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Total Belize

  • By: Jim Klug

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To combat the heat, I sipped a beer in a ramshackle bar next to the Belize City Municipal Airport, watching the blades of a rusty ceiling fan turn while waiting for an already-late flight south to Placencia. Across the room, a surly, bearded gent wearing motorcycle-cop Ray-Bans drank a bottle of Belikin. It wasn’t his first, judging by a line of empties on the table.

After tapping his watch with a bottle, he looked over and asked for the time. Then he finished his beer, stretched and headed out a side door. I ordered another beer and was halfway through it when a skinny Creole kid sporting a Michael Jordan jersey told me the plane to Placencia was loading.

I headed out on the tarmac, climbed through the side door of an old Cessna, and was surprised to see my bearded buddy with the Ray-Bans—strapped in the pilot’s seat, readying the plane for takeoff. It was the mid-1990s and my first trip to Belize. I was single, without children, a wide-eyed saltwater rookie eager to fish new waters, new species and taste true adventure. So, on that day more than a dozen years ago, ignoring the risk of death in flaming wreckage, I nestled into that cramped Cessna and began my great journey.

I fell in love with Belize on that first trip, and over the years I’ve returned to this small Central American country dozens of times. Through all these years, I’m now convinced that the country was founded with fly-fishers in mind; nowhere else in the Caribbean do anglers find so much great fishing jammed into such a small and manageable area.

Read more at http://www.flyrodreel.com/node/12368

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