Home Again!

There is a lot going on in Río Dulce, so boredom is readily avoided. Sunday morning (Nov. 17), we went to the swap meet at one of the other marinas. It's a great place just to meet up with people. We encountered Anna and Dave there. They brought us back to Boatique in their dinghy and Peter and Dave spent more time discussing Deerfoots and looking at our boat. Other cruisers from another marina, Catamaran, were at Boatique for a social outing; they came for Pam's homemade donuts and cinamon buns. There were plenty, so we indulged in the delicious treats.

The night before we left Río Dulce, Pete and Gail from S/V Pega came to Boatique for drinks. Río Dulce seems to be the equivalent of Georgetown in the Bahamas. There is a great community, and we are looking forward to going back. But now we are happy to be home again with Katya. The weather is wonderful here--crisp fall days, without humidity!

Anna, Sherri, Peter and Dave at Boatique

I will post again when we our back in Guatemala in January sometime.

Río Dulce, Guatemala

I have lost momentum for writing on this blog as we are winding down this part of adventures on Mantra.  We are returning to California in a few days, and my mind have been focused on that (and access to portabello mushrooms and fresh spinach and an unlimited number of books and a respite from humidity and biting bugs) so I will just do a quick recap of the last week. 

On Sunday, November 10, my 65th birthday, we dinghied to town to clear out, which was a painless process. We saw Tara one last time, bought some junk food for the passage at Bush’s supermarket, and enjoyed ice cream bars on the dock in celebration of my birthday before pulling up anchor in the early afternoon. Our trip to Guatemala was not worth any narrative. We motored most of the time against wind and current under gloomy skies, reaching Amatique Bay and anchoring on the south side of the peninsula of Punta de Manabique at 6 a.m. on Monday afternoon, November 11, around 3 p.m., too late in the day to clear in. We spent a peaceful night there surrounded by a green mangrove and palm coastline.

Tara and Peter

The next morning, we pulled up anchor at 6 a.m. to motor across the bay to the mouth of the Rio Dulce and cross the bar to reach the border town of Livingston on a rising spring tide. Unfortunately, Peter had made a small error inputting the waypoints and we were too far south. We were close to no clearance, and a lancha with two men raced out to us, wildly gesturing. When asked, they indicated that they had been sent by the agent we had contacted in advance. They wanted to take a halyard and pull us over to get through, but we were sure we did not need that service. They then insisted on guiding us in. In the chaos, we had no choice but to follow them although we could have managed on our own, we are sure. Anchored off the town of Livingston, they took us to one of the docks in town. Carlos, the older man whom I had a bad feeling about from the beginning, said the service would cost $75 US. We had been quoted $60 for being pulled over and guided in, so we refused to pay that much, and Peter said he would pay the agent, Raul, who would then pay the guide his share. The man was hopping mad, but Peter was unbending. 

At the agent’s office, we met Raul’s nephew, Genser, who could not have been more pleasant or professional. Peter said he suspected that Raul had not sent Carlos, and Genser confirmed this. The man blatantly lied! We proceeded to provide our documents for Genser to process. During the discussion, Peter asked what would be the normal charge for guiding across the bar, and Genser told us no more than $30! 

Processing our immigration and clearance of the boat would take about an hour, we were told, so we wandered about town, getting Guatemalan quetzals at an ATM, buying a courtesy flag at a small shop and having breakfast at a little restaurant. Vendors were setting up stands along the main street with souvenirs, including beautifully woven cloth and a lot of kitsch and, unfortunately, the shells of hawksbill turtles. There were a few motorcyles and three-wheeled taxis, but most people were on foot. Most of the women were dressed in long skirts comprised of a couple of yards of fabric gathered at the waist and falling in multiple deep folds to the ankles. Their blouses were embroidered with colorful threads mostly in floral designs or they wore lacy, loose, colorful tops over a darker undershirt. The town was rustic but the streets were clean; it was busy but not hectic or crowded.

Women in traditional dress in Livingston

Side street in Livingston

Community outdoor laundry facility in Livingston

Souvenirs including a hawksbill turtle shell

After we picked up our passports and paperwork, we returned to the dock, with Peter prepared to confront the man about his deception about being sent by Raul and to chastise him for his greed. Carlos insisted on $60, and Peter just turned on his heel and marched off to the agent’s office with Carlos walking beside him, ranting, and me following behind. At the office, Genser and Carlos went back and forth in Spanish. I could follow the conversation, which kept circling around, and finally told Peter just to hand him the quetzal equivalent of $30 and be done with it. Carlos stormed off. Obviously, getting him to take us back to our boat would be unpleasant if not impossible, but Genser called for the man they always used as a guide, Hector, who brought his larger, more powerful boat up to the dock and cheerfully transported us. People like Carlos make the first impression of a country negative, but fortunately this is mitigated by gracious and fair people such as Genser and Raul.

We headed upstream right away. Above the mouth of the river is a 6-mile long gorge. The steeply sloping walls are covered in vegetation including mahogany, teak and palm trees; lianas trail and tumble down from the branches, and we saw large clusters of purple flowers interspersed among the various shades of green. Great egrets were ubiquitous, flying overhead and perching like elegant ornaments on the branches of the trees. 

