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Belize Dolphin Studies

DS21 Update - Tuesday, August 02, 2011

On the Silent Island

It was quiet and cool, such a sharp contrast from our sun soaked hectic days. The ocean continued to lap, albeit darkly, at the shores of Tobacco Caye at 3 am. The lights above the picnic tables had gone out and the low permeating drone of the generator had seemingly vanished abruptly. It was the first time I had heard silence in weeks. The ever present reggae no longer pulsed from the nearby Tobacco Caye Bar and the laughing splashing Belizean children who had earlier sprung readily from the dock now found themselves in bed. Silence and solitude seemed strange now and as I wandered sleepily among our tents on the white sand beaches of Tobacco Caye I was struck by the ease with which our group spends every waking moment together; laughing, eating, working together now with everyday simplicity of a family. But in that moment I was practically asleep. I took that semi-sleeping moment for myself to reflect upon our trip and the imminence of its end. When I eventually crawled back into my tent a little sandier and sleepier I curled up, content in the memories we had made and with the days we had left to make more.

And then began our waking day, our shared day. Breakfast came first on steaming tin dishes prepared by our cooking, sailing saviors in sandals, Gaza and Captain Jerry. After our meal was eaten we threw our scraps unceremoniously and with a questioning furtiveness still residual from city life into the ocean. After breakfast, we settled down to write our research papers on the pink and green painted picnic benches next to the beach. By lunch, our good intentions had dissolved into a contest to push the most people off the dock. Caleb staunchly insisted upon his victory, but his success stemmed more from a willingness to follow his victim into the water than a talent for shoving.

Soaked, still laughing, and with salt in our sinuses, we boarded our boat, the Ragga Prince, for a break from our studies and an opportunity to snorkel the reef about an hour’s sail from Tobacco Caye. The weather had finally lightened, leaving the skies rippling in and out of view through the white sails a pale cloudless blue. Perched atop the cabin, Sammie, Victoria, Chelsea, Nathalie, Mia and I soon found our selves dancing to the songs Josephine was playing on the boat’s stereo system. Despite our best efforts, Caleb did not find himself dancing, but rather seated on the dance floor. As the dance party drew to an end, we drew in to our destination and slipped into the water. As we snorkeled over what originally appeared to be an ordinary patch of sea grass, coral formations began to slide into view until we floated above the schools of big-eyed yellow fish drifting back and forth in the current and friendly lithe striped fish darted from coral to surface to coral again. Enraptured as they were by the coral around them, Robbie, Abbie, and Galen stayed out much later than the rest of the group and boarded the boat breathless and twenty minutes after the rest of us.

Arriving back at Tobacco Caye, we immediately began our mock stake-holders meeting to discuss the possible repercussions of development in Turneffe atoll. Alejandro was gleefully villainous as Mr. Hilton, the prospective developer, and Galen tested her Creole accent as a local business owner. After the high energy afternoon, we quickly settled into finishing up our essays before another excellent meal. And that brings us to the present; we had just cleared our plates and begun a game of cards when I sat down to write this. Now Cooper, Michael, and Sammie have won a round each and my recollection of the day has caught up with time. And so we move forward, into tomorrow and into the not so distant future in which we all disband and move towards our respective homes. But for now we move together, peel our sunburns together, laugh together, and live together. For now we are one.

Sarah