We headed north on the Southern towards Dangriga. It was on this stretch that we saw the wildest thing on the highway we had seen all week. We were behind two Old American school buses, which are used for public transportation; the locals call them the chicken buses. Suddenly one decided to pass the other, which seems odd seeing two buses racing, but hey, this is Belize. Then out of the blue, a tiny little Honda blasts past Waldo and I, and attempts to shoot the gap between the passing buses. I was rooting for the Honda, but he soon realized he couldn’t do it, so he hit his brakes, ripped to the left berm, and passed there quickly. Sick moves Vin Diesel. That’s the moment I fell in love with Belizean drivers. Waldo, on the other hand, had a very different opinion.

We reached the Hummingbird Highway and turned north towards the Cayo District. The first stretch was decently flat that yet again passed through countless orange groves. The smell of citrus punching you square in your olfactory system. I had come later to find out that most of the citrus and fruit grown in Belize is grown by Mennonites. We had seen them on the way in, but had no clue to the extent of their presence. Turns out they own and farm tons of land in the country. Being a central PA boy, I felt kind of at home seeing them. The Hummingbird Highway was moderately busy. They run everything on this road, including full size 18 wheelers. Remember how I said earlier that the highways are what we consider a backroad at best? Throughout the highway the rivers are crossed with one lane concrete bridges. Often times you wait in a line to cross these bridges. The flat lands of the Stann Creek district soon led way to the Mayan Mountain passes of the Cayo district. This is where the Hummingbird came to life. The Meilun’s kept pace a 60mph very easily, except when heading up the steeper uphill climbs. They tend to feel like a moped struggling towards the top even down in 3rd, but they were workhorses and made it up nonetheless. The twists and turns, ascents and descents, led us through the peaks and valleys of the Mayan Mountains. I had smiles for miles. I fell in love with this stretch of road. At certain points you could see the bright white limestone rock peeking out where jungle did not grow. Belize is made up mostly of limestone, which in turn is why they have such a vast network of caves.

A video posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Mar 1, 2016 at 6:59pm PST

The hour and a half ride to St Herman’s cave went by way too fast. I was really getting into the mountain section before it was over. Oh well, I still have the ride back to Hopkins to repeat the twists and turns. We arrived early and met our guide for the tubing trip. Since we had time, he suggested that we head into the nearest town and get some food, so that’s what we did. We found a small thatched hut he recommended in the town of Armenia, which is the last village on the Hummingbird before hitting the capital of Belmopan. What we needed was coffee. True to the rest of the coffee we have had, it was terrible & instant, but we put it back anyways. After downing the coffee flavored water, we headed back to the cave.

We parked the bikes, changed into our swimming gear, and waited for the other people joining us for the trip. Once they arrived we did a small hike back into the jungle stopping to look at rubber trees, banana trees, leaf cutter ants, and other exotic flora and fauna. Soon we reached the mouth of the cave. We climbed into the belly of the beast and our guide took the time to explain to us the significance of caves to the Mayan culture. The Mayans see the caves as the entrance to their underworld, reserving it for sacred rituals. Only the spiritual leaders, their helpers, and those being sacrificed were allowed to enter. I will not go into too many details on what we learned about ancient culture, but our guide was very informative and the stories were just as interesting. Look into mushroom/fermented honey/toad skin enemas. Talk about a party. This cave in particular was not used for Mayan rituals, unlike the cave we would be going to in two days. That particular one still has human remains scattered about in its ceremonial chamber. As I stated earlier, Belize is covered in caves both wet and dry. We hiked deep into St Hermans. Waldo used a brief moment of silence to alienate and offend the nice Midwestern couple with a good joke.

“Hey Nate”
“Yeah?”
“You know the difference between this cave and your asshole?….. Not as many men have entered this cave.”

I lost my shit and almost popped a vein cracking up, but the Midwesterners did not find this so funny. A very awkward silence fell on the group for the next 20 minutes. He would go on to use this joke in every cave we visited. It wore out its humor with me the fourth time i had to endure the punchline.

