Earlier that morning, a 4x4 pickup truck loaded with the camp gear and boats left hours ahead of us taking the native guide, Greg, and a cook helper to the river where they would paddle the mile or so downstream to establish the first night's camp. Since the last four miles of road were too rugged for the van we would be riding in, the 4x4 and driver would be meeting us approximately four miles from the river where we would unload our gear and selves, pile into the pickup and ride the remaining rugged road to the river. At least that was the plan. And it worked, sort of.

As our van traveled farther and farther away from Banana Bank that morning, the small villages and farms that sparsely populated the green-fringed roadside slowly disappeared, and after leaving the paved highway, we were on a dirt road that gradually began to climb. We were smelling smoke and the white evidence of fire became thicker and thicker. Apparently a fire had started, and without services to fight it, it would just have to burn itself out. Unlike California brush fires, the terrain in Belize is so green, that when fires do start they don't flame up, they just smolder.

We were about an hour into our three and a half hour trek to the meeting point with the 4x4 when we stopped at Rio Falls, a popular spot for tourists to hike around rocks, slide down small waterfalls, and take a dip in the various pools created by the cascading water. After a quick dip and a climb back up to the picnic spot, we had our lunch, piled into the van and began the final 90 minute rough road ride to the rendezvous with the pick up.

By now we were seeing more and more pines and noticed that nearly all of them appeared dead - just tall skinny sticks poking up from the earth with dried lifeless looking needles. There was a lot less vegetation in this area - not the green lushness we'd just left. The area had been invaded by some kind of beetle in 2001 and we were seeing the evidence of that infestation on the trees. Our ranger tagalong told us that the forest was just now beginning to regenerate. The fire wasn't helping the current situation much.

The van had seemed underpowered a few times that morning, slowing more than it should have climbing some minor grades. Now, rounding a curve with a small rain eroded uphill in front of us, the driver gunned the van and it made a half-hearted effort at the meager mogul, then sputtered and died. He would start the engine and try again. Same result. Start the engine and try again. Nope. Start the engine, back up, and get a running go at it - no that didn't work either. We still had at least twelve miles of rough road to traverse, which would take an hour or more. No cell signals here, nor did Georgina have a radio, as Greg, the river guide had it and he was AT the river!

Okay, no problem, Georgina decides, "I'll just run to the meeting point and have the 4x4 drive back here and get the rest of you," she announced. It was hot and humid once the van and its air conditioning had stopped. Run 12 miles in that heat and up and down hills? There did not appear to be any other options at that point, so borrowing my old running shoes that I'd planned on wearing as foot protection while in the river and a thick pair of socks from another adventurer, she put her size 7 feet into my size 8 shoes (she'd been wearing Tevis) and began the trek with a second adventurer, Alan, who had volunteered to go with her. The rest of us sat in the shade of one lone tree on the roadside, sweating like crazy as our companions climbed the hill and began their journey to the waiting 4x4 and driver. We all noted the time as 2 p.m.

In the meantime our van driver kept trying to start the van and get up that hill, thinking that perhaps with all of us out, the van could make it. It didn't help that the "infernal" combustion engine's muffler was broken and nearly falling off. Finally it did restart and we thought hurray, we'd catch up with the other two and be on our way after all. We all got in the van as it crept along briefly and then stopped again. I won't drag this out any further than I already have, but it took us two hours of going short distances, the van crapping out, stopping, waiting for the engine to clear, then go a short distance etc. before we got to the rendezvous spot, and during that time we hadn't caught up with our running companions. We were getting very worried, as prior to the engine trouble there had been just one single lane road we were traveling on. But as we slowly stopped/started our way toward the river, we came to several forks. What if Georgina and Alan went the wrong way?

At 4 p.m. we finally make it to the meeting spot and the 4x4 is not there! Good grief. What is going on, we all wonder, but we're trying to keep our worried thoughts to ourselves, just exchanging lifted eyebrow looks. Our van driver continues down the hill past the meeting point, picking his way over increasingly rougher terrain. Understandably, we are all more than tense at this point. Shortly we round a curve and whoa!, we're head on into our "rescue" vehicle coming for us. Georgina and Alan are at the river - they had got to the meeting point just 20 minutes before us and the 4x4 driver had delivered them to the river, which is why he wasn't where he was supposed to be! Now we do the people/gear switch to the 4x4 truck and continue on to the river while the van and its driver must stay put. We discover later that he did make it back out okay.

