of Cay Caulker where I promptly rushed Al to the clinic.

Al in the medical clinic on Cay Caulker.

He was sicker than he thought. After receiving intravenous antibiotics and 2 bags of saline, for extreme dehydration, I took Al back to the boat to rest. Four days later we were back in Belize City where I put Al onto a flight home. It would be many weeks before he would make a full recovery.

It was now mid-February. The boat was running well and my foot was no longer a concern. But I was at a bit of a loss as what to do. All the plans to have family and friends join me on this epic voyage were scuttled. But in an effort to salvage some of the sailing season, I texted family to see who could still come down. As typically happens, none were able to join me now. But I would not be alone for long. My friend Marina, her sister Adriane and her daughter, Stephanie would join the boat for two weeks in March.   

With a crew inbound in a few weeks, I retreated solo back down the coast to Placentia, Belize for a couple of weeks to hang out on a friends dock, Chris and Shannon, my Newfie friends and work on the boat.

by

Half-moon Caye and the Blue Hole.

Easton and I were still sitting at the bar having beers when one of the dive boats arrived to disgorge a dozen or so exhausted looking divers. Amongst them was a tall black man that the cook identified as the manager and head dive master. With a female companion, he found a table near the bar.  I marched over to introduce myself then explained what we were doing there while expressing my appreciation for the help his staff had provided while making my pump repairs.

Long Caye

 He seemed pleasant enough but was more focused on the young lady in his company than what I had to say.  In a few days’ time, I would learn that her name was Susan and was a diver from Montreal and here for a week. I tried to pick the managers brains about some of the better dive spots on the atoll, but he was not too talkative, to me anyways. Shaking his hand I then returned to my own table.

Earlier Easton had expressed an interest in learning how to scuba dive so he could dive with me when we reached the blue hole. I had heard the resort offered an intense, 4 day certification program which would work for Easton. I suggested that he talk with the manager about taking a dive course, which he did.

While Easton talked to the manager, I took my beer for a walk down the beach and the resort’s remarkable waterfront. As I passed a series of two story cabins or bunkhouses, I noticed that the upper stories all sported an outside deck with empty mesh hammocks swinging in the breeze. No one seemed to be around so I took the stairs of one of the cabanas with the intent of taking some photos of the lagoon and Maiatla beyond. As I took pictures, I heard someone emerge from the door behind me. Thinking I was about to be admonished for trespassing, I prepared to plead my case as a lost and ignorant tourist.

The bar at the resort

His name was Roberto, a native Belizean who turned out to not only be a pleasant fellow, but a wealth of information on diving the Blue Hole, and did not hesitate to share his knowledge.   He asked me about how I knew of the Blue Hole as I was from Canada. I told him that as a kid, I saw the TV documentary of Jacque Cousteau taking his exploration ship, the Calypso into the hole and dive it with his mini sub. Roberto’s face lit up. He went on to tell me that he was there! At first, I thought it was just a boastful claim, but he went on to explain that his father guided Cousteau’s ship through the labyrinth of coral into the hole where the ship moored for a few days.

“I was only 8 years old but my father took me along!” Roberto proudly declared. We talked of his experience and by the time he finished his story, I could not doubt his sincerity. I pointed out to Maiatla swinging peacefully at anchor off in the lagoon.

The deck where I met Roberto, Child guide for Cousteau

“Do you think I can get my boat through the reefs and into the hole?”  Roberto did not hesitate. “Yes sure, no problem just do it when the sun is high and behind you”.

We talked a few minutes more about the way in, then I departed. I regret that I did not have the forethought to take the man’s picture. I found Easton, sitting in an Adirondack style chair, looking a bit downcast as he stared out to sea.

“So kid what did the dive master have to say? Is there a course you can take?”

Without much enthusiasm he answered. “Yes, a four day course but I wouldn’t take a course from that asshole!” I was surprised by my Nephew’s response. I probed him for an explanation.

 “Well first off, he seemed upset that I was trying to talk to him when he was with that girl, and he was talking big, bragging about all the diving that he’s done, think he’s trying to get laid!” Easton added. ”

I had to chuckle to myself because I had the same thought when I was talking to the pair.

 “I told him I would want a course right away as my uncle and I were taking your boat out to the Blue Hole to dive.” When he heard that he laughed and said that you were crazy if you thought you could get the boat into the hole! He then said “I have made a lot of money off of people like your uncle who crash on the reefs and need saving!”

Anchored well offshore of Halfmoon Caye. bare 2 meters of water. Inches under the keel.

After hearing all this, Easton’s use of “asshole” seemed to appropriate.

“Well I guess he just lost a paying customer, screw him, let’s go back to the boat kid.”

 As we marched down the dock, Easton hesitantly asked,

“Can you really get the boat into the Blue Hole Uncle Andy?” Yes sure kid no problem.” I said confidently. “When we come back in a few days we will stop here for a beer and to tell that dick how much we enjoyed diving the hole.”

Funny thing was that if Easton had asked this question the day before, my answer would have contained words like “maybe and try” but after talking to Roberto up on the deck, I was filled with optimism and I was excited about the prospects of the following days. 