We got in the water and floated in the subterranean river for an hour. I have tubed many times in my life, but never in a cave. It was quite an experience. At one point the guide had us all turn our headlamps off. Within a few short minutes, sensory deprivation had kicked in. When the instructions came to turn them back on, we were in a chamber filled with sleeping bats. The float went on for a little while, then we had to pick up the tubes and hike back to the mouth of the cave. From the inside the opening looked like you were standing in a serpent’s mouth looking out. The stalactites and stalagmites acting as the beasts teeth. On the way out, we discussed the different wildlife we had seen so far with our guide. He suggested we try Gibnut, which is the larger cousin of the Agouti we saw the previous day. When Queen Elizabeth had visited Belize, she was fed it without knowing what she was eating. She enjoyed it so much she dubbed it “The Royal Rat”. I knew I had to try Gibnut before I left.

We made it back to the parking lot, changed and thanked our guide. The Midwesterners wished us well but I am sure were ready to see us go. Back on the bikes, we rode a mile up the road to check out the Blue Hole. This is not the infamous Belizean deep sea blue hole, but the inland underground river fed Blue Hole. Our stopover here was short. We got back into our jeans and ripped south on the Hummingbird back towards Hopkins. Again, I had too much fun ripping through the mountain passes.

The ride back always feels shorter than the one getting there. We took a brief rest at the hostel, then decided to go on a quest for Gibnut. We got lucky real quick. The second place we stopped at had Stew Gibnut on the day’s menu. Menus here are not static. It all depends on what the restaurant owners are able to source that day. Within a few minutes of ordering, we had the Royal Rat w/ rice and beans sitting in front of us. I am pretty sure this is the first rodent I have ever eaten, and god damn it was good. Somewhere between pork and rabbit I would say. It even had a few tufts of hair sticking out of the skin on the hunk of meat. Nothing better than washing down the Royal Rat with an ice cold Belikin.

After lunch we knew the end had come and the dirt bikes had to go back to Emma. We hopped on and headed south out of Hopkins just past the resorts. The bikes needed gassed up, and the closest place was the Sittee River Marina. We ripped back the same roads that we had blasted on the first day. The big difference was today was not mud and water, but dust. The bikes were soon gassed up and off to Emma’s we went, but first I decided to hit the little bridges to see if I could get the little bike in the air. I failed miserably. I suck a dirt biking but i still have fun. Waldo managed to get through today unscathed with his 3rd bike intact.

A video posted by Nate King (@natemking) on Mar 1, 2016 at 3:33pm PST

I had a hard time taking the bike back. I wanted to keep them for the rest of the week, but seeing that we were heading to San Ignacio in the western part of the country just a few miles from the Guatemalan border, they had to go back. Waldo squared up with Emma on the damages for yesterday’s spill, then we walked back into town via the beach. The bike leg of the trip officially over, but 3 more days of adventure were ahead. More caves, ruins, Mayan burial chambers, waterfalls, cliff jumping, great food, and people… but no dirt bikes.

After leaving Emma’s, we grabbed a breakfast of fry jack w/ eggs, beans, and bacon; plus more of that sad excuse for coffee… truly my only complaint of the entire trip. Fry jacks are a deep fried triangular shaped dough that taste like funnel cake. You just rip them open and shove all your breakfast foods inside before devouring them in their deep fried, delicious glory.

The goal today was Antelope Falls in the Mayflower Bocawina National Park.