Great egrets in the gorge

One of several tree swallows who came along for the ride

Geologically, the river basin is interesting. Harder, less easily eroded rock must stretch across the route of the river through the canyon, forcing the water to etch its way through its narrow, meandering path. Six miles upstream, the river opens up and becomes more shallow. Islands of various sizes create loopy streams, and the shores are lined with trees, slender reeds and sedges, and lily pads. This 2-mile wide area of the river, which seems like a large lake, is called the Gulfete, and sitting on stilts out over the water or hiding among the trees are a variety of dwellings from humble, small abodes of the local Garifuna families to finely crafted vacation homes and expat houses, often with large lanchas or sailboats on their docks. Fortunately, they are spaced far enough apart that they are picturesque rather than being eyesores.

Lakefront properties in the Gulfete

The Gulfete stretches from east to west, heading upstream, for 10 miles and then the river becomes more narrow, more like a river. And it becomes more populated. We started to see marinas on both the north and the south shores and ahead was one of the largest bridges in Central America, connecting the north shore town of Fronteras, commonly just referred to as Rio Dulce, and El Relleno. Constructed high enough to allow passage of tall masts into Lake Izabel upstream, the slope of the roadbed forces heavily loaded trucks to cross the bridge at lumbering speeds in low gear. 

We stopped in Texas Bay in the Gulfete that night in order to leave several sails for repair with a sail maker and rigger there (a guy formerly from Ohio). It started to rain shortly after we anchored, so we enjoyed the snowy egrets and comorants coming in to roost instead of taking down the mainsail.  Later, after the rain, we kayaked to a restaurant and afterwards, under a nearly full moon, paddled around the area.

The next day was dry and calm and perfect for taking down the main. We spent a couple of hours at the loft, leaving behind not only the main but the spinnaker, the staysail and mainsail cover, all of which are in need of minor but necessary repairs.

Since departing from San Andres, we had been in contact with our friends on S/V Mahi, Carla, Joe and Ethan Barrett, whom we met in Port Antonio, Jamaica (even though their house is quiet nears ours in California and both Joe and Peter worked at Intel in Folsom). Carla is one of the most sociable people I have ever met, and she is generous with her wealth of knowledge about everything here in Rio. They arrived here in the early summer and spent a couple of months at home, and they have now been back here for several weeks. 

After anchoring near their marina and cleaning up, we had dinner with them that evening at the restaurant there, which was lovely. Our first job in Río was to find a place to leave our boat for a couple of months. Carla and Joe seem to love Tijax, but we wanted to check out several options and recommendations. So the next morning, we set off in our lopsided dinghy with one leaking tube (but at least the engine is working reliably!). We visited Catamaran Island Marina, which we really liked. We dinghied past Monkey Bay Marina on the other side of the river; we had been told it had no space, but we would probably not have chosen it anyway because of the wakes from frequently passing lanchas. We then pulled into the dinghy dock at RAM Marine, a boatyard where another Sundeer is currently on the hard. Peter wanted to get a quote and consider getting the bottom painted. We also liked this facility but ultimately decided that we do not need to haul out right now, even though the prices are reasonable. We were beginning to understand why Río Dulce has become a mecca for yachties. Some people come here year after year for the hurricane season; others come for a hurricane season and never leave; many come for a few weeks to visit and end up staying for months. Right now the climate is pleasant, although it can still get skin-frying hot in the afternoons and I have been total the summer can be brutal, and, well, it’s the tropics, so there are bugs. But all the marinas are beautiful and even the boatyard was more attractive than most. The local people and the yachties are very friendly, and the boaters have formed a strong community. 

Anyway, we were getting hungry, and I texted Carla on WhatsApp about lunch suggestions. We decided to meet at a hotel/restaurant/marina where they had stayed on land for a few days while their boat was hauled out for engine repairs. Carla had mentioned that we might want to consider leaving our boat there. Boatique, which we finally chose as for our berthing, served delicious food for lunch. It is located on a creek off the river, secluded and protected and quiet (except for howler monkeys). After talking with the owners of this new facility, we decided that although it does not offer a social life like Catamaran Island, it works for us, particularly since we won’t be on the boat for two months. 

After lunch and docking discussions, we went back to Tijax Marina to visit with the owners of another Sundeer, S/V Tamarisk, David and Anna. The owners of the 20+ Sundeers throughout the world always like to connect whenever they are in the same port. They are busy working on their boat, but we had a nice time talking with them. Then, we looked for the Barretts around the marina. We had just about given up on finding them when we encountered Carla at reception, out of breath and telling the staff that another marina guest had called her in a panic about a close encounter with a pig and a large, unfriendly black dog on the path from the road to the docks. In the end, the friend was all right but shaken up.

We had planned to go into town for a few provisions, but it was getting near sunset and we had been out all day, so we went back to our boat and added provisioning to the to-do list for the next day. 