In the morning, we sailed across the lagoon to Half-Moon Caye where there was a range’s station, it was there we would have to buy a park permit before heading out to the hole. Half Moon Caye is located at the southeast corner of Lighthouse  Atoll and was the first nature reserve to have been established in Belize under the National Park Systems Act in 1981 and first Marine protected area in Central America. This is also Belize’s oldest site of wildlife protection since it was first designated as a bird sanctuary in 1924 to protect the habitat of the Red Footed Booby birds. The island has an expansive sand beach and dense mangroves crisscrossed with trails taking you deep into Bobby nesting country.  

The Dock at Halfmoon Caye

The approach to the Caye is very shallow, forcing us to anchor over half a mile from shore with only inches under the keel. The island itself is spectacular, enticing you to stay for a few days to explore, but that was not our intent, not this time anyway. We would only spend a few hours ashore, wandering, but only after we purchased a two day permit to anchor out at the Blue Hole for $60 Belize dollars per day. ($30 USD).

There were only a hand full of other tourist on the island so we pretty much had the place to ourselves as we hiked to the far western most point for a swim.

Beach at Halfmoon Caye with our dink on the beach.

I planned a snaking route through the coral using Navionics. Water depths varied from 2 to 5 meters with countless bommies lurking just below the surface. Striking the reef would be disastrous, as fines for doing so are horrendous. I met a cruiser at Nana Juana marina last year who ran aground and had to be pulled off by the Belizean Coastguard. His boat was impounded and he was forbidden to leave the country until he paid$50,000 USD fine. After months of negotiations he finally agreed to pay $19,000 USD. Despite being in the custody of the Coastguard at their privet docks, most things of value had been stripped from the boat. The cruiser vowed to never go to Belize again.

The general consensus of most cruisers is that if you run aground, never call for help, get yourself off and if your boat is going to be a total loss, grab what you can and fly out of the country as fast as you can. This was also my plan.

Maiatla’ s route through the Bommie mine field to the Blue Hole.
Final approach into the Blue Hole.

By 10am the following day we haul anchor and entered the expansive reef system. The sun was to my right and over my shoulder, the intense sun caused the sand patches to glow in stark contrast to the browns and greens of the coral heads.  I was nervous but by all accounts it went well and by noon we had found our way into the Great Blue Hole, securing to one of two mooring balls located within the hole. The park ranger told me about the balls which he recommended we tie. The moorings belonged to a liveaboard dive boat, the Aggressor which visits the hole something like twice a week. It was a great mooring with a line as thick as my right arm. Once secured, I was confident that we were not going anywhere.

At the Mooring inside the blue Hole- tick one off the bucket List.

Our bow hovered 3 meters above a beautiful sand bottom with our stern peaking over the brim of the hole with the bottom some 150 meters below. We had hardly settled in when a sea turtle came for a visit, Easton and I quickly donned our snorkeling gear and jumped in to greet the friendly beast.

Location of our mooring ball.

We spent the following 2 days with the place all to ourselves, snorkeling around the perimeter of the Blue Hole. The marine life and coral was magnificent and I was surprise to see much of the coral brim came within inches from breaching the surface, a condition preventing us from swimming overtop of large sections of the reef.  I never did break out the scuba tanks as I was content on free diving. Besides, deep diving into the hole solo would have been a bit fool hardy. We could see several sharks cruising the depth but they never did come too close.

A friendly turtle came to visit.

We had a grand time and could have stayed longer but on the morning of our 3rd day, I spotted a large vessel heading our way. It was the Aggressor what meant we had to move. We quickly dropped the mooring lines and exited the hole to attempt to anchor outside the rim in 5 meters of water. The wind had been building all morning creating whitecaps across the lagoon. I attempted to anchor but without luck. The bottom consisted of a thin layer of sand overtop a dead coral base. Poor holding and after three attempts, I decided not to risk dragging anchor and finishing up on the reef that lay a few hundred meters behind us. It was time to go.

Corals of the rim of the blue hole

I followed my old GPS course coming in. Now feeling confident in my course, I had Easton unfurl the headsail and sheet it in putting us on a fast broad reach. It was a spectacular way to depart the Great Blue Hole. I vowed to return next year and use the scuba gear to probe the depths.

We anchored back of the Dive resort for beers and to use the internet to tell our families of our triumphant return to civilization. Easton received some measure of satisfaction telling the dive master of his snorkeling adventures in the Blue Hole. While Easton went for more beers, I noticed Susan, the lady from Montreal sitting alone at a nearby table. I went over to say hello. I guessed that she was in her late 30s and I was surprised to hear that she was traveling alone. She had been diving daily out of the resort but she had not done the Blue hole. A shame considering that she was so close. Like us, she would be leaving the Atoll in the morning. We moved Maiatla out of the lagoon to find a quiet anchorage on the west side of long Caye where we found several lobsters that accepted Easton’s invite for diner.

Diner time!
by

Finally! Lighthouse reef and the Great Blue Hole is within reach!

