Day 20 - Seven Days in Utila

I've been on the island of Utila for seven days. It has been a significantly different experience than Roatan. The entire island is dependent on tourism, there is nothing to do except diving and drinking. Dive shops abound, and every convenience store you enter (and there are many) has a wall of cheap booze. It is easier by far to get hard liquor than beer. Some of the local food is excellent, the typical baliada (spelling error probably) has onions, cabbage, a few vegetables, and beef, chicken, fish, or eggs. Usual total cost, about $1.75.

Unfortunately, the weather the last few days has been utter crap. The term "tropical rainstorm" has been properly defined for me. It means that it rains without ceasing for days. I heard from a local that this is the worst weather she has experienced on the island. A claim I don't doubt. A large number of stores, roads, bars, and access ways have flooded intermittently.

Despite the crappy weather, the only day that the dive boat did not go out was this morning (Friday) due to the wind shifting. I also missed Wednesday as I got up and was on time, and when no one else showed up, I went back to bed. Turns out, everyone else was rather late, and they still went out. Ah well. The diving here is different than Roatan, there is more to see from a geographical perspective such as underwater cliffs,  and sand patches with large "islands" of coral. Not nearly as many fish though. Though I have video of the one divemaster reacting nervously to a friendly Moray Eel. There was also a brief sighting of a Nurse shark which was very cool, and I'm choked that I wasn't in the right place to see the octopus. We encountered a slightly unusual situation (for me) on Thursday's dives, the air temperature was about 24 C, but the water 28-29 C, meaning it was much more comfortable to be in the water than above it. I wore a wetsuit for the first dive, but the moment I got in I realized it was unnecessary. The Aussie and the Kiwi diving with me thought I was crazy.

While the weather has been abysmal, the company has been fantastic. I met a German the second day here who despite English being his second language has proven to be an entertaining conversationalist and skilled dive partner. Then there is a British/Swiss couple who helped pass the hours with card games, stories, and comraderie.

Other differences from Roatan include the insect population. My legs look like I have some weird disease due to the concentration of sand fly bites. Due to the rain, I havn't seen much of the island except what I saw flying in. It is pretty rudimentary, one main street about a mile long. The airstrip would be right at home with a typical Edmonton street. Not the most sophisticated place, but it seems to have charmed the residents. I though, find it a bit small and am glad to be returning to Roatan.

View of the water during the storm 

The room

Flying in

The runway, notice the pothole

Day 13 - A Day in the Life of Alex Wiens

The alarm rings at 7:59 across the room, and I'm forced to move clumsily across the room to silence it. The honesty is, I've been dozing for the last two hours. It gets light at 6 AM, and the heat follows quickly. If I stay, it will become unpleasant to be in bed, and besides, I'm due at the dive centre in 31 minutes.

I rub my eyes and head into the washroom to grab my toothbrush, putting on a small bead of toothpaste I head to the kitchen, a mere two steps away, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle that has been chilling all night. I pour a small amount of the frigid water over the brush and scrub my teeth, using the potable water from the fridge to rinse my mouth and the brush. The water here isn't drinkable, I was told that the first day I arrived, but they said "It's ok to brush your teeth and cook with, just don't drink it". I'll err on the side of caution and use the clean water I bought in a 18L jug for $2 instead.

Grabbing my swim suit, I pull it on, then unlock the door to grab my rash guard from where it is supposed to be drying, on the porch. It is less wet than when I put it there yesterday afternoon, but despite several hours of sun and a night outside, the only way you could consider it dry is in comparison to an ocean. Honestly, I step out of the shower less moist. Supressing a grimace I pull it on, little tugs and slides being necessary to get it into position.

I head inside, grabbing my dive computer off the counter and strap it to my wrist, then pull on my hat and check that my backpack has the required items for the day: Mask, towel, duct tape, room keys and a couple dollars in local currancy to buy a cup of coffee or tea between dives.

I close the windows in a vain attempt at keeping the heat out, lock the door and walk to the street. Turning south the sun shines on my face as I walk the 400 or so meters to Reef Gliders dive shop. I say hello to the unfortunate dive master trainee who is raking up the leaves  that fell overnight. He leaves rows of parallel grooves that make the front area look like a zen garden.

As I pass through to the back where the divers sit and wait, I kick off my shoes in the designated area and respond to the bellowed greetings from the staff and other divers who arrived before me. For the next twenty minutes we sit around the table, chatting, most of the staff smoking. You would think that in a profession that requires breathing underwater that the professionals would be more concerned with their lungs, but you'd be wrong.

Near 9, the head divemaster gets up and gives a little briefing about the area we will be diving today, the layout, expected route, and whom is diving with whom. At the conclusion, there is a flurry of activity as people finish putting on wetsuits, and grab gear as they head to the boat.

