Utila, Honduras: paradise island for divers in the Caribbean Sea

Tiny Utila, one of the Bay islands in front of Honduras’ Caribbean coast, serves as a ‘diving university’. By day, young backpackers study the wondrous underwater world of the second biggest barrier reef in the world. By night, the party can get raucous on this bounty island.

A wild game of pool on skid row

In the Skidrow Bar, in front of our Backpackers Lodge, tempers flared on a warm Caribbean evening.

“Gimme that ball”, the bartender yelled. Annoyed to death, he held a cooking pot in front of him. The pot contained all but one of the pool balls. The rascal with the missing ball refused to give it back. A little bit earlier, the players, a merry gang of young islanders and one grizzled gringo, almost got into a fight over a disputed game of pool.

What a great scene it was. Not in the least because of the gringo, an elderly man in shorts and bare torso who carried his own detachable cue stick in his backpack and who moved around frantically, as if on drugs, challenging local youth to games of pool. This island certainly holds a lot of characters.

Utila might evoke the cliché images of white sandy beaches and waving palm trees, but the town itself wasn’t all peace and quiet. In the narrow streets, pedestrians, cyclists, mopeds, golf carts and quads fought for the little available space. Save for the few pedestrians, no one seemed to stick to the maximum speed, 20 kilometres per hour. It was quite a frantic affair.

Pedestrians and tuk-tuks in the streets of tiny Utila, Honduras.
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In the meantime, a pot-bellied gringo, completely shit-faced, was carried to a tuk-tuk and ferried off. “He has no friends, but comes here every night to get pissed and harass women”, whispered another regular, a sailor waiting to join friends on a trip through the Caribbean. He shook his head. “Pretty sad.”

God knows how long the drunk had been going on maudlin solo visits to the bars of Utila. Local lore claims that Utila is one of those places that are impossible to leave. At least for a certain type of “Yolo” shouting, tequila jugging gringo. According to an island hit song, “I’m gonna leave tomorrow” is one of the three lies uttered the most on Utila. Another one is “I’m not drinking tonight”. Maybe this sad old drunk once belonged to that beautiful young party crowd. Some people fail to judge when the party is truly over for them.

Caribbean dream, but for how long?

Most visitors to Utila are divers, but there are many other ways to enjoy your time here. We rented a bicycle and a kayak to explore the island in different ways. With our bikes, we followed the contours of the island for a while, past oversized villas that could easily host whole villages, until we get lost in a tangle of small mud roads. We ended up near the airport with the fewest safety concerns in the world. From a strip of concrete amidst low scrubs, an 8-passenger Cessna just took off.

Eventually, we found our way back to Pumpkin Hill and the adjoining beach, Pumpkin Beach, a beautiful belt of white sand which ends almost directly on coral and which we had to ourselves. Pumpkin Hill, a small extinct volcano, offered great views over the island. There is still a lot of nature on this rock in the middle of the sea, although the project developers seem keen to change that. Many Americans have a Caribbean dream, so development is rampant, especially along the coastline. Whilst enjoying the beach, a drone buzzed over our heads, prospecting for land. My rock narrowly missed its target.

Anete walks on the beach on Utila, Honduras.

Iguana soup

I already mentioned that Utila is a popular spot for divers. Many come here to swim with whale sharks. The largest living fish species on the world, whale sharks can grow as big as a bus, although most of them stop at five to ten metres. Utila is the whale shark capital of the Caribbean Sea, one of the most reliable places to spot them. Although a protected species, whale sharks are under a lot of pressure from humans. Slow-moving, they sometimes end up in propellers of motorboats or as a bycatch of tuna fishermen.

We popped into the Whale Shark and Oceanic Research Center on Utila. The volunteer told us it was not the season to see them. I sighed with relief under my breath. Whale sharks might be eating only plankton and small fishes, and as thus pose no risk to humans, but look at that big mouth of theirs. A full-sized human easily fits in. No, I was quite happy to check out a different, less threatening type of animal. The Iguana Research Center commits itself to the survival of the local Utila spiny-tailed iguana. Aka the swamper.

With a habitat limited to Utila, the swamper is under serious threat. The local population likes to make a soup of it. Two other species of iguana live on this island, both of which faces problems of its own. The destruction of mangroves, by aforementioned project developers (scum of the earth, if you ask me!), does not improve the plight of these jolly fellows. A German volunteer, a student of forestry, expertly showed us around the many cages.

Down the mangroves

Anete paddles through the mangroves of the canal on Utila, Honduras.