On Friday morning (November 15), we meant to start running errands by mid-morning, but we got busy with cleaning, organizing and taking down the genoa. One task led to another, and it was afternoon before we set off. We went to Mar Marine because someone who came by in the morning to get bottom paint we were giving away to re-paint the shark teeth on his bow told us we might be able to get our liquid propane tank re-filled there. Also, I wanted to donate some galley items to Pass It On, which is at that marina, give away some guide books and find a place to recycle. Pass It On was able to help us with all of that, but by then we were quite famished, so we decided to have lunch at Jade, the restaurant there, before going to town. The food was quite good but the portions were enormous, so the leftovers became today’s lunch. 

Our next stop was in town for groceries. Another couple (from Yorkshire) had just arrived at the dinghy dock of the popular restaurant/bar called Sundog when we did, and they showed us the produce vendors and the grocery store, which is owned by Walmart but does not resemble a Walmart in any way. The main street through town, unlike laid-back Livingston, bustles with pedestrian and vehicular traffic, including the large trucks using the bridge. The fronts of stores sit right along the street. There are no sidewalks, just a narrow berm, so pedestrians share space with a constant stream of trucks, cars and motorcycles. Narrow, shaded alleys--too narrow for vehicles-- shoot off from the main road, and they are crowded with merchandise hanging from awnings above baskets, buckets and boxes containing a variety of items, including knock-off clothes and toys and second-hand items. Perhaps when the sun is at its zenith, some light penetrates into these shadowed arcades, but I suspect they are always dim. I did not venture down these alleys, but I was very happy to be able to avoid haggling and to buy vegetables at an extremely reasonable price from a vendor who was helpful on the main street.

Finally, we made it to Tijax, where we had thought we would be in the morning. David had heard us on the cruisers’ net in the morning, inquiring about a dehumidifier, and had radioed to offer us his. By the time we arrived, he and Anna were wondering if we ever would. We had anticipated paying for the equipment, but it was a gift which we will pass on when we do not need it. 

Earlier in the day, I had heard from Carla that she was sick again. She had acquired two nasty parasites earlier in the year, beforing summer in California. She was misdiagnosed there despite telling the doctor she had been in the tropics and did not get proper care until they returned here earlier this fall. Finally, she had just started feeling better, but then, yesterday, other symptoms arose, and a visit to the doctor and quick turnaround lab work revealed a new parasite! Poor Carla! She swears she will only eat food she has prepared herself on her own boat until they leave Guatemala. We visited with the Barretts to see how she was faring before we left Tijax and went home with a full dinghy after another long day.

This morning, we brought the boat to Boatique and have settled in at the dock. The staff is doing my laundry now. I am not allowed to use bleach on the boat because it ruins the valves in the pumps, so I am delighted that they are able to add a little Clorox to my load of white sheets. 

Ducks in the creek by our boat

David and Anna are coming for drinks and to see our boat at 5 o'clock, unless deterred by the rain. (It is a rainforest!) Both Peter and David can talk endlessly about Dashew boats in particular and boats in general. I think Anna and I may go to the restaurant and discuss other aspects of life.

Stuck in Útila by Weather

It’s now Saturday, Nov. 9, and there continues to be entirely too much rain for us in Útila. There has been torrential rain and a few squalls, and the anchorage has become very rocky. If we weren’t used to living on a boat, we might get seasick just being at anchor here.

We snorkeled on the afternoon of Thursday, Nov. 7, and it was great, but we have not had another opportunity because of the depressing overcast skies and rain falling in buckets. It is not hot, but we have had to use the air-conditioning just to get some of the ambient moisture out of the boat.

A friend of Peter’s brother Rob’s nextdoor neighbor in England has lived here for 25 years, and we got in touch with Tara and met her for frozen lemonade on Thursday and again for dinner last night at Chez Pancho, where she, a friend of hers and Peter enjoyed Argentinian steak and I had an omelet with yummy fresh mushrooms. 

There is one main street paralleling the waterfront in the town of Utila. It is lined with dive shops, hostels and a few restaurants as well as little stores selling random pieces of clothing and an assortment of toys and household goods, the clothes and other things looking like merchandise found in a thrift shop or a dollar store. I have no idea where the proprietors source there miscellaneous wares. The main grocery store, Bush’s, stocks a lot of American brands of packaged food, including ramen noodles and the type of food we would take camping, obviously catering to the many young people who come here from the States and other parts of the world to get certified in various levels of diving. They live in rooms let by local homeowners or in rather squalid looking apartment buildings. There are no cars although quite a few motorcycles and four-wheelers share the narrow paved streets with pedestrian traffic, weaving in and out around parked vehicles on whichever side of the road is free.

The expats whom we have met here came to dive and never left. It’s not a place I would choose, but I can see that the laid-back, slow pace of life and tight community of people would be appealing to some people. 

Peter and I hope to leave for Guatemala tomorrow. We got ready to take the dinghy in to shore during a brief respite in the rain, and then peals of thunder and flashes of lightning appeared before we could cast off, so we have not left the boat all day. It has been really boring and a bit miserable. We have our fingers crossed for a passage tomorrow.

