If you know any avid divers who have been to Belize, do not ask them about it unless you have a few hours…you will not be able to shut them up.

Belize is in fact a tiny country, but not if you include the underwater wonderland that is adjacent to it. Then, at least in dive terms, it’s one of the largest countries in the world! Belize has everything you want in a tropical escape, but when it comes to the diving and the saltwater fly fishing, it is among the best in the world.

Though it’s probably smaller in total square miles of real estate than some counties in Texas, Belize offers more dive opportunities than you could possibly experience in a year.

With a bewildering array of big walls, barrier reef, open water atolls and islands, and plenty of sharks of all types, the fact is, diving just may be Belize’s biggest growth industry besides real estate. From coral gardens and stunning parrotfish to giant whale sharks, it’s all here, even for two-tank veteran divers who seek longer outings.

Unlike some Caribbean countries and most of Central America, you can dive year-round in Belize, right through the rainy season.

A few top places to let the air outta your tanks:

-Plancencia: According to Destination 360, which says the beaches at Placencia are the best beaches in Belize, this is perhaps the best spot to dive and relax on the playa. With way fewer people than Ambergris, you probably won’t see other divers in the water, either. The big draws here are Glover’s Reef and Gladden Spit. Southwater Caye and Tobacco Caye are also popular spots to jump off from Plancencia and connect with dive operators. Placencia is full of world heritage dive sites that have bewildering diversity, and the slightly more nutrient rich waters here compared to the super-clear north support more animals like the whale shark, which is widely regarded as being more likely to be encountered here than the rest of the country…and maybe the world. Brian Young of Seahorse Dive Shop has led expeditions for the Discovery Channel and CNN out of Placencia, and he and his divers log the migrations; May and June are peak times.

-Blue Hole: This famed limestone sinkhole has been a diving legend at the Lighthouse Reef atoll site since it’s exposure in the ’70s by none other than Jaques Cousteau. The Blue Hole is right in the middle of the reef and is over 300 feet wide and 400 feet deep, offering an ethereal experience of solemnity amid a world of great clarity, zero gravity and bathed in blue light. Cave-like stalactites appear as you go deeper into the abyss, and the water grows clearer as you descend. The Blue Hole is also a great jump off point for many other dives along the barrier reef.

-Ambergris, Caye Caulker: Plenty of resorts make this a popular dive central for most tourists, who exploit it’s convenience to Belize’s renown barrier reef. The reef swings in within just a mile or less of Ambergris and the waters here are extraordinarily clear, stingrays and sharks abound, and the Turneffe Islands are accessible. Coral pinnacles, grouper, lobster, angelfish, nurse sharks and eels are plentiful, as well as loggerheads.

-Hopkins Bay, Hamanasi: A renowned outfit and dive resort here, Hamanasi is a highly regarded jump off point to explore the world of the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef in particular, though the pro staff here branch out all the way to Lighthouse Reef and the Blue Hole as well. Turneffe Islands Atoll, The Elbow, Half Moon Caye, South Water Caye, Elsie’s Aquarium, Trick Ridge, Hell Hole, and The Abyss are all reached from here. Hamanasi also runs whale shark specific trips when the gentle giants congregate to feast on the spawn of the reefs snapper schools.

So tell your boss, spouse or whomever you need to that you’re taking them to Belize to relax, see the beaches and/or look at real estate…but get down here for the diving.

I was hot, and impatient, and growing more so by the minute. It was June 2005 and my first time in Belize, and I was waiting at the airport for a friend who was in Belize to fly fish and look at real estate.

I’m not the most patient fellow and neither is my friend, less so if anything. A tall, hard-charging sophisticated big city guy, he’s a born salesman who loves life in the fast lane. In the four years I’d known him at that time I don’t think I’d ever seen him without silk slacks and high-dollar dress shoes.

We’d crossed signals and were late to reconnoiter, and I could imagine what kind of mood he was in; the two of us would be a real pair until we could get somewhere out of the heat and relax.

So imagine my shock when a rental car pulls up in front of me, and out steps a guy who is a dead ringer for my tall friend, except it can’t be him. The guy is wearing sunglasses, a mostly unbuttoned Tommy Bahama shirt, board shorts and flip flops.

I know Mike couldn’t possibly even own flip flops, but to my shock, he waves me over with a big, casual grin, a cheery greeting to match the smile and fresh suntan.

He’d only been there two days before me but it was enough to make my hard-charging friend looked as relaxed as if he’d stepped out of one of those Jimmy Buffet novels.

His chill vibe was contagious and I very quickly forgot about how hot and impatient I’d been.

I have come to call this transformation “The Belize Effect.” It generally goes something like this:

DAY ONE: (early in the day)…”Where’s my hotel? Damn it’s hot. Is that a mosquito? Good grief these people talk slow….

(later in the day)…”Wow. I didn’t know they have mountains here. Look at that blue water. I didn’t know that color blue existed.”