We wanted to see the mangroves with our own eyes, so we rented a kayak. Not from youth hostel Venue, where a wild-haired yet slick volunteering gringo tried to convince us that their prices were “really not that expensive at all”. Instead, we turned to the friendly local man next-door, who provided us with lots of information about the journey. We intended to peddle through the ‘canal’, which cut the island in half. First, we had to cross a small lagoon. After some guesswork, we ended up in the canal.

The man had said the canal through the mangrove was three metres wide, but that was a generous assertion. At times we could barely paddle because the space on both sides of the boat was not sufficient to dip our paddle. We navigated through the mangrove, a smelly maze of funny-looking sticks. It took a while, an hour or so, and it was quite an experience to move through such an environment, one that we rarely get to see so closely.

On the other side of the island, peace and quiet awaited, long and lonely beaches that we had all to ourselves. The bustle of the village, where tuk-tuks mowed you over and fat ladies did laundry with much aplomb, contrasted sharply with this deserted island feeling. We dragged our kayak onto the land, hiding it between the pine trees, and jumped into the water. We’d found our little piece of paradise on busy Utila. Maybe we could really stay here forever?

Practical information about Utila, Honduras

What to do on Utila?

Most people come here to dive. We don’t dive but still managed to enjoy our time on the island. [Read: 3 fun activities to try in Utila when you’re not a diver]

Where to stay on Utila?

Lodging is more expensive than in other places in the country.

We stayed in the friendly Backpackers Lodge, where around 300 HLN got us a private double room with shared bathroom and kitchen. This place is not on Google Maps, but you can easily find it behind the notorious Skidrow Bar (but far enough to not suffer from noise pollution).

The Backpackers Lodge is connected to Gunter’s Ecomarine Dive Center. If we would’ve wanted to dive, we would have done it with these guys, a genuinely welcoming crowd.

Divers can often stay for free or get steep discounts on accommodation, so look into that if you’re planning to dive. Discover other options in Utila.

Where to eat on Utila?

Lots of options, although most comparatively expensive for Honduran standard. If this is your only destination in the country, make sure to try baleadas, delicious flour tortillas filled with refried beans, powdered cheese, marinated onions, hot sauce and sometimes, in more touristic areas, avocados. We ate cheap traditional baleadas in various small stalls on Main St, which you’ll find easily.

How to save money on Utila?

One of the owners of Gunther’s Eco Marine Dive Center used to work in Finland and made ferry trips to party in Tallinn. He also told us that Utila has the most expensive electricity on earth, having recently overtaken the Cayman Islands. Consequently, many things cost more here than elsewhere in Honduras.

  • Water, to start with, is much more expensive than on the mainland. Rather than continuously splashing the cash on small bottles, we paid a deposit for an 18.9-litre big jug, which we used to fill smaller bottles. This saved us hundreds of lempira’s, as we finished two of those big boys in five days. And it’s a remarkably more environmentally friendly solution.
  • If you’re planning to cook at least some of your meals, it’s worth to buy some basic groceries in La Ceiba.
  • Backpackers flock around The Venue. Even the ones not staying there, often rent kayaks from them. If you’re not joining a tour, however, you can rent a kayak for half the price from an old chap a few houses away.
  • Utila is small enough to get around on foot and bicycle. Don’t waste your money on renting a motorbike or, even worse, a golf cart or quad. You might think you look cool, but you’re just a dick that pollutes streets that are already plagued by exhaust fumes. Opt for cheaper and eco-friendlier bicycles (5 USD/day at Roneey).

How to get to Utila

Two companies ferry passengers between La Ceiba and Utila. The Utila Princess leaves La Ceiba at 9.30 am and 4 pm. The return leg away from the island runs at 6 am and 2 pm. 472/448 HLN (to Utila/from Utila). The Utila Dream goes twice daily from La Ceiba to Utila, at 9 am and 4.40 pm, and from Utila to La Ceiba at 7 am and 3.20 pm. 630/1250 HLN (one-way/return).

Onwards from Utila

  • Make your way to Copán Ruinas, a small town near ancient Maya ruins. This was one of our favourite places in the Central American region. [Read: horse riding in Copán Ruinas // birds in Copán Ruinas]
  • Not done yet with the Caribbean? Wind down some more in relaxed Trujillo.
  • Or head inland towards Lake Yojoa, for hikes, kayaking and craft beers.

Horse riding in Copán Ruinas, Honduras

In Copán Ruinas, we slept in a beautiful colonial-style guesthouse called Madrugada. It was far from our usual simple and cheap accommodation. Nothing from the outside betrayed that a hotel lay behind the facade — it looked just like a regular yellow house with no signs.

