An oasis of palm trees sways over a kaleidoscope of blue as we pull up to the dock at Island Expeditions’ base camp on Belize’s Glover’s Reef. We’ve been on the motorboat for an hour-and-half from the mainland before arriving at our home for the next five days to sea kayak and snorkel the atoll’s world-class reefs. It’s one of the best places in the world where you can combine the two.
“Welcome to paddling paradise,” says operations manager Steve Barnes, jumping off the boat at the dock. “It’s pretty unique to have a private, family-owned and run island in the Caribbean like this—there’s just something special about it, aside from its incredible location next to some of the richest marine life in the world. You get the coral and the culture.” At it here for seven straight years, he adds that earlier this season one client just couldn’t leave: he kept signing on, staying for four consecutive week-long stays.
Part of the Belize Barrier Reef, a 190-mile-long section of the 560-mile Mesoamerican Barrier Reef System that extends from Cancún to Honduras, Glover’s mix of hard and soft corals comprise the second largest coral reef system in the world. And the best way to see it is sea kayaking it with outfitter Island Expeditions from a hidden gem island like Southwest Cay, 36 miles off the Belize coast and the largest of the atoll’s five coral rubble islands—all located on its western side where Caribbean waves have broken down the reef enough to form land.
Comprised of more than 700 coral patch reefs across 135 square miles and renowned for its marine life, Glover’s elliptical-shaped reef system—recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1993—stretches 18 miles long and seven miles wide, serving as a vital nursery and feeding ground for a variety of marine life, including several endangered species. Inside its shallow lagoon are coral patch reefs waiting to be explored by snorkel or scuba.
Your Glamping Accommodations
Our accommodations are rustic but appropriate: white wall tents, with floorboards, double beds, nightstands, and shelves—not that we’ll need anything more than T-shirts, shorts and flip-flops. A maze of hammocks leads to a bathroom with gravity showers and composting toilets (sprinkle two coconut cups of wood chips afterward). Past a cornhole game we come to a kitchen manned by Ms. Cynthia, or ‘C,” and Ms. Elta, and a happy hour lounge with honor system bar, counter stools overlooking the water and couches. Happy hour, usually punch made with Belizean gold One Barrel rum, is announced with the blowing of a conch shell. Above it is a palapa-roofed, open-walled dining hall with library. Just down the shoreline lies a kayak and SUP hatchery, housing a fleet of paddlecraft—our vessels for accessing the island’s world-class waters.
C’s cooking chops surface at lunch: breaded barracuda, caught that morning, with rice and beans, fried plantains, and melt-in-your-mouth papaya. While we might want to nap afterward, there’s no time; we’re whisked away to learn the ins and outs of supping and kayaking, practicing wet-exits and re-entries (for after snorkeling) in a nearby emerald-green lagoon. Then we get issued our snorkeling gear. We’ll use the boats to snorkel the reefs.
It’s a great place for both. The island has been owned by the family of Belizean Jaime Usher since the 1940s, with his grandson, Alex, our boat captain from Dangriga, owning our half and his cousin the other. Island Expeditions has been offering their trips here for over 30 years, finding it the perfect basecamp for their expeditions. “It’s truly one of the best sea kayaking and snorkeling destinations in Belize,” says company owner Leif Sverre. “The massive lagoon has more than 700 documented coral patch reefs, and our island also lets you access the outer reef wall, with even more species of coral and fish. And it shelters the inner lagoon from the northeastern trade winds, making it perfect for paddling from island to island or patch reef to patch reef.”
Originally discovered by Mayans sailing over from the mainland to fish, Glover’s Reef gets its name from pirate brothers John and Rodger Glover, part of a ragtag band of swashbucklers hired by the British in the 1750s to raid Spanish ships. Bootie from those early days can still be found in local waters. But we treasure its biodiversity even more.
Our days will be filled with paddling kayaks and SUPs to go snorkeling, scuba dives, bonefish and barracuda angling, nighttime snorkels and octopus-revealing tide pool walks, daily happy hours to celebrate it all, and some the best island fare you’ll find in all Mesoamerica. And that Caribbean breeze? It lulls you to sleep with the lap of the outer reef’s waves.