We were underway a couple of hours before dawn as I wanted to arrive at the atoll before noon. We needed the sun high and behind us as we attempt to enter the narrow reef pass into the lagoon, then navigate to the far side through the maze of reefs, bommies and shallows. We intended to anchor off of Half Moon Caye, a national marine park in which the Great Blue hole resides.

As we departed the Turneffe Atoll, it was a beautiful. The air was warm, clear, and smelled of a beach at low tide. Above lay the moonless heavens, splashed with the twinkling lights of stars and distant constellations. You haven’t truly seen the cosmos unless you have been to sea.

A fresh breeze of 10 to 12 knots out of the south-east promised a nice sail on a tight starboard reach. As we motored clear of the abandoned lighthouse and sweeping sand banks, I was expectant of a grand day of  stress free blue water sailing, but as we were about to learn, stress free it would be not be!

Turneef Atoll to Lighthouse Reef

 Not 20 minutes after pulling anchor, the engine overheat alarm sounded causing the engine to be shut down. As we drifted about uncomfortably close to the sand banks, I conducted a quick inspection at which time I discovered that the riotous raw water pump had once again eaten the pulley key. The belt was still intact but the pulley wobbled about as it spun freely on the pump’s shaft.

Easton yelled down below, “What Now?” as he sat at the helm, vainly attempting to keep us on course. It was a good question.  I was relatively sure I could fix the pump as I had done so many other times, but the question was where? I had three good options, one was to attempt to repair the pump while we drifted about and hope I could get the engine running before we were blown upon the reef. I quickly ruled this out as I did not know if it would take me 30 minutes or 3 hours to repair the pump.  The next option was to hoist sail and return to the anchorage we just left. The wind was in our favor and I could easily follow our out bound GPS track back in, but after daylight. Turning around was probably the smartest and safest bet, but I have not always chosen the most logical or safest course.

“OK Easton this is what we are going to do,” I said while bounding back into the cockpit. “Let’s raise the mainsail and pop the headsail. We are going to continue on to Lighthouse atoll and sail through the pass into the lagoon and anchor, there we will fix the engine.” It was a bold plan but doable if the wind held true, and we did not pile up on a reef or bommies that the charts failed to indicate (which was common)  A common label upon the charts for this region is  “Numerous uncharted coral heads” . A good bow watch is essential with the sun behind you.

Approaching Lighthouse Reef.

Once clear of the hazards of Turneffe Atoll, we altered course for southern most pass of Lighthouse reef which lay adjacent to a large island called Long Caye. The channel is perhaps a thousand yards wide but it is unmarked and shallow, only 3 meters in places which leaves little for error if you happen to choose the wrong spot to enter.

We had a great sail over to the Atoll but as we approach it became obvious that the 15 knots of wind was blowing straight out the pass, which would necessitate two or three tack within the confined waters to get through. It was going to be fun.

We carried on beyond the pass until we located the barrier reef, we then tacked putting the boat on a parallel, beam reach next to the reef, which was now very obvious on out port side at less 30 meters away.

 After covering about half a mile I spotted the break in the reef that we were looking for. We hardened up to sail close hauled to the wind into the pass. The water quickly shallowed and at one point it was only 2 meters deep under the keel. We made a quick series of tacks into the wind until the chart said we were in clear water.  Once inside the water grew deeper settling out at 7 meters.

Off to our right lay Long Caye which boasted a dock and a diving resort. I had a plan so we headed towards the resort, approaching as close as we could before anchor in 3 meters of water on a beautiful sand bottom off the resort.

With the anchor set, we had moment to take in the sights. The tranquil waters were crystal clear, so much so that one could count the ripples in the sand beneath the Maiatla. The lagoon was azure, almost a sapphire blue bordered by three palm-fringed islands and off in the distance, the sea broke white as the waves relentlessly pounded the barrier reefs. It was magical, spell binding sight but I did not want to gawk for too long as we had work to do.

The Dock at the Itza Resort.

The pump need repairing and I was tired of working on this pump and this time I was going to make sure that it could not eat another key, but to do that I need an electrical outlet supplying 120 volts and I was fairly sure I would fine that power at the dive resort on Long Caye.

We launched the dink and headed to the deserted dock, we would later learn that all the dive boats were out with guests so the resort was like a ghost town. There were many one and two story wood building and palapas. We found the open-aired dining hall where in the back I located the kitchen where a lone worker, a lady was prepping the evening meals.

I told her that we had just arrived on the boat anchored off the beach, then asked to see the manager but she told us that he was out diving and would not be back for a few hours. She then asked if we were going to stay for dinner and if we were, we would have to tell her now as she only makes enough for their guests. The cost was reasonable, I thanked her but declined. I asked if there was a maintenance man around. “He’s filling tanks over at the compressor building.”

After paying for a couple of cold beers we followed our ears to the compressor building. Manual greeted us warmly but he was busy filling dozens of scuba tanks. I quickly explained that I wanted to repair a pump and need electricity and a place to work. 

