Turneffe Reef
08 May 2005 | Turneffe Island, Belize
Sundays in our home always start with the same routine. I make breakfast and a pot of coffee. Sheryl takes the dog for a walk. We enjoy breakfast, then I read the paper while Sheryl cleans up the breakfast dishes. It is a wonderful routine, and on the rare occasions when we are away from home on a Sunday, I generally miss it. That was not the case on this particular Sunday. In fact, when I woke that morning, I could not have told you that it was a Sunday. It just seemed like another day in Paradise.
We piled into the little dinghy and went off exploring. Our first stop, a fishing camp. It appeared to be deserted, but as we approached the dock a large man came from inside the shack. He was all smiles and welcomed us to explore his little beach. We indicated that we would, perhaps, come back later and inquired about the ability to purchase fresh fish. The jolly man indicated that the boats were out, but they would be back later and would have fish for sale. We thanked him and pointed toward our boat in the anchorage. Perhaps they could let us know when they return. We motored slowly away with the tiny 2.5 horsepower, toward an area which we were hoping would be good snorkeling. The area turned out to be shallow, so we tied up the dink, split up and began to search for some good snorkeling grounds. Always the one to enjoy the challenge of going further and faster, I volunteered to check out a series of light houses, in various states of repair, which were about a mile away. As my flippers drove me through some shallow grassy regions, I happened upon several barracuda, one as large as 5 feet. Fortunately, my previous experience at Caye Caulker left me confident that they would not harm me. Once I reached the pilings for the lighthouse, I noted some colorful fish, a few large starfish and some interesting coral growing on the lighthouse pilings. However, it didn't compare the vastness and diversity we had seen at Caye Caulker. Perhaps we had been spoiled by the tour and the snorkeling for the remainder of the trip would pale by comparison.
As I swam back to rejoin the group, I saw two barracuda together. One about 5 foot in length and other nearly 7 feet long! As my logical brain kept insisting that no harm would come to me, my emotional brain gave extra power to both my heartbeat and my flippers. I joined the others only to find that their search for good snorkeling areas had been even less fruitful than mine. We decided to walk the dinghy to and along the beach through this shallow side of the island. We encountered various shells, a lazy lizard, and a feisty blue-clawed crab. We also found an unfortunate amount of garbage washed up on the beach. Truly a sad sight along this otherwise pristine natural environment. Once we got to the far side of the island, the water became deeper and we were able to get back into the dinghy and motor over to the next island. This private island was the home of the Turneffe Island Lodge. Ignoring all the signs which said "Private Island - Keep Off," We boldly motored up to the dock, tied off the dinghy, and climbed the ladder to the pier. Trying to look as though we belonged there, not as though we had spent the last four days living on a sailboat, we wandered around the island. The beach was raked and the foliage trimmed. The place was immaculate, almost surreal in its precision. Initially we did not encounter anyone, however, it was lunchtime and that probably explained why the resort seemed deserted. Eventually we happened upon the office, and Bruno did the talking. Not only is Bruno the captain, but his English accent often opens doors which would be closed to "the ugly American." Bruno inquired as to whether it would be possible to buy lunch; however, they had already completed the lunch service. Through our conversation, we learn that the island had 40 units and requires a staff of 25 full-time employees to care for the guests and keep the island in such perfect condition. The gracious manager invited us to spend some money in the gift shop and have a drink in the bar. In an effort to thank his hospitality, or at least the fact that he did not boot us off the island, we obliged on both counts. After enjoying our drinks and a quick walk around the island, we reboarded the dink and headed back to Artemesia.
As we came around the island, the jolly man at the fish camp was waving us in. "Excellent," we exclaimed in unison. Fresh fish for dinner tonight. We shut off the engine and tied up to the dock. Several fisherman were lounging on the pier and we asked them permission to disembark. They said, "sure," and waved us up. We asked about who to see to purchase some fish and were pointed toward the plywood shack. The ladies opted to explore the beach while Bruno and I went inside. The accommodations were sparse in this L-shaped shack. A wooden table and chairs sat in one wing of the room. The corner of the room was fashioned with bunk beds, each with a hard wooden surface, no mattress or cushions here. The final wing of the room was the kitchen, where jolly man was cooking up something which smelled wonderful. "Chicken," he indicated, "cause dey get tired of fish all deh time." We talked with several of the men about their life here. They generally fish for 2-3 days, clean their catch and take it into Belize City where they get "deh cash." We inquired again about being able to purchase some fish, but by this time jolly man had produced a large hand-rolled joint, lit it and passed it over to me. At the risk of offending our new friends, I declined. Our captain made up for my transgression by accepting the offering. Several tokes and a little more small talk and we inquired yet again about purchasing some fish. They pointed us to someone back outside on the pier. When we got to the pier, they shrugged their shoulders about purchasing fish, and we tried to wait patiently. This was island time, not the checkout line at the megamart. Finally the fisherman we had spoken to inside the shack came outside and opened the big ice chest on one of the boats. Fresh fish and lots of it. We selected two yellowtail snappers and one yellowfin tuna for our dinner. We paid them a relatively small sum, climbed back into the dinghy, and motored our way back to Artemesia. Since we had explored right through lunch, with only a drink at the bar for sustenance, I suggested that we go to work on dinner straightaway.
Stephanie produced a new filleting knife and even gave me a few tips about how to go about cutting the fish, since I had never before prepared a whole fish, "Go with the grain of the scales, not against." Also, "Do it on the foredeck, not the cockpit." She did not want fish blood all over her cockpit. Before I knew it, both she and Sheryl were off in the dinghy to explore the pilings around the lighthouse where I had been earlier. Bruno went to work on starting the grill. I guess preparing the fish was going to be left to me. Let's hope all those anatomy classes in college will come to my aid. In order to keep the mess to a minimum, I filled a 5 gallon bucket with sea water and took the knife and a cutting board up to the bow of the boat. I started with the tuna, since that was to be "my" meal, I made a long cut along the ventral side and reached in to pull out whatever organs I could find. Bruno peeked in to see what I was doing, but when I provided an anatomy lesson on each organ I withdrew, he returned to tending his fire on the stern rail mounted grill. Once I had cleaned out all of the organs in the ventral pocket, I cut off the tail and the head. Since the tuna was rather thick, I decided to be bold and make two fillets from each side of the fish for grilling. I made two cuts along the dorsal side, just avoiding the spinal column. What resulted were two cuts of meat which looked a lot like the tuna steaks one gets in the grocery. Now it was time for the snappers. Since they were thinner, I repeated the same process used on the tuna, except that I merely took the fins off the dorsal side and did not cut each into two separate fillets. As the ladies were heading back toward the boat, I dumped a few fresh buckets of sea water on the foredeck and largely eliminated any evidence of my handiwork, save for the edible results. A little oil and seasonings and our fish was ready for the grill.
The tuna turned out perfectly. There were a few bones remaining along the dorsal and ventral sides, however all the rest was delicious meat. The snappers cooked up very well, however, the scales got everywhere and we were constantly picking small bones and scales out of our mouths as we enjoyed the flavorful melt-in-your-mouth white meat. Next time I suppose I should learn how to scale the fish.
Although we didn't know it at the start of the day, Stephanie and Bruno announced that it was their anniversary. We celebrated with wine and rum drinks and played cards until very late, probably 9pm.