Once reunited at the river we must unload the truck of our gear, and reload it on the AIRE brand rubber kayaks. It is supposed to be a 20-minute paddle to our first night's camp spot, and since darkness is falling we must make it quick. Whoa, there people! How do these things work? We've never paddled these funny looking kayaks with single bladed oars. We're given a brief orientation about the person in the back steers and the one in the front just helps paddle. Each person is to paddle on one side only. Oh really? So, I take the back and Richard takes the front. About three strokes later we are doing doughnuts and going downriver backwards. Georgina keeps telling us we must "talk to each other". We're talking all right but I don't think the conversation is going the way she had in mind. Everyone keeps getting ahead of us and then they stop and wait for us to catch up. Since all of our companions are Canadians, they must have all been born in canoes or something because we seem to be the only ones struggling to make headway in those boats with the funny oars. Georgina is urging us on due to the lateness of the day and wants us off the river before nightfall. Finally, it is decided to put us out of our misery, by having us swap partners for the paddle to camp. Oh yes, did I mention that the month of March is near the end of the dry season and the river is very low? Rapids? What rapids? In between the larger and deeper pooling areas, the heavily laden boat bottoms would snag on the river rock-bed necessitating us having to walk/drag the boats in the shallows, oftentimes only two to three inches deep.

It had been a long hard day by the time we reached our camp and darkness quickly descended. Our native guide Greg and the helper cook already had chicken grilling on a rainforest improvised bamboo grill atop an open fire. After getting our gear into our tents, a change into dry clothes and a bit of conversation and warmth around the fire as it slowly roasted our chicken dinner, soon it was time to eat after which we all turned in early and drifted off to sleep as the cacophony of frogs and crickets lulled us to sleep. We'd had more than our share of adventure for one day.

Thursday

It is another busy and demanding day ahead as we awake early to the chirping birds in the leafy canopies over our zipper-tented abodes. We have a lot of paddling ahead of us today, and must break camp before breakfast this morning. We will spend the next two nights at a different camp spot four miles downriver. Georgina informs us that there will be a lot of "out of boat" experiences since the water level is too low to support the floating and navigation of the loaded boats. This isn't exactly what we wanted to hear - but this is a new adventure and we're going to give it our best!

Richard and I have decided to switch places with him doing the steering in the back of the kayak and me doing the paddling in the front. Once underway, and after just a few spinning doughnut episodes, he is a faster learner than I was and we kind of get the hang of it. But we are consistently out of the water and lugging/pushing our heavily loaded boat when we encounter more shallows than predicted. The scenery is stunning and the native guide Greg, stops often to point out various parrots and other birds high up in the treetops. For such large birds, they look so small way up there. Some have brought binoculars, so have a better "birds eye" view than our unaided eyes. We also see iguanas so well camouflaged on tree limbs that it takes some concentrated looking to spot them.

Midway to our camp spot, we stop so Georgina and her helper can prepare lunch while Greg takes us hiking to a site he discovered once habited by the ancient Mayans. Archeologists have visited this site and verified that it indeed was a small settlement of perhaps 300 or so, but there is so little of it left, the site's historical significance is marginal. Nonetheless, we stroll around the area, notice the remains of the embankment that was built, survey what was the plaza, walk atop the small knoll where ceremonies or perhaps burials took place and also get lessons on the native plants growing here. By the time we return to the river, we're hungry and our delicious waiting lunch consists of a pasta tuna salad, watermelon, papaya, crackers, jellies, and cookies, which was quickly and gratefully consumed. Time to resume our paddle/plod on to our next camp.

Arriving at the new spot, we are happy to see that we can pull the boats up on a broad rocky beach and we have level access to tent spots. We're all soaked from the portage portions of the trip but must first put our tents up. A change of clothes allows us to hang up our wet stuff. The afternoon and evening pass pleasantly with some of the group taking an improvised bath in the waist deep portion of the river in front of camp. After dinner, Greg leads a nighttime paddle for those interested. But we opt for an early turn in instead.

Friday

Today's paddle destination is upriver on the Macal from camp to the confluence of another river, the Raspa Calo, which we will follow for a short distance and then Greg plans on a short hike into a different area of the rainforest where he can point out various flora and fauna growing there. I wish I could say that the paddle there was fun. It was work. The river is just too shallow in too many spots at this time of year, making paddling impossible requiring all of us to do the paddle/drag thing.