Manual lead me around the corner to an outside deck where he pointed to a table at a corner. The deck was expansive while claiming a magnificent view of the lagoon, but like the rest of the resort, the deck had seen a better day. Many of the planks under foot were rotting forcing us to tread lightly. There were also a couple of missing boards so care was need not to drop the two meters to the sand below.

Looking at the Lagoon in the direction of the blue hole. It was here i would talk with the son of Cousteau’s guide.

I placed my bag of tools on the table as Manual disappeared back in to the building, only to return moments later with a long extension cord. I was set. I would later see that much of the aging resort was in similar condition with rotting timbers and cottages in desperate need of a coat of paint. Despite its “Rustic” appearance, the resort was popular and after the return of four dive charter boat, the place was busy.

Easton took his beer and went exploring as I got to work dismantling the pump. I had concluded that the reason the pump kept falling apart was due to the left-hand threaded nut that holds the pulley in place, despite lock washers, it would loosen up over time, permitting the pull to back off and the key to be chewed up and spit out.

I dismantled the pump, replaced the impeller as I had a new spare, and then fashioned a new key out of a pair of coins using a mini-grinder. An hour later I threaded the left-handed nut back on to hold the pulley assemble in place. To make sure the nut would never back off again, I plugged in the mini welder that I carry aboard Maiatla for just such an occasion. After a quick tack weld, the nut was forever bonded to the shaft. It would have to be cut off if I ever wanted to take the pump apart.

Once done, I thanked Manual for his help and tipped him while saying “buy yourself a case of beer”. He seemed pleased and shook my hand.

On the Beach in front Itza Resort

For the following year,  the pump operate as intended until it was finally replace with a new and complete raw water pump assembly with the old pump being relegated to the bilge as a spare. The general rule on a boat is that if you have a spare part, you were unlikely to need it. With the engine back up and running, tomorrow we would begin to explore the atoll and make our way out to the Blue Hole which lay only a few miles away. But for now, it was time for more beers while logging onto the resort’s Wi-Fi to check emails.

by

Cucumber Marina and through the Great Barrier Reef.

June 1st. 2023

Cucumber Marina was a surprise as it was a well-kept marina with full facilities including haul out and it was a short cab ride to Old Belize with good shopping. The added bonus was the destination theme park on site. Right next to Maiatla was a intentionally rustic looking building housing a gift shop as well as a miniature train that could take you on a historic ride through displays depicting the history of Belize. Beyond the well-stocked gift shop, covered by a barn-style roof was an open air food court and bar with tables that could accommodate a couple of hundred People.

 From anywhere within the court you had a grand view of a man-made tropical lagoon complete with a with sand beach, real palm trees, giant floaty toys and a massive waterslide. All managed by what we would come to learn was a friendly staff and the best part was that the theme park admission was included in our docking fee of $1 USD per foot per night.

A Great deal and one Easton and I took full advantage. When we first arrived there were perhaps a dozen or so families, not a massive crowd by any stretch of the imagination and I wondered how they could survive with so few patrons, but I learned the answer early on the second day when three busses full of school children arrived to take in the park, then in the afternoon a second wave of revelers arrived which apparently came from one of the three cruise ships that arrived this day.

By 5 pm the crowds dispersed so Easton and I once again claimed the whole place as our own, we bathed in the solitude, with the only other guests being the scores of iguanas patrolling the docks. We made a trip into town to purchase a new alternator for Maiatla as the old one was acting up. Our cabbie took us on a little tour of Old Belize city in an effort to locate an ATM. The buildings were obviously of the British colonially era all in various states of disrepair. I was surprised to see many of what the cabbie told me were homeless people, a condition brought on by a rampant drug problems. As we drove along he pointed to an emaciated old man leaning against a lamp post. “That fellow there”, our cabbie stated, he was my high school principal but he got into crack- cocaine. To look at him it was hard to imagine that the dirty withered up old man was once a respected professional within the community.

The cabbie needlessly went on to say that we didn’t want to be in this part of town at night.

I saw a travel warning which read: “Violent crime is also a major concern elsewhere in the country, including in Belmopan. Belize has one of the highest per capita murder rates in the world.

Drug and human trafficking, organized crime and street gang activity is prevalent. Violent incidents are frequent, including: murders, armed robberies home invasions, muggings sexual assaults.

This notice applies to many of the Central American counties and after being chased by Pirates off the coast of Honduras, I am very well aware of these facts. For those who missed the Pirate post, see December 2019. Being ever vigilant is the key. But here in Belize, the safest place to be is on a cruise ship, a resort or offshore in the islands, which is where we were about to head.

After two days at the dock it was time to head out, but not before taking on some more fuel. We had been doing more motoring then I had originally thought so I decided to suck it up and fill the tanks.

Cucumber Marina Looking seaward with the fuel dock to the left.

We again muddied the waters as Maiatla plowed her way through the mire before reaching open water. The Blue Hole was only 40 miles away as Boobie bends a wing, but we would have to weave our way through over 8 miles of the barrier reef and then around a large atoll that was still in the way, so we will take two days to make the trip. It was a beautiful but windless morning as we motored out past three cruise ships headed in to disgorge its passengers for another day of site seeing.

