Hole in the Wall
Wednesday was a real island adventure and a half. We had heard about the mangrove tours and got two different suggestions. The first we got from someone at our resort. We were told to go to Jonesville and ask for Bob and he'd tell us out to take a tour of the mangroves. When we were exploring the day before we came across a local woman who said that Bob would take us to the Hole in the Wall which was a great little restaurant and we'd have a great time and see some mangroves but if we REALLY wanted to see the mangrove caves in all their glory we should go to oakridge which is a bit further than Jonesville and any of the water taxies there could take us on a tour.
For more input we asked Donna and Andy at our resort about both these options. I think Donna pushed for Oakridge and Andy pushed for Jonesville giving us more detailed directions:
Drive east (there's really only one main rode on the island) until we see the sign for Jonesville, turn right down the dirt road and just keep driving. Just be patient and you will arrive in Jonesville. Keep driving down the road going over 21 speed bumps until the road goes no further. At the house at the end of the road ask for Bob and they will have a boat pick you up and take you to the Hole in the Wall and from there you can ask for the mangrove tour.
We decided that since Jonesville was closer and it sounded fun we'd try that first and if we weren't satisfied with the mangroves we could always go to Oak Ridge afterwards.
One the way we stopped at a couple of really spectacular views of the ocean including one that had a number of straw covered stands with people selling various trinkets. The moment we parked the car there were children running up to it displaying shells, beads, sling shots and numerous other odds and ends. I ended up buying a bag of coffee beans which smell mighty fine, I think I'll make a cup tomorrow morning.
We found the sign for Jonesville just as predicted and turned down the road which ended up being of the bumpy dirt variety. Eventually we entered the really cute fishing village of Jonesville and the road became of the cement variety and the speed bumps began, we didn't count but we trusted that there were 21. We got a little lost when the road split and ended up having to roll down a window and ask a guy standing by the road "Donde esta Bob?" His face lit up and he exclaimed "aqui! aqui es Bob!" pointing at a house in front of us. We parked in a gravel lot which looked like it was there for that purpose and headed towards the dock, apparently the guy we had asked had already radioed Bob because there was a small dingy driven by a youngish boy toward us. We hopped on and he took us out across the harbor to the furthest, deepest part of the bay. In this section we noticed that all the houses were built half on the shore and half on the water. The steepness of the hills surrounding the bay made roads impractical (and probably did a great job of sheltering the harbor from strong weather) so all the homes had a boat tied up outside. We passed women hanging laundry on their docks, children paddling around in canoes fishing and a floating bar that had power lines strong out to it on posts barely high enough to pass under in our small, open craft. Our destination was a low lying building and dock that was also the last structure before complete wilderness. Behind it was a stone house built directly into the mountain side which happened to be where Bob lived. We were greeted at the hole in the wall by a burly weathered sailor-looking guy and asked if he was Bob. He was not but pointed to him. Bob greeted us and introduced us to his beautiful parrot who's name I sadly forget. We were instantly charmed by the atmosphere of the restaurant. In a secluded nock at the back of a bay in a tiny fishing village on a small tropical island in the carribean I felt that I could easily build a house next to Bob's work at the restaurant and lead a happy life an no one could find me unless I wanted them to. It was a pretty tempting thought. Bob and two of his fisherman-looking friends all sat around a table chatting and smoking pipes, one brought out a bowl of seeds for Mindy to feed the parrot. We ordered a few drinks and a young woman (what was her name? Joanna? or something more native-sounding? I forget) took our food orders. The cook was Joanna's mother and she prepared each of our meals by hand as if we were her own children. We all agreed that our fish sandwiches (and Dan's lobster sandwich) were the best we had ever had.
On the portion of the dock that was covered by a roof there were t-shirts from various locations hung up on the ceiling. None specifically interesting but it was a pretty neat decorating idea, I took some pictures as well as pictures of Sue taking some pictures.
We had asked about the mangroves and it turned out the guy who gave the tours was Clide, Joanna's father. He showed up in a small motored canoe while we were waiting for our food completely happy to wait with us and chat with us, his daughter and his wife while they all prepared and brought out our food. We bought him a beer while he waited.
After finishing our delicious meal we hopped in his boat and headed down the bay passing his and his daughter's house (also built on the water accessible only by boat) to the entrance of the mangrove channels. Apparently back in the day of pirates Jonny Depp and other pirate captains would use these mangrove channels and naturally secluded lakes to hide. The were a lot wider and deeper back then, the mangroves and grown in considerably since then.
