For our last day of diving, we couldn't have asked for two more lovely sites. Amber let me take the camera both dives again. The first was Dobbie's Waters, on the North side. A gorgeous, fat, free-swimming Green Moray, a Spotted Eagle Ray, and a cute little Sea Urchin.

Before our second dive, on our way to Black Hills (for the third time), we spotted a pod of dolphins and got to snorkel with them a bit. Saw many tuna boils at the surface, which typically signify Whale Sharks, but no other sign of one. Almost immediately upon descent at Black Hills, we spotted the same little Hawk's Bill Turtle chomping away on a Sponge. A large school of Atlantic Spadefish and a smaller school of Sennet.

Today we made a full-day trip to the keys to the west of Utila. Our first dive was at Spotted Bay, and I got to take a turn with the camera for the day. Saw oodles of Flamingo Tongues (still none of the Fingerprint variety), and one extremely large and beautiful Black Grouper (in a white camouflage pattern) at a cleaning station. The Christmas Tree Worms in the Brain Coral would have turned out so much nicer with just a bit more depth of field.

The highlights of the second dive, at Ragged Cay, were a lovely cluster of Feather Duster Worms, a juvenile Spotted Drum, a Rock Lobster, and a very complacent Nurse Shark visiting a cleaning station.

After the dives, we picked up lunch at Morgan Key and stopped off at Bell Key to eat, relax and snorkel a bit. Saw a small Black and White Spotted Moray and a Flame Clam under a small coral head, but couldn't quite get a decent shot.

One thing I noticed almost immediately about Utila was a remarkable lack of Jimmy Buffett tunes. I haven't heard a single one since we've been here. For what it's worth, I don't think he's heard of Utila, either.

The staples on the island seem to be the Beatles, which is, well, really, really odd, but I guess is attributable to the island's British heritage.

I'm writing this from the hammock on our porch, enjoying my second Gentleman Jack (over ice!), and someone down the road is blasting Blind Faith, so I guess it's a Clapton island, too.

Hurricane Adrian is sweeping through the area, so we left the camera behind this morning, as well. The two dives were close by the shop, so we were back pretty quickly. We had hoped to catch sight of a big Green Moray at Ron's Wreck, but luck wasn't on our side. Saw plenty of nice anemones and some very lazy Petersen's Cleaning Shrimp. If I ever open an island laundry service, I'm naming it Petersen's.

Unfortunately, we found out that Amber's new photo gear doesn't do so well in low-light situations. Nothing to bring back from the night dive, though we had an excellent time, and saw lots of Tiger Tails, Red Shrimp, and a beautiful Basket Star.

The biggest thing during the first dive happened almost immediately upon descent. Amber's tank o-ring blew at about 30 feet. She made a graceful ascent and I followed along. As she changed tanks, I snapped a quick shot of our dive boat, the Martini.

We saw a lovely Green Moray, but he was unwilling to come out of his hole, even when we returned later. The Soapfish might look sick, but actually, he's just lazy.

Iron Shores was a nice little spur and groove site with some nice textures that Amber picked up.

During the afternoon, we checked out the Iguana Research Station. Despite a ban on hunting, the Swamper (a mangrove-living indigenous Iguana) is endangered because some people Just Don't Get It. The Iguana Research Station has a recovery and breeding program to try and save the species. Their more landlocked bretheren, the Green and Highland varieties, are doing very well. The Swampers are hunted by waiting for the females to lay their eggs on the sandy beaches, where they're slow and single-minded.

Saw a strange little pod on the way back.

I want that office.

Josh's Souash (or Josh's Wash, or Josh's Swash, no one really knows) was a nice dive with lots of deep channels to explore. The Queen Angelfish and the beautifully composed Flamingo Tongue were the real treasures.

Black Hills is a nice little sea mountain that tops off at 40 feet or so, and drops off precipitously in every direction. The Blueberry Tunicates were all over the place, and we saw a turtle suffering a fisherman's hook in its left armpit. Poor guy.

Our first dive this morning was on the north side of the island at Iron Bound. Of note are the Nassau Grouper, some large Tarpon, and a school of Snapper.

Our second dive was nearer to the harbor at Airport Caves. Some very nice corals and Amber made friends with a French Angelfish.

Our dive outfit this trip is Utila Dive Center.

As I'm writing this, Amber's enjoying the hammock, watching the local scene. Post-siesta activities include let's-chase-the-pig (pictures to come, but darn that pig is fast!).

I considered many, many titles for this post:

• Ford Prefect Would not be Proud

If anything in the universe can help avert travel disasters, it's a towel. Not two weeks after learning that from watching that hoopy frood galavanting across the galaxy, what's the one thing we left behind? You betcha.

• If You've Time to Spare, Go by Air (or The TACA Scavenger Hunt)

So, I spoke with my friend Kevin at TACA about trying to change our return reservations so we come back on the 24th, rather than the 20th. "No," he said, "You'll need to talk to someone in person at the ticket counter." He assured me, however, that there were plenty of seats available. So, arriving extra early, we asked at the ticket counter in Miami, and were kindly (and enthusiastically!) told that we would be far more likely to get the change made if we called the local TACA office in Honduras when we arrive. Only one problem, I kindly (and enthusiastically!) pointed out: There's no local number listed in the TACA literature for a La Ceiba branch. "No worries," the man smiled, "Call the Tegucigalpa branch." Tegucigalpa is on the other side of the country. Why would they care? Throwing caution to the wind (we really wanted to go on this vacation), we continued down to Honduras. The in-country flight in a little propeller plane that was 1000ºF inside, notable only for the man brandishing a Fosters oilcan and shouting, "It's Australian FOR BEER!" over and over again. It just kept getting funnier.