DAY TWO: (early)… “Fish, scuba dive, hike…look at real estate…we’ll never get to do it all. What are we gonna do? I gotta budget my time…”

(later)…”Man, the air here is soft. How is air soft? But it is. Must be the ocean breeze. This place is like nowhere in the Caribbean. Look at that friggin’ palm tree. Wonder if I could climb it? I wonder how tall they grow? Maybe I’ll climb it after just one more pina colada….”

DAY THREE: (early)…”Look at that sunrise, man. Why do fish have to bite so early in the day? Where the heck is that other flip flop?”….

(later)…”I came here to slay bonefish but I’m starting to think a hammock beats a boat hands down.”

DAY FOUR: (early)…”Is it bad to drink before noon on a weekday? No way, relaxing is never bad for you…”

(later)…”During the weekday? Huh. What day is it anyway? I keep asking people but no one seems to be sure…”

DAY FIVE: “I’m getting a place here.”

…to be continued

(PLACENCIA, Belize) – As Belize becomes one of the biggest boom areas of the Caribbean, affluent visitors—and more and more celebrities—soon find themselves switching from the adventures of island-hopping to the pastime of island-shopping.

Whether fly fishing, diving or sailing, wealthy visitors soon hear that private islands and prime properties can be purchased in Belize from original owners for a fraction of what waterfront costs back in the U.S. and elsewhere in the Caribbean.

While the Bahamas has been a draw for the trendy island homes of many celebs in recent decades, Belize is quickly moving into the mix for its more consistent climate, warmer water and weather, affordability, incredible barrier reef and proximity to that which the Bahamas will never have: an astonishingly bio-diverse mainland replete with stunning waterfalls, ancient ruins, jaguar jungles, mountains and rushing whitewater rivers. Not to mention super-friendly tax laws and the fact that Belize is an English-speaking member of the British Commonwealth.

Most people coming to Belize for the first time never get off Ambergris Caye. North Americans who have been here many times have discovered that the most beautiful and best places to live are on the mainland. It’s a more relaxed, non-touristy atmosphere and allows you some breathing room, yet still has great beaches and is minutes from the beautiful Mayan Mountain range.

Belize is also blessed with true tropical weather. It’s far enough south that visitors are never subjected to the chilly waters and wish-I’d-brought-a-sweater days that are the Bahamian winters. High-profile celebs who favor fly fishing and diving invariably come to Belize at some point. That’s nothing new, what with vacationers like the actress Charlize Theron, who swam in Belizean waterfalls in 2007. But while celebrity visits to Belize are practically de rigueur, more of them seem interested in getting a piece of this paradise for themselves.

Ever the eco-conscious environmental activist, former pretty boy Leonard DiCaprio has bloomed into a gritty leading man and capped off his career maturation with his own Belizean island, Blackadore Caye, which Private Islands Magazine says he bought in 2005 for just under $2 million. Huge by Belize standards, Blackadore is a rambling 104-acre island located in the prime area between mainland Belize and Ambergris Caye, close to the famous Barrier Reef. DiCaprio has stated that he hopes to make it a public destination and a model of sustainable development.

People come to paradise first for the palm trees, year round tropical air and clear blue waters. That’s how most of us define the ultimate escape. The mainland of Belize has all that—miles and miles of pristine oceanfront, in fact—but also offers up access to much more diverse adventure opportunities that appeal to someone who is looking for more than just a few days in the sun.

The Mayan ruins, whitewater rafting, mountain hiking and biking, and so many other activities are just something you are not going to conveniently find from one of the islands.

Projects like The Peninsula Club near Placencia are cropping up on the mainland. The Peninsula Club has the country’s first marina, and is located right next to one famous celeb’s long-time escape. Belize is a special place, something Francis Ford Coppola figured out a long time ago. Coppola first went to Belize while filming the groundbreaking Apocalypse Now and quickly wanted a piece of this lush little country for himself. The iconic director now owns two resorts in Belize (Turtle Inn and Blancaneaux Lodge) and one across the border in nearby Guatemala.

Travel and Leisure magazine touts his Blancaneaux Lodge highly in multiple annual reviews, for its forest scenery, remote setting and unique architecture. Hey, in Belize, all you have to do is not get in the way of the scenery, and Blancaneaux is situated near the Mayan ruins of Caracol.

Of Blancaneaux, T&L writes: “Spot rare howler monkeys and iguanas from the safety of an idyllic, horseshoe-shaped tub designed by Oscar-winning production designer Dean Tavoularis at Francis Ford Coppola’s Blancaneaux Lodge. Made from thousands of pieces of local granite and built by local stone craftsmen, it sits in a hillside amid the same kind of lush jungle paradise Coppola fell in love with while filming Apocalypse Now.”

