Shark Week and a Half on the Bay Islands

When I read what I had written for this post it seemed a bit dull at parts so I decided to take out all the dribble that connects the story and just put down the highlights.  Calling them highlights is actually a bit of a stretch.  These are just the bits that make the trip interesting.

Just a quick set up.  I did return back to Roatan to pick up where I left off after my brief stint back home in the States.  I had some buddies, Frank and Axel, already waiting for me on Utila where we planned to attend Sun Jam Festival and hang out for the next week and a half.  I wrote about Sun Jam in my last post so here is the rest.

A one street town:
Utila is a tiny island comprised of a small airport, backpackers looking for a cheap stay, and one street along the bay that is crammed with dive shops, hostels, restaurants/bars, and churches to save the heathens.  About the only thing going for this street is that it is paved and just wide enough for a small truck and slim pedestrian to pass each other on with some effort.  Luckily there is only one truck on the island however it usually drives down the middle of the road and since it is bigger than a person, it has the right of way meaning pedestrians jump for the concrete ditch.  Aside from the truck though, there are plenty of other vehicles that can maim you just as easily including golf carts, mopeds, dirt bikes, bicycles, tuk-tuks, and peddle powered carts with natural gas tanks dangling loosely off the side as cargo.  It's no UPS but it makes for an interesting finale to a delivery when the the driver is trying to stop his contraption heading down hill with his flip-flops since he has no brakes.

Sand Flies:
There are two gorgeous white sand beaches at each end of town with turquoise water gently lapping the sand and palm trees overhead but to enjoy them you take the risk of getting swarmed by sand flies.  If you are unfamiliar with sand flies, I will explain.  They are about as small as a flea and attack any bare skin available.  We tried insect repellent with mixed results.  We were told to try baby oil and it seemed to help a bit better but after a day on the beach your skin feels like you just went sightseeing at a sand paper factory with all the sand you collect.  They seem to have built up resistance to any type of 'protective' coating you apply and you don't really notice you've been attacked usually until it is too late.  All the sudden you are covered in small red dots.  If you are lucky they just begin to itch in a few days and that lasts for a week or so.  If you are unlucky, you may have some type of allergy to them and get whelps all over your body like our buddy Axel.  The best part about this was that every local we talked to had a different remedy for the bites and when the bites are this bad, you are willing to try anything.  My favorite was when a large Caribbean waitress we had told Axel the best thing is lime juice.  She then got him to take off his shirt in the restaurant and rub juice from a half cut lime all over his upper torso.  He left a generous tip.  Not sure if it helped the bites but it was an entertaining show for us and the rest of the patrons.

Axel enjoying his dessert lime rub down.

Shark Dive:
After getting tired with Utila, which didn't take long, we headed over to Roatan.  Roatan is much larger than Utila.  It takes about 45 minutes to drive from one end to the other.   It is set up to accommodate more of the cruise ship type visitors meaning things are more expensive.  The guys wanted to stay at a swank hotel since we slummed it in Utila.  The swankiest place we could find was about a 3 star with a pool and garden area that welcomed destination weddings.  We tried to crash one for free drinks and food by pretending we were the wedding singers but when we started to sing "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa our guise was up.  On my budget, I wasn't able to help too much for the bill at this place so will probably owe Axel and Frank my first born.  I told them he is probably out there somewhere already and they can fight over who gets weekends.

The hotel is set on a gorgeous white sand beach in West Bay however again it is only suitable if you have genetically modified your DNA to repel sand flies.  The Italian tourists surprisingly have either surpassed America in gene modification or don't care about sand fly bites as long as they look good lying on the beach in there speedos.  But I'm not sure 'look good' and 'speedos' go together.