Expats and Coral Reefs of Guanaja

On Halloween morning, we moved Mantra back to the lee side of Bonacca Cay (We had moved the previous afternoon to be away from the town.) so that we could clear in with the port captain, whom we just missed the previous afternoon. Another man greeted us on the dock and directed us where to tie up our dinghy and helped us out. He wanted to show us where to find everything, but we explained that we had already paid Mario too much the previous day for that service. Nevertheless, he followed us to the port captain’s office and waited outside for money, which we did not give him. Also at the dock, a young boy asked if we would pay him to watch our dinghy. I asked an adult nearby why he wasn’t in school and was told that he goes when he feels like it! Although there was absolutely no need to have the dinghy watched, particularly since we chained it to the dock, Peter agreed to give him a dollar when we returned in a couple of hours.

After our business at the port captain’s office, we went to the bar where Mario had told us the ex-pats gather on Thursdays. We were too late for lunch, which consisted of one choice, but we each had a beer and chatted with people from the US and Germany who have made Guanaja, Honduras their home. There are quite a few characters in the expat community of the island, but they were all very welcoming and invited us to visit them at their homes. 

We then went in search of lunch and found a cute little restaurant, Pat's Pizza. We decided to share a vegetarian pizza. The owner told us it would be ready in 30-35 minutes if we wanted to return, so we walked around some more. Along the windward shore of the cay, we were awed by Magnificent Frigatebirds in flight. (Magnificent is not used as an adjective; it’s part of the name. But, they are magnificent.) It must be mating season, because the males, which are all black, had bright red throat pouches which they can inflate to attract mates. Both genders have long, forked, scissor-like tails. The leading edge of their exceptionally long wings form a wide, obtuse angle.  The females also sport iridescent black feathers except for their breasts, which are white. Relative to their weight, Magnificent Frigatebirds have the largest wingspan of any bird. They are a joy to watch in flight.

Female Magnificent Frigatebird

When we returned to the small, comfortable and colorfully decorated restaurant, the pizza was not yet ready, so we waited. Then, a young female employee brought it to us, all wrapped up in foil and placed in a large plastic bag. We explained that we had hoped to eat it there. After some confusion, we learned that the restaurant was actually closed, although the door was open. They had stayed to make our pizza. We told them we had not realized that they were closed and got ready to pay and leave when an old woman, perhaps the mother of the owner, came out and insisted that we sit down to enjoy our pizza. She said that she would remain so that the young woman could go home for lunch. She was so gracious that we could not refuse her generous offer--besides, we were really hungry and the pizza smelled really good!

We bought some produce and a freshly baked loaf of bread and returned to the dock. The boy saw us coming and ran over to our dinghy; he couldn’t have seen it from where he was. Peter gave him the equivalent of a dollar plus some change in limperas, the national currency. Rather than cheerfully thanking us, he just pouted and said, “Another dollar?” Peter told him that if he did not go to school and study hard, he might end up on that dock for the rest of his life, trying to make enough money doing menial tasks. He didn’t seem to care.

Back on Mantra, we pulled up anchored and went back to El Bight, our previous location and enjoyed a quiet evening.

It was an organizing and inventory day on Friday, Nov. 1. I organized all the cleaning supplies that were under the bathroom sink and the sink in our bedroom and moved the ones that are for on deck cleaner to the aft lazarette. The previous owners had duplicates of many things.  For example, the varnished wood floor (or sole) of the interior is just not that big, so I cannot understand why there would be a need for four different types of floor cleaning liquids. There are also four different gallon containers of mold and mildew cleaner which I have not had to use since we bought the boat in March 2018. 

In the aft lazarette, which Peter and I worked on together, there are a number of solvents, several different kinds of metal polish, various brands and types of fiberglass cleaner and wax, brass cleaners, canvas cleaners and waterproofing agents and other maintenance substances. It will take us years to use all of them.

Early in the evening, after leftover pizza, we dinghied over to the palapa covered bar of Hans Pico, a German expat whom we met on Thursday. We were the only custumers, so we conversed with him about his life, his farming, his beer brewing and his wine making from tropical fruits.

On Saturday, Nov. 2, after a slow morning, we dinghied over to visit Jim and Cathy, US expats from the backwoods of Georgia who have lived on the island for over 25 years. He was an underwater demolition specialist and she was an herbalist. As we have gotten to know the various expats in Honduras,we have realized that there is a difference in character between them and the ones we met in Boca de Toros, Panamá. In Panamá, the expats seemed to be retired professional people who have left their countries for a tropical paradise where they can buy property relatively cheaply on their savings and have a less hectic lifestyle than in the States or elsewhere. On Guanaja, the expats all seem to be non-conformists who chose to settle here to live off the land, grow marijuana as well as other crops, and have little interference from any government. If we were going to become expats, one of the motivating factors for us would be escape from the pro-gun culture in the States. The expats in Guanaja are gun loving folks who believe that their rights to own and use guns was too restricted in the US!

