Montezuma was a must-stop recommendation of all the beaches, so when we two Floridians finally arrived on the miniature, desolate coast in this small town we were confused. The communal bonfire atmosphere described seemed unlikely and the view was dreary on the cloudy days we were there, but our uncertainty was stifled when a gruff looking man came running to shore mid-catch (translation: bloody fish in hand) to show us his hostel rooms. We took one to end the awkward pressure of the circumstance and headed to the highly anticipated beach to relax. Having fulfilled this trip's bucket list, we saved laying in the sun and doing nothing for last, but a few hours of being the only two people on the beach under the clouds proved disappointing. Holding on to hope that this town would measure up to its reputation, we searched for the known waterfall to redeem it. Looking up the creek I worried the trek upstream might add to the discouragement, but when our luck brought on rain as well, we gave up on forcing this portion of the trip, packed up our clothes, and jumped in. Feeling the rush of the refreshing water and playing like no one was watching was all it took. I jumped off a rock that looks much smaller in photos and took a potentially homeless, bearded man's directions to swim deep enough to see the limestone below. We consequently had a blast, by ourselves--no parties, bonfires, or beach tans necessary. I mean we found those eventually, but after a day playing in the water.