But once you gathered enough courage to step inside, you could take a glimpse of how the household of a former tobacco plantation owner looked like. The rooms formed a semi-circle around the green wild garden, which stretched until the river bend somewhere down the hill. The garden formed a proper mini jungle with all kinds of plants- a lot of them had pretty colourful blooms. Often, you could see the caretaker of the house, a tall man with a bush-like moustache, watering the plants or taking care of the green corner.

  • Hotel Madrugada in Copán Ruinas, Honduras
  • The view from Hotel Madrugada in Copán Ruinas, Honduras
  • Hammock in Hotel Madrugada in Copán Ruinas, Honduras
  • Hammock in Hotel Madrugada in Copán Ruinas, Honduras

The common area, a shared balcony with straw furniture, hammocks and boardgames, screamed peace and relaxation. When we entered our room, we were pleasantly surprised. It was clean and spacious, whitewashed walls decorated with pictures. Everything was stylish and fitting so that it felt to me that I was transported back to our grandparents times.

Clip-clop, clip-clop behind the window

Horses walking on the street in Copan Ruinas

If you’re familiar with our blog, you can be surprised at our choice. Whatever happened with the stingy nomads who slept in humid concrete cells? Well, Workaway happened. To stay in this historical household, we had to mop the corridor floors every other day. Which left us plenty of time to roam the streets of the cute town we resided in, Copán Ruinas. It was definitely our favourite Workaway experience.

But let’s go back to our room now. It was early, the curtains were still drawn, and we slept between crisp white sheets. It was quiet. All we could hear was our breathing. All of a sudden a loud clip-clop, clip-clop woke me from my sleep. Horses walked on the cobblestones just behind our window.

I couldn’t fall asleep anymore. After all, it was the day we too were going for a horse riding trip to the nearby hills.

Horses in the workshop

Tom with the horses in Finca Ixobel
Our life with horses in Finca Ixobal in Guatemala.

I have to make one thing clear here. I have never been one of these girls who go crazy about horses. The ones who annoy their parents endlessly, talking about how much they want to take horse riding courses. Or worse, demand a pony as a birthday gift. Sure, I had my pony as a 10-year-old, a pink toy that I loved. I also remember a trip to the zoo when my sister and I sat on horses. And on the picture, I’m smiling my biggest smile. So surely horses were a big thing, I was just not obsessed with them.

I managed to grow up and travel a bit without any close contact with a horse until our trip to Central-America. Or, to be more precise, until we volunteered in Guatemala.

We had chosen to do Workaway in Poptun because we heard other Workawayers talk about how they rode horses there. And surely, we worked very closely to the horses. Sometimes they peeked into our workshop. At other times they pushed their noses against us to take a better look of our work. Occasionally, they just plainly barged through the workshop for god only knows why. Probably to find better grass somewhere they shouldn’t have gone.

But horse riding was the thing that didn’t happen back then. The one time when we got close to going on a trip with guests, I was in no condition to jump on a horse and discover the cave systems. Bad diarrhoea forced me to spend more time on the toilet than I would have liked to. 

But something had shifted inside of me. I started to feel that I would really like to try horse riding. And from then on, I put all my hope in Honduras where, according to Lonely Planet, outdoor activities are cheaper than in any of its neighbouring countries. And of course, we didn’t leave this piece of information unused. We rented a kayak in lake Yoyoa, booked a bird watching trip there as well, rented bicycles in Utila and took a kayak to go to find a lonely beach.

So no wonder that as soon we saw that the travellers’ cafe ViaVia offers horse riding in Copán, we decided to go for it.

Mariposa, Rei and Niño

  • Anete and Tom with their horses in Copán Ruinas, Honduras
  • Tom and the instructor with their horses in Copán Ruinas, Honduras

In the morning when we heard the horse behind our door, I felt nervous. After all, horses are tall, and they’re no bicycles or motorbikes. They are animals with their own mind, instincts and fears. What if the horse would get scared or would fall? These were the things I worried about.

My stupid habit to research everything I do before didn’t help much either. For example, an article about what to wear when you go horse riding gave me bloodcurdling information that I shouldn’t wear any scarves or I can accidentally hang myself should I fall from the horse. Great! One more thing to worry about.

Instead of making horror stories in my head, I should have just listened to the kind owner of ViaVia, who said that even his mum did it. And once I saw my horse, a little brown beast with long bangs covering his eyes, I was much calmer. Niño (child) was just a tiny bit taller than a pony and seemed harmless.

