The road to Punta Gorda runs through mostly flat ground, but you are usually aware that to the west are small mountains, heavily covered with jungle. Especially if you have just come from the jungles of the Cockscomb Wildlife Preserve. There were some small orange groves on the flats, an industry Belize is trying to develop. There was usually a small Mayan village nearby; we assumed the people who lived there worked in the groves.
But occasionally we would see these large trees with wildly flung branches, reaching and grasping like some being trying to escape, or already escaped and wildly celebrating. I loved them, but don't know what they were.
Punta Gorda is the end of the line in Belize, and it was the end of the line for my ride in George. We found a safe place to spend several days at TC's By the Sea, a small motel run by (who else?) TC, a Floridian who sold his live-aboard boat in Florida and moved here.
From here I would take a boat to Puerto Barios, Guatemala, and then I would travel by road to Fronteras, also known as Rio Dulce, where I would finally get to see my boat. It was Bill and Carol's anniversary, so we celebrated all around.
