Red Eye, Top 'o the Day, or Afternoon Delight? part I

Glutton.  That is the one word that has described my attitude about the amount of vacation time I have in a particular place has been.  Unfortunately, my description while not "regularly" employed has grown to Mega Glutton and it applies to everywhere we go.  The boots on the ground time in any particular place has really mattered; I tried to stretch and create time,  BUT things may be changing. 

For many years, I thought the only way to travel was at night. Wanting to savor every possible moment in  paradise, my favorite midnight red-eye has been  from SFO to Roatan's Juan Manuel Galvez International Airport.  Our TACA flight would  leave sometime shortly after midnight.  Following  a full week of work, anytime after midnight early Saturday is time to sleep; so  sleepily, we made our way to assigned seats and snuggled in to   our  tiny blankets and wafer sized, industry- standard  pillow. At that hour, the hospitality of the crew in offering food and drink was appreciated but somewhat lost on the sleepy souls.  As the engines hum their lullaby, sleep comes rapidly and rejuvenation quickly on its heels.  

The announcement of arrival in San Salvador, the first leg of the adventure,  awakens me as beams of  light begin to fill the cabin.  Upon landing,  I locate the closest restroom and change from my cold weather clothes to shorts, top, and sandals that have been stowed away in my carry-on ready to jump-start our island experience.  Touch down; pay entrance fee; get your bags.  Now is the time to get the rental car and head to West End or West Bay for the first Salva Vida and toast to a great trip at 11AM.  No day wasted  by travel and it's only noon by the time we have checked into our new home for the next week or so.  

Throughout the years, there have been other airlines offering flights to Roatan and some we have tried, but none meets the criteria of arriving bright and early~~gently squeezing every moment one can relish from  tropical paradise.

Historical tale from 2015

The red nose, red eyed dog of Sandy Bay; AKA Rudolph

What was it said about encountering a strange animal --- ie, bear, mountain lion, strange dog-- look them in the eye or make no eye contact?  Obviously, I have forgotten and so this tale took place.

During my birthday lunch at the Blue Bahia Grill on the beach at Sandy Bay, we watched the people and animals walk up and down the beach.  On occasion one of the animals would--oh how should I put it?--not find the restroom but use the beach.  Surprisingly, it was always at the water’s edge so the slight wave action  caused a flushing effect.  There, I said it!

After having lunch,  I suggested we continue up the beach in the opposite direction from our apartment. We passed several docks and then decided to wade into the water.  As we were talking and leaning on the dock, I spied a dog taking itself for a walk and, well, doing what the other dogs did.  Here is where the weird started.

As the dog turned around and looked up, we made eye contact.  I made a tisk-tisk sound and the dog started trotting toward us.  Not being a doggie person, I turned around  and tried to ignore the dog--but he kept coming.  He started swimming in the shallow water toward the dock.  Fast swimmer, really fast swimmer.  It appeared he was going to come under the dock to us.  Oh no!--more eye contact--That had to be a mistake.

Not trusting what kind of dog he was--smiling or bite happy, I asked Sweetie to make a hasty retreat to the dock.  We went to the far end of the dock where the water was from 5 to 6 feet --and the dog kept coming. More eye contact, “Go away doggie. No.”

He swam out to the end of the dock but couldn’t use the ladder because some people were on it, so he swam back to the beach. Good doggie--stop looking at him--couldn’t. I was grateful  for the new distance between us but I was so curious. That was not the end of the red nosed, red eyed dog of Sandy Bay.

I kept watching where the dog was not wanting any surprise attack.  Rudolph (my name for him) trotted along the beach a bit in the direction of our apartment...did he know where we were staying?  I remembered hearing one should never trust a smiling dog.

Suddenly he stopped at the next dock and began swimming out into the water.  I was even fearful that Rudolph might drown since only his head was above the water.  He swam all the way to the steps in the deeper water, climbed up on the dock and then continued to an upper observation deck and sat for a bit.  After an elapsed time, he entered the water again and went back to shore. 