We packed what we would need for the day and headed out. This time heading north on the Southern Highway, with plenty of speed humps to bump jump along the way. The turnoff to Bocawina was only 4 miles up the Southern just north of the town of Silk Grass. We headed west towards the Mayan Mountains, the road very similar to the one going into Cockscomb. Zipping through more citrus grove’s and teak farms, we soon wound up at the Mayflower Bocawina visitor’s center. Again we paid our entrance fee, changed into more appropriate hiking gear, and left our stuff with the park rangers. The heat was in full effect and I was in heaven. The path started out in jungle flatlands. We saw more wildlife, including the Agouti, the smaller cousin of the Gibnut or Paca; imagine a small Capybara with skinny rabbit like legs. At first we were excited to see this exotic rodent, but as the trip wore on we saw plenty. Turns out the Agouti is a pretty common animal to see. The flatlands soon turned into steep steps running parallel with large waterfall. Towards the apex, the stairs turned into rope climbs. We had to scramble up rocks while using the ropes to be able to pull ourselves all the way to the top of the trail. Before finding the falls, we stumbled upon a lookout point that gave us a clear view of a large chunk of the Stann Creek District extending all the way out to the Caribbean Sea. When we came upon the falls, crystal clear cold waters awaited us. We had the whole place to ourselves and wasted no time in diving in its pool to cool off. There were some small rock overhangs we we able to monkey up and jump into the pool…too much fun. After a quick snack and hydrating, we took the same path back down. At this point our legs were on fire from all the hiking up the mountain sides. On the way down we could hear the screams of joy in a group of people rappelling down the larger waterfall. I’ll have to try that out next time I come.

A video posted by Nate King (@natemking) on Feb 29, 2016 at 11:46am PST

We took a decent break at the visitor’s center, but soon found that the mosquitos were making us their lunch. Fresh northern blood is a delicacy to those pests. Not enough Deet could save us from their sanguine smorgasbord. We ended up going through two whole cans of Off in 6 days. We too were hungry, so we headed to the restaurant that was at the Bocawina Eco-lodge. After stuffing our faces in veggie covered nachos, shrimp tacos, and a garden fresh caprese sandwich, we headed back out the way we came.

I took the road that Emma had suggested that morning. It was a farm access road plenty rutted and muddy, blasting between teak farms as far as the eye could see. This was the road I was looking for. A true 3rd world dirt biking experience. Sadly it would be cut short and the road would not be completed. I was leading and had just come around a bend that was the top of a small decline. The rocks and ruts were deep and strong. I stood up, leaned back and throttled through making sure to go nowhere near that troublesome front brake. I arrived at the bottom of the decline and ripped open the throttle on a flatland section but soon heard the beep of Waldo’s bike behind me. I stopped and looked back to see his bike on its side. He did not survive the rut and must have hit that front brake on the way down. I rode back to help him get the bike up so we could continue on but when I saw his right forearm, I knew we would be turning back. You take on a risk when tearing up on dirt bikes in the tropics in only a t shirt. Waldo took that risk and lost. His arm was looking pretty gnarly and bleeding real bad. I was relieved knowing nothing was broken seeing that we were out there with no help around for miles. The bike took on some damage too: bent handlebars, a cracked fairing, and a destroyed rearview. Nothing bad at all, but it would be costing Waldo a little extra with Emma. I decided that we needed to turn around and head to the closest town of Dangriga to find a pharmacy and get supplies to clean his fresh wound out. All he needs is to get an infection in Central America. Who needs souvenirs when you can go home with a scar to remember the trip by forever? After wrapping his forearm with a bandana to try and stop the bleeding, we took our time getting back to the Southern Highway and headed north.

Dangriga was another 10 miles out. We got these little bikes ripping at 60mph on the way there. They can haul ass for what they are. They do seem to be geared more for the highway than the dirt, but can still handle their own in it. Dangriga is a pretty rough looking town and is the capital of Garifuna culture. Garifuna people are mixed-race descendants of African, Carib, and Arawak peoples with a language and culture all their own. In town we found a pharmacy which happened to be a gas station, ice cream parlor, and gym. Talk about a one stop shop. Waldo got some peroxide and bandages and we field dressed the wound in the parking lot. I suggested he run back in for neosporin, but found the pharmacist had left in the ten minute span of him coming outside. He was okay, but wanted to get back to Hopkins to get ahold of Emma. I figured we could get more medical supplies back in Hopkins.

Back in Hopkins we discovered that the little Chinese Markets didn’t have shit for medical supplies outside of IBUprofen, Ben Gay, and pregnancy tests. It made us wonder what the residents do when they get hurt; I guess you just don’t. Luckily the proprietor of the hostel had a first aid kit that Waldo raided.

