Advertisement
Published: November 20th 2008
Edit Blog Post
Two and a half months had passed and we though perhaps it was time to move a muscle and do a bit of work. Boooo!
From San Ignacio, a small town in the hills of Western Belize, we had contacted a small organic farm about volunteering in exchange for food and shelter. Hanging around San Ignacio for a reply was nice. A place I could live for quite a while...well a couple of months anyway. Plus Jess was superhappy with the veggie selection in Hanna´s restaurant, she was spoiled for choice.
When the reply came, it was short and sweet. "Yes there should be work. Come on out. Jim."
In this part of the world, seatbealts are ornaments, no one wears a helmet on a motorbike and many ride around in the back of pickups, open top. I love it. So for the 20km or so journey out to Barton Creek, we jumped on the back of a Toyota pickup alongside our bags and some supplies. After all, when in Rome...!
As we bumped along in the back, we watched the road roll away from under us. Urban life was replaced by stillness and calm when we
turned off the main road. Climbing towards the Mountain Pine Ridge Forest Reserve, hugh citrus farms flanked the dusty track on both sides. These were owned and farmed by the mennonite community. You are probably more familiar with the Amish in the USA (think of the film ´Witness´with Harrison Ford). The picture that just flashed in your mind - well that´s what Mennonites look like. Orange and grapefruit trees began to leave the picture, next came the small paddocks, farmyards and homes of the Mennonites.
The pickup scrambled over another ridge and we entered a forest. Then for our last hurdle - a river. Before I finished the sentence "We will never make it", the Toyaota was in four feet deep of rushing water, its tyres searching for grip on the stoney river bed. We did make it and a few minutes later we arrived at our destination, Barton Creek Outpost. Set on a riverbend with beautiful natural pools, the location was Eden-like, the sound of flowing water filled the air. We pitched a tent next to the creek that was to become our home for the next five nights.
The work wasn´t how we had imagined it,
it had very little to do with organic farming. The little that did, we enjoyed - picking oranges, digging up baby coconut palms for replanting and tidying the flower gardens. The other stuff, such as giving the kitchen a well needed spring clean and cooking breakfast for 10 paying guests, left us feeling like skivvies.
A big bonus of staying at the Outpost was how close it was to the Barton Creek Cave. With Jess in charge of a big flashlight powered by a car battery, I took charge of the canoe. In parts we had to lie down in the canoe to fit under the limestone formations. It was a spooky world in there.
The following day we decided to head back to San Ignacio. The fact that the guy running the place was sampling brandy from 10am did not encourage us to stay and Jess was on a misson to call home for her mum´s birthday. Only one problem. How?! It could be a day or two before a truck may appear at the Outpost. We would have to hike couple of miles to a small junction where we might get a lift. Might.
We
began to march with our big rucksacks, our small ones carried by a girl we had made friends with over the past few days. First obstacle was the river. It was too deep to walk through so we had to use an old rickety rope bridge, against my better judgement. A couple of planks and frayed rope spanned thirty feet. One person at a time, one step at a time...yes we made it!
About an hour passed and the bags were getting heavier with every step, we began to slow. Stopping to watch a small metallic green snake cross the track, a young Mennonite lady and two little boys appeared behind us. She said "hello" in a soft American accent and we exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. She had a contagious smaile, while the boys eyed us as mad people with weird looking loads on our backs. March on.
As we climbed out of the valley, I heard a noise in the distance. "Listen, listen, I hear something Jess. Is it a truck?...It´s a truck!" Saved. Laura headed back to Barton Creek and we jumped into the back with three Belizean guys. The driver said he would
be taking the long way back to the main highway. Not a problem with us.
We stopped mid-route at an orange grove and sacks were produced. Quicklook round, then the lads were filling the sacks in lightning speed. Somehow I don´t thing they asked the Mennonites for permission. We then passed through the centre of the Mennonite community. Each farm had a few cows, bulls, hens, pigs and horses. The faint smell of dung fertilised light brown soil. Small windmills drove water pumps. Streams were dammed and mill wheels rotated. Horses or bulls were used to plough the fields or motor the family car...that is, a cart with a flat top for protection from the sun. We passed a school. A wooden building 40ft by 20ft, open windows all the way around. As we sped by, a cloud of dust enveloped the building, blinded and choked the teacher and his students...perfect opportunity for the children to escape! Most people we passed gave a smile, a nod or a wave. Others looked with suspicion, but the fact we were sitting on sacks of stolen oranges may have caused that.
To their word, the lads dropped us off at the
main highway. After twenty minutes of unsuccessful hitchhiking, a Guyanese pastor from the Church of The New Gospel of Redemption (that´s a new one on me) stopped. He gave us not only a lift but also a sermon for free. He was new to Belize and had high hopes for his congregation.
After five nights sleeping on the ground in tents, we reached luxury. I discovered I had brought a little friend with me from Barton Creek - a small blood-thirsty tick stuck on my leg. We had to burn it off. That´s quite enough camping for me, thank you. A comfy mattress and a hot shower are wonderful things.
From James
Advertisement
Tot: 0.351s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 15; qc: 74; dbt: 0.1106s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
ciara
non-member comment
i like blogs
jess i miss you already and a year hasn't past yet!! Irelly like the Blogs Ciaraxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx