It's been a while but I am back on the road. Just sending out a write up of a festival I went to in Honduras with two buddies shortly after I returned there. I am currently in San Jose, Costa Rica still getting somethings together and will send out a more complete update soon but figured you could enjoy this in the mean time.
Sun Jam is an annual festival held the first weekend of August on a 3 acre, deserted private island called Water Key located six miles from Utila, Honduras. No cameras were allowed on the island so I couldn't take any pictures which is probably better for everyone there.
This is one account:
This is one account:
Obviously the only way to get there is by boat. It is a tiny island. We were warned to steer clear of the local fishing boats as they are accident prone especially at night since they usually have no lights along with the fact that the boat captains maybe drunk, high, hallucinating, or a combination of any there of.
As it turned out, however, the only boats we see available to take us to Water Key are the aforementioned fishing boats. So we jump into the 35' by 5' single engine boat packing in alongside with as many other party goers that will fit and are willing to pay the $5 'ferry' fee. I don't look around for any official insignia that states the maximum occupancy of the boat because a) I am sure there isn't one and b) I am sure we are well over it. Honestly, I wouldn't trust this boat to save me in my own bath tub and can easily see why Hondurans aren't known for their sea-fairing capability but hey, we couldn't miss the party.
None of us passengers are sure how far it is to the key. We just assume it is somewhere out there, in the direction the boat is heading. As we got out of the bay into choppier waters, the fishing boat teeters side to side even more like some misaligned see-saw. I scan my immediate surroundings for any type of life saving device. I don't notice anything that will help me stay afloat but do notice that a few others have tents, bags, blankets, etc... for the all night festival and began to second guess my choice of only having the festival minimum - shirt, shorts, flip flops, money, and my license in the event my body had to be identified the next morning (safety first).
The sun is already setting as the boat continues to slosh through the waves. We keep passing little islands thinking that the next one will be it. Then finally we hear something in the distance like a dull heartbeat. We can't tell exactly where it is coming from but it is a good sign that there is life out there floating in the abyss in front of us. The boat begins to point directly at the black silhouette of one of the little islands now and the pulse loudens a bit. We can see intermittent lights twirling out of the darkness acting like beacons to our boat.
As we approach, there is a large barge beached in front of us and as we round its stern the festival's sound hits us full force and welcomes us to the shore. Our captain drives his boat straight onto shore and the sand gently hugs the bottom of the boat before bringing it to an abrupt halt. We jump off the bow into the shallow waters ready to invade the island like some sort rag tag seal team. I'm not sure we would be very well suited to take over anything except for the bar. I see the barge next to us is there for a reason. It is loaded with porta-potties in the event there is something you can't handle amongst the shadows of the trees however the gang plank they have jerry-rigged to get on board this thing would make the most hardened pirate think twice about using it.
Once on solid ground we are corralled into the ticket line to pay admission, get checked by security, and told to have a good time. A few steps passed the entrance and the stage becomes apparent. It is a full on concert stage nestled between the trees and covered in lights with a mass of people dancing in front of it. Some have been here since early afternoon. We turn to look at each other to determine our next move. From the look on our extremely sober faces it is obvious we need to head directly to whatever booth they have set up that serves alcohol. It's only 7:30 pm and we have to make it until the next morning. I am already scouting out places in the sand that look comfortable enough to pass out in.
We make our way through the dancing mob to the row of tables that represents the bar. We make the first one a double to try and catch up a little. When we go back for the second, they are already out of ice but are told more is on the way on one of those reliable fishing boats. So we are forced to drink warm rum and cokes while a few folks pound some Red Bulls to help them make it through the night.
After a few more drinks we merge in with the growing crowd in front of the stage. It's still the same beat but at full intensity. You can feel it in your chest and can't tell the difference between your own heart beating and the music. The dj lays different tunes and sounds over the beat to capture the mood of his audience but the pulse never stops. Talking is pointless. Just screams from the crowd can be heard. Lights flash on and off on the crowd creating a strobe effect that seems to slow down time and space. Laser lights shoot out of the stage zapping everyone and making alien shapes in the low hanging branches that act as the ceiling of this outdoor auditorium.
The time comes for a break. We venture out beyond the protection of the stage lights into the darkness engulfing the rest of the tiny island. We let our eyes adjust and everything in front of us is just a silhouette with the starry night sky as the background. We can make out little groups of tents scattered here and there. Hammocks strung between trees. A few camp fires not too far away with people around them and small embers like fire flies buzzing around their mouths. After walking in any one direction for no more than 50 yards, being careful not to step on anyone, you come to the edge of the island which is usually a nice sandy beach.