Less than twenty minutes later we are underwater, marveling at the magnificence of the reef and the marine life. Assuming no air hogs or problems, we should be able to get an hour, perhaps a little more of bottom time before we have to surface.

Just under an hour later, we sit floating in the ocean as the boat heads towards us, the 200 horsepower Yamaha issuing the sharp bark heard on bodies of water across the world. As we should have expected, everything didn't go according to plan, the current was pushing us a different direction than we had initially intended to go, so our group decided to alter the plan to a drift dive, allowing the current to do most of the work. The other group, more stubborn, had ventured into the current and had arrived where the boat expected all of us to be.

I probably shouldn't call it a problem, it meant that we got to see more than normal, while expending significantly less effort, aside from avoiding the flow of the water pushing you into the reef. This is to be avoided for a few reasons, chief among them being it can damage the sensitive organisms that live there. On a more personal level, it can be sharp and abrasive leading to cuts and scrapes that are immediately exposed to salt water, providing a colourful use of language that matches the splendor of the object that inflicted the damage. The other thing to avoid isn't the wildlife, they move, but the chance of bumping into fire coral. I have escaped this predicament so far, but from what I've been told, the language used for mere scrapes will be dull and benign in comparison. That or uttered at significantly higher volume.

I digress, the current means we wait floating in a scattered ellipsoid talking about the various things we saw or missed because we were too distracted by something else. Today it was the pair of turtles, yesterday it was the pipe fish and pipe horse, and the sea horse that the other group found.

Once the boat arrives, and the equipment stowed for the short ride back to dock, wetsuits and shirts are removed in an attempt to warm up. The water is about 28 Celsius at the surface, which at 1030 is about the same as the air temperature, but the boat moving at about 15 knots provides a windchill that can chill even the Canadians from the East (The western ones seem to be a tougher breed).

Back at the dock, coffee is ordered, bladders are emptied (Being neutrally buoyant combined with the pressure of the water tends to encourage this need), and we sit around in plastic chairs still talking about the dive, equipment issues or questions, plans for the day, jobs and the weather back home. Some of us, like myself are diligently filling in a log book about air consumption (1900 PSI used for 54 minutes), depth (18.3 m max, 10.7 m avg), things I saw, issues to work on, in this case my air consumption wasn't great (See Footnote 1).

Another briefing, and 90 minutes later we are back in the shop repeating the procedure. All done I say my good byes and head towards my hotel. Instead of walking on the road, I detour a little to walk along the beach, the water lapping at my feet. Once back, I step into the shower with my gear, ensuring that it is thoroughly rinsed to limit the damage from the salt water.

Freshly showered, the afternoon is open, but I realize that I finished the book rented from the local bookstore, so I head over to trade it out. There is a distinct lack of good literature on the island, much of it comes from novels left in hotel rooms and in bars. For the most part it is Jack Reacher novels and other pulp fiction. Finding something reasonable, I grab a cold drink from one of the many convenience stores, my favourite is a peach drink from the brand "Enjoy", which I do.

A couple hours of reading in the hammock on my porch later, I go in search of ice cream. The malaria medication is recommended to be taken with a milky or fatty beverage, so sacrifices must be made. After that I begin thinking about dinner, which tonight will be peanut butter and coconut bread. Something simple and easy to digest, I had some wings a couple nights ago that did not completely agree with me and I want to play it safe.

I stay inside during the dusk period, that is when the sand flies are the worst, and their bites itch like crazy and I avoid being outside if I can and instead read indoors. There is a hockey game that started at 6, one of the local bar owners is an ex-pat from Toronto and he plays every game on the TV. Conveniently it is happy hour, so the beer with tip is still only $2, and I sit down next to the beach surrounded by a other Canadians and watch hockey. It is a slightly surreal experience, but the 29 degree weather combined with the beach and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore is a far superior way to watch.

The game over, I head back to my room. All my gear for the next day needs to be gathered and arranged so I can easily grab it in the morning. Dive computer, mask, swimsuit, I get it all ready then grab my phone to check on emails and facebook, watch a couple youtube videos, then plug it in and return to reading until I decide that it is time to rest.

Footnote 1: Three days after this dive I used 2400 for 59 minutes, but the max depth was 36.1 m and an average depth of 15.5 m)

Day[9] - The Transportation

I took another taxi ride today to pay for my dives from last week. There are bad drivers everywhere in the world, and the two drivers used were no worse than other rides, but as a whole the level of driving ability on the island is pretty poor.

