Our travels through Belize had thus far taken us through the wild jungle, an ancient cave and dead cities in the sky. We had hiked, climbed and explored — and now it was time to relax. From high in the Maya Mountains, we flew down the Hummingbird Highway to the shores of the Caribbean sea.

We planned to spend the next few days on the beach in Hopkins bay, then we’d head to the remote island of Thatch Caye along the barrier reef.

Under the sea(grass)

As beautiful as our room was in Hopkins, we went straight to the beach, hoping to spend the day snorkeling and exploring the coastal sea-life in the “clearest water of the Caribbean.” To our horror, all we could see for miles was a brown, soupy mess of seaweed rolling over the waves.

Before our trip, we had read that Belize had long been battling seasonal blooms of Sargassum as a result of climate change and pollution run-off, so we expected to see some — but nothing like this. This was an unholy army of Sargassum, an outright invasion, and it had transformed the normally beautiful bay into a murky, tea-coloured swamp.

So, with swimming out of the question, we decided to make the best of it by relaxing and drinking in the overwater hammocks below the beach bar. But, as the drinks started flowing and the heat of the day intensified, that soupy water somehow began to look more and more enticing…

Then suddenly, we heard someone shouting, “Guys! Don’t go in the water! Stay out of the water!”

“CROCODILE!”

The security guard sprinted up the dock to us. We laughed, thinking he was joking, until he said that the crocodile is often seen around the dock when the seagrass blooms to these levels. Turns out the swim from the Sittee River to our dock wasn’t too far for a hungry crocodile — and the sargassum provided the prefect cover.

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We never did see the crocodile, but the seagrass alone made swimming impossible for the rest of our stay on the coast. Somehow, Patrick did convince me to take the kayak out, but I completely freaked at the sight of a floating log. It had eyes, I swear!

Our days were then spent relaxing by the pool and at the bar, enjoying an endless supply of cocktails, bowls of ceviche and watching the sunset — safely away from the water.

In the deep blue

Upon leaving Hopkins, we drove to Dangriga and jumped on a little boat at the mouth of the Sittee River (keeping an eye out for our crocodile friend, of course). With cold beers in hand, we looked forward to a bit of luxury and island vibes at Thatch Caye Island Resort.

Normally we’re not resort people, but Thatch Caye promised a casual, island atmosphere, eco-lodging and daily group excursions.

Located 9 miles from the coast in the South Water Marine Reserve, it also promised some of the best snorkling around Belize’s famous barrier reef — the second largest in the world.

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The view of the island from the boat was just stunning. The water was clear and icy blue, the palm trees were heavy with coconuts and the little beach was like a postcard — a true tropical paradise.

As all of the overwater cabanas were taken when we booked, Thatch offered us the “Island’s Choice” that would allow us to try out the other cabanas and cabins. For our first two nights, we stayed in a beachfront cabana facing the quieter east side of the island. It came with a little over-water balcony that was perfect for sunbathing and taking in the ocean views.

Our mornings were spent in the balcony lounge chairs or the beach hammocks, watching the wind in the palm leaves.

Snorkeling around the island was a dream. In the warm shallows, all sorts colourful fish thrived, from toothy barracudas to giant sea stars and one particularly mean-looking eel. Our favourite sight though was a curious lobster who popped out of a sunken log to check us out.

Braving the shadows of the dock boardwalks, we saw a nurse shark and the largest barracuda I’ve ever seen. His spooky silhouette dwarfed the fish around him in a scene fit for Jaws.

In the evenings, we would meet the other islanders for delicious barbecue dinners of fresh-caught fish and conch, before moving to the Starfish bar at the end of the dock. Every night, we watched the sun set over the mainland.

It really felt like we were on Gilligan’s Island, enjoying our time as castaways.

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One night after dinner, we were called up for our Stargazer’s Tour. Darwin and Herman picked us up in the boat, and set up a romantic little spot on the bow with a blanket and a bottle of champagne. They took us around the island and told us all about the marine reserve and the history of Thatch Caye.

Overhead, the night sky was infinite and beautiful. The moon was huge, full and bright and the sea seemed to glow in its aura. Even in the light of a moonbeam, we could still see straight down to the bottom of the sea, as if staring through clear, black glass.

When we got back, the island was in the midst of a party, with handmade leaf skirts and hats. We joined in and danced and had a great time.

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The real highlight of our time on Thatch was our snorkeling trip to the barrier reef — something we had been looking forward to since we arrived.

While the other islanders jumped on a massive dive boat with mainlanders, we opted for a tour with our new mates Darvin and Herman. We were also joined by Jennie, a solo-traveller we had met at dinner the night before.

First, they took us to Bird Island, a “drowned caye.” This sunken mangrove island was quite literally covered in nesting birds. We spotted the red throats of the frigatebirds and the funny feet of the blue-footed boobies. Both Darvin and Herman were true naturalists, and I loved listening to them talk about local birds and wildlife in their relaxed, kriol accents.

Then we arrived at the outer reef, where the water was incredibly calm. This was my first time swimming in the open sea, and I was a little scared to take the plunge. But when I jumped in, all of my fears were washed away and replaced with a pure sense of awe and wonder.

The alien world beneath the waves was unbelievable. Bright, purple sea fans and stunning coral formations lined the sea floor. We saw rainbow parrot fish, green angelfish and dark blue triggerfish (which we took care to avoid). The most stunning sight though was a school of giant tarpin — their silver bodies gleamed in the sunlight as they sped past us.

We could’ve spent hours exploring, but Darvin wanted to take us to the inner reef. There, the sea floor stretched far, far below us and I felt very small and exposed, as if we were swimming in a great big bowl. Barracuda watched us with their unsettling stare and eagle rays dashed out from their cover of sand. In one particularly beautiful moment, four majestic manta rays slowly passed us, gliding through the water like angels.

To top off an already incredible experience, Darvin and Herman decided to take us to see the manatees in the mangroves of the Tobacco Caye range. There, the water was inky black and eerily still. Darvin turned off the motor and we waited in silence for any sign of the manatees.

Suddenly, I spotted something roll over the water up ahead. Slowly, we inched toward it with the motor on low, hoping we wouldn’t scare it away. After a while, a family of three manatees swam by. Watching them in the orange glow of the sunset, we were all stunned into silence. I was overcome with a great sense of belonging and appreciation for the sea.

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On our final day on Thatch, we couldn’t believe our luck when we were moved upstairs to the penthouse cabana. The room was gorgeous and luxurious, and the view of the sea from the balcony was incredible.

We decided to forgo another snorkeling trip and simply enjoy the room and the view. From the balcony, we could watch fish swim in the shallow water below and birds fly overhead. I loved watching the frigatebirds soar just above us and dive into the branches of the mangroves for nesting material.

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On our final morning on Thatch, I woke up before the sun.

I’ve never been a morning person and the times I’ve watched the sunrise have been few and far between. But there’s something about being surrounded by nature that seems to reset our Circadian rhythm.

In the jungle, the soothing hum of cicadas and birds had me falling asleep at 9pm and waking up at dawn. On Thatch Caye, it was the gentle lapping of waves that lured me from my slumber.

I went out onto the balcony and watched the sun steadily rise over the islands in the distance. Soft pastels splashed over the waves and bathed the clouds in pink and gold. I watched a frigatebird soar into the horizon for one last time.

Then I said goodbye to Thatch Caye.