 The channel through the barrier reef is well marked and wide so we had little difficulty. It was a bit deceptive as to look around all you see is ocean with little indication that if you happen to water off course you would slam into an unseen reef. We weren’t the only ones in the channel heading out to see as we were joined by a pod of dolphins who came by to say hello.

By noon we had successfully navigated the reefs to sail off into the open ocean. The wind filled in from the east so it was a great sail out to Turneef Atoll which in its own right was reported to be one of the best dive sites in Belize, we are about to see for ourselves as we plan to find a place to anchor for the night and do some snorkeling.

Turneef Atoll is a national park which is 27 miles long by 10 miles wide and virtually anywhere around the island would be a great place to dive. I chose an anchorage on the southernmost tip, where there is an abandoned lighthouse and a small ranger station ashore.

We found good holding in 10 feet of water and we soon had our gear on and hit the water. There was a coral reef that extends off the point which proved to be incredible. The water temperature was 28C so a wetsuit was not necessary, but I would always ware one to protect my skin from cuts from the sharp coral. We even had a curious nurse shark that hung about. We worked our way around the point where we discovered, thermals spilling into the sea. The water became hazy as hot fresh water mixed with the cooler salt water of the sea. I do not know how hot the water became but it was so hot that it was very uncomfortable so we moved further offshore to cooler temperatures. We would make two sets of dives off the reefs as well as take a high-speed dinghy ride past the ranger station up into the mangroves and lagoon. We met a couple of ranges in a boat coming out of the lagoon, the cheery chaps invited us to the station to use their internet to check emails and the weather reports.

It was a beautiful collection of tiny islands connected by mangrove trees with cannels leading off in all directions. There were several abandoned fishing camps which were fun to explore. I wish we could have stayed a month on Turneef, but the prospect of my bond being seized if we overstayed our welcome was now looming large. The following morning we up anchored and set our sights on Lighthouse Reef and the Blue Hole which was now just 15 miles away.

by

Off to Belize City

 It was nice being at anchor again in Placentia but there still was much to do, a proper provisioning was one. Using the dink we went ashore to hit the stores and buy a few more parts and a tool that I deem essential on any cruising boat. A Dermal tool.  My last one I had burned out on some project last year, which I sorely missed when having to hand file a new shaft key for the water pump.

By all accounts we were ahead of schedule, so much so I decided to push the time  limits of my bond and explore a little of Belize while we had the chance. We were only 70 miles, as the Seagull flies from the most iconic site in all of Belize, the Blue Hole. Diving into the enigmatic depths of the Blue Hole has been on my bucket list since I was a teen and being so close, the temptation was far too great. So after a single night at anchor we were off bound for Belize City which lay some 65 miles to the north up the coast.

Easton winching in the headsail

By first light we were underway. The winds were light so we motored until almost 11am when the wind finally filled in on the beam, making for a great sail. One of the most difficulty things I found with sailing in Belize was getting use to the shallow water, especially while traveling up through the many cays where having only 5 feet under the keel as was typical. But what made it more nerve-racking was seeing the many coral outcroppings that protrude up from a sand bottom only to terminate just below the surface.

Bommie 2 feet below the surface.

In a sailor’s vernacular, these tiny pinnacles which may be just a few feet across or the size of a bus are referred to as “Bommies”, but I’m not sure that it’s the correct term or definition but these dangerous navigational hazards are rarely charted accurately and since they are a living organisms they are constantly changing in size and shape over time posing a real threat.

For the first part of the day we stuck to the deeper inner channel which cuts between the mainland and the outer barrier reefs. Despite being the main shipping route, depths again ranged from 30 to 70 feet with shallow, hull killing reefs dotted about.

Weaving Through the reefs,

By early afternoon I had to decide to where to anchor for the night so we found a cut into the reef and began to weave our way between reefs and cays and countless bommies. bound for Brown Bar, where it was reported to be a good anchorage and snorkeling.

It was wasn’t long before we had a close encounter with our first bommie making for a tense afternoon. The entrance into Brown Bar anchorage looked rather precarious to me so we passed it by to finally drop the hook in the lee of Man of War Cay to spend a quiet night at anchor. The island is not much more than a collection of mangrove trees on a shallow bank. Despite the lack of solid land the island plays host to nesting frigate birds.

Magnificent frigate birds hovering over their mangrove island sanctuary of Man-O-War Caye.

The following morning we were up early and underway, weaving around reefs, cays and bommie infested waters as if navigating through a minefield. I felt a sense of relief in the early afternoon when we finally scudded out of the reefs to return to the main channel.

The Red squares are Bommies.

It was early afternoon when we decided to again anchor for the night. We chose Robinson Island where there was an abandoned shipyard and a wreck which was reported to be good snorkeling. Belize City was only about 5 miles away but I thought it best not to try and find a marina as dusk approached.

The anchorage proved to be a good one, calm with good holding and we anchored close enough to the wreck as to be able to swim over. The water was a bit murky but the wreck was a great snorkel with plenty of fish and places to explore.

