On The Rio – A few degrees from our normal

Welcome to the Rio Dulce. 
Murals add color to El Relleno, the community on the other side of the bridge and Fronteras.

“Hey, its Guatemala out there!”

Bud repeats this several times a week as a morning greeting to Tracy. He says it partly for his twisted comedy, but also, in repeating the words, he remind us to more fully appreciate this fascinating place. We want to take it all in.

We do marvel at our achievement in getting here by our own wits. We are immensely thrilled about that. Our travels along the US east coast, down the Intracoastal Waterway, to the Florida Keys and more, were all important to us, but over time we began to view our travels by boat as cruising with training wheels. We expected more but were not sure whether that was realistic.  

It wasn’t until we arrived in Guatemala, which we embraced as a destination rather than just another roadside attraction, that we realized that our cruising life had changed.  

Guatemala is remarkable not merely because of the obvious differences, but oddly, because of the similarities. Not everything here is entirely foreign. We have seen immense billowy clouds and blue skies, colorful birds, rivers, lakes, lush tropical greenery, and of course, humans, always, interesting people in other places. It is just that the colors, sounds, smells, scenery, critters and people of Guatemala show us things that are tweaked just a few degrees from our “normal”- And that has made it all so enchanting.  

We don’t ever recall describing a place as enchanting. We hope we can capture in the following pictures and words why we call Rio Dulce a land of enchantment.     

Up the Rio

Rio Dulce or Sweet River, is indeed a sweet place. The river and the surrounding region offers experiences unlike any other in the Caribbean.

There was so much to capture with the scenery and people going up the Rio.
 Tracy couldn't put her camera down.

Enchanting tropical scenery along the Rio.

Picturesque houses tucked into the greenery line the edge of the Rio.

Looking for a a retirement home?

Our departure from the chaos of Livingston felt like we were making a daring escape up the Rio. We were rewarded almost immediately as we turned a bend in the river to meet the spectacular 300 foot towering walls of the Rio Dulce canyon, drenched in green, and more green, dense tropical vegetation of bromeliads, orchids, vines and flowering trees. It is obvious why Hollywood chose this river for filming the original Tarzan movies.

The first of two hairpin bends in the Rio Dulce canyon.

Lush dense green jungle as we come up the Rio Dulce.

The canyon walls soared 300 feet above us.

Scattered along the riverbank we watched locals deftly paddle impossibly tiny dug-out wooden canoes (“cayucos”). Some cayucos were almost completely hidden in the vegetation as they hugged the riverbank to stay out of the main river current. We marveled at how easily they set their fish traps, tossed their hand lines or cast nets, all from these little boats.

Fishing along the riverbank in cayucos.

   

Casting nets by cayuco is as much of a skill as it is art. 

Watch this short video of the cast.

Transport of building materials by cayuco.

Rush hour on the Rio at sunset.

We spent one night anchored in a small bay along the river before arriving in Fronteras/Rio Dulce. It served as our introduction to Guatemala and we knew immediately that we had arrived in a very special place.

The dude (still with his sailor whiskers) enjoying a beer at anchor
in Bahia Buena Vista.

Warm pan de coco - coconut bread - delivered by cayuco to our boat at anchor.

A cayuco returning home after a long day on the Rio.

Sunset overlooking El Golfete.

Overlooking the Mico Mountains as we head up the last ten miles up the Rio. 

Leilani snuggled in at the "T" dock at Mar Marine, in Shell Bay, just off the Rio Dulce.

Finding Fronteras

While no one would say Rio Dulce and Venice have a lot in common, they do share the dependence on boats as the primary means of transportation. If Venice is at one end of the spectrum with romantic gondolas slowly paddled through winding canals, and elegant architecture, Fronteras is at the other end of the spectrum. It lives up to its name- the Frontier. Fronteras has utilitarian “lanchas” or pangas equipped with outboards speeding by with abandon, and palm frond-covered ramshackle huts, and tin roofed restaurants and markets lining the water edge.

Lanchas ready for tourists to take them up and down the Rio Dulce.

We take our dinghy to Bruno’s Marina/Restaurant dock for convenient access to town. We then walk up to the street to find Fronteras, the bustling, crowded, noisy, and aromatic assault on the senses. Fronteras can at times be a bit overwhelming, but perpetually interesting.

Convenient parking at Bruno's - shared with dinghys.

