Spotted Eagle Ray cruising the shallows

Quite simply, the size of the diminutive six acre island was what impressed me first about Tobacco Cay. The island’s white sand beach, amazing reef diving, a laid back, swing-in-your-hammock-all-day vibe, the warmth of the Afro-Caribbean inhabitants, and spectacular ocean sunsets were unexpected surprises.

Prior to this trip, I had generally associated palm lined, white sand islands with exotic and expensive destinations in the South Pacific or corny, marooned-at-sea television shows and Hollywood blockbusters. With Tobacco Cay, only 500 miles south of Houston, and with a budget even a college student could handle, my fiancée and I had reached our own Bora-Bora.

That heightened sense of awareness and slight sense of uneasiness with the unfamiliar that every traveler lives for began for Lisa and I on the 12 mile panga ride from the mainland fishing town of Dangriga out to the Cay (pronounced “key”). When asked where we were headed, our boat guide pointed to a little blip on the horizon and indicated that Tobacco Cay was only two miles away. As we crooned and squinted to see the palm lined speck he was talking about, it finally dawned on us that we were in for something very different than a trip to Hawaii, Cozumel or even the larger, more touristy Ambergris Cay to the north had to offer.

As it turned out, the four days we spent on Tobacco Cay became the antithesis of a typical Caribbean island trip. No loud music, no obnoxious street vendors, and lights out at 9:00 PM when the island’s one generator stopped running. If you wanted a drink you had to put your book down, heave yourself out of your hammock, and walk the 50 yards to the other side of the island to the only real “establishment” on the island, Mark’s Bar, to order yourself a sexually suggestive tropical rum drink or local Belikin beer.

Ten minutes into my first dive on Columbus Reef, 50 yards from the entry point on the leeward side of the island, I came face-to-face with my first nurse shark resting on a sandy rivulet between two large coral outcroppings at 50 feet. As I nearly bumped noses with the magnificent animal, my local SCUBA guide Eric motioned for me to maintain my distance from the shark so as not to disturb it. I thought to myself that the dormant shark looked so peaceful, the only way the six-footer was going anywhere was if I tried to grab it and take it home with me. Of course, in this protected Marine Sanctuary, taking shells, coral pieces, or 100 lb resting nurse sharks home is highly forbidden!

We continued on in the emerald, 80 degree waters in silence, surrounded on all sides by the Meso-American Reef and its remarkable number of colorful flora and fauna inhabitants. It seemed that at every turn I found a four foot barracuda or wispy spotted eagle ray staring me down. The angelfish, parrotfish, triggerfish and other exotics seemed to rival in size, color, and number the reef fish I had encountered on other tropical dives I had done in Thailand, Egypt, Mexico, and Australia.

I was still coming to terms with the fact that some of the best, most unknown diving in the world could be found a mere hour and a half flight from my home country. For those divers who have not visited the 180 mile Belize section of the world’s second longest reef system, put it on your “To Dive” list and jump on the first flight from Miami or Houston you can. You won’t regret it!

While the diving experience was not soon to be forgotten, the real highlight of our trip to Belize would come on the second evening of our stay. Since both my fiancée and I are avid fishermen from upstate New York, we decided on a whim that we would see if there was someone who would take us out for a couple hours after dinner.

On an island like this, when word gets out of a visitor wanting to do anything, there is an instant response. True to form, the hotel owner’s buddy Nolan showed up 15 minutes later with a beer in his hand and a hearty “sure…let’s roll” nonchalance. Not knowing what to expect, we met him at one of the island’s three small docks, piled in, and headed out. As we started to take stock of our surroundings we noticed something was missing…fishing rods!

Lisa and Nolan with a hand lined Barracuda.

With a sly, understanding smile, Nolan handed both Lisa and I our own homemade spools of 40lb test monofilament and began to rig a baitfish to our hooks. If I didn’t realize it yet, it finally hit me that this was going to be a trip to tell stories about! The idea of catching anything on a hand line certainly appealed to my sense of machismo and story telling future for all of my trout fishing buddies back home. My wandering reflections of bravado ended abruptly as we starting trolling our baitfish in tarpon and barracuda infested waters and I begin to wonder exactly how a slashing hook-up was going to feel when the thin line started cutting into my palms.

Luckily for me, the appreciation for fishing poles was first realized on the opposite side of the boat when a monster barracuda annihilated Lisa’s bait on the second pass through a narrow channel between two reefs. With a shriek and a jerk she had FISH ON! I looked on helplessly as the line zinged out between her fingers- a painful type of drag set by how hard she was willing to squeeze the line.

After a couple of seconds and a perceptible smell of smoking flesh, Nolan reached out to help “a bit”. Within minutes the first of four 15+ lb barracuda had been boated to the delight of my fiancée and her proud assistant. That night, as we waited for the cajun seasoned fish to finish cooking over the dry coconut shell fire, Nolan recounted for our enjoyment Lisa’s myriad of expressions while fighting the leviathan. Undoubtedly a story that gets told often here in this fishermen’s paradise!

You rarely read a traveling story without some mention of the hospitality of the local people. As a world traveler, I have experienced this local occurrence on six different continents and in dozens of different countries, but on Tobacco Cay, the term hospitality was something entirely different. Even though Lisa and I were only there for four days, the Belizeans we met accepted us.

We were allowed to push their children in the hammocks, play volleyball on their makeshift court, join in their late-night bonfires, sit at their dinner tables, and in general, meld into their livelihood. This feeling we received at the Cay is, at best, a manufactured feeling in the majority of the rest of the world for the passers-through and fortnight travelers. Tobacco Cay made us feel welcome in a way we thought we could only feel by living in a distant community for an extended period of time. After four days we felt like we were no longer outsiders briefly glancing inward but rather insiders who were allowed to borrow the key.

For those looking to escape the “all inclusive” blitz of Ambergris Cay and the growing chaos of Cay Caulker on a future visit to Belize, I suggest setting your sights a little further south and a lot farther off the beaten track. Tobacco Cay won’t let you down.

Justin Hekel is a freelance writer and graduate student at RPI who spends his free time traveling and building his traveling stories cache.