Robinson Island.
Wreck

  

We slept in and had a late breakfast before leaving for Belize City where I was about to learn that most of the marinas were of shallow draft, any vessel drawing more than 5 feet was out of luck. With Maiatla’s 6 foot draft, I only found two place to possibly go.

The Radisson Marine hotel looked like the most promising as it was almost down town and close to shopping but as we made our approach I was instantly disappointed. The dock sat atop piles so the incoming wind waves swept right under the dock with the top deck above Maiatla’s life lines. There was only a couple of locations where we could tie permitting us to put fenders down to protect the hull and naturally they were on the windward side of the dock which was exposed to the stiff trade winds and waves. Like a fool I gave it a try.

The Radisson Marina. We tied up in front of the large yacht.

The water shallowed as we approached giving more reason for concern. What if we run aground? I thought about aborting the approach but with the stiff wind at my stern I was committed. We bumped alongside with what must have been inches under the keel as my depth sounder was now reading 0 feet.   

We were quickly approached by the dock master who cheerily greeted us but when he informed me of the price for a night’s moorage, I decided to bail. At $5 UDS per foot a night, it would be a whopping $250 USD. But at least they had free water on the dock. We had to wait for a slight lull in the wind to be able to push the boat off the dock so we could motor away. I Thought Easton was going to herniate himself as he shoved as I drove. The advantage of being captain.

 We quickly headed back off into the bay to check the guides once more looking for a suitable marina, but I was interrupted by the arrival of a pod of dolphins who began to cavort around Maiatla. Easton was particularly thrilled as it was to first time to see these incredible animals in the wild. While we were snapping pics, I heard a call over the radio of a large cat calling Cucumber Marina, which was not far away.

After the yacht and finished talking to the marina manager, I called to ask if they had room for us. The nice lady said that they did but the marina was shallow with a mean depth of 6 feet. Since I was at a loss as to where else to go and that we had heard some good things about the marina, I thought I would give it a try.

The marina is located on the south side of Belize City which sits upon a large isthmus in a shallow bay, called Sibun Bight. My reasoning was that if we could not enter the marina, we could at least find shelter close to shore and out of the wind waves.

The approach was easy enough as the wind was light and off the stern with a water depth of around 9 feet, meaning that we had approximately 3 feet under the keel. All good so far, but that was about to change. We were less than a hundred yards away from the marina breakwater when suddenly the engine overheat alarm began to sound. A quick check of the gauges showed the water temp well into the red. I quickly shut down the engine and ran below for a look while telling Easton to turn the boat around and nose up into the wind.

It didn’t take long to see the problem, once again the raw water pump came apart as the pulley and belts had deserted into the bilge.  It was not going to be a quick fix. I got on the radio and asked the marina manager if she could arrange a tow into the marina.

 She was apologetic when she informed me they she did not have a boat capable of doing that, but she would call the coastguard for me to see if they could.

I told her to call the coast guard and see what they say, in the meantime I would start working on the engine.  The manger reported back to me a few minutes later to inform me they said they would come when they had an opportunity. Whatever that meant.

I ran back on deck to find an anxious Easton trying to steer a boat with no forward motion. With the light wind now blowing us towards the rock jetty, I had no choice but to drop the anchor and fix the pump for the second time in three days. But at least I had a Dermal this time but it still took almost an hour to assess and make the repair.

At this time I came to the realization the nut which secures the pulley on the shaft was worn and was likely loosening up after some hours of use. As the nut backed off, the key tying the pulley to the shaft would slid out allowing the pulley to spin freely. It was a left hand threaded nut, an oddball of which I did not have a spare and finding one in town would probably prove daunting. The remedy for now would be to frequently check the tightness of the nut when underway. I inserted a new lock washer and some Thread seal ‘ Lock tight” in hopes of fixing the problem.

As I worked on the pump the wind and waves began to build and Maiatla commenced to hobby-horse in the now 6 foot waves making it difficult to work. With much relief the engine started and the temperature fell back to normal. Overheating an engine can do sever damage so it’s always a worry when it occurs.

Now the next problem was to see if the marina was deep enough to get in. As we passed in between the two sets of rock breakwaters, my depth sounder began to read 0. Looking back in my wake I could see a trail of mud raising to the surface as Maiatla plowed a trench in the soft bottom.

Safe at Cucumber Marina.

Once inside, I headed for the nearest open dock and with a great sigh of relief, I was able to come along side. As I threw the engine into reverse, a great cloud of mud erupted from under the boat. With lines now ashore, we had arrive at Cucumber Marina and what a great place it would prove to be. The Coast Guard never did arrive or even call on the radio to check on our condition, go figure.

by

Back to Belize and Death in Paradise.

Well I returned to Belize on May the 25th, with the intent of getting my boat out of Belize before my temporary import permit ran out. To leave the boat in Belize for up to six months I was forced to put up a bond equivalent to the import duties for my boat. If I were to overstay the six months, I would lose my $42,000 bond so I had till June the 7th, less than 2 weeks to repair Maiatla and get out of the country so the pressure was on.

Jackie and Easton prepare to depart Belize city for the 30 min flight to Placencia.

