By Harvey Hagman August 25, 1996 Publication: The Washington Times Page:
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The last $2-a-night Caribbean accommodations are offered by
the lighthouse keepers of remote Lighthouse Reef. Here,
hammocks of sturdy, green fish nets sway beneath coconut
palms. Strong and comfortable, the nets came to Sandbore Cay
NCOD – no cash on delivery – swept in on the ceaseless tides.
Below these woven accommodations spread white-sand beaches neatly raked. Footsteps
away, turquoise waters lap blue and green; at sunset, the waters turn a blazing magneta-
violet. Life here is simple and stunning; it’s composed of sun, sea, sky, sand, stars, and
air so pure your lungs sing.
Rates never fluctuate with the seasons: From 5 a.m. to 5 p.m., these swaying tropical
accommodations are free as they rock in the light breezes of the western Caribbean. But
in the evening, the $2 rates kick in.
Here the atoll’s isolated lighthouse keepers of Sandbore Cay in the north and Half Moon
Cay in the south bask in nature’s splendor, while nightly their lonely beacons warn
mariners of treacherous reefs beyond their quiet kingdoms.
“We have all of God’s blessings. I praise Him,” says Ivan “Mr. Pete” Young, 66,
lighthouse keeper of Sandbore Cay for 22 years. “We get a few sand flies, but when the
wind blows, it is paradise.”
Despite these beacons in the night, many ships have gone down in these waters. The
Spanish trade ship Juan Batista sank about a mile offshore in 1822, reputedly with a
cargo of gold and silver bullion. It remains lost.
Mr. Pete, whose father was a lighthouse keeper on Half Moon Cay, lives on Sandbore
Cay with his brother, Phillip Young, 63; his cousin, Jack Cavall; Jack’s wife, Carmela;
and Rudolph Neol, 51. Mr. Pete never thought much about becoming a lighthouse
keeper. But, he says, “when it comes up, I take it and move to the cay.”
The keeper wears a weathered blue baseball cap that states “Mr. Pete” over a perpetual
smile. He’s single and content. “Only my father and brother, they marry, not me.” His
job is simple. If the beacon goes out, he reports it to Belize City. For that, “I [annually]
get about 700 Belize dollars and some change.”
The men of the cay catch fish, conch and lobster aboard their two boats, the Sunrise and
the Sunset. “We got three chickens now. We used to have plenty, but the dog ate them,”
says Mr. Pete with a sad look. “Now he dead and most the chickens they gone.”
Born in Belize City, he now finds the city too hot, “but we always have a nice breeze
here. The temperature is the same all year, but the wind blows pretty hard with those
winter cold fronts. And June, July, August and September are the hurricane months.”
When the big storms blow in, the islanders flee because Sandbore is only 2 feet above
sea level. They go to Half Moon Cay, where Mr. Pete endured Hurricane Hattie in 1961.
“We were in a little house by the pier,” he says. “We stayed right in there, my father, my
mother and a fellow from Belize City. The water came up to our knees. When the
hurricane is coming, we play some good songs so we feel good. The water wash across
the cay, but it never break down the house. Now, each night I pray that God will save me
from all storms.”
On Sandbore, the lighthouse came crashing down. Its 80-foot replacement is made of
galvanized steel, towering over the island, a rusting sentinel. “If you climb it, climb with
care. Now the stairs are rusted,” Mr. Pete says. “The handrails, they rust through in
spots. The salt water do that.”
The beacon’s light can be seen clearly 15 miles out. There hasn’t been a shipwreck since
the Forteleza, out of the Gulf of Cortez carrying peppers and tomatoes, went down with
24 aboard 20 years ago. The crew was rescued; the ship was scuttled.
Mr. Pete inherited lots of coconut palms, and he has planted more. “We have young ones
coming up everywhere.”
As many islanders, he makes coconut oil used in Belize cooking and sells it for $5
Belize ($2.50 U.S.) a bottle.
“We grate the coconut with our old machine, squeeze the milk out and in the morning
fry it up right here. We got some in that barrel,” he says, pointing to an oil drum
brimming with coconut milk ready to be fried.
Peace reigns. “Nothing scares me out here,” he says. “You don’t need to lock your
doors.” (There are two houses.)
A heavily muscled, easygoing carpenter, Mr. Neol has known Mr. Pete for 30 years.
When Mr. Neol came to the island 14 years ago, he was running from the law.
“I was cited as a juryman and I didn’t want to do it. I will judge no man. If you have a
judge, let him be the judge,” Mr. Neol says firmly. “I never did like the idea of going to
court.”
Years earlier, he came to the island to “do a little job and I liked the place.” After his
third citation for jury duty, he fled to the cay and stayed on to do the carpentry and
masonry work.
“Here you are free.” The word rings as he savors it. “Here you are away from the
violence of the cities. It’s not because I’m afraid, but I seek peace.