The Turtle Inn, Coppola’s first creation in the region, also gets high marks for style and intimacy without exorbitant expense. Three restaurants, a pavilion home, eight villas and 17 cottages that are a stone’s throw from the beach create a powerful draw, along with proximity to the charming town of Placencia—full of friendly cafés and guesthouses—and the nearby Monkey River, where fantastic jungle eco-tours are offered.

Top it off with relaxing Bali-inspired architecture and décor, and The Turtle Inn is a great illustration of what Belize is all about.

Saltwater fly fishers, we have some great news; you no longer have to wait ’til you’re dead to go to heaven.

If you’ve fly-fished much you’ve probably read that Belize is your best shot at a “flats slam,” a hat trick of catching a tarpon, bonefish, and permit in one day on the fly, and that Belize has some of the bar-none best inshore saltwater flyfishing in the world.

Many places have good action for tarpon, or bonefish, or snook or permit. Belize is unique in that it has superlative quantities of all four.

But what ultimately makes Belize stand out is the rarest, most challenging ghost of the flats and the ultimate saltwater trophy: the big long-finned reel-busting bruisers known as permit. Belize is widely regarded as having the highest concentrations of large permit in the world.

To give you an idea, I spent five months in the Florida Keys in the late ’90s, living and working but mostly fishing. The Keys are famed for flats fishing, and the very first time out, to my utter shock, I ran right into a big permit while wading the flats alone. An enormous, spooky, solo fish that ghosted away as soon as I pitched my crab pattern its way. This is not going to be as hard as they say, I thought to myself.

But that was it. In four more months, that is the ONLY permit I saw in dozens upon dozens of expeditions in the Keys.

Fast forward four years, to the Stann Creek District in Central Belize. Up with the sun on a clear beautiful morning, we head out with a guide and run only 10 minutes in the boat. The guide turns the skiff around an island point, kills the motor and points to the shoreline. In the dawn light, there are two groups of ripples in the water, and as he poles us closer, my stomach starts to knot up. The ripples take shape and start moving around and I know it can be only one thing, exactly what my eyes are telling me it is: two schools of five or more permit…and they are big, big, fish.

To anglers, this is what is known as nirvana. Belize is super-famous for incredible diving, vacationing, island hopping, and general tropical paradise stuff…but those are all things that you can in fact find elsewhere. Maybe not as great as Belize, or all in one place like Belize, but you can in fact find them elsewhere on this wonderful watery planet of ours.

But there is simply nowhere on earth where you are going to see permit like that.

An hour after that initiation ritual, we headed out to a reef in Belize where the flats meet slightly deeper water and we started to wade along a ridgeline of coral as the tide rushes over it. We have to wade, my guide says, “because there are too many fish to use the boat.”

Dunno about you, but, um, that is NOT a problem I have ever had before!

But I soon see he is right, as we encounter school after school of permit shifting back and forth across the reef, their tails sparkling like sword tips in the sun sticking up to six inches out of the water as they root around the bottom for crustaceans. If you were poling along in a boat, you would be bumping into fish right and left and scaring them: wading gives you a much lower profile in the water.

In several surreal instances, I witness the most elusive trophy of the flats actually competing to eat my fly! In one unforgettable moment, I am unable to breathe as two cookie-sheet-sized permit race each other to chomp at my crab pattern right as it reaches my rod tip.

Despite the hype, and the fact that I’m a lifelong obsessed angler, I was still unprepared for what I would experience. Most anglers I know personally came back from Belize with photos of small permit, dinner-plate sized fish they scored while chasing bonefish or other species. I thought permit in Belize were numerous but small, like the big schools of small bonefish that frequent the northern islands.

The reason for my friends’ smaller fish is simple. They had mostly fished out of Ambergris and other islands while on vacation, and therein lies the difference. The central part of Belize is another ballgame entirely—the permit run as big as they do anywhere in the world. It’s a habitat and forage issue quotient that creates the size, and it is probably also tied to fishing pressure, too. Unlike tarpon and bonefish, permit are fabulous eating, so people who aren’t high-minded fly fisher types are eager to take them home.

Seeing isn’t always catching, even in Belize, as I would find out the next day. Permit are permit, and almost always a challenge, even when abundant. The next day, we saw nearly equal numbers of fish and had thrilling stalk after stalk but instead of fighting over my fly, they just won’t bite. They are big brutally strong fish on a fly rod, with a body built for leverage, and catching more than a few a day will wear a flyrodder out. My rod arm was still stiff from the day before—the only other time I’ve had that most pleasant of unpleasantries is fishing a sockeye run in Alaska, where the river had more fish than water.

On that second day—and this is not a typo—I saw as many as 80-plus permit finning along a shallow stretch of reef in the morning sun, fins glimmering in schools of two to ten fish in water just a few feet deep.

I thought back to the one fish I saw in six months of fishing the Keys, and giggled. This little country has an awful lot of magic swirling around in it, I thought to myself.

No, there is not another place in the world where this is possible…at least it has not been discovered yet.