English Caye

The originally-planned trip to Lamanai turned out to be too expensive. And what alternative outing could be more reminiscent of our high school years than a caye trip? Eloisa chartered a boat to take us to English Caye for the day; departure from the Ramada pier was scheduled for 9:00 a.m.

Carli Scott; Eloisa Bradley; Ina Retreage, née Boyd; Joyce Perdomo, née Gough; Joy Tatum-Haylock; Joy Yorke; María Scott, née Villanueva; Marta Woods, née Ordóñez; Ruby Gillett née Vásquez.

The grey sky on Sunday morning made us wonder whether the weather would hold for the caye trip. By 9:00 a.m., only a few of our group were gathered at the pier: Joy T and her family, Ina and her daughter, and Carli and María and their husbands. The boat was nowhere to be seen. As we waited, we discussed whether the trip would materialize.

The drizzle started, so we moved our beach bags and our bodies under the overhanging roof of a building at shore end of the pier. From where we stood, there was no apparent way to get inside the building and out of the rain, which was getting steadily stronger.

A short distance from the building where we huddled for inadequate shelter, a larger building was under construction — perhaps a future disco. It looked like a drier haven so, one by one, we braved the rain and carried our belongings over the wet and slippery planks, up three steps of a makeshift ladder, and into the new building. By the time we had all moved to our new refuge, the rain was pelting down where the roof was missing, and blowing in through most of the seaward side of the building, where the wall was missing. We headed for the back corner, where the wall kept out the wind, and the temporary roof kept out the rain. As the downpour intensified, leaks developed throughout the roof. Amid deafening thunder and blinding lightning, we crowded together in groups of two and three into the few remaining dry spots. We laughed about our predicament and discussed alternative plans for the day. Perhaps we could take our party and our picnic into the Ramada.

We were only slightly damp by the time the storm passed. Ruby showed up with her husband and daughter, then Joyce, then Joy Y and her niece, then Joy T’s sister, Alice, and her family. None of the newcomers were convinced that it was a good idea to head for the Caye. Eloisa and her family arrived with the boat; the time had come for us to make a decision. The sky was still dark; Joyce reported that the weather bureau had posted small-craft warnings, which would be in effect all day. On the other hand, the weather seemed to be clearing; people arriving from the cayes told of clear weather off shore; and the boat was large enough not to be affected by small-craft warnings.

We agreed that it was safe to go to the Caye, but another question remained: Could we afford the trip? We had a much smaller group than originally planned and a fixed-price charter, so the per-person cost was much higher than anticipated. Negotiations began. How much per person were we willing to pay? How little was the boatman willing to accept? We struck a deal, loaded the boat, and headed to sea at around 10:00 a.m. Not bad! In Belize, a one-hour delay for trips like this is about typical, even in the best of weather.

The comfortable motor yacht virtually flew, and we reached the Caye in under 45 minutes. When we arrived, the sky was overcast but reasonably light. By the time we had arranged our towels and coolers in the shade of the coconut trees, the sky was starting to clear. In the end, we had a beautifully sunny day — perfect caye weather. In contrast, we learned later, it was grey and drizzly all day in Belize City.

We spent a relaxing time at the Caye, swimming, snorkeling, and most of all, reminiscing about high school days. Marta and her family joined us by early afternoon, arriving in their own boat. Marta’s niece, Lisa, came along to represent her mother, Rosilia Ordóñez, née Vega, who was unable to attend the reunion. Lisa was curious to know what her mother had been like in high school. (Don’t worry, Rosilia; we didn’t tell her anything that would embarrass you!) Other members of the younger generation variously ignored, joined in, or listened to, our conversations. Ruby periodically switched into Spanish when she didn’t want her daughter to know what she was saying. Of course, other young listeners had grown up speaking Spanish, so the raciest recollections didn’t remain entirely private.

Before we left the Caye, we decided to take a group photo — partly to memorialize a great day and partly so those who stayed at home because of the weather could see what they had missed. Joyce announced that she would pose in her bathing suit. She reasoned that she might not be able to wear a bathing suit by our next reunion in five years’ time. Not to be out done, Ruby and María also stripped down to their suits. The rest of us kept our shorts and T-shirts on and let the three bathing beauties take center stage.

The ride home was smooth, fast, and uneventful.