Spring Break Belize, Day 4

On day 4, a Thursday, Brian, Andy, Beata and I hired the services of a local fishing guide named Bernard for a half-day fishing trip. After renting two fishing poles and grabbing some "world famous" cinnamon buns for breakfast, we met up with Bernard and his small boat at the dock right in front of our hotel. How convenient.

Good buns:


In my limited ocean-fishing experience, it is customary to procure live bait at the dock. But that's not how they do it in Belize. Armed with his trusty gill net, Bernard stalked and ultimately captured an entire school of sardines right where we had been kayaking the day before. See the master at work here:



After wowing us with his net-casting skills, Bernard piloted us out to his fishing spot off the west side of Caye Caulker, which was clearly marked with a two-pronged stick lodged in the ocean's floor. Problem is, Bernard's two-pronged stick looks identical to the two-pronged sticks used by every other fisherman on the island. Thankfully, rather than spend all morning searching for "his" proper spot, we anchored off of what he believed was a rival's fishing stick. Since all fisherman are rivals of one another, this made Bernard understandly nervous. Honestly though, I don't think any guy who competed in a 4-day canoeing competition with a dislocated shoulder could really be all that worried.

Soon, fish, specifically snapper, were jumping into our boat like hotcakes (does that analogy even work in this context?).

This continued for an hour or so, and then we trolled for barracuda around the flats. Other than a few bites that resulted in broken line and a lost lure, we had no luck. Not to be deterred, we moved over to the reef to try our hand at more snapper. This second location produced more than just snapper - in fact, at one point while I was reeling in a yellowtail snapper, a barracuda struck my fish like a missile, nearly cleaving it in half.

Snapper split like Caye Caulker:


Adrenalized by this activity, and with the barracuda hanging out just under our boat, the team, at Bernard's behest, strived mightily to catch a live fish for barracuda bait. Unfortunately for us and fortunately for the barracuda, try as we might, we couldn't land a fish of the desired size (it has to be small enough so that two hooks can be staggered a few inches apart). And with that crushing defeat, our fishing day ended.

Our haul for the (half) day:


That night, we celebrated our catch, which we graciously donated to Bernard for putting up with Brian's fishing "technique" or lack thereof, at this bar called I&I's, otherwise known as the "treehouse." Picture a multi-story, brightly colored building in the middle of an island paradise, topped with an open-air third floor, filled with hammocks to lay in, planks to walk, and swings to drink on, and you've got a basic idea of what makes the treehouse so great.

The so-called "monkey walk" - to a law student this looks more like "liability":


As Brian demonstrates, you can't help but lounge at I&I's:


If there is one clear message that Belize instilled in me, it's that a treehouse bar is needed in EVERY city. That is, as long as the city's climate is tropical, local law requires the music played to be reggae, and the only beer available is Belikin.