After our visit with Jim and Cathy, we went to the restaurant up on the hill above El Bight called Mi Casa Too. Each of the risers of the 167 steps are painted in bright colors as are various signposts along the way, so the climb is enjoyable. We were attending a fundraising event for a local environmental non-profit. We joined some other expats we had met on Bonacca Cay on Thursday. As part of the festivities, there was a game of ocean trivia, with categories such as coral, mangroves, global warming and plastic. Of the five teams, ours won easily; I knew the answers to all the questions! We had dinner and drinks while we were there and stayed until a later afternoon shower, which produced a wonderful percussion on the rooftop, ceased and we made our way back to our boat in the night.

Peter ascending the stairs to Mi Casa Too

The skies were clear as the morning began on the morning of Sunday, Nov. 3, but by the time we were debating what to do, torrential rain began and Peter was able to fill all of our bottles for drinking water and put about 200 gallons in the tanks. After lunch, we pulled up anchor just as another sailboat was coming into the anchorage. We traveled for about a half hour to the north side of Josh’s Cay, part of a long reef that borders the southeast end of the island. Another sailboat was there, but it was pulling up anchor as we circled to find a spot, so we had the place to ourselves. (This seems to be our modus operandi.)

We put the anchor, the rope ladder and snorkeling gear in the dinghy and motored over to the gently breaking waves of the fringe reef. On the inside, there was grass and sand and a few coral patches, but we found a shallow way through the breakers, following an ocean triggerfish,and came across an entirely different marine environment where coral canyons ten to twenty feet deep formed narrow rows with white sandy bottoms. Hundreds of blue tangs and doctorfish greeted us, and we also saw gorgeous adult and juvenile French angelfish among the other types of angelfish, parrotfish, wrasses, snappers and other tropical fish. Peter discovered an octopus and I spotted a couple of small toadfish hiding under ledges. There was an abundance of elkhorn coral. All of the coral seemed healthy except for patches of fire coral, which were bleached to pure white, their algae killed by something which did not seem to affect the other species.

We stopped on Josh’s Cay on the way back to Mantra to check out the resort called Grahm’s Place. It is a lovely, well-maintained resort with colorful bungalows and an attractive restaurant and bar stretched along a sandy beach. Hammocks hang from trees and three green parrots and one red and blue macaw squawk from their cage, which I think is much too small for them. 

On Monday, Nov. 4, in the morning, Peter worked yet again on the small dinghy motor. I believe that he has spent more time working on that engine than we have actually used it. After a couple of hours, he was quite optimistic that he had it running well. He took it for a test run and then we put our snorkeling gear in to go to another part of the fringe reef. The engine fired right up, and then it died suddenly only 100 feet from the boat. After another ten minutes or so of fiddling, Peter had it running again, and we made it to the reef. We had to duck walk backward over the highest part to get to the outside, where the coral formations dropped off into the depths. The best thing we saw was a nine foot nurse shark quietly resting on the sandy bottom between reef ridges. It was, we think, the largest one we have ever seen. There were also blue and French angelfish, both adults and juveniles, yellowtail snappers and Rock Beauties as well as one unwanted lionfish. 

In the late afternoon, we dinghied over to the main island to visit expats from Michigan, Don and Annette and their daughter Asalen. Don worked in construction before retiring, and he is obviously a stickler for quality and detail. Their property is simply gorgeous, although just three years ago it was jungle and muddy swamp. They have a long dock which meets the land on a large sandy beach. Inland from this is their garden with fruit trees and vegetables, bordered by blossoming tropical shrubs. Their home is comprised of three main buildings connected by covered walkways and rising up the hillside. The lowest is the living area and the middle is an entertainment area with its own full kitchen and a large solid mahogany table produced by local craftspeople, as was all of their rattan furniture. Their bedrooms, with an expansive verandah encircling the building, are in the highest building with a panoramic view of the lower property, the sea and the cays south of the island. The predominant color is turquoise, inside and out, and it is an extremely tranquil and welcoming place. They have made themselves a tropical paradise.

After visiting with them, we dinghied over to Graham’s Place. It is low season in the Bay Islands, so there was only one family having dinner besides us. We were so impressed with this resort. Everything looks like a fresh coat of bright paint was just expertly applied last week. The sand is freshly raked. Plus, the service was excellent, menu was extensive and the food we ordered was delicious and a nice change from our cuisine on the boat.

The next morning, Tuesday, Nov. 5, we pulled up anchor and sailed and motored around the eastern end of the island to Michael's Rock. This anchorage had been recommended for its excellent snorkeling. A wide reef extends along the entire north shore of Guanaja; weeks could be spent here without snorkeling in the same place twice. The part that we swam over was without a doubt the most spectacular shallow reef we have seen, with a great variety of coral, sponges, algae, gorgonians and fish. I even saw a small turtle (not sure if it was a hawksbill or a green turtle). Among the mutlitude of jacks, grunts, angelfish, butterflyfish, snappers, squirrelfish, parrotfish, wrasses, surgeonfish, damselfish and other tropical fish, we saw a large queen angelfish; a long trumpetfish; little iridescent blue chromis that seem to glow from inside; an abundance of barred, blue and indigo hamlets; a red hind (a type of grouper) with its tan speckled body and black margined tail; a spotted burrfish; a balloonfish; and a smooth trunkfish. My hands and feet were like prunes by the time I returned to the boat. 