I got cleaned up and took in the evening in a hammock in the hostels courtyard. I gave Waldo some pointers on riding dirt, being that this week was his first time on it. He wasn’t happy I waited till now to give the advice, but sometimes you have to take the test before you can learn the lesson. I struck up a conversation with a guy from Seattle named Judd. He saw my Chin on the Tank shirt and instantly wanted to talk old vintage bikes. Judd is a big Norton and Triumph guy. We shot the shit on all realms of old shitty bikes and adventures. He too rented a Meilun from Emma, except he went for over a week going as far south as Punta Gorda and as far north as Corozal. Judd was a solid dude. It’s always great to meet other riders and just swap stories of all things you’ve done and seen along the way. While talking with Judd, I didn’t even notice that Waldo had left until he came back. He and Emma had gone back to Alternate Adventures and swapped bikes yet again. Third times the charm, right?

Soon the sun set and we dined on the best jerk chicken we have ever had. We went easy on the Belikins and rum, though we did not abstain from them. A very early morning and a long ride to St Herman’s cave in the Cayo district for a cave tubing trip lay ahead. Life is good.

A video posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Feb 29, 2016 at 4:17pm PST

Morning comes early in the tropics. The sleepy Caribbean beach towns come alive as early as 6am. We found ourselves up by 7 shaking off the fog of too many Belikin Lagers and copious amounts of Belizean One Barrel Rum from the previous night’s local Garifuna band session. It was our first night and we went a little hard to celebrate, because the Caribbean that’s why. I was bummed to find that the first day of dirt bike ripping in paradise would be a wet one. The rain was falling in a steady, soaking mist which left for tons of puddles and mud to play in. I knew though, that rain could disappear in the blink of an eye as it tends to do down here.

Only one joint in town was open for breakfast, which was exactly what was needed to come back to life. I shoved the tasty food and terrible coffee down my throat (side note: Belizeans don’t do coffee. Which is strange considering their next door neighbor is Guatemala. Picture coffee flavored hot water, a la airline coffee). The anticipation of getting the bikes and ripping up the Stann Creek District was getting to me. As soon as we paid the bill, we headed across the street to Alternate Adventures and met the proprietor, Emma. After going over all the normal procedures when renting bikes, selecting helmets, and paying for the 3 days; we had in our possessions 2 cheap ass Chinese 4 stroke 200cc Meilun ML200GY-5’s. Meilun bikes seemed to be the Belizean bike of choice. I saw only 5 other bikes the whole time here that were not Meilun’s which is crazy because Belizeans are bike people. Motorcycles were everywhere. I suggested to Waldo we head to the end of town and ride back just to get a feel for the bikes. That little ride turned into a 2 hour rip…couldn’t help it. Once you  get going, it’s not easy to stop.

We headed south out of Hopkins and rode through all of the resorts. The roads were insanely muddy and were pitted the entire width with deep water holes;the ones you cannot resist or avoid going through…the fun shit. We rode until there was no more road. A quick check on the map and we were off towards the next village: Sittee River. We soon discovered tiny little bridges that were used to cross small patches of the coastal wetland. These bridges were the perfect table top jumps. I tried my best a few times to get the Meilun airborne, but was not having luck. I’ll be honest, I suck at dirt bikes but still love it. Going inland we soon diverted from the road and found a farm access road that intersected through cow pastures and woods. We discovered some sort of quarry at the end of the road and explored it for only a second. The access road soon hit the main road leading back to Hopkins. At this point the rain was letting up and our hunger growing, so back to town to regroup and figure out our next move.

