Roatan is one of the world’s quiet diving capitals - a narrow, lush Honduran island surrounded by the second largest coral reef system on the planet and it wasn’t until I started deep diving - no pun intended - into scuba forums that I learned of its existence.
The famous blue door at Puerta Azul
As an adult, I haven’t travelled much on my own. I did the backpacking around Europe thing when I was 19 but if you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be stepping off the plane into the humid Central American heat alone with my suitcase, I would have never believed you. I get anxiety eating lunch by myself, how the hell was I going to survive a month on this island where I knew nobody and don’t speak Spanish?
This trip was about facing more fears than travelling alone. I grew up on the west coast of Canada, but my relationship with the ocean was always from the shoreline. My fascination with sea creatures has been with me since I was a toddler lying on my stomach, peering over the edge of the dock at the marina while my dad worked on his boat. But salt water never agreed with my skin so I stuck to chlorinated pools where I learned to swim well enough to qualify for the provincial championships.
My goal this time was scuba certification, yet I’d only ever gone about ten metres deep on my own breath. It felt like a risk traveling so far without knowing if I’d even like it, or if I could even equalize my ears going down so deep. Three years ago, my dad had convinced me to get in the ocean, and I was shocked to find my skin could tolerate it. After decades of avoiding salt water, I soon went from hiding behind him as a human shield to exploring on my own. The ocean is quiet, beautiful, terrifying and addictive in a way nothing else is.
ARCA
From my extensive research, it seemed that most people stick to West Bay or the West End. West Bay has the world-class white sand beach, sprawling resorts, boutique hotels, and vacation rentals and when the cruise ships roll in, the crowds descend and the vendors stroll down the sand offering coconuts, bracelets, hair braiding, and massages that are…let’s say, a little more improvisational than professional.
After almost twenty hours of travel from Vancouver, I landed at Arca, a boutique hotel tucked right in the middle of West Bay Beach. With only sixteen rooms, it never felt remotely crowded but like a sun-drenched little secret I’d accidentally stumbled upon, steps from the water and somehow calm even when the beach outside got busy.
Over the course of my stay, I was lucky enough to experience a few different rooms. Some were just a stone’s throw from the ocean, surrounded by palm fronds with outdoor rain showers that made rinsing off after a swim feel luxurious and wild all at once. Others were tucked a little further back, more private, with warm concrete archways, ornate wooden carvings, and soft neutral tones that embodied that effortless “barefoot luxury” Roatan does so well.
Because I stayed so long, the staff began to feel like family. Tyrone, the general manager, told me I’d be in trouble if I ever came back to Roatan and didn’t at least stop in to say hello. One staff member, Ezra, amused by my coconut excitement, even asked the landscaping team to save me one straight from the tree.
Most mornings, I’d eat breakfast either on the restaurant’s deck or perched at the bar overlooking the beach, watching the seascape shift and change. Some days the water was glass and other mornings were moody and stormy, waves rolling in under a tumultuous sky. I’d come here during the rainy season but either way, it was always beautiful. On calm days, I’d grab my mask and fins and head straight into the sea - snorkelling in West Bay is unreal. The reef felt like its own little neighbourhood, full of familiar faces. I learned where a shy blenny lived, which hole an eel liked to lurk in, and if I swam far enough past the big brain coral, I could usually find the short-fused buffalo trunkfish patrolling his little patch of reef.
I allowed myself a couple of days to unwind before I had to get serious about my scuba certification. Relaxing at Arca was great but I had work to do. I’d done the online component of my course while I was still in Vancouver so could get straight into the water and get down to the business of learning how to breathe underwater.
Arca partners with West Bay Divers, about a 5 minute walk down the beach - a local shop that boasts a fleet of state of the art dive boats and staff who are patient teachers and have a knack for finding seahorses. After completing my open water, I decided to go for my advanced which meant I could descend to depths up to 100ft and explore the cathedral-like crevices of Mary’s Place, shafts of sunlight slicing through schools of silversides like liquid mercury. I don’t think my words could possibly do that experience justice, so it’s just something you’ll have to come here to see for yourself. They took me down to a sunken wreck and through underwater gardens where fan corals swayed like lace in the current and giant barrel sponges loomed like sculptures. I swam with eagle rays, turtles drifted by, morays peaked out of their caves, and groupers hovered slightly ominously among the corals. Every dive felt like an adventure into another world I never wanted to leave.
All of this diving had left me feeling pretty bold, so when a handsome dive instructor I’d only briefly been introduced to on a boat slid into my Instagram DMs and told me he knew where to find octopus, I asked him to show me. A driver dropped me off on a dark, busy street with my mask and my fins in my hand, where I was suddenly very aware of my own recklessness. The fact that I was a woman, alone, in a place I’d never been before, about to follow a man I’d met once in passing into the ocean at night.
I heard my name called and he appeared, tall and barefoot. I followed him down a dark, sandy path way between two buildings and up the tiled stairs that lead to his apartment. We changed into rash guards, grabbed torches and after a quick safety briefing, we slipped into the dark water. I think that’s where my brain truly caught up and I had an internal holy sh*t moment. It’s not like sharing my location with my best friend back in Canada was going to be of much use in the middle of some Honduran bay. Also when I actually thought about it, the idea of being in the ocean at night was scary as hell, what was I thinking?? Too late now, I guess. YOLO.