We have enough fresh air and head back to the source of the music. We repeat this process and each time we venture beyond the boundary of the lights we see something new. Fire dancers, people selling food, couples intertwined in the sand, thrill seekers walking on a bed of burning embers and convincing some of us to give it a go as well, drug takers staring at a hermit crab as it carries its home down the beach. Something for everyone.
Finally after a while we have lost each other and I decide it is time for me to find a place to lay down. I set out to find a comfortable patch of sand and try to hide from the never-ending beat. On the edge of the island I lay my back in the sand and move around enough until it adjusts to the contour of my body. There is a small fallen tree that I use as my pillow and then I shut my eyes.
After a few more drinks we merge in with the growing crowd in front of the stage. It's still the same beat but at full intensity. You can feel it in your chest and can't tell the difference between your own heart beating and the music. The dj lays different tunes and sounds over the beat to capture the mood of his audience but the pulse never stops. Talking is pointless. Just screams from the crowd can be heard. Lights flash on and off on the crowd creating a strobe effect that seems to slow down time and space. Laser lights shoot out of the stage zapping everyone and making alien shapes in the low hanging branches that act as the ceiling of this outdoor auditorium.
The time comes for a break. We venture out beyond the protection of the stage lights into the darkness engulfing the rest of the tiny island. We let our eyes adjust and everything in front of us is just a silhouette with the starry night sky as the background. We can make out little groups of tents scattered here and there. Hammocks strung between trees. A few camp fires not too far away with people around them and small embers like fire flies buzzing around their mouths. After walking in any one direction for no more than 50 yards, being careful not to step on anyone, you come to the edge of the island which is usually a nice sandy beach.
We have enough fresh air and head back to the source of the music. We repeat this process and each time we venture beyond the boundary of the lights we see something new. Fire dancers, people selling food, couples intertwined in the sand, thrill seekers walking on a bed of burning embers and convincing some of us to give it a go as well, drug takers staring at a hermit crab as it carries its home down the beach. Something for everyone.
Finally after a while we have lost each other and I decide it is time for me to find a place to lay down. I set out to find a comfortable patch of sand and try to hide from the never-ending beat. On the edge of the island I lay my back in the sand and move around enough until it adjusts to the contour of my body. There is a small fallen tree that I use as my pillow and then I shut my eyes.
When they open again I still hear the same beat as before. It is still dark but you can tell the sun is about to peak over the horizon because the stars are no longer visible. As the sun rises, clouds shade the sting of the suns first rays for all those weary eyes on the island. Some people are sitting in circles in the shallow water just off the beach taking it all in. Some are laying sprawled out in a spot that last night seemed secluded but in the dawn they stand out like a peacock on a hog farm. And there is still the beat, the pulse. It seems to be the only thing keeping the small, diminished crowd in front of the stage going.
I walk around the island to see it in the day light and the aftermath the festival has caused. Then I sit to watch as the dj announces that this is the final song. As it ends the crowd screams for an encore. Once its all finally over, the crowd makes its way to the beach to go back to Utila on the trusty fishing boats that brought us here. We are told each one is the last back as the locals try to rush us on the boats but I find it more entertaining to sit in the sand and watch the revelers get man-handlded and crammed onto the boats. Finally there are just a few of us left and one more boat shows up so I decide I should probably jump on this one.
It's a quiet sunny ride back to Utila. It is around 9 am and the one street on the island is mixed with the zombies that are getting back from the party making their way to their beds and local islanders who are dressed up and starting their day by heading to church as it is Sunday.
I am the last one in our trio to get back to the room. We exchange moaned greetings acknowledging that the 3 of us have all made it back in one piece. And then I fall into my bed and go to sleep.
I walk around the island to see it in the day light and the aftermath the festival has caused. Then I sit to watch as the dj announces that this is the final song. As it ends the crowd screams for an encore. Once its all finally over, the crowd makes its way to the beach to go back to Utila on the trusty fishing boats that brought us here. We are told each one is the last back as the locals try to rush us on the boats but I find it more entertaining to sit in the sand and watch the revelers get man-handlded and crammed onto the boats. Finally there are just a few of us left and one more boat shows up so I decide I should probably jump on this one.
It's a quiet sunny ride back to Utila. It is around 9 am and the one street on the island is mixed with the zombies that are getting back from the party making their way to their beds and local islanders who are dressed up and starting their day by heading to church as it is Sunday.
I am the last one in our trio to get back to the room. We exchange moaned greetings acknowledging that the 3 of us have all made it back in one piece. And then I fall into my bed and go to sleep.