I understand that you don't need to be in top driving shape and awareness as a large urban centre, but there are still a few things that really shouldn't happen. Blind sweeping rights are ok, the drivers tuck the cars nicely into the corners and stay inside, but this is a result of the abysmal ability of everyone to stay on their side of the road on the same corner, but coming the other direction. Many of them wear seatbelts, but still. I cannot believe that there are not more accidents, the only damage I've seen on a car is a windshield where it looks like a coconut dropped on it (hazards differ by country I suppose, glare ice in Edmonton, coconuts in the tropics). On left hand corners, the drivers cut well into the other lane, and this seems to be the case for taxi's, private cars, trucks and many motorbikes/scooters. There is one corner headed out to West End that is a sweeping left hander that crests right at the apex of the corner (meaning it is blind based on both the vertical and horizontal) yet without fear everyone drastically cuts the corner while I hold my breath and pray that I won't die.

The drivers are not the most practiced but they are by no means the worst obstacle on the road. That honour falls squarely to the tourist who has rented a moped/scotter. My goodness. I've seen some pretty terrible scooter drivers in Edmonton, but nothing like this. I understand why, none of them have any training, nor have ridden before, but if I was a shop owner, I would want to check their skill level beforehand.

The litany of errors could be a tome unto itself, including (but certainly not limited to), not getting feet up while moving, instability, looking at where they do not want to go, and a shocking lack of understanding of the double D-Ring system on helmets.

The only thing keeping everything reasonable seems to be that few people go over 50 km/h.

Hopefully will return to diving tomorrow, took the weekend and today off as my one ear has been a little sore. I was asked recently if I wanted a "to go" cup for my G&T, I asked the bartender skeptically about walking around with a drink and she responded in kind as if not being allowed to do so was a crime against humanity. As I was out to take a few pictures for this post, I saw a sign with respect to the laws of walking with booze. A "go" cup is required, they will fine you 500 Lempires (25 USD) for walking around with a beer bottle or can.

There is a beach bar called "Sundowners" owned by a Canadian ex-pat that shows hockey games in the evenings. A couple evenings ago Ihad the slightly surreal pleasure of watching the Oilers v. Flames, while drinking a beer, and sitting on a beach. Until the bar closed at 10. Most places close much earlier, why I haven't yet figured out.

The sign on the left is a little indistinct, "Free Beer Manana" or "Free Beer. Tomorrow."

West Bay looking North

Since you are supposed to take Malarone with a milky/fatty substance...

Day 7 - Sunny with a Chance of Rain

Moved accomodations today from Sandy Bay to the West End. The new place is less spartan than the last, but then, it costs more. So I sit on my personal porch and listen to the sounds of what looks like a somewhat like a crow, but has a curving beak and a blueish tint on its back.

Attempted a night dive on Thursday night, but unfortunately there was either the advance to a storm or weird waves that reduced the visibility to very little and also a significant amount of swell (back and forth movement), even 10m down. So the dive was scrubbed after 10 minutes and I completed a Fish Identification dive the next day for the final piece of my Advanced Open Water certification. Total for the first week, 10 dives, and a total of 7 hours and 53 minutes underwater. I uploaded a video from the first dive on Friday here. It should be available at 2.7K resolution, and I apologize for the shaky camera work, I'll need to image stabilize the footage when I get home. The camera has a wide angle lens which distorts the distance a little, but the turtle was just beyond arms reach as he swam past (Hawksbill Turtle).

It has been a good trip so far. I am somewhat annoyed at how long things take to dry due to the high humidity. I was walking back after my last dive yesterday and it was sprinkling a little bit, and I didn't want to wait the hour that the storms usually last so I began walking, which was fine until about 2/3 of the way there when the heavens opened. Now, I'm waterproof and had been in the water already and still had my swimsuit on, so that side of it wasn't a big issue. My runners on the other hand are still wet 24 hours later. Now, you are all thinking "Why is he wearing runners on an island?", and you'd be right. I was wearing sandals until one of my fins rubbed part of my toe raw and I was left with a dilemma, wear runners with socks, or wear sandals and keep my toe from healing.

Thankfully a well placed bandaid provides enough protection to return to the sandal option. I am beginning to adjust to the weather, no longer does the humidity seem oppressive with the heat unless I'm standing in the sun for a little while. It also helps that I have been drinking prodigious amounts of water and sweet fluids. They sell the plastic jugs that we use on water coolers for 2-3 USD, and I went through most of one easily in a week.

For the first time ever I did not bring near enough reading material with me. Every other trip I have either brough way to much, or on the last one, just enough. I underestimated how much I would get through on the planes (though I should have thought that one through). Fortunately there is a little store called the "Book Nook" that I can rent books for 1.50 (30 Lempires). As there is little to do in the evenings and afternoons (this may change now that I am on the west end with more people around) I got through two Jack Reacher novels (good call on those Dan), a Tom Clancy novel, CS Lewis' "The Great Divorce", finished up one Travis McGee novel (John D Macdonald) and completed another. Amazing what you can get through given a little time.

Porch of the new place

Shot inside, double bed + single. In my case, one for sleeping, one for luggage.

