Part 4: Homecoming - Stuck in Honduras for COVID-19

Before reading this post, you should considering joining me in donating to the Roatan Marine Park. Their conservation efforts are crucial to the ecosystem’s stability, and a large portion of their income will be destroyed as a result of tourism downturn in 2020.

By the end of the week, the resort is completely deserted. Only 5 of us remain from our group, the rest having caught their flights earlier this week. It’s very quiet. The boats have stopped running, hundreds of chairs remain empty on the beach, and the pool is as flat as glass. We’re occupying an empty, haunted resort, staffed by a ghostly skeleton crew. The bartenders and cleaning staff are continually thankful for our presents and tips. No one knows the next time they’ll see a visitor here on Roatan.

The last two weeks have been an emotional roller coaster. Each incredible day of diving was accompanied by confusing news at best and bad news at worst.

Our bags are packed, and we’ve received no bad news so far today. The car arrives on time and we’re on our way. The ride to the airport is surreal. We drive past groups of locals in town, who are staying 6 feet apart and many wearing makeshift masks. We quietly wait to arrive at the airport and carefully unpack our belongings once we are there.

Preparing to board is eerie as well. The airport is hot, full of people, and there is stress in the air. I can overhear a conversation amongst a family that this is not their first trip to the airport to leave. I try to stay positive, and once I realize the plane outside is our plane, that gets much easier. Our plane. The one that will take us home.

Gathering our bags and walking outside onto the tarmac, the world moves in slow motion. I present my ticket and shuffle into the plane. I truly can’t believe we are leaving this place after weeks of uncertainty. That is, until I hear the captain get on the intercom

Hello everyone, we’re glad you’re able to fly with us today. We know this has been a long and tiresome trip for you, however I have to share some news. We are currently experiencing a sensor failure on the plane and will be unable to leave until it’s fixed. We’re currently on the phone with HQ and are confident we can fix it, but we will be delayed until we can do so. Thank you for your patience.

At this point I half expected this to happen. I am not afraid that the plane won’t take off, but I am terrified that some stressed passenger will start a riot. There are murmurs throughout the plane for the next 45 minutes. No one knows what’s going on and I can feel stress levels rising.

After what feels like an eternity, the captain has more news. We’re going to be on our way, they’ve solved the problem. I sincerely hope this is the last curveball of the trip.

The rest of the trip is bizarre, surreal, but otherwise uneventful. City streets are empty, the airport is completely shut down outside of a few flights, and everyone I interact with is nervous and exhausted. I am thankful to make my way home and start my quarantine.

Our plane!

Very happy to make our way stateside

Honduras is a beautiful country and I wish I could have visited with better circumstances. The people are wonderful and the wildlife is incredible. I hope to visit again soon.