The tour was great, the channels opened up on a really pretty lake with some beautiful homes and on the way back Clide let Joe drive. We got back to the Hole in the Wall and I couldn't resist ordering a lobster sandwich because Dan's had looked so good. After a few more drinks and jokes and stories we were ready to head back across the bay and drive back to the resort. We had told the folks at the Hole in the Wall we'd try and visit again before we left bringing more of our group with us, unfortunately this never worked out but I plan to make another trip to Roatan some time if for no other reason than to visit Bob, Joanna, Clide and his wife.
For more input we asked Donna and Andy at our resort about both these options. I think Donna pushed for Oakridge and Andy pushed for Jonesville giving us more detailed directions:
Drive east (there's really only one main rode on the island) until we see the sign for Jonesville, turn right down the dirt road and just keep driving. Just be patient and you will arrive in Jonesville. Keep driving down the road going over 21 speed bumps until the road goes no further. At the house at the end of the road ask for Bob and they will have a boat pick you up and take you to the Hole in the Wall and from there you can ask for the mangrove tour.
We decided that since Jonesville was closer and it sounded fun we'd try that first and if we weren't satisfied with the mangroves we could always go to Oak Ridge afterwards.
One the way we stopped at a couple of really spectacular views of the ocean including one that had a number of straw covered stands with people selling various trinkets. The moment we parked the car there were children running up to it displaying shells, beads, sling shots and numerous other odds and ends. I ended up buying a bag of coffee beans which smell mighty fine, I think I'll make a cup tomorrow morning.
We found the sign for Jonesville just as predicted and turned down the road which ended up being of the bumpy dirt variety. Eventually we entered the really cute fishing village of Jonesville and the road became of the cement variety and the speed bumps began, we didn't count but we trusted that there were 21. We got a little lost when the road split and ended up having to roll down a window and ask a guy standing by the road "Donde esta Bob?" His face lit up and he exclaimed "aqui! aqui es Bob!" pointing at a house in front of us. We parked in a gravel lot which looked like it was there for that purpose and headed towards the dock, apparently the guy we had asked had already radioed Bob because there was a small dingy driven by a youngish boy toward us. We hopped on and he took us out across the harbor to the furthest, deepest part of the bay. In this section we noticed that all the houses were built half on the shore and half on the water. The steepness of the hills surrounding the bay made roads impractical (and probably did a great job of sheltering the harbor from strong weather) so all the homes had a boat tied up outside. We passed women hanging laundry on their docks, children paddling around in canoes fishing and a floating bar that had power lines strong out to it on posts barely high enough to pass under in our small, open craft. Our destination was a low lying building and dock that was also the last structure before complete wilderness. Behind it was a stone house built directly into the mountain side which happened to be where Bob lived. We were greeted at the hole in the wall by a burly weathered sailor-looking guy and asked if he was Bob. He was not but pointed to him. Bob greeted us and introduced us to his beautiful parrot who's name I sadly forget. We were instantly charmed by the atmosphere of the restaurant. In a secluded nock at the back of a bay in a tiny fishing village on a small tropical island in the carribean I felt that I could easily build a house next to Bob's work at the restaurant and lead a happy life an no one could find me unless I wanted them to. It was a pretty tempting thought. Bob and two of his fisherman-looking friends all sat around a table chatting and smoking pipes, one brought out a bowl of seeds for Mindy to feed the parrot. We ordered a few drinks and a young woman (what was her name? Joanna? or something more native-sounding? I forget) took our food orders. The cook was Joanna's mother and she prepared each of our meals by hand as if we were her own children. We all agreed that our fish sandwiches (and Dan's lobster sandwich) were the best we had ever had.
On the portion of the dock that was covered by a roof there were t-shirts from various locations hung up on the ceiling. None specifically interesting but it was a pretty neat decorating idea, I took some pictures as well as pictures of Sue taking some pictures.
We had asked about the mangroves and it turned out the guy who gave the tours was Clide, Joanna's father. He showed up in a small motored canoe while we were waiting for our food completely happy to wait with us and chat with us, his daughter and his wife while they all prepared and brought out our food. We bought him a beer while he waited.
After finishing our delicious meal we hopped in his boat and headed down the bay passing his and his daughter's house (also built on the water accessible only by boat) to the entrance of the mangrove channels. Apparently back in the day of pirates Jonny Depp and other pirate captains would use these mangrove channels and naturally secluded lakes to hide. The were a lot wider and deeper back then, the mangroves and grown in considerably since then.
The tour was great, the channels opened up on a really pretty lake with some beautiful homes and on the way back Clide let Joe drive. We got back to the Hole in the Wall and I couldn't resist ordering a lobster sandwich because Dan's had looked so good. After a few more drinks and jokes and stories we were ready to head back across the bay and drive back to the resort. We had told the folks at the Hole in the Wall we'd try and visit again before we left bringing more of our group with us, unfortunately this never worked out but I plan to make another trip to Roatan some time if for no other reason than to visit Bob, Joanna, Clide and his wife.