I returned with my sister Jackie and my 22 year old great nephew, Easton. We had a lot to do to get the boat ready for sea, the first order of business was to fill the drained water tanks, a chore I instructed Easton in performing.

 Next the replacement of the boats exhaust system and engine riser which rotted through and fell off as we attempt her to enter the Placentia lagoon in December. Check previous post for the engine fire and subsequent grounding and final tow into Thunderbird Marina.

Our first challenge was to get reacclimatized to the heat and humidity. Jackie and I had little trouble, but Easton seemed to be suffering greatly from the heat while looking pale and washed out while even vomiting one morning. For most of this voyage he would frequently complain of the heat and how it made him feel sick. Recognizing his difficulties I took it easy on him when it came to working on the boat.

The new riser pipe I constructed at home and installed on Maiatla.

The work progressed over the following 3 days and I was finally ready to attempt to start the engine. With fingers crossed, the engine was fired up and by all accounts was running well. A small victory and a big leap towards in getting underway on time, but our good luck was about to run out.

Jackie and I back at Maiatla’s side.

The first incident occurred when I asked Easton to top up the water tanks which he promptly set about doing.  Jackie and I were sitting in the cockpit discussing departure plans with Easton perched on the combing listening while waiting, for the tanks to take their fill.  Suddenly Easton swore aloud as he leapt from the cockpit to snatch the water-hose from the filling pipe.

When I checked on what was going on I discovered to my horror that he inadvertently poured what I would later determine to be approximately, 75 gallons of water into the diesel tanks and since I had left the crossover open between the fuel tanks to equalize, both 75 gallon fuel tanks were now water contaminated.

My engine hour meter suggested that I had approximately 35 gallons of fuel in each tank which would now have to be pumped out and run through a system called fuel polishing, which would remove the water. But the cost of doing so was not cheap, even if I could get it done at this marina, which I couldn’t, so the fuel would just have to be discarded. At over $4 USD a gallon that would hurt.

Fortunately my friends Chris and Shannon had an electric fuel pump that would be able to suck out all the contaminated fuel. The marina was able to provide drums for my fuel and discard it.

A rather remorseful Easton helped me set up the pump and all went well but to my surprise, we removed 75 gallons of water and perhaps a couple of gallons of dirty diesel. I knew the tanks were full when we departed Panama and with the logged engine hours, half the fuel should remain. I checked for diesel leaks and found none. After careful consideration I came to the conclusion that I had been the victim of a fuel thief. My fuel had been siphoned but when and where?

The boat was laid up and left unattended for 15 months on the island of Rotan in Honduras, then again at Marina Nana Juan on the Rio Dulce for 9 more months, and one final time for almost 6 months in Belize. In any one of these places the fuel pirate could have struck. So aside from losing an afternoon cleaning out the fuel tanks, Easton’s great mistake cost me nothing. In fact it may have been fortuitous as I was planning on leaving Belize with the half tanks I thought I possessed and wait to purchase fuel in Guatemala where the price was cheaper. I was forced to suck it up and buy the high-priced Belize diesel, but only took on half of my compacity.

Despite these initial challenges, I was happy the way things were progressing and we even managed a few nights in town with friends for dinner and Jackie and I would take evening swims in the lagoon mangroves to cool off at night.  A practice Easton declined to participate in as he was leery of lurking crocs and as I joked, amorous manatees.

We were all looking forward to getting off the dock to anchor in the Placencia harbor where it was much cooler as the Caribbean trade wind were a constant. But that would have to wait as one morning we received a panic filled phone call from Chandra, my niece and Jackie’s eldest daughter. Erica, Jackie’s middle daughter, the day before was taken to the hospital with sepsis and was not expected to survive the night. I set about trying to find a flight to get Jackie home as fast as possible but the best my travel agent could do was a flight out the next day. As our day unfolded, Eric quickly deteriorated. I held Jackie as she facetimed Chandra, who was at Erica’s side as she passed as other family members, including Eric’s two preteen children looked on. It was heart-rending to watch.

Three days after Jackie’s departure for home, Easton and I, with a level of despair clouding our minds, cast off to head out to the anchorage. As if we had not suffered enough, the little gremlins skulking below decks made it known that they were not as eager to leave the marina as we were. Not 30 minutes away from the dock the engine began to overheat which I quickly shut down. Fortunately, I resisted the urge to drop the anchor and see to the problem. We had a nice following wind so we quickly unfurled the headsail to sail the 7 miles out of the shallow lagoon much the same way we entered, engineless. But at least this time we did not require a tow.

Once clear of the outer bank were tacked our way upwind to anchor off the town of Placentia as the sun began to set. Now safe I troubled shot the engine to find that the raw water pump pulley had come loose, permitting the belt to slip, greatly reducing the cold water to the engine. It was a easy but not a quick fix as I need to construct a new shaft key for the pulley, which I did by cutting down a Honduran 50 centavos coin. That done we again had a engine. But it would soon become clear that the gremlins were not done with the pump as yet, not by a long shot.

