After an interesting, unexpected journey from San Ignacio, we arrived in Hopkins around 2:00 pm and checked into our cabana at Windschief. The cabana was the perfect size for three people and situated right on the beach
I’d only booked two nights in Hopkins based on my research. Posters on forums mentioned a dirty beach, sand fleas and general lack of things to do. Meanwhile others extolled the friendly locals and serenity of a beach undiscovered by throngs of tourists. All of these assertions turned out to be true, except for the sand fleas.
Hopkins is a small sleepy village. It reminded me of a less touristy, more rustic Caye Caulker. The beach isn’t as well maintained as popular beach destinations but there were only a few stretches that I would have described as dirty. The stretch in front of our cabana was lovely. There were other hotels and guesthouses that shared the coast but we basically had the whole beach to ourselves.
The water was warm and deep blue. After a hot land locked month in San Ignacio, my heart overflowed with joy to be reunited with the sea. We practically cart wheeled into the water and remained there for a very long time.
“I can’t believe we’re really here!”
“I love our lives!”
“This is amazing!”
We exclaimed repeatedly.
And it was amazing. Hopkins isn’t the most gorgeous beach I’ve been to but that day it was exactly what I needed.
After an extended dip we trudged up the grainy sand to the beach bar for some lunch and refreshments. A few locals were perched at the bar who had clearly been there for many hours. We settled into some adirondacks and laughed at their drunken banter. Jill made friends with some sweet flea ridden pups from next door.
We also met “Twatrick”, an older British man with a half shaved beard and half shaved head (“my good side”) who purportedly had been traveling for over 20 years, and was currently living in the woods subsisting solely on coconuts.
Later we collapsed into our beds exhausted from the days journey. When we awoke around 9 we discovered that the town was dark and mostly shut down. We managed to find an open eatery , fumbled our way through a buttery but boney snapper and were in bed by 10:30.
That night we walked along the beach and noshed on some surprisingly delicious pizza at Driftwood Beach Bar.
The morning that we departed from Hopkins I was awoken at exactly 5:00 by the loud crashing of the tide against the shoreline, the crowing of several roosters and a resounding chorus of insects and tropical birds in the trees surrounding our beach front cabana. It was a white noise machine come alive. As I lay in bed, the sounds crashing over me, my mind swelled with awe and gratitude. This was my life, and I wouldn’t change a thing.