#youbestfuckinbelizeit @natemking

A video posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Feb 28, 2016 at 9:16am PST

Lunch was stew chicken w/ rice and beans washed down with a cold Belikin. I made the executive decision to rip to the Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary to do the Tiger Fern Falls hike. The rain was gone but the clouds remained leaving for a chilly ride. We headed out of town down Hopkins road. 4 miles ahead was the Southern Highway. Belize has 4 highways (Phillip Goldson, George Prince, Hummingbird, and Southern Highways). I use the term highway loosely, because we would consider it a back road at best, but they are paved so that seperates them from 99% of all the other roads we encountered. There is a speed limit of 55mph, but the road is more like a 3rd world version of the Autobahn. No rules save for don’t get hit. The really cool thing was, as you come into populated areas, there are speed bumps to slow you down but these are no normal american style humps. They are very small table tops themselves. In a car you need to come to a crawl to cross these barriers to save your axle and suspension from being destroyed, but on a tiny 200cc dirt bike it’s an excuse to rev up and pop these things… shooting to be airborne. Should we have slowed down coming into towns? Sure, but that wouldn’t have been fun to miss the opportunity of hitting these mini bump jumps. The highways are littered with these things, so for the next 3 days we will have plenty of time to hit them.  10 miles south of Hopkins Road we turned right at Maya Center and headed west down the road towards Cockscomb. While it was all dirt, this was a very wide road that ran through jungle and orange groves. Eventually the road forked and got real interesting. A true jungle dirt road that had plenty of climbs and twists. At one point a family of Coatimundi’s crossed our path. At first I thought they were lemurs, but I found out a few days later what they actually were… turns out they are more related to the raccoon. The road wound on for miles, up and down, climbing the foothills of the Maya Mountains. Soon enough we arrived in the Cockscomb visitors center, paid our entrance fee, left our gear at the ranger station, and embarked on our hike to Tiger Fern Falls.

#youbestfuckinbelizeit

A video posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Feb 28, 2016 at 6:03pm PST

The hike was easy at first, working its way through the jungle. Everything down here is humongous with prehistoric vibes. If a raptor were to leap out and disembowel one of us, I would not have been that surprised. Soon though, the hike became grueling as we climbed up one ridge of the Mayan Mountains then down another. The rain fell again, soaking us, but staying dry in the tropics is always a challenge. One hour later we were at our destination. Two large waterfalls of the most saphire blue water w/ pools for swimming were directly ahead. We promptly jumped into the chilling water and swam around; nothing like a shower in a fresh water waterfall. Feeling fully refreshed, we did the hike back which was a lot easier than the hike in, as most of it was down the side of the mountain.

#youbestfuckinbelizeit

A video posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Feb 28, 2016 at 6:07pm PST

Back at the visitor’s center, we geared up and headed back out the way we came. Being that this is a Jaguar sanctuary, I was hoping to see one, but kind of glad I did not.  With my luck, I would have come between a mama and a cub just like that scene in Apocalypto. You know the scene…the face mangling one.  We ripped even harder out the road we came in since we were beginning to feel more comfortable w/ the bikes. At the fork to the main road, back to Maya Center, we took the left instead of the right that led back to the highway, and found a huge limestone quarry to play in. We also grabbed some oranges from the grove to munch on later.

#youbestfuckinbelizeit

A video posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Feb 28, 2016 at 6:58pm PST

The hours were closing in on sunset, so the decision was made to head back to Hopkins. We didn’t want to get stuck out at night this far from town… dark is fucking dark down here. Plus… Jaguars. I am partial to my face and do not need it mangled. Jaguars function mostly at dawn and dusk, and with dusk approaching, it was time to leave the Jungle.

Of course on the route home we took the long way via Sittee River Road. The Sittee River is a typical wetland estuary. Think Everglades or Louisiana. From what I am told, there is plenty of crocs and bioluminescent creatures in those waters.  We wound all along the river for miles, looking at all the property for sale along the way,dreaming of getting a house and land along the river and kissing the USA goodbye. It seems like EVERYTHING is for sale around here. Feeling parched we took a small break for more Belikins at the Sittee River Marina. Once we felt refreshed we headed back to Hopkins via the wet and pitted out road, soaking everything that had dried on the Sittee River cruise.  The sun was setting to our backs as we pulled into our hostel to call it a day

#youbestfuckinbelizeit

A photo posted by Formerly Odlaw (@rudi_mentary) on Feb 28, 2016 at 6:15pm PST