There were two more horses tied to the fence when we arrived: Mariposa (butterfly) and Rei (king). Next to the horses stood their owner, an old man with a cowboy hat. He said he had eight horses and we could really see the experience shining in the man’s eyes. He gave us a brief overview of how to stop the horse and how to make it turn left and right.

Horse riding in Copán Ruinas

Tom and Anete horse riding in Copan Ruinas in Honduras

It didn’t sound too complicated so we jumped on our horses. Once we got used to the new way of moving, it honestly was not scary at all. Or maybe Niño was so small that I sat not too high from the ground. In modern dance classes, I have been practising a lot how to fall, so maybe I could use this skill if things would go really bad? Later, we learned also that people in Copán use smaller horses because it’s easier to navigate them through the hilly landscape.

Anyway, it seemed like my horse was smart. He reacted nicely to every stop sign. I guess he was even smarter than me because even when I messed up my left and right, he could turn the right way. Thank you, Niño, for ignoring all the false signals I gave you.

We walked quite peacefully, but sometimes the guide still hurried our horses, and they galloped, or at least that was how it felt. That was pretty scary- I was literally jumping on top of Niño. Did I tell you already that Niño was a black horse? And that in spite of his cuteness, he also had an evil side. It turned out he was no angel — every now and then, he enjoyed bullying Tom’s horse Rei. So Niño pushed Rei to the other side of the road until the poor (but much bigger) horse didn’t have anywhere to go. Also, Niño often snorted loudly. “Don’t let him behave badly,” the guide said. But I don’t remember anymore what I had to do to make him behave better.

Bombas

Tom horse riding in the hills around Copán Ruinas, Honduras
We really hate bombas

After an hour of enjoying the peace and beautiful nature, we reached La Pintada, a small Maya village. The peace was brushed from the earth as if it had never been there. A rowdy gang of children welcomed us with bombas (firecrackers) and tried to sell us cheap mass-produced handicrafts.

A regular reader of this blog is probably aware that we really hate bombas. I don’t mind fireworks in the darkness, and I can admire the patterns drawn into the sky. But making a lot of noise with seemingly no other aim than to make noise- no, not our thing. I flinch at every loud sound, and when I see somebody throwing bombas, I just want to go back and take another street. Sounds bad, right? It’s a thousand times worse when you’re on top of a horse. Because the poor animal is even more scared than you. My poor Niño jumped of horror. It was not pleasant to sit on a top of a scared horse. So our guide attached the horses on the fence, tried to explain to children that they shouldn’t make so much noise, and we continued on foot.

We checked out a sacred place for Mayas in the mountains. There were plenty of stones and sculptures where Mayas used to pray. Looking to the other side, we could see the archaeological site of Copán Ruinas through the trunks of the trees. A pretty impressive and special moment. It’s always so cool to see the touristic site from another angle, as a part of a landscape instead of something that looks like it’s built for tourists. Standing here, the ruins felt almost like a living thing, something that the village people have seen since they were born. But have they actually been there, climbed and touched the ancient stones? Probably not. Doesn’t matter that they are Maya, the successors of people who once built it. Now some other people make money off their heritage.

Slowly, we turned back to our horses, to descend the mountain, and find our way from the long-gone civilisation back to a small bustling town in the 21st century.

Horse riding in Copán Ruinas: practical

Price? 15 USD per person for 2,5 hours. Book with Via Via Copán.

Birds in Copán Ruinas: a must-visit for lovers of our feathered friends

A pelican flying over your head when you’re floating in the salty Caribbean Sea. A walk through a toucan forest on the way to impressive temples in Guatemala. Bright red scarlet macaws gliding by in Honduras. A colony of pastel pink flamingos fluttering their wings in the low water of the Mexican coast. Central America is a true paradise for bird lovers.

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Backpacking Central America on a Budget: How much did we spend per day?

Travelling is expensive. You need to save up for a year to afford to take a few weeks off. It’s impossible to travel long-term without being either filthy rich or a dirty hippie in rags who sleeps in a car and eats from a trash can. Filthy or dirty, that’s the choice.

But what if I tell you that all these preconceptions about long-term travel are wrong?

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Trujillo, Honduras: the Caribbean town where Christopher Columbus first set foot on Central American mainland

From San Pedro Sula, former murder capital of the world, two bus companies make the trip to Trujillo. The first available one departs straight away. We have no time to lose because the next bus will only leave in an hour. Expected travel time: seven hours. And we’ve already left Lago de Yojoa a few hours ago. This conflicts with our philosophy of slow travel. Trujillo is a godforsaken outpost of Honduras, quite literally the end of the line. Whoever wants to travel more eastward, towards La Mosquitia, needs to organise a boat. There are no roads.

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