Right before sunset, we pulled up anchor to head off to the island of Útila on an overnight sail. We put up the mainsail inside the protected reef while heading into the wind and then, while, turning back on course, accidently and suddenly ran into a large chunk of reef, making a crunching, grating sound. “Reverse, reverse!” I yelled and we backed off. That was a first, and we don’t want to do that again!

Sailing and motoring overnight, only encountering one brief squall and no pirates, we arrived mid-morning today, Nov. 6--greeted by dolphins, including a baby--in the bay off the only town on the small island of Útila. The sun was intense by the time we dropped anchor, making even the teak sole of the cockpit fiery on our feet. Peter is now sleeping since he was awake more than I was during the night. When he awakes, we will explore the town and then figure out where to snorkle. Reefs are everywhere! This is our last stop before leaving the boat in Rio Dulce, Gautemala, so it’s the last opportunity for snorkeling this year.

Dophins off the bow

Guanaja, Honduras

Land Ho!

It’s Wednesday, Oct. 30, and, after four nights and four days of sailing (with very little motoring), Peter and I arrived at Guanaja, one of the Bay Islands of Honduras. The trip was mostly uneventful, although Peter thought another boat was tailing us the first night. We maneuvered away. Our route was circuitous and about twice as long as it would have been if we had stayed near the coast. For cruisers, the idea is to be far enough away from shore to make it not worth the expense of gasoline (which is high) for pirates to find and attack us. Like almost every other pleasure boat in this area of the Caribbean, we “went dark.”  We used our radar only to track squalls, and we set our AIS (Automatic Identification System) to receive only. We did not use the tri-color navitation light on the top of our 65-foot mast, preferring to use lights on deck, to minimize the chance that we would be spotted visually at night from far away. We stashed our personal computers and our GoogleFi phone down below and hoped that, should we be boarded, the pirates, who are really just desperate, poor fishermen trying to survive, would not find our hiding places. We were lucky; perhaps our enormous pirate flag deterred them.

Yesterday, another warbler chose to come on board, but he only stayed for a short period of time. Meanwhile, we were delighted with brown boobies in the air around us during the day. They look very handsome in flight with torpedo-shaped bodies, stark white on the bottom, which is what is seen when they are flying and a wide ebony collar accentuating the white head and yellowish white beak. Their long brown-black wings are streaked with wide stripes of white on the underside. They soar and glide, dip and dive into the water searching for fish but also appearing to have great fun.

Warbler stopping for a visit

Two nights ago, the sky was clear of clouds and the Milky Way looked like pulled vanilla taffy with white candy speckles, stretched from one horizon to the other side. It was a new moon, so lunar light did not interfer with the spectacle of galaxies far away.  As the sun set last night, the stars filled the dome of the sky again, but soon clouds billowed out over the water from the far-away mainland, bringing squalls. We were unable to avoid them as they paraded across our path, carrying torrential rain and high winds, with gusts up to 30 mph. The autopilot was overwhelmed, so Peter had to manhandle the wheel while being drenched with driving rain in order to keep us on course. The first time, we had no reefs in, but we discussed putting a reef or two in the mainsail  after the first squall. It was a short discussion because we remembered the sailor’s axiom: If you are thinking you might need to put in a reef, then you need to put in a reef!

There was still rain in various directions in the morning, but we avoided them. A perk was three different rainbows over a period of an hour this morning.

Rainbow over a storm cloud

After showering, getting the boat tidied up (when we discovered a dead six inch squid are the foredeck) and eating lunch, Peter and I launched the dinghy from the foredeck and headed to the main town on Bonacca Cay to visit the customs and immigration offices and check in with the port captain. 

Poor squid could not find a way back into the sea

A friendly man greeted us at the dinghy dock and offered to show us where to find everything. We had read about clearing in online, so we would have been fine on our own, but these types of “guides” that can be encountered throughout the world, stick to you like leeches. We assumed that we would either pay or tip him for his services, but he didn’t want to discuss it up front. It was only when we were heading back to the dinghy dock that he told us his fee is $50 US! Peter is almost always easy-going, but he was quite upset and frustrated. He told Mario that we should have been told the price at the dock and not on the way back to the dock. Peter also explained that such a price was well beyond minimum wage in the US; he was with us for less than an hour. We did pay him but not nearly as much as he asked.

Bonacca Cay, which is about one acre in size, is home to about 10,000 people, almost the entire population of Guanaja, but it didn’t really seem crowded. What impressed us was how clean and relatively well-maintained the city is. The sidewalks are nicely paved. (There are no cars.) Houses and shops are painted in bright colors; inside, they are furnished with just the basics, but they are attactive and tidy. There is no litter on the street or tossed up on the shoreline. There were a lot of stores, and the place seemed vibrant. This was a welcome change from similar places we visited in Panamá.

