An unexpected adventure through Utila's less explored half

Back in 2022, in a bid to find historical sites, I had one of those unexpected little adventures that stick with you for years. It wasn’t planned, just one of those moments where weather, timing, and a little bit of luck come together to lead you somewhere completely new.

James Bodden and I were heading out on his small boat from Sandy Bay, just behind Hotel Utila. It was the four of us: James, his younger sister Aleah, and my daughter, who was only a year and a half at the time. Our plan was to get to the Utila Cays, but halfway there, the sea changed.

The wind picked up fast, the rain came hard, and the water turned choppy enough to make us rethink everything. Every minute it seem more and more dangerous. We weren’t going to make it to the Cays, so we steered toward the closest dock we could find. We didn’t know where we were exactly, we just needed to get out of the storm.

We tied up the boat quickly, pulled it a little higher onto shore to keep it from being dragged off by the waves, and found ourselves on a place I’d never seen before. It turned out to be the old Utopia Village that shut down in years prior.

Even in the rain, the place was beautiful, quiet, wild, with wide open sky and white sand. We spotted a small palapa with hammocks and ran under it to dry off a little and catch our breath. The Utopia Village itself had long been shut down and partly abandoned, but you could still feel its history. A few locals were around, kind enough to let us into one of the buildings to wait out the storm.

The space was incredible. Inside, the walls were full of murals and handmade touches. It was colorful, lived-in, clearly a place that once held energy and movement. You could tell it had been loved and was still being taken care of. The locals told us about what it used to be like when the dive resort was still operating, how lively it was, how people came from all over to stay there.

I had read about this side of the island before. It’s separated from the main part of Utila by mangroves and has a long history, there have even been many indigenous artifacts found in the area. It’s a unique mix of old and new: large homes built by expats, the old dive resort, and tucked-away beaches like Jack Neil Beach which we last right before arriving here.

The rain didn’t let up for a while, but I didn’t mind. There was something magical about being in that quiet, colorful space, and watching the rain come down through the large windows. It felt like stumbling into a piece of forgotten Utila.

The locals figured the best thing to do was wait out the rain. Once it started to ease, James took the boat from Utopia Village and went the long way around, hugging the edge of the island until he reached the far end, where the sea was calmer. That way, we could continue to the Cays safely. While he did that, the locals offered us a ride in a small truck they had parked nearby. They took us across the island from Utopia to the point where James would meet us.

It was a different kind of view. Being inland, driving through that part of Utila instead of gliding past it on water, gave me a better sense of how wild and quiet it really is. The land feels untouched in some ways, almost like it’s waiting. It’s not a flashy side of the island. It’s not filled with restaurants or guesthouses. But it holds something else, maybe history, maybe memory, maybe more than we know. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t make noise, but still has something to say.

From there, once we met up with James again, we made our way to the Cays.

We hadn’t planned to stop there. We hadn’t planned for anything, really. But the storm pushed us off course, and led us right to a hidden part of the island that I’d never have visited otherwise.

Funny how that works.