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.
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.
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