Bonacca Cay from our boat

And now it is time for bed. While I slept for longer periods of time than Peter over the last four days, I am still sleep-deprived.

Out into the Scary Pirate-Infested Sea

Thursday, Oct. 24, was yet another day with little to do. In the afternoon, Peter and I took the dinghy out to a wreck on the ring reef and snorkeled in the crystal clear water among huge schools of doctor fish and blue tang. I spotted an ocean triggerfish, and Peter discovered two octopi and an eel hiding out in the coral. Among the colorful coral encrusted metal remains of the ship I found a large frogfish quietly sitting near the bottom, unperturbed by our presence. We also saw a couple of filefish and other fish which, despite my page turning in our reef fish books, we could not identify, although I suspect that the slender tangerine fish with lilac trim were juvenile forms of some species of wrasse.

In the night, the wind picked up and we our anchor chain was pulled taut, so we had to turn on the engine and the windlass and increase our scope. Earlier in the day, just as we returned from snorkeling, a French boat had to re-anchor because of squally winds.

On Friday, Oct. 25, we provisioned for our trip to Honduras and met with our agent to clear out. Now it is Saturday, and we are getting the boat ready to leave. Peter is worrying about pirate attacks and I am worrying about going stark raving mad being at sea for approximately five days and nights. (I hope not more than that!) I will need to suspend posting until we arrive at the Bay Islands of Honduras or Guatemala.

Back in Colombia

As it turned out on Friday (Oct. 18), Peter returned from Almirante shortly after 2:30 p.m., and we were able to get to the Port Captain’s office in time to clear the boat out. Then we had to go to the office of Customs, where the agent completed our paperwork in advance of seeing the boat since we told him our printer on board is not working and he needed to give us a copy of the paperwork. Then it was a 15 minute walk to the airport for Immigration to stamp our passports. We stopped for a few provisions on the way back to the Port Captain’s office, where we met up with the Customs agent, who rode with us in our dinghy for a quick boat inspection. So, after 5 hours, a water taxi round-trip, 2 towns and 4 agencies, we were free to leave Panamá. 

We enjoyed a nice evening at the Bocas Marina. We went for the Friday evening barbecue. Peter had barbecued meat and vegetables and I was thrilled with the vegetarian pizza which includes asparagus and dollops of mozzarella cheese. Both meals were huge, and we saved half for the trip at sea. We socialized with an older man and his slightly younger wife, he from South Africa and she from Toronto; a German couple; and the father and three kids from British Columbia. It was a very pleasurable way to enjoy our last evening in Panamá.

Our plan was to leave around 10 p.m. on Friday evening, but we delayed our departure for a few hours because my dad was in the hospital and, basically, we wanted to make sure it was unlikely he would die within the next two days while we were at sea. He was still alive and more than ready to get out of the hospital when we arrived in San Andres, Colombia, but he was still being held captive for a variety of reasons. He finally escaped on Monday.

The trip from Bocas del Toro to San Andrés took about 38 hours. There was only wind sufficient for sailng for about 10 of those hours, so we had to motor much more than we would have liked, adding engine hours, using diesel fuel and polluting the environment. The seas were calm, so at least the ride was smooth. But a boat is still plowing her way through the water under power. When we are sailing, the boat becomes more in tune with the ambiant conditions, moving with the wind, waves and swells, and the trip is much more pleasant. Also, when we are using the engine, we have to use our steaming lights at night, so we are casting a bright white glow off the stern, ruining the view of the bioluminescence trailing out like a stream of bright, transient stars in our wake. When sailing, the navigation lights are all up on the mast, so at our level on the deck, it is dark.

On Saturday morning, Oct. 19, we were joined, one by one, by four gorgeous yellow warblers (at least one appeared to be a Thompson’s warbler with two white wing bands, and they may all have been morphs) and one handsome bank swallow with a dark back and wings, highlighted with iridescent blue; a light brown collar; and a fluffy cream chest and belly, mottled with light cinammon. At first, they sat on the life lines or the winches on the stern, but then the warblers became curious and accustomed to our presence. After a few hours, they were hopping and flitting about in the pilot house, darting in and out of hatches, exploring down below and tamely sitting on us. We went through a rain shower in the late afternoon, and the swallow flew away, but the warblers made themselves at home and, as night approached, found themselves comfortable places to sleep for the night, two on deck and two down below. We are pretty sure that they are migrating south, so they were going the wrong direction when they stayed with us, but they did get some rest. 

Warbler with distinctive wing bars 

Do birds yawn?

Bank swallow helping to steer

Blue coloring in the feathers visible

Warbler taking a turn at the wheel

Close-up of warbler's head 

Warbler ready to help out on the winch

Warbler on watch 

Well-groomed bird with beautiful coloring and nice crest

Warbler with black eye patch

Warbler playing cards

Warblers resting on Peter

Three warblers on Peter 

Warbler ready to help with radio communication

One by one on Sunday morning, Oct. 20, they flew away except for one, which remained below, huddled up. Peter carried it up, but it would not fly. We gave it some water,which it drank, put it in a small cereal bowl with a little water to make a bird bath to cool it down and offered it some papaya, which it refused. Then, it just lay down on its side and would not get up at all. It died quickly and peacefully, and, after saying a few words of thanks for the joy it had brought to us, we buried it at sea. 

