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.