Believe in Belize! Your coastal paradise

I’m struggling up a muddy slope using all four limbs, my feet seek out the driest and most gripping parts of the trail as my hands grasp for rope, tree trunks, or rocks—anything that will help keep my balance. My guide, Abraham, moves in and out of sight as he skips ahead and then pauses to wait for me to catch up. My heart is pounding out of my chest, but I refuse to take a break—after all, he’s got at least a couple of decades on me, and I’m supposed to be in shape. And I’ve been promised a killer view at the summit.

It’s our last day in Belize, and we’re hiking to the top of Antelope Falls at Mayflower Bocawina National Park, not far from the fishing village of Hopkins. I’d opted out of zip lining and rappelling down the falls in favour of what I’d thought would be a more relaxing way to see the park: a trek past overgrown Mayan ruins and flora so diverse I can hardly keep up with Abraham’s descriptions. There are cacao trees that used to be farmed in the area, rubber trees whose sap was used to make balls for the Mayan ball game, stalks that can be turned into wicker strips and then furniture. We step over highways of leaf-cutter ants, hear birds flitting through the undergrowth, walk under an angled tree trunk that Abraham claims is the likely resting spot for a jaguar. A waterfall tumbles down a rocky slope, providing a background soundtrack for our journey up the steepest part of the trail to the summit, where we can see across acres of jungle as far as the sea and where a refreshing pool invites us to jump in for a swim—if only we could stand to put our muddy and sweat-drenched clothes on again afterward.

I feel a million miles away from Hopkins Bay Resort, the chic seaside getaway where I’d eaten fresh papaya and pineapple at breakfast and spent the morning lounging in the sun on a beach recliner, listening to the waves as I pretended to read a magazine while my thoughts drifted away with the breeze. I feel even further from San Pedro, the Isla Bonita immortalized by Madonna, where we’d dodged speeding golf carts to cross the street for ice cream; joined a group of resident expats for a challenging Vinyasa Yoga class overlooking the palm tree-lined beach; and snorkeled with sharks, sea turtles, and stingrays at Hol Chan Marine Reserve.

For a tiny country (less than 300 kilometres long) with a population of about 350,000 people, Belize has a lot to offer. And while there are plenty of beach chairs and hammocks to chill out in, it’s best suited for an active traveller. Ocean lovers can stay on the coast or one of the caves and dive, snorkel, swim, and kayak to their heart’s content; landlubbers can head into the jungle to hike, paddle, or explore Mayan ruins; and animal lovers have myriad opportunities to interact with the country’s diverse wildlife, in the sea or on land, including tree hopping black howler monkeys (who we met at a Community Baboon Sanctuary in Bermudian Landing, not far from Belize City). All of this lies in a country whose national language is English, making it that much easier to befriend the locals on your trip.

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As we descend the trail with Abraham and head back into town, he shares a little about his life in the area; we hear about bitter tinctures his mother made him as a cough and cold remedy, created from the bark, leaves, and roots he pointed out along our hike; and he talks about packing oranges for the local citrus company to be shipped abroad as an export crop. His van rattles on the ragged, potholed road to Hopkins—sure to be paved soon, the locals tell us—and we pull back into the resort, wet with sweat, covered in mud and bug repellant, and sad to be leaving with so much left to explore.