We talked to the event coordinator at the hotel about renting motorcycles to tour the island.  He advised us heavily against this as being way to dangerous and instead offered up that we should instead go diving with reef sharks.  He convinced us this was the safer option and so we did what any smart person would do and signed up.  Here is the link to a video I put together of our dive:

Roatan Shark Video

(Noah, the next time you go to Hawaii, get your dad to take you shark diving there.  It's much safer because they use a cage...for you, not the sharks;)

Last night of Karaoke:

Night Boating:  Just as dangerous as drunk driving
          but without the jail time

Frank back up dancing to "Like a Virgin"

For our last night before the guys left we decided to head to West End which is the next bay over from West Bay and is a bit rowdier.  As we took the water taxi over there just after sunset, which means its dark and not the best idea, we noticed the power went out on the island...again.We found a Thai restaurant that still had the means to cook and there is nothing more romantic than three men eating a candle lit dinner on a beach.  After a couple of hours, power finally came back on and we went to the bar next door that appeared to be setting up karaoke.  Figured we could use some practice since our wedding singing debut wasn't that hot.  So after we built up our liquid courage, we hit the stage with 'Pour some sugar on me'.  I think at one point we had back up dancers on stage with us or maybe we were backup dancers.  Can't remember.  We sang a few more songs though out the evening,  made a few more friends and thanks to Frank's persistence, were awarded the last song of the night.  Frank was set on singing 'Push It' again but once we started into it either we still needed more practice or they were giving free money away in the street because everyone turned and abruptly left the bar.  After the song was over we also left the now empty bar and followed the crowd to the 'late' night bar to drink our sorrows away which didn't take long.


As the night progressed, we were almost kicked out of the country for bringing in an invasive species that has been banned from the island.  It has a bite that stings longer than the sand fly's and can leave you scarred for life.  A rare photo of this elusive species was taken and I posted it below so it can be avoided at all costs and reported to the authorities if seen in your area.  It is the land shark:

Land shark attack on local girl's calf.

Post Script:
Luckily for the country and probably me, the guys left the next morning after their week and a half visit.  I had intended to spend a few months in Utila or Roatan working at a dive shop but just really wasn't that into the islands here.  The diving is cheap but it doesn't make up for the random power outages, bad food, cramped streets, and sand flies.  So after much internal debate I decided to take the 3 day bus trip, which I wasn't looking forward to, down to Costa Rica.

I had to spend the night again in everyone's favorite Honduran city to pronounce, Tegucigulpa.  This time I was able to stay in a bit nicer accommodations than last time I passed through here however the Hondurans were sure to foil any relaxing time I was to spend in their capital.  As it happened the Honduran Welcoming Committee that was hanging out in the alley below my window thought the 80's music they were blasting from their blown car speakers would sooth me to sleep when in actuality it only hastened my need to get out of this country or at least the hotel.  But the HWC is always one step ahead of the tourists.  When I finally had enough and was going to step outside for a bit, the power went out.  The good thing about this is when the power goes out in the city it effects all the street lights which are helpful when walking in the dark but it doesn't effect the loud music coming from your car.  It actually intensifies it as there is no other noise to help drown it out.  I was still determined to leave the hotel but conveniently learned that the electronic locks on the hotel doors that keep bad people out also keep guests locked in when they have no power.  I am sure there is a plan in the event of a fire when there is no power but I was unable to call the fire inspector since the phones didn't work either.

Aside from that, getting through Honduras was uneventful.  I passed through Nicaragua staying overnight in the capital, Managua without issue.  I decided to forego any sightseeing in Nicaragua not because it isn't worth it but because I had spent a week and a half there already for a friend's wedding a couple years ago and figured I could not out do that trip especially by myself.

Once across the border in Costa Rica things felt different in a good way.  I headed straight to San Jose, which is the capital in the middle of the country, to take a few days and figure out my plan for things to see and do here since I had no plan of what I was going to do once I arrived except get to San Jose.  I am currently down south doing some treks through the jungle then plan to head back up north to do some diving and hopefully stay put for a while on the Pacific side.

Hope everyone is well and I hope to have some great photos from the jungle for my next post.
It's always good to hear from you.

Cheers,
Jay

Sun Jam - back to reality....of sorts

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:

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.

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.