The Fish
Before venturing into the reef’s rum-clear waters, we get a fish talk from one of our guides, “professor” Luis, 35. He’s color blind, but that’s a good thing for identifying marine life he says. Fish can change color throughout the day as well as their lifespans, so better to use such characteristics as shape, where you see them, (i.e. bottom, sea grass, coral), stripes vs. bars, what they’re doing and how they swim. Some fish even change their bars to stripes at night. Professor Luis might not have a higher marine biology degree but he does have 15 years of guiding here under his weight belt. “Color doesn’t matter,” he says. “Look at where you find them and what they’re doing instead.”
We learn to look for such features as fake eyes near their rears (the, ahem, four-eye butterfly fish), fin placement (surgeons pack heat in the form of switchblades that pop up to deter predators), propulsion mechanisms and more. And we learn that parrot fish—which groom the coral by eating algae and poop out sand—are hermaphroditic, starting out as females with ovaries before changing into multicolored, testes-toting males. In short, we learn to become “thalassophiles,” or “lovers of the sea.” And that everything has a role.
The fish’s names belong in Whoville, including puddingwifes, schoolmasters, fairy basslets, stoplight parrots (with red, yellow and green tails), grunts, goatfish, the patrolling sergeant majors, damsel fish, blue tangs, squirrelfish, saucer-eye porgies, balloonfish, cleaning gobies, funky dudes, bluehead wrasses, feather dusters, silver guys, snappers, and more. And it’s the reef—made up of coral polyps that are actually tiny animals related to anemones and jellyfish—that provides habitat for them all. “It’s what makes it all possible,” says Luis. “Glover’s is the healthiest coral reef in the whole country. There’s hardly any human impact out here.”
But there’s treachery as well, just like we humans show on the surface—from fish whose antennae look like worms (a fate befalling Dora in “Finding Nemo”) to invasive lionfish, who “fake” a submissive posture to lure in cleaner fish like gobies only to eat them. Yellow head jawfish remove sand from their holes only to have their neighbors drop sand back in, like snowblowing onto your neighbor’s driveway. The antagonism runs from daring dashes to protect algae crops to squirting ink getaways. But it all balances out, everything with its purpose in the giant coral circle of life.
As long, however, as the mothership reef remains healthy—which is facing its own struggles. Luis has seen the effects in his 15 years of guiding. When we paddle out for our first kayak-snorkel, he points out a giant maze-filled brain coral that’s now half white, a victim of global warming that fosters algae growth and overwhelms the polyps. Hard coral disease, caused by bacteria dumped in the water by big ships, is also harming the reef. “When you spend enough time here and get to know the coral heads you can see the difference,” he says. “It’s sad to see.”
Us ear-equalizing neophytes don’t notice it as much. We’re swimming in aquamarine waters just a short paddle from our fluffy pillows, oohing and aahing over forests of coral and a veritable oasis of marine life. Luis points out queen angelfish, barracuda, nurse sharks, tiger rays and more, as well as clusters of coral that would give even Seuss pause. And, like Horton, we learn to look closely to see the smaller details, an apt metaphor to follow in life. At first, my instinct is to cover as much ground as possible, flutter-kicking from reef to reef to see more. But you’re better off slowing down and looking closer. The lesson: “Go slow, ‘mon—the little things in life make it whole.”
With that, I ignore the giant tarpon patrolling the perimeter like sentries and take in the tiny goby fish setting up their “cleaning stations” for other fish, darting attitude-filled damselfish, and “gang of tangs” that ride in a herd like the mafia. Later, a night snorkel brings out more nocturnal creatures like lobsters, crab, squirrel fish and basket sea stars that only open at night. Then we return to the library for rum punch and Belikin beers, comparing what we saw to Paul Humann and Ned Deloach’s “Reef Fish Identification: Florida, Caribbean, Bahamas.” We’ve turned into professors as well.
On day three, I get a bonefish on the fly line (no, I didn’t land it) and struggle at yoga, all before breakfast. (“Let your legs sway like the pam trees…feel your breath ebb like the tide,” says the instructor Jayme, the guide for 12 women from Explorer Chick who were on the island with us.) All before our first “real” activity of the day.
Today, after a morning spent snorkeling, that means fishing. Or “catching,” as the dreadlocked Byron, a commercial lobster and conch fisherman on the side, corrects. Luis shows us photos of the fly-fishing Grand Slam, if the stars align—tarpon, permit and bonefish—as well as a hog fish, which change color to match sea grass or sand.
