Grumpy grumpy bastard first thing. Hopped out of bed to find no running water in the hotel for the second day in a row. Not had a shower in two days. Filled a glass from the water cooler thingy to take to my room just to give myself a whore’s bath.
After splashing my bits, it was time for the day’s first adventure: zip-lining. The place we were staying at has a 2,500 metre zip-line thing set up in the jungle on the property. It’s split up into XXXXX separate lines [update: that was supposed to say "ten separate lines"]. When asked if I wanted to do it, I said yes simply because I’m absolutely shit scared of heights. At the top of the Mayan ruin yesterday, I felt all vertigo-y, but I didn’t want to miss a fun opportunity just because of a silly fear of heights. I got strapped into a rather fetching harness, gloves, and helmet ensemble and it was time to go. One of the guide guys went off first, and I stepped up. The other guide told me exactly where to hold on, where and when to use my back hand to break. Stood on the edge of a bit of a hill at the top of the jungle canopy, with just a few feet drop beneath me, he told me to “sit” into the harness. I was so glad that I didn’t actually have to push off or take a step out off the platform. That would’ve been too difficult for my fear to cope with. But the simple act of sitting was a great way to start. I sat, and slowly gravity took over and for ten seconds or so, I was flying over the top of the jungle. It was awesome. Next up a shorter one, and after those two baby lines, they got longer, with bigger drops beneath the line. Each of the platforms were high up, built around trees. Some of the lines were fairly steep and fast. The smell of the burning glove leather accompanying each platform approach. All felt very safe. And way cooler than letting my fears run my life. The very last one was high and long, returning us to the start. This one was accessed by a hydraulic elevator which wobbled up near the top of a fucking tall tree. Stood on a wobbly piece of metal, that was really the only time I felt the fear of heights, and up there, all I wanted was to be on the line, cos there felt safer. Of course, the elevator wasn’t unsafe, it was just my silly brain. At the end, and, as one would expect, all I wanted was to do it again.
And that was it for the Cayo district of Belize. Into the car, and a four hour journey east and south to Punta Gorda in the Toledo district. I was here almost exactly three years ago, and it’s nice to be back, sat on the same verandah at the wonderful Hickatee Cottages, drinking a Belikin beer, feeling relaxed in the hot and humid evening. Time to count all of those crickets I can hear in the jungle.