• The City of Lights in the Banana Republic

We arrived in La Ceiba, and were able to keep the airport staff from going home by trying one last time to get our return tickets moved back to Tuesday. "Yes, plenty of seats." Could we get the reservations and tickets? "No, you need to call the main branch in the morning, from 8:00 until 5:00. No penalties to change." We caught a taxi into town and made our way to the Hotel Gran Paris, a highly recommended hotel for a mere US$35 per night. Private bath, air conditioning, the works. And the hotel food was delicious. Three langosta alioli for US$18. Honduras is just about the cheapest place in the world to eat well and have a safe place to stay. In the morning, well before our ferry to Utila, we walked around, got coffee, explored the Parque Centrale, were latched onto by a college-educated beggar ("Born right here in Ceiba"), and found the local TACA office, where we were able to confirm our reservations for Tuesday. Tickets? "No, sorry, our printer isn't working." sigh

We caught a taxi to the Utila Princess, and waited forever to get going. Made more friends, a baggage handler who wanted us to know that if we tipped his friend, our luggage would be put in a good place, and not down in the hold. He kept reminding us until we gave his friend US$2. Interesting side-note: Honduras was the first Banana Republic. United Fruit Company and Standard Fruit Company set up shop here, and thus began a century of puppet dictators in Central and South America.

• Underneath the Mango Tree, Me Honey and Me Make Ooh-loo-loo-loo

When we arrived on Utila, our bags were waiting (to our surprise) just inside the door of the ferry. No other bags were to be seen. Our friend came through! We set off in search of Neil, John, or anyone who could point us to the Mango Inn. Five minute's walking brought us right to the door. Due to a miscommunication, we wouldn't be getting our deluxe garden cottage after all. We were getting the Mango Cottage. A house. All to ourselves. For a week. The Mango Inn is so named because of these tiny little fruits all over the place. Clanging down on the tin roof every half an hour or so, too.

After we settled in and got our gear in order, we made our way down to Utila Town for the afternoon dive with the Utila Dive Center. Met two wonderful Divemasters -- Jimmy and Dylan, and our online friend Neil, with whom we'd been arranging the vacation. The dive (a nearby spot called Madeleine's) was great. Amber got to try out the camera in the wild, and came back with a few good shots. Only at the end of the dive did we discover the cap was on the manual strobe connector, keeping it from firing at all! Still she managed to get a few strobe shots of a seahorse and a flamingo tongue.

"Like mama always said, when life give you poop, make poop juice."

—Earl, Red Meat

So, we spent the night in Boynton Beach, FL staying with Amber's dad and stepmom. This morning, we used the community pool to try out the underwater housing for the camera. Results were wonderful:

The Scot said it best:

The best-laid plans o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley, / An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain / For promised joy.

—"To a Mouse", Robert Burns

Is it any wonder the U.S. airline industry is in shambles? I sit here in the Richmond airport wondering at how stupendously easy it is to screw up an entire day's travel plans.

For want of a few hours' sleep, our flight crew was deemed illegal to fly, which killed our chances of connecting in Charlotte, which killed our chances of connecting in Miami, which killed our chances of getting into Honduras.

Suddenly, the ferry schedule seems pretty inconsequential.

"Did you know, young lady," said Watkins to her, "that the Book of Revelation was written on Patmos? It was indeed. By Saint John the Divine, as you know. To me it shows very clear signs of having been written while waiting for a ferry. Oh, yes, I think so. It starts off, doesn't it, with that kind of dreaminess that you get when you're killing time, getting bored, you know, just making things up, and then gradually grows to sort of a climax of hallucinatory despair. I find that very suggestive. Perhaps you should write a paper on it."

—Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, Douglas Adams

So, we've made some adjustments. No sense spoiling a chance to go anywhere. We'll be flying into Fort Lauderdale, and hopefully staying with Amber's dad overnight.

In general, it's a good idea to know how you're going to get where you're going. While I was aware that there's a ferry from the mainland city of La Ceiba, Honduras to Utila, I was blissfully ignorant of its schedule. As it turns out, we arrive in La Ceiba an hour and a half after both the last scheduled ferry and puddle-jumper. Maybe we'll be there tonight, who knows?

Today was Amber's birthday. In addition to the fine Jeeves and Wooster and Wodehouse Playhouse DVD collections, I got her an underwater housing for our Nikon. Just in time for Honduras.

With it, we hope to bring back (or even post - a geek can dream) many, many pics like this:

So, Amber and I are gearing up (literally and figuratively) for our first adult vacation in quite awhile. Adult vacations are marked by the total lack of sleeping on a friend or relative's couch for the duration of the visit. For our trip this year, we're going to Utila, the smallest of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras.

We're staying at a quaint little place called the Mango Inn, in a garden cottage, replete with hammock on the porch. We'll be diving daily (and the package includes a night dive), and so we're getting all our SCUBA gear ready. The BC fits, but only barely. Whoever made wetsuits and BCs out of such... shrinkable material ought to get flogged.

Apparently, the Bay Islands of Honduras are swimming in malarial mosquitoes, though, so we're about to go on a four-week regimen of Chloroquine, a malarial prophylaxis (who could possibly pass up an opportunity to use the word 'prophylaxis'?) -- two weeks prior, the week of the trip, and one week following. Sad news is that we'll both be unable to donate blood for 12 months after.

It's also Amber's birthday coming up. I'd let all you in on what her presents are, but every so often, she actually reads this blog, and that might clue her in. Better to save it until Sunday.