“I work all day, have something to eat, and after the news on the radio is over at 7:30, I
go to sleep. At 4:30 I’m up with the sun.”
During grouper season from November to February, many commercial fishermen stop
by the island for water or put up in the safe harbor when the winds howl.
Mr. Neol also recalls Hattie. “When the hurricane came, I was 16 and selling bread for
the biggest bakery in Belize City. On those occasions, everyone want to buy bread, so
we make a large amount. That Monday, I sold out all my bread and buns.”
After work he adjourned to the billiards parlor to hear the old men recall hurricanes.
“We listened and listened, then realized the hurricane was coming up.
“Wood and things began to fly. I checked my watch for the last time at 25 minutes to 2
[a.m.]. Then it did blow and thunder and lightning. The bakery was big and low, so
people who had families brought them there.
“People prayed, the wind howled, and the water rose. Children were put on tables, then
higher in big mixing bowls 20 feet long. We were huddled at the ceiling when daylight
broke. At last the water began to recede. We had almost 30 feet of water in Belize City.”
The water was still high when he searched and found his father and sister; his mother
died earlier. By the afternoon the water was down to 2 feet and he saw the damage –
buildings torn up and thrown on their sides.
Mr. Noel builds cabinets, dressers and chests from driftwood. He’s refitting a canoe he
found for a friend. He has many projects under way in his shed, but nothing is for sale.
It’s all for his friends.
All the island men occasionally return to Belize City for a few weeks, but it has changed
over the years. “It build up a lot, plenty houses and more coming, more people,” Mr.
Pete says. “We never used to got guns. Now those young boys get out of hand. They
want to go into a shop and walk out with anything they want. It’s not good, I tell you.”
South of Sandbore lies Half Moon Cay, with its 45-acre sanctuary, home to 4,000 rare
red-footed booby birds. In 1798, when England routed a Spanish invasion force off St.
George, it brought stability and English names to the atolls and cays. Only construction
of the lighthouse on Half Moon Cay resulted in the eastern reefs being renamed
Lighthouse Reef.
Lighthouse keeper Monrad Flores, 70, rules gently over the cay. A quiet, devout man,
Mr. Flores worked the boats and then went to sea as a fisherman before he began his 14-
year career as a lighthouse keeper.
“Now I’m old, but a man must find something to do that he gets paid for,” he says. Mr.
Flores lives in a plain whitewashed building near the lighthouse, where he cooks his
meals on a simple stove and sleeps in a sleeping bag.
Treasure atlases note the French pirate Sean Hamlin buried $1 million in gold, silver
plate and church ornaments on Half Moon Cay centuries ago. Sitting on the beach and
chipping coconut shells, Mr. Flores recalls: “My grandfather told me that in his time, the
old men living on this island dug up three chests filled with gold, silver and jewels. My
grandfather saw the treasures himself.”
His eyes moisten and he gets a faraway look. It’s all he will say.
Visitors to the cays come aboard the Offshore Express, which sails from San Pedro, a
vacation and fishing center on Ambergris Cay, 36 miles north of Belize City. Some
sleep in hammocks; others bring tents. Private sailboats anchor off both cays.
As Mr. Flores says, “It costs them to come here, but not to stay here.” He shows
campers the sanitation facilities and assigns campsites.
During the day, he makes coconut oil and “does a bit of hard work” in his bare feet. He
loves the nightly archipelagoes of diamond-bright stars.
“I have nothing to fear here when I come out at night. It’s me and the night and the
Almighty. Others can lead you astray, but I stick with the Almighty.”
In this solitude, Mr. Flores finds solace reading his Bible. “I generally like to read Job,”
he says. “He had so much patience.”
BOX
STAYING ON THE REEF
At Lighthouse Reef Resort, guests get eight days, seven nights, 20 meals, 17 dives
(weather permitting), 23 staff members and two air transfers from Belize International
for a single package price of $1,200; a diving package is $1,350.
Reservations for Lighthouse Reef Resort can be made by calling 800/423-3114 or
writing to PO Box 1435, Dundee, Fla. 33838. The fax number is 941/439-2118.
The resort is a two-hour flight from the United States. I found TACA (800/535-8780) to
provide efficient, congenial service to Belize City. The airline flies from Miami,
Houston, New Orleans, San Francisco and Los Angeles.
The flight from Belize City to Lighthouse Reef takes only 20 minutes over breathtaking
seas. The boat trip once took 4 1/2 hours.
Many visitors to Lighthouse Reef Resort also visit the Mayan ruins at Tikal in
Guatemala besides enjoying Belize’s little-visited but fascinating ruins at Altun Ha,
Caracol, Xunantunich, Santa Rita, Cerro Maya, Nim Li Punit, Lubaantun and Lamanai.
The Washington Times
Date: August 25, 1996
Page: E1
Copyright 1996 News World Communications# Inc.