Once at our rainforest destination, the boats are beached and we scramble across the shallows to the opposite side, past some large boulders and traverse the uphill path alongside a small waterfall. Once on top, the foliage is thick and there's a lot less light now due to the large leafy trees and other tall green vegetation that blocks much of the mid day sun. From time to time Greg uses his machete to chop away some of the vines that have already intruded on our pathway that he's cleared previously for us and other groups that he takes here. He points out different plants and trees that have been used for medicines, building materials and other usages. At one point he spotted a wild tapir but it skittered off into the undergrowth before the rest of us had a chance to see it. One of the most interesting sights was at the base of a huge tree. What appeared to be tilled soil was piled up against the tree trunk at least 3-4 feet high. There were small bird-hole size openings in various locations of the piled up soil. Greg walked over to the trunk and pounded on it a few times and then stepped back. Holy Raid! Out of every opening pours a steady stream of large, black ants that have built this "soiled" fortress with it's home chambers underneath their excavation efforts. They are about a quarter inch long and while we press a little closer to get a look at them, we notice that they have large pincers at the front and are told that being bitten by one of them would induce a very unpleasant and nasty sting. We keep a respectful distance!

Once back at the boats, we picnic again alongside the river and then it's time to drag/paddle back to camp where the remainder of the afternoon is spent either swimming, reading, journaling, or just quiet solitude on the bank of a very remote part of a river deep in the rainforest of Belize. After dinner that evening, Georgina had a special treat for us - chocolate cake with chocolate frosting! How'd she do that, we wondered. She baked it by putting the cake mixture into the usual cake pan, and then put that into another pot of water with a lid over all and it steamed baked on an open fire! It was delicious. That night we do go on a nighttime paddle hoping to catch a glimpse of some crocs. Greg manages to flush one out but it is just a baby being only twelve inches long. This is our last night here and we are lulled off to dreamland by the jungle lullaby of frogs making their astonishing calls as they try to outcroak each other in an effort to attract a warty companion.

Saturday

We must break camp this morning, pack everything up and load the boats. We have a one hour paddle to the take out point where the truck will be waiting for us at noon and then we'll be taken to a jungle lodge for our last evening together.

With breakfast over and everything packed onto the boats, we push off from the bank of our camp for the last time. Bird chatter and paddle dips seem to be the only sounds we hear when our sloshing feet aren't dragging those heavy boats through the shallow portions. But once at the take out, our work was still not done. All the boats had to be unloaded and all the gear and supplies had to be walked uphill about 200 feet to a clearing, as that was the closest the 4x4 pickup could get to the river. Finally we get in the pickup and are taken a few miles on a rough road to where our van is waiting to take us on a one hour drive to our jungle lodge, Pook's Hill. (www.pookshilllodge.com) What a wonderful treat it was to be at this place for our last night in the rainforest.

Recap

I realize that this is not the usual type of report that CKF is accustomed to having posted on the mail list, so if you've stuck with me this far, I'll add these additional comments. Should you plan on doing an adventure trip to Belize in the future and want to combine some sea kayaking with some river kayaking, I'd plan it for much earlier in the year when the rivers are full and there are some rapids to play with. In December and January the rivers are full. But then you take your chances with more bugs and rain during those months.

Belize, formerly known as British Honduras, is a small third world Central American country and is still trying to assert its place in the global tourism scheme of things. The government realizes that tourism is an excellent source of revenue and jobs for its sparsely populated 260,000 inhabitants. They are also aware of the fine ecological balance of the status quo verses the clearing of land for farming and other growth. One of the main reasons that the forestry official was along with us was to see what impact our type of tour is making on the rainforest. In fact, Island Expeditions is the only tour operator currently allowed to take groups to the very areas we visited on our river portion of the trip. But that seemed to be a moot point since upriver from where we were a dam is being constructed in order to generate electricity, and the portion of the river we were on will be under water in a year or so! We're glad we got to see it before it is lost to "progress".

Also, about the only wildlife we saw were the ticks that were constantly attaching themselves to our bodies. Fortunately these little buggers are not like the North American ticks that burrow into your skin. Belizean ticks are much smaller and easily picked off intact. The lack of wildlife (deer, rabbits, tapirs, etc.) was attributed to the fact that perhaps the forest fire that was burning some miles from us had scared them off plus a lot of animals had been trapped already and removed to other areas of Belize prior to the completion of the dam when that habitat will vanish as the water fills the area.

Richard and Barbara Tieskoetter