We saw everything, he found me my octopus, another one and then I found my own. A trio of squid danced near the surface and we tried not to bother the sleepy colourful parrot fish poorly camouflaged in the crevices. We swam further out into the bay, away from the light pollution of the West End and he signalled for me to turn off my torch. We floated there for a while in the dark and when my eyes adjusted, I began to see the flashes of bioluminescence spark off the reef below mirroring the impossibly bright stars overhead. A storm in the distance started closing in and the gaps between lightning and thunder began shrinking, making the whole scenario feel electric and slightly dangerous in more ways than one. The same impulsivity that had led me there, made me reach for his hand and I couldn’t help but realize I was in the middle of the single most surreal, suspended-in-time moment of my life.
Later, he told me he’d felt it too, saying:
“It was a sum of all the circumstances before and during. It was, is, and will forever be its very own thing.”
And so began a fleeting love affair filled with sunset dances on docks, moonlit reef exploration and falling asleep on high thread count sheets with the taste of salt on our skin.
PUERTA AZUL
I decided to venture up the coast to experience another resort - this time, the beautiful Puerta Azul in Sandy Bay - famous for its iconic blue door opening onto a dock so long, it appears to disappear into the horizon making it an absurdly photogenic focal point against the constantly shifting backdrop of the sky and water. The property itself is incredibly lush and the Sea View Suite I stayed at was enveloped by rustling palm leaves dotted with hibiscus and colourful butterflies. The whole property made me feel like I was on my own private island - not quite alone but with just a handful of other guests and gracious staff. The chef, Julie, was always smiling from the kitchen and the lovely owners, Talia and Antonio, often had their toddler playing at the water’s edge. Each morning, I’d walk barefoot up the stone stairs to eat breakfast on the terrace and then carry my coffee down to the end of the dock where I didn’t even need to get my feet wet to watch rays stir up the sand or schools of Palometas flashing silver in the sunlight. Puerta Azul had everything I needed to spend my days in or on the water - fins, paddle boards, kayaks - so I could slip in and out of the ocean whenever I felt like it. It sits right on the edge of Spooky Channel, a dive site renowned for unique geological formations that make for incredible diving and snorkelling and and honestly, the name couldn’t have been more on theme for my Halloween visit. When I was done, I rinsed off in a warm outdoor shower in the garden before heading back to read a book in my private hammock and crawling into the luxurious white sheets of my king sized bed.
THE BEACH HOUSE
After the most peaceful week I figured it was time to switch things up and head into the West End to be a little more in the middle of the action. This is where you find local kids playing in the waves, off-duty dive professionals singing karaoke at the Blue Marlin or old timer Parrotheads dropping eye-roll worthy pick up lines.
“Oh, you’re leaving on Sunday? Funny, that’s the day they’re changing the name of the island to just Roa. Because you’re taking the tan with you. Nice to meet you, I’m Roatan Dan and I’ve been using that line for 20 years.”
I checked into the Beach House, right in the heart of Half Moon Bay. The moment you step into the lobby, it’s like the building itself frames the picture-perfect turquoise water just beyond. There’s even a tree growing up through the building, so the whole space feels like it was built around its surroundings rather than the other way around. The vibe is totally retro beach cool with the striped umbrellas, pineapple shaped cocktail glasses and warm energy that makes you feel more like a friend than a guest. My room was on the third, and topmost floor with a large deck that felt almost like it floated over the bay. After I enjoyed the thoughtful charcuterie board that was left for me with a sweet handwritten welcome note, I took off on a walk to check out the eclectic little neighbourhood full of dive shops, fruit stands and restaurants. Throughout my stay some of my favourites were tuna nachos at Silversides, still-warm-from-the-oven cinnamon buns and breakfast sandwiches on jalapeño biscuits at Sandy Buns bakery. My new friend Mayghan, a dive instructor, pole dance instructor and crime writer from Scotland introduced me to Cafe de Palo which has to be one of the most beautiful, instagrammable restaurants I’ve ever been to overlooking the water with the jungle creeping in from all sides - and delicious lemon glazed carrot cake. I stopped in a beautiful shop called D'Tierra Firme, full of local Honduran arts and crafts, and chatted with Ethel, the owner. She was so warm and welcoming that when I ran into her again later, she greeted me like an old friend making the whole experience of staying there feel more like being part of a community than just passing through as a tourist.
As I mentioned, I was there in the middle of the rainy season and at 4am one night, I was woken up by the most torrential rain I think I’ve ever heard in my life thundering down on the roof. It wasn’t something I was going to be able to sleep through so I wrapped myself in a fluffy robe and went to sit on the balcony and just took in this incredible scene of rays of light cutting through the downpour. It might be tempting to complain about rain when you travel a long way to a so-called sun destination but it’s what keeps the island so green and the air so fresh and full of life. Sitting there on the balcony, listening to the rain drum on the roof and watching the light fanning out across the bay, it felt like the island was putting on a dramatic show just for me.
Roatán stole my heart in more ways than one and I came home with memories of turquoise waters and lightning storms but also a reminder of the responsibility we have to protect the ocean. Diving among vibrant coral and shimmering fish reinforced how fragile and beautiful these ecosystems are, and how easily they can be damaged. As I floated in the blue, I also felt hope knowing that beauty like this still exists. I left the island with a deeper love for the ocean, and the thought that maybe I could be just as brave on land as I was underwater.