Little bird about 20 minutes before it died

We were hoping to get it to land, and we were in sight of Isla de San Andrés when it died, but we had been worried about how to conceal a live animal on board. Perhaps luckily for us it was gone, because we were boarded by the military (which is not unusual) while we were maneuvering through the zig-zag channel to the bay. 

The anchorage off the waterfront of the town of San Andrés is small and filled with pleasure craft and a few sunken vessels, so we had to spend some time finding a good place to anchor. We had arranged by radio to meet with the maritime agent we had contacted, Julian Watson, at 3 p.m., but it was already close to that time by the time we settled in, so we called him to re-arranged for the next morning. This meant that we could not go ashore, but we were tired, sweaty and hungry, and we didn’t mind staying on board and going to bed early. Luckily, we still had our leftovers from Bocas, so we had a great meal.

At 8 a.m. on Monday morning, Oct. 21, we met him at Nene’s Marina directly on shore from our  boat. In addition to him, an agent from Immigration and an agent from the municipal office were waiting for us. The whole process went very smoothly, and after paying $166, we were free to enter Colombia again. We spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon exploring El Centro and the waterfront on Spratt Bight on the northeast shore of the island. The weather was overcast with intermittent rain showers, which we mostly avoided by stopping for food and drink. Our first stop was across from the beach on Spratt Way, where we indulged in a yummy crepe filled and topped with arequipe (dulce de leche), slivers of toasted coconut and fresh whipped cream. After wandering around some more (stopping, of course, in a hardware store), we chatted with the South African man who is anchored next to us, whom we encountered near the marina, and then went in search of a restaurant for lunch. We were fortunate to choose the Regatta Restaurant next to the marina of Club Nautico for three reasons. First, it has a wonderful ambience with eclectic decorations. Secondly, the food was delicious. I had a vegetarian bowl that was both beautiful and delectable, and Peter enjoyed a bowl with rice steeped in molasses, fried plantains and fish cracklings. The third reason was that the rain began to pour right as our food was served, so we remained dry through the heaviest rainstorm of the day. 

We searched out two stores selling outboard motors, one Yamaha and one Suzuki, to see what was available. The Archipelielago de San Andres, Providencia y Santa Catalina was declared a duty free zone in the early 1950s, so there was a possibility that prices would be good.  Prices were comparable to those in the U.S., not only at the stores selling motors but at the few stores we stopped in with American brands such as Columbia Sportswear, where the prices were the equivalent of full retail in the U.S. (and who pays full retail?). For the mainland Colombians who arrive here with empty suitcases for a shopping vacation, the prices are good value as the taxes on imported goods are high.

The shopping areas and the waterfront are filled with life-size sculptures of characters representative of the culture and history of the island, including some pirates. I made Peter pose with them. We are now flying our giant black pirate flag, hoping to scare the real pirates whom we must avoid as we continue north and then west to Roatán and then Guatemala.

Which one looks more like a pirate?

Peter as a pirate but still wearing his Aussie hat

Mantra's pirate flag flies again

In 2000, the entire archipelago was declared a UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve and named Seaflower, and the city is obviously trying to raise awareness of environmental protection with signage and recycling campaigns. There are some fanciful sculptures made from re-purposed plastic near the government buidlings which are quite colorful and charming.

Colorful tropical fish sculpture 

Reef sculpture

Tuesday, Oct. 22, was a cleaning day. I took hours to thoroughly clean everything down below, even the cushions on the couches and seating around the table. While doing so, I found a dead warbler hidden behind some throw pillows. Peter had to send it to a watery grave like the other. It’s a good thing the officials didn’t find it. While I slaved away down below in the heat, Peter took apart and cleaned winches while a cruiser from South Africa whom we met the previous day was busy cleaning the hull--when he wasn’t entertaining Peter with stories.

Today, Wednesday, Oct. 23, I did four loads of laundry while Peter worked on various things. We must have opened and closed the hatches a dozen times as brief showers fell intermittently throughout the day. We met a German woman on the dinghy dock when we went in to check on getting diesel and to find ice cream for a treat. She and her friend who owns a nearby boat came over for drinks. Since both of them have expertise with engines and generators, a large part of the lively conversation was an analysis of all the possible causes for our generator’s erractic behavior of running maybe for two minutes or maybe for an hour and then cutting out suddenly and then staying on once it is re-started. It’s just a mystery!

As soon as we get a good weather window, we will begin to sail (or motor) north, staying at least 100 miles offshore of Nicaragua and Hondurus to avoid pirates. If it seems safe to go to Roatán, we will stop there; otherwise, we will head straight for the Caribbean coast of Guatemala, where we plan to leave the boat for a couple of months.