End of journey. We retire with the door to our veranda secured open. This way we experience the full effect of the sea going experience. The wind and waves and fresh air is soothing. The gentle roll of the ship enhances the dream. We arrive in the port of Miami before sun light and I am awakened by the foreign sights and sounds of automobiles and traffic on the downtown expressway. Shock. I close my eyes and lay in my bunk replaying wonderful visions from the last seven days. You know — usually at vacations end you think: “okay, that was fun, but now I’m ready to go home”. Not this time. We had such a blast. We all wish it could go on and on.

The consensus is that, comparatively, Belise City is upscale. I mean, the streets are paved and the windows actually have glass in them. The girls are on horseback. I am seeing the Jungle by way of mountain bike. It’s similar to the trails back home accept that instead of root infestation one must be mindful of the soil embedded limestone rocks, which tend to hook your pedals. And of course, the trees are exotic and dense broad green everywhere. Once established the light darkens and the humidity ratchets. Our Creole guide says that each leaf and piece of bark is useful in someway. He tears one and an intense aroma emits. We all guess wrong. It’s allspice! But wait! There’s more. This one is a good remedy for diarrhea. That one doubles as heart medicine and pregnancy test (Yama bush). Then it makes sense. The local inhabitants don’t have a local CVS pharmacy on the corner that they can go to. They adapt and make use of their environment and do quite nicely without all of the conspicuous consumption that we have built in our world back home.

Just before we ride back to base camp and our awaiting lunch with refreshing river swim, we visit a very old cave system. As we wriggle and crawl deep inside we see limestone stalactites (rate of growth: 1/16 in/yr). The feeble flashlights that were distributed play eerie shadows, whipless scorpions and bats clinging death like in the overhead. We tease the squeamish and jokingly warn that the light beams will cause them to take flight — likely dropping straight down into our hair. I add that these creatures are probably less toxic then the requisite safety bicycle helmets that have been passed from sweaty rider to the next 🙂 Adding to the mystique, the guide points out bits of broken clay pot on the dirt floor. In fact, low and behold we stumble upon one which is intact! He claims them to be from ancient Mayan civilization. I reckon them to be from the village lawn and garden supply! But they do have some limestone deposits already, so we ignore them as props and take delight in his history lesson and story telling. Exit: stage left. Tomorrow we sail to Cozumel.

For all of the big money that the cruise industry brings to these places, not much of it sticks to Roatan. There may be a few absentee fat cats that own concessions but the rest of them are dirt poor. Trying to take it all in from the windows of our speeding taxi, we see snapshots of people and social interaction. It’s fun to guess what they are doing and what their status might be. After a dizzying journey along semi treacherous mountain lanes without guard railings, I am reminded of the crowded hot sweaty 3rd world bus with chickens in cages ala Romancing the Stone. We arrive a private beach owned by the line. It has been groomed to match the pristine white, virginal, fine, sand pictured in the brochure leaflet. It’s all good however, and we use our swim fins masks and snorkel to delight in the shallow coral reefs. By the time we re-group on our floating hotel we all have a well earned appetite and stories to tell during dining. Afterwards we listen to Karaoke in the observation lounge and watch the danceband entertainment at the pool deck disco. We retire by midnight. It is midpoint in our grand voyage.

Our shore excursion was most excellent. The secret is to choose the most advanced activity (denoted in the brochure by demanding physical exertion symbology) otherwise you are summarily lumped with the other thousands of shipmates to wander about the expensive shops to do the tourist thing. We were delivered from this by van to a secluded spot on a southern beach where our Sea Kayaks were waiting. We paddled these two man craft in stiff breeze and chop along mangrove shoreline in crystalline turquoise hued water. Our guide host, Jay, gave us an ecology narration at resting points enroute. A huge termites nest in an old weathered tree stump, algae feasting jellyfish and the highly adapted island builder, the Mangrove tree were topics. After an upwind leg and then a cross wind struggle, we arrived at a docking platform 1/2 mile off. In 8 feet of water we enjoyed a refreshing swim before making the easy downwind leg. S’man and I tried to surf the short swell but the bow would swing away. Foiled. With only a couple of blisters ( benign ), we beached our small craft in favor of the much larger, which would take us westward. Next adventure? Honduras!

We’ve settled into a sense of routine, if you can call gourmet meals morning noon and night, that. This morning, after a nine laps around the promendade and watching the sunrise, we filled up on Eggs Florentine, English Bangers, and cheese filled Blintz(s). After a day and night of laid back sailing and seeing nothing but flat sea and the occasional ship passing in the night, it feels wierd to be thrilled by seeing small fishing boat objects and sight — Land Ho! We’ve maneuvered close ashore, raied the black shape and dropped anchors. The ship maneuvers and backs slightly to allow them to bite whilst empty local water taxis circle in anticipated frenzy. Abaft abeam is P&O line’s Oceana and to starboard is the MS/Explorer of Seas. Time to goop up with sunscreen. Hello and welcome to Georgetown!

We sailed in the late sun. Ther pier by now was empty. I expected well wishers but it was explained to me that’s only in the movies. Guests on NCL sister ship Dawn provided cheer with waving arms and whistles. In unison they shouted Bon’Voyage. There was a dueling banjoes as the two ships signaled one-on-one with their massive bass horns. Our vantage point offered plenty of wind in our faces and a view of the receding city skyline and setting sun. We had a surreal moment as a motorized hang glider (On floats no less) caught us up and nearly matched our lazy speed closehauled before peeling off. I sang the chorus of ‘those magnificent men in their flying machines’. We adjourned to the afterdeck to enjoy the fading splendor. I’m happy to report that everyone in our entourage has sea legs. No one is barking for Neptune. I did awaken during the night to the sound of a stiff breeze moaning and the ship had begun a rolling motion. I felt badly for those in the most forward cabins. The rolling is slightly less pronounced but replaced with a most unpleasant pitching moment. I’d be selling Buicks up there. The moon is visible from our stateroom balcony and it emerges from behind low clouds to reflect on the water’s surface. This is the life!

The critter was constructed from a Palm Tree frond by a street artist. There were many vendors visiting our dinner table last night hawking flowers, and objects de`art. A strolling guitar gaucho wanted to play us a song — I suggested Guadalahara (a tough one for a one-man band) but he said that one would cost (5) $bucks$. No sale. We walked Collins Ave. and the South Beach. Palms were backlit by dark sky and a gorgeous moon. The sidewalk was walled with outdoor restaurants. Barkers hustled their menus and musical instruments played a latin beat. Most dining is celebrated in the fresh air outdoors and for good reason.

Our travels have been a breeze with ‘nary a wait line anywhere. Our Portuguese/English speaking limousine driver met our flight with a printed hand held sign and escorted us to our intermediate launch pad, the Sonesta, in Cocoanut Grove. This is our jump point and rendezvous. There was just enough light left when we checked in to visit the Dinner Key Marina across the street. I got a short jog during the late sunset. Some yachts have christmas spirit with colorful lights running up the forestay to the mast head and down the backstay. An old friend will meet us shortly for dinner chow and a stroll here in the district. South Florida. What a contrast this is. Tomorrow our ship will come in!