Backpacking in Honduras
Travelling through the mainland of Honduras
I left Nicaragua in a sombre mood, in part as I said goodbye to a wonderful country, and in part because turning around to head back north signalled the fact that I was on the latter half of my trip. Still, in doing so, I had the opportunity to see what Honduras could offer.
The Lonely Planet guidebook I relied on was rather scathing of both Tegucigalpa and San Pedro Sula, in terms of safety, even for tourists. Following their advice, I only transited through both cities, on my way to La Ceiba on the coast. There, I took the ferry over choppy waters to Utila, one of the Bay Islands in the Caribbean Sea.
Utila
The island is only 45 square kilometres – 17 miles – with a population of around 4,000. This makes it easily walkable in a day, and it didn’t seem overrun with tourists, either. The bay islands have a complex history of, which deserves a mention – although I would recommend reading about that elsewhere – of indigenous inhabitants prior to colonial invasions and the slave trade. One consequence of note is the Creole-English language that developed – and survives on the Bay Islands to the modern day.
My only case of food poisoning in the three months came from a hastily purchased sandwich before the ferry crossing – in hindsight, I should have questioned it at the time – which side-lined me for a day. Fortunately, it was during the wet weather and didn’t affect the diving schedule.
Scuba diving
In speaking to other travellers I was recommended Scuba diving in Central Americas – and the Bay Islands is a beautiful location to do so, as well as being one of the cheapest in the world. The latter fact afforded me – quite literally – the opportunity to do my open water certification. This consisted of training dives with diving instructors while learning to operate the scuba gear, dive safely, as well as discover the joys of swimming up to 20 metres below the surface in coral reefs. We were also taught about the local environment and the wildlife we might come across – which included turtles, rays, countless fish species and, at the right season, whale sharks.
You do have to get used to having all the scuba gear on, including a substantial oxygen tank on your back, flippers on your feet, and a thick wetsuit. Combined with a large face mask and breathing through a tube, means you the initial challenge is adapting to this new reality. Once you become comfortable with the gear, plus the techniques required – not least to avoid decompression sickness – the diving is very worth it.
I haven’t been scuba diving since – and yet the experience remains firmly in my mind. I distinctly remember swimming in the deep blue, through brightly coral reef, among shoals of fish, and feeling as though – and this is the only way I can describe – I am in another world. It would be next to impossible to calmly delve into this underwater phenomenon, sharing the space with otherwise unseen creatures, without scuba diving. And so, I would recommend the activity to anyone who has the chance to.
The Caribbean
Other than diving, my time on the island was very chilled. There were a couple days with some cloud and rain, yet the sun shone through for the majority. And the coastal air brought the temperature down to more tolerable levels than the mainland. The food was good, the people were friendly, and days could be spent playing volleyball, swimming near the coast, or relaxing in a hammock.
Unfortunately, I didn’t possess a camera capable to take under water and so my photos remain above sea level only. Oddly, moments that aren’t captured often remain firmly in the memory – perhaps because you focus on the moment than the camera focus, and you must use your mind to remember it, rather than looking back at photos. That may be why the image of swimming in the reef, as a groups of fish of all sizes and colours passing by, stays firmly in my memory.
The man with a gun
The trip from coastal Honduras to Oaxaca was the single longest journey on my tour of Central America. It consisted of four legs. Firstly, the hour ferry back to the mainland. Followed by two bus journeys to the border with Guatemala, and onto Puerto Barrios. I need to stop here to describe the most frightening moment I had.
On the bus from the Guatemalan border, I sat on the front seat, next to the driver and the guy who collected the bus fares. The young driver seemed intent on weaving in and out of traffic to make good time. And in one manoeuvre, our bus came quite close to a motorbike in front, who signalled his displeasure. Our driver wasn’t deterred and made a gesture in return. This prompted the motorcyclist to reveal, for our benefit, a large handgun tucked into the back of his jeans. At this point I froze and, at least internally, begged our driver would back down immediately. The driver and his friend found the sight of the handgun hilarious. Fortunately, at least, they didn’t provoke the driver any further.
The most rewarding leg of this journey came next, taking a small boat from Livingston – a Spanish-speaking Caribbean town – on an 80-minute ride up the river, past narrow canyons with jungle to either side. The boat tour was in stark contrast to the bus journeys I had after, along the endless highways, first to Guatemala City with a short stopover, then an overnight coach trip to San Cristóbal de las Casas. Then, finally, another overnight coach to Oaxaca. I’ll be honest – I’m not sure I could manage the overnight journeys, with a day wandering a city in between – and no bed to rest in, now I’m in my advancing years. Back then, I managed it without much thought or discomfort.