Day 4 - The Curious Case of the Blue Package

If you have been in a convenience store anywhere in the world, they have sweet treats, usually local, next to the counter when you pay. So when I asked for one of the blue packages in the plexiglass I figured that it was some sort of local waffle treat. Not unless the soda cracker was invented here. Why does a convenience store sell Soda Crackers right next to the till? Odd.

Did my fourth dive of the trip today, it was very similar to my first one, except a little deeper (21.5m) as we exited the slope onto the wall, but that wasn't the amazing moment of the day, we'll get there. The highlight of Dive #4 was the large number of fish types which included an encounter with what is called a Nassau Grouper. I use encounter because it likes divers. If you happen across it (There are apparently a few, but one in particuluar) it will follow the group of divers around until they surface, coming very close in the flater sections, where it expects to be rubbed on the head and sides like you would a dog.

Dive #3 was the first dive this morning, that was for the deep dive portion of my Advanced Open Water course (Allowing dives down to ~30m). You swim down a sandy path (I hesitate to call it a canyon as the walls are not that high) and a slight angle, then it gets much steeper with overhangs on each side and as you swim down it gives the feeling of flying, then you are out of the shallow reef onto the wall and there is nothing but blue in various shades ahead of you, stretching out into the abyss. It was a fantastic moment that if equipment allowed would have caused my jaw to drop. Instead I assembled a Mr. Potatohead to show that at the 33.5m depth I was not "narked" or afflicted with Nitrogen Narcosis, which can affect some people at depth.

The rest of the dive as we headed for shallower water was a myriad of fish, best described as diving in an aquarium. Well, it was until the hose to my BCD (Buoyancy Control Device) inflator decided to stick on causing a significant, increase in floatation that was partially  remedied by me releasing air from it, then being confused as to how I had released so much, then being hauled down by the Divemaster who examined the hose as I unclipped it. When they made us practice that particular skill in the pool and the lake, I never realistically thought I would have to do it.That unfortunately cut short (but not that short, I was getting close to my air reserve) the dive through the shallow portion (5-8m) which apparently had even more colourful fish than the earlier portion of the dive. Dang.

After the second dive of the day I walked home and was reading by the pool (It's a rough life, I know) when Kyle and Trevor showed up, they arrived on the island today.I passed along the parts I had brought and chatted with them for awhile about their recent adventures. The amound of off the path experiences they've had makes me glad I wasn't the one riding them. Turns out that the muffler pieces I brought for Trevor are to replace the parts that fell out in Arizona. It's been a wee bit loud.

Dusk here is a very pleasant time of day, somewhere around 1630, the sun dips below the tree line, and the light begins to fade leaving beautiful auburn-red rays to filter through the clouds and trees. It also stops getting warmer, which is also a welcome relief. An hour later, it decends briefly into dusk, similar to sitting on a back porch on a hot summer evening in Edmonton about 1030 at night in June, just significantly more humid. It is a lovely time of day, but due to the inconvenience of the latitude, it only lasts 15 minutes until it is dark.

The Blue Package in question

A panorama from the beach in front of the dive shop (Octopus Diving School)/Resort (Blue Bahia)

Static Shot of the same place.

This is Spartan!

There are a few ways to start this post, and I'm inclined to address the first question, "How hot is it?" and to quote Robin Williams: "Damn hot!". In all seriousness, I'm mildly concerned about my keyboard that the sweat dripping from me could short it out. Yet, there is a picture of Santa on my bottle of Coca-Cola. Which unfortunately isn't glass, but it is still cold, well, it was a few minutes ago.

Attached are pictures of the courtyard and of the room. The room is fairly spartan, but livable. I did find a coupld of cockroaches on the floor this morning, which was a less than welcome surprise.

The dive shop is a 15 minute walk away located in a resort called the Blue Bahia (Octopus Diving). First dives will be tomorrow, and the numbers right now are for 3-4 people plus instructor/divemaster. The British gentleman was explaining (Like many tropical destinations, the staff come from many areas of the globe) many of the dives involve going along the corner of the reef dropoff and that sea turtles have been in abundance the last week or so. I'm excited.

The environment is so different from home, I thought I remembered from Mexico the heat and humidity, and either my memory is faulty, or it didn't get that warm. My dive computer says the temperature is 84 F (28-29 C), so it isn't *that* hot, but the humidity is oppressive and given the amount of noise the rain made last night, it must be close to 100% RH.

As I sit here, various things catch my eye, the flours are one, the hummingbird that came by a few minutes ago, the colourful butterflys and the little green lizards (geckos?) are things that are rarely seen or nonexistent at home. I shake my head at the worker chipping concrete without any safety equipment, and force myself to remember that things are done differently in other places, and that it is the differences that have created such a rich tapestry of cultures and provide reasons to travel.

The Courtyard

A view of the room as you enter, bed on the right, bathroom through the door.