Roughing It

When I came to Belize to work as a missionary, I thought I was going to be roughing it. Cold showers, no TV, beans and rice 3 times a day—and no sign of sweet tea. I clearly had no idea what roughing it really meant.

I learned the true meaning of the phrase “roughing it” in my time at Black Rock. Several of the volunteers, after a spontaneous trip to the river for some tubing, decided it would be quite the adventure to go camping in the jungle there the following weekend. So, after a busy week of lesson planning and lectures, we decided to head out to the Belizean wild to get some camping in. Saturday morning we packed our bags, but not wanting to be an inconvenience, we packed as little as possible. All that I packed I could fit into a gallon-sized Ziploc bag. Sunscreen, camera, Long-sleeve shirt, and a pair of scrub pants. Not even a blanket. The reason we were told to bring so little was because we were going to have to cross a very fast moving river to reach to the camp site. Hence the Ziploc bag. We got our stuff together and then we were ready for our big adventure.

The most popular way of private transportation in Belize is in the back of a pick-up truck. You see people of all ages being chauffeured throughout the city and throughout the countryside, whether they are on their way to Church or off to the construction site. So naturally, we felt that, as temporary citizens of Belize with little options, this would have to be our mode as transportation as well. So we pile ourselves, the inner tubes and our supplies into the back of a friend’s truck, and head out, stopping only for supplies of water and hot dogs.

The Belizean countryside is a beautiful mix of the rural and the tropical. Orange groves coexist with cow pastures, and the hard-wood plantations add to the landscape in addition to the palm-trees. The roads are rough—unpaved, narrow, and winding. These details make for an exciting and sometimes dangerous trip out into the jungle. But, despite the bumps from the road and the constant pummeling of the wind, there are things you can only soak in from the back of a truck. You can watch civilization slowly fade away to leave space for pristine countryside. The hills, mixed with the tropical foliage make for a beautiful landscape pictures cannot do justice.

About 30 minutes into the car ride, we arrive into the jungle. Back in the states, there are those theme parks that have the ‘jungle adventure’ rides, where they give you the ambience of the forest. They are pretty accurate. The truck is winding down a side of a cliff, jostling very similar to a theme park ride, and we begin to smell the aroma of the jungle. You begin to hear the birds and feel the mists and, just to top it all off, a waterfall comes out of the jungle near the side of our car, bringing the experience full circle.

The truck drops us off and all around us is unspoiled, pristine, nature. A roaring river punctuates the bottom of a magnificent view of jungle and cliffs. I paused to take in the beauty of the moment, but then reality sank in and I begin to wonder “well, where are we going to be spending the night?” You look all around you and see no surface suitable to camp on.

“The beach is on the other side of the river.” Was the confident reply of out guide, Matteo. And no, he is not Belizean by blood, but has lived in Belize long enough to know the ins and outs of camping in the jungle.

So with out plethora of supplies, from inner tubes and a cooler to two very long baguettes given to us from a pleasantly French mother, we hiked down to the river and proceeded to cross it. Because it is the rainy season in Belize, the river was high and fast. I was a little nervous about crossing it at first, especially with all the luggage we had brought with us, but the men of the excursion were confident in our abilities. They tied up the inner tubes with rope, and asked the girls to sit inside of them. They then piled as much as the supplies as possible on top of us. They then pushed our make-shift raft out and guided us down the river, across the rapids, and to the beach just downstream. It was more exciting than any rollercoaster, to say the least.

After we arrived safely and piled our supplies onto shore, we were able to survey the surroundings. It could not have looked more like a scene from a movie. A small beach, flat rocks, black as asphalt, smoothed away by the river, and palm trees and jungle surrounding the site. This was certainly unlike any camping trip I have ever been on.

The group got settled, made a rudimentary shelter made of branches and palm leaves, reminiscent of the Swiss Family Robinson, and proceeded to make a fire to cook our hot dogs on. We swam in the river and fought against the current, being careful not to be taken downstream. We enjoyed good company, good weather, and were able to watch the sun sink down behind the cliffs, far too early (For in Belize, due to its proximity to the equator, the sun sets at 6pm. It has completely messed up my sense of time).

As the darkness came, so did the bugs. I must admit that, at the beginning at the school week after this trip, my students stated that my legs looked like I had the chickenpox. Surrounding the campfire, we cooked our food and admired the stars. By 9pm I was laying on the ground, trying to find comfort in the sand using a rock and a very small backpack as a pillow. The experience of sleeping with the stars as your blanket, the rocks as your pillow, and the bugs and howler monkeys as your lullaby can be quite the amazing experience; but to be perfectly honest it is also the most uncomfortable feeling as well. The sand shifts and gets everywhere, the bugs crawl all over your body and face, and after the fire dies, you get incredibly cold. We were truly roughing it, and our 2am efforts to find firewood in the dark was only the topping of the experience.

By 4am, the group was awake and praying for the sun. And it came, sure enough, creeping over the cliffs and revealing itself ray-by-ray. As it neared sunrise, I was able to climb out onto a rock overlooking the river, and watch the water turn to gold. Tired, cold, and hungry though I was, I have never been in such a state of serenity. It was at that moment that I had to pinch myself to make sure this life I had taken upon myself was not just a dream. I was truly living in Central America, and able to meet such amazing people and have such incredible adventures.

We enjoyed of morning of relaxation, swimming, and enjoying the scenery before the exciting but treacherous and exhausting adventure of crossing the river again, against the current, and hiking out of the canyon, supplies in tow. We climbed back into the truck and drove back to the comforts of our temporary home, where we enjoyed our cold showers, fresh clothes, and sleep before Sunday evening mass and the beginning of a new week here in Benque.