That dog continued the process up the beach at each dock until he was out of view.  Rudolph had a collar so I guess he must have a family, who knows.  Does he take himself for a walk and swim each day?  Was he coming by just to be friendly or was I going to be the bite of the day?   Oh well, I made it through this many years and didn’t want any surprises. 

If we see Rudolph again, I will write an update. May even make friends with him.  That will be another day of paradise in the Bay Islands on Roatan.

Love at first sight. What a knock-out!

26December1993  La Ceiba, Honduras 

We were at a beach hotel on that rainy day wondering what to do next. Marshall had already had his adventure in discovering what each of the odd shaped fireworks did when lit wick met payload.  The cloud of sand, smoke, and paper bits drifting into the hotel restaurant did not make it an ideal sanctuary.  What next?  Let's go to the airport and visit that island out there! 

Amazingly, we were able to get tickets for the next flight to Roatan.  As the plane came into the airport from its circular trip between points, the thought of a sea plane in the Virgin Islands came to mind.  Oh, dear.  Were we going to be weighed and my purse, too?   Our pilots looked like they were from an old vintage 1930's movie.  Little did we know that was just the start.  

The seats were not tiny and crowded, they were benches!  This was more like a carnival ride with one seat belt for whatever number of passengers you could squeeze on your seat. Was that the family plan?  We were quite fine being only two; the robust man in front of us had a gaggle of children on his bench.  Strap 'um in and off you go! A short flight and a short runway away was paradise in the rough.

Wheels touched down shortly after passing a very small, low island called a cay.  I hoped it was farther away than it looked but am not sure.  The plane bounced along the roughly constructed runway until it reached a small white building with a porch, rocking chair, and picket fence.  My husband kept expecting to see Wallace Barry at any moment.  

Not having a clue where we were, we asked where to go.  The locals told us how to leave the airport and catch a "bus."  The bus was a van packed with as many folks as could be squeezed in. The transfer point was Warren's in Coxen Hole.  From there we caught another bus to West End via Sandy Bay and other stops requested by the passengers.  This trip did have more seats since we took on several propane tanks--with a little imagination it worked.

We came to a junction in the paved road: go left and continue on the paved road up and over the hill to yet undeveloped West Bay, go straight and onto the sand road of West End.  Our bus was going straight.  As the bus eased its way along the short distance to the shoreline, the beauty of Half Moon Bay greeted us.  The bus turned left and skirted the palm lined  bay passing a local church at the water's edge.  Water filled potholes splashed and sloshed as our bus eased passed stalled traffic nearly soaking tourists as they made their way along the would-be sidewalks.  Passing  dive shops, restaurants, souvenir booths and other assorted businesses on the way to the last stop, Foster's,  happy sounds were heard and smiling faces  seen at each turn.

After bidding our driver good day and offering a tip, we made our way across the bridged entrance over the light blue waters leading to Foster's bar and restaurant. We viewed fish swimming  in the shallows and children playing in the surf as we leisurely approached the next landing.  The invitation was extended to sit where ever we liked--chairs, hammocks, lounges,  even bar stools--make your self at home.  We did and we even met Foster!

Our orders came quickly with a good dose of friendly banter.  We noticed the building oscillated a bit in the winds and surf, but by the second Salva Vida we really didn't care.  What food we ate, I can't really remember; our consumption of the location and wanting to taste more of the feeling became overwhelming.  We thought of staying the night but were totally unprepared, and it was the high season in a locale with limited rooms--need I say  more?

As we waited for our bus back to the airport, we chattered like the wild parrots of the beautiful place we had just discovered.  On the bus with the  wind rushing through the open windows and smell of fresh rain in the air,  we declared we must return to Roatan.  If it looked this good in the rain, it must be a knock-out on a sunny day!

The winds were strong that day and decided to rip our tickets from my hand.  Experienced they must have been, for the little boys at the airport quickly retrieved the tickets effortlessly. They moved faster than the monkey-la-las through the brush.  Naturally they were rewarded for their effort and all was well.  We boarded our flight back to La Ceiba but would remember the day we fell in love with Roatan for years to come as though it were yesterday.