The backdrop seemed like what you’d get after tripping on LSD. The colors of a setting sun danced across the sky, violently mingling with the dark storm clouds on the horizon. At the end of the southern coastal savannah, right by the shores, was what drew us: The Happee Manatee. It’s a cozy two-cabana campground a few miles south of Gales Point. It’s a sanctuary for those of us who are weary of the mass tourism garbage that Belize attracts.
Seaside Camping and a Hatred for All-Inclusive
As an avid conservationist, I have a great deal of contempt for the Belizean tourism sector.
Belize doesn’t run on tourism; it runs on nature. Yet this country gleefully accepts unregulated development like it’s going to turn us into Saudi Arabia. That’s the drawback of having two political parties that combined have an IQ in the negatives. But that’s a complaint for another day.
I can’t remember how (or where) I heard about The Happee Manatee. Like most places I venture to, it’s never a pre-planned affair. Yet getting there is a comforting ride. Besides being Belize’s most flood-prone, climate-resilient road and a landing strip for the occasional drug plane, the Coastal Highway is a scenic drive. Littered with green and only suffering from occasional habitation, the greenery that surrounds the Coastal Highway eased us well before we got to our happy little campground.
After passing Gales Point, a small dirt road led us to Ralph Muller’s The Happee Manatee. It’s such a peaceful place that I couldn’t believe we only paid $45 in total to camp there. The campground had a cozy lounge area, wide beaches on both sides and not a single light post in sight. For a group of skywatchers like us, it was paradise… or it would have been had the weather been on our side. Instead, the constant gales batter our tents like COVID battered our economy.
Why Gales Point Needs the UN World Food Programme
Everyone has that one person or pastime that drives them into a maddened frenzy – for me, it’s tarpon. But while all my fly fishing cohorts take to the flats to find the silver king, I head inland. My tarpon pursuits often take me as far inland as the Guatemalan-Mexican border. While I have to worry about getting shot by cartels or falling from sketchy cliffs while I’m there, even in the most remote village I can find a place to eat.
So why is it that my merry little group couldn’t find a single plate of food in Gales Point? If you think walking in on your significant other in bed with someone else is a heavy blow, I envy your life. Real pain is walking into three different restaurants only to be told, “There’s no food.” I thought food scarcity was an issue that lived a world away, but the WFP needs to get to Gales Point ASAP.
Since we decided to “figure it out,” we had enough food for dinner, but we needed to find something for lunch. Thankfully, after a hunger-fueled drive to Hope Creek, we got a meal, and all was well.
A Lazy Evening
The rest of our afternoon and evening at the Happee Manatee was spent walking along the beach and trying to fish. Looking at the maps, we saw that about 5 miles north (where the beach curves), there’s a river that’s supposed to be a great fishing spot. However, our efforts to reach it turned out to be a pointless struggle. If you’ve never walked a beach in the dark when a sizable forest fire is raging on the horizon, you should!
Before someone leaves an uneducated comment about celebrating a forest’s destruction, coastal savannahs are fire-dependent. But with the wind picking up and waves throwing back even the heaviest of our terminal tackle, we ended up back at the campground. For a remote place, the amenities are plentiful. You have access to a wooden relaxation deck, stone grills, and bathrooms. We took full advantage of that. After all, watching a full moon peek back at you through storm clouds while having a good meal and cold drinks is peak living.