Easton and I at anchor in Placencia harbor
by

Safe but the Gremlins were still plotting

We had not been anchored for very long when we received a visit from a couple in a little dink. Chris and Shannon were from the opposite end of Canada in the province of Newfoundland and when they saw our big maple leaf fluttering off our stern they just had to come over and welcome us to their adopted home. They had purchased a bit of land with a dock on the island that forms the harbours eastern edge, with the intent on building. At the present they lived aboard there 38’ Bayliner secured to their dock. I explained to Chris my engine issues so he offered to return in the morning with some tools and to lend a hand if required.  We had a peaceful night at anchor and I was up early as I was eager to get the engine fixed and to find a marina in which I could leave the boat for up to 6 months.  

The harbour.

We took the dink on a tour of the harbour then headed over to Chris and Shannon’s Island to borrow some tools. I must say that at first glace I was impressed with the waterfront community and was looking forward to getting to know the town and meet some of its people.

Back aboard Maiatla I set about finishing tearing down the raw water pump and rebuilding it. Two hours later when the engine roared to life, we rejoiced then made plans to head to town. When we left Guatemala, we had planned to hit several marinas all along the coast of Belize and with the intent of sailing all the way up to Belize city where there seemed to b a suitable marina for leaving the boat. But with the steering still acting up and leaking fluid which in turn played havoc with the electronic autopilot, and with only two weeks left before flying home, I decided that if I could find a suitable place here, Placentia would be as far as we would go.

The town of Placentia from the air. Main dock is the long pier at bottom of pic. Lagoon upper left.

A short cab ride out of town we visited Thunderbird Marina which was run by an American expat from California by the name of Doug. The Marina is several miles up in the lagoon and then inside a channel cut deep into the mangrove swamp. It was about as protected as you can get in these parts. Not a big marina, but it had a well stocked chandlery with a large mechanical shop. A perfect place to leave Maiatla and perhaps get some engine work done on my 15 horse merc, which was still acting up.

Placentia lagoon. main portion of town is to the right of pic.

 Placentia lagoon is massive with several mangrove cays dotting its perimeter and center, but it was shallow with an average depth of 7 feet. With Maiatla’s 6-foot draft that could be a problem but Doug assured me that if we stuck to the channels, we could get in. Oh, but I wished it would be that easy. So, it was decided.

In the morning, we up anchored to make our way to the deepwater entrance to the lagoon. By all accounts it should have been an easy motor into and across the lagoon, but we would not have such luck. Jackie did the driving while I nervously watched the depth sounder bounce between 9 and 6 feet as we skirted around hidden sand bars and tiny patches of mangrove trees. As anyone who has ever been to sea knows, that if something is going to go wrong, it will at the worst possible moment, and today would be no exception.

We had scarcely travelled a mile into the lagoon when I noticed a trickle of black smoke wafting up through the steering column. My first thought was that there was a fire in the engine room so in an instant I had opened the engine room doors and was instantly engulfed in a cloud of dense black smoke. It took a few moments for the smoke to thin out for me to see the engine. To my relief, the engine was not on fire but there was a nice thumb size hole in the exhaust pipe where it attaches to the engine. Shit!

Not a show stopper but definitely annoying. We still had a few miles to go to the marina so I just decide shut the doors and carry on.  Back on deck I resumed giving Jackie directions as we wove our way through the maze of bars and trees. Remember that thing about things happening at the worst possible moment, well this was this time.

Our route from the anchorage to the marina.

Just as we reached the center of a narrow and particularly shallow channel, there was a loud bang followed by the ear deafening engine roar, then seconds later the boat and cockpit was full of eye burning diesel smoke. Back in the engine room I realized that I did not have to worry about the tiny hole in the exhaust any longer, because it was no longer there, and neither was my exhaust riser. The entire pipe had sheared off allowing raw exhaust to billow into the boat.

 Instantly I killed the engine and ran back topside to fill in a confused Jackie, but before I could even begin to explain, Jackie pointed over the side while saying “Andy I can see the bottom”. Well in all the excitement we had missed our tern and had run solidly around. And without an engine we were stuck. I quick check of the sounder indicated that we were in less than 4 feet of water. Thankfully it was a soft mud bottom.

A cruiser in a little dink with a 5-horse outboard came along, took pity of us and offered to try and tow us off the bank, but his little dink was no match for Maiatla’s tonnage, I even tried hoisting the sail in an effort to try and “sail” off but to no affect, in fact I think we actually drove the boat another few dozen feet further onto the bank. I made a phone call to Doug who said he would try and arrange a tow; we would just have to sit tight and he would get back to us.

Our dock at Thunderbird Marina.

After about an hour of fruitless effort, I manage to flag down a passing panga fisherman who was gracious enough to pull us off the bank and tow us the remaining way to the Marina. When I ask the fellow how much do I own him for the tow, after a ponderous thought, he finally said $100 USD.  A gift at twice the price. Secured to a safe dock, I began to prepare Maiatla for leaving her here. After making a carful list of required boat parts and dismantling the helm pump and packing it up to take home for repairs, we were finally free to relax and enjoy the sights.

Safe at the dock at Thunderbird.

Marina