But we’re “catching” with handlines. Motorboating outside the marine reserve, we drop lines affixed with pieces of conch, using nails and sparkplugs as weights. Once on the bottom, our lines instantly jiggle like puppet strings as we hook into French grunts, saucer-eye porgy, yellowtail snapper and more, Byron cleaning them to use for bait or throwing into the cooler for C to barbecue back in the kitchen. Next, we hand-troll for barracuda, Byron cutting the conch bait to look like a squid. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel the strike,” he says as my daughter takes the line only to feel a massive hit just seconds later. “I think I got one!” she says, incredulously.
She does a commendable job handlining it until it breaks the hook next to the boat. I try and instantly get an even bigger strike, draping the line over the gunnel for extra friction. When it gets close, Byron deftly gaffes it and pulls it up: a prehistoric monster with a giant Cro-Magnon forehead that no one can quite identify. Back on the island the guides debate what it might be over Belikins, looking in the book for distinguishing features. In the end, Venancio wins, IDing it as an African pompano jack, as evidenced by the two fins on the bottom.
An affable helper named Tucky cleans it on a wooden countertop in a foot of water on the beach. The entrails draw nurse sharks and opportunistic frigates, while a manta ray glides nearby by coincidence. I snap a photo of my friend Cindy paddleboarding by in the background. After another rum punch happy hour and fresh African pompano jack dinner we head outside (wait, we are outside) to a sandy area by the hammocks for a traditional Garifuna drum dance, where you hit a log crocodile with a stick, wipe your brow and shimmy over it seductively before passing the stick for others to do the same. The rum helps everyone join in. Our moves might not be quite as reproductively creative as, say, those of the locals or even hermaphroditic parrotfish, but, as in Whoville or the reef, everything has its place.
Local’s Tips: Wear sandals or flip-flops before earning your “Belizean sandals” (going barefoot). Shuffle your feet when walking in shallow water to warn sting rays of your presence. Don’t nap under palm trees to avoid getting hit by a falling coconut. Start slow with mild Marie Sharp’s habanero pepper sauce before graduating to fiery hot (what the guides use).
If you go: Island Expeditions offers sea kayak and snorkel trips through- out Belize from November through April, for all levels of paddlers, from bed-and-breakfast trips to point-to-point camping trips to base-camp-oriented trips on islands like Halfmoon Cay and Glovers Reef. Info: www.islandexpeditions.com, 800-667-1630. For lodging in Dangriga before your trip, try Pelican Beach Resort. For inland adventures afterward, try the San Ignacio Resort Hotel in nearby San Ignacio.
Other Things to Do: Once you’re off the island, stick around and explore what Belize has to offer on the land.
Hopkins Village: Nearby Hopkins Village is a Garifuna community, a people that comprise 4 percent of Belize’s population descended from African slaves and indigenous Arawak Indians (Garifuna Days is held every Nov. 19). Garifuna Culture Immersion Tour. Take in a drum circle and dance the fast hip-gyrating punta followed by an authentic Garifuna cooking class where you’ll shred coconuts, barbecue barracuda and mash plantains for your traditional coconut fish stew lunch at Get to Know Belize Adventures
ATM Cave: Don’t worry. It doesn’t stand for “Another Tourist Missing.” The ATM cave or Actun Tunichil Muknal, is the Cave of the Crystal Sepulchre (or Maiden), near San Ignacio in the Cayo District. Containing more than 1,400 Mayan artifacts, it’s a Maya archaeological site that includes skeletons, ceramics, stoneware and more, including the “Crystal Maiden”, the skeleton of an adolescent sacrifice victim, whose bones have been calcified to a sparkling, crystallized appearance. Just be ready to wade and swim through an underground creek. Info: Nine Belize Ecocultural Tours
Ruins of Xunantunich: This ancient Maya archaeological site sits atop a ridge above the Mopan River, just a half mile from the Guatemala border. A civic ceremonial center in the Late and Terminal Classic periods, at its peak nearly 200,000 people lived in the Belize Valley. The name means “Maiden of the Rock,” referring to the ghost of a woman rumored to inhabit the site. Info: Nine Belize Ecocultural Tours
ATV Jungle Tours: Take an ATV tour through the jungle to Elijo-Panti National Park to your own private plunge pools below Sapodilla Falls on Privasion Creek, whose waters cascade off Mountain Pine Ridge. Info: Nine Belize Ecocultural Tours
More info: https://www.travelbelize.org