Fronteras is a transportation hub for the region, with a lone two-lane road running through town. There is not a single traffic signal town, but there are uniformed “officers” that direct traffic to some sort of order. The road is overloaded, packed with bicycles, cars, scooters, motorcycles, Tuc-Tucs, vans, buses, cattle trucks, heavily-laden transports and, of course, pedestrians dodging traffic. The pedestrians are a mix of workers and shoppers moving among the stalls, stands and stores that border the road by mere inches.

As you walk along the road, the same road you share with those big trucks and other traffic, you have to watch your back, and your front for vehicle and people traffic, as well as, for avoiding collisions with the tortilla-making-girls, the stacks of fresh empanadas, the prickly pineapples, the shaved ice guy, the fried chicken carts, and so much more. You also have to watch your feet as you weave along the uneven pavement to try to avoid wrenching an ankle.

Welcome to Fronteras.

Shaved ice carts, pedestrians, and motorcycles all share this two lane road through town.

As well as buses...

And bikes and tuc-tucs.

Not only do you have to worry about traffic walking through town,
you need to be careful not to twist an ankle on the uneven pavement.

The major intersection in the middle of town.

Umbrellas and shops line the edge of the two lane road through town.

Cattle feed for a local finca.

Brahma cattle on vacation seeing the sights as they pass through Fronteras. 

In our first visits along one section of the road we were confused by rapid fire shouting which sounded like hawkers calling patrons to come see the bearded lady at the carnival. Later our ears adjusted to the Spanish and we realized the “hawker” was actually calling passengers for transport in the microbuses or colectivos. “Morales, Morales, Morales” alerted people that this colectivo was leaving for the town of Morales. Later, we would hear other destinations, such as Flores and Paraiso.

Colors seem to be more vibrant here in Guatemala, certainly they are more vibrant than you would see in most any US city. Among the brilliant and varied colors are those found at fruits and vegetable stands. We have found a remarkable bounty of incredibly cheap and very tasty vegetables and fruits. Tuesdays and Saturdays are the best for shopping for the freshest. Since there is no refrigeration, it doesn’t take long for the sweet aromas to change to unpleasant in the tropical heat.

Drive-up convenience at one of the fruit and vegetable stands. 

Colorful fruits and vegetables invite you in.

Fresh lobster brought up the river from Belize.  We bought two.

Local fishermen selling their catch at the fish market.

Other vibrant colors come from many people, particularly the indigenous people, the Maya. Women, in particular, dress neatly in similar outfits of long skirts (cortes) and blouses (huipils), but individualize with colors and adornments.

Other locals in town are also well-dressed in stark contrast to many of us living on boats and the numerous backpacking tourists who often tend to be pretty shabbily dressed. Many look like they are in urgent need of a shower, and in fact, many are.  

Lunch made fresh daily - fried mojarra, chili rellenos,
stewed pork and chicken, rice, salsa, and more.

One of our favorite taco stands in town. 
They also sell stuffed flour tortillas, cooking off to the side.

Remarkable.  Even flowers are for sale here.

A colorful side to Fronteras, just growing on the side of the bridge. 
Don't know this flower yet.

Or this one.  Anyone know what kind of flower this is?

There are many layers here in Guatemala, many are made more obscure by the differences in language and culture. With spending more time here we know many of these interesting layers will be revealed. We appreciate the smiles of the locals who tolerate our halting attempts to communicate or negotiate a purchase of a melon, tomato, or chicken. We forget our embarrassment as we see the locals covering their smirks with their hands and as they mummer their imitation of our butchering of their language to one another. We have found the locals to be invariably among the most pleasant, gracious and patient people we have met.  

Wood worker carves local teak just inches from the hustle and bustle of the highway.

NEXT TIME: Come back for another installment of life on the Rio as we share our adventures away from Fronteras and the marinas. We venture in colectivos on the road to explore waterfalls, the old Spanish fort, local crafts people, maybe a zip line or two and more.

Dispatch from Leilani - Mexico to Guatamala

Bud is content at the helm on the passage south along the Yucatan coast.

We apologize for our delayed posting. Now that we have internet again here at the dock, at least some days better than others, we intend to post more frequently. We really have a lot to share with you.

Travel time

Travel alters time, or at least our perception of it. We have experienced our altered relationship with  time repeatedly on our journey, and it continues to shock or amuse us. In our altered state we find we no longer have an accurate measure of time’s passage. We used to have routine that structured each day and assisted us in the measure of the passing of an hour, a day or a week.  We do frequently ask “What day is this?” although it is not as important now.      

I was asked by the marina manager as we tried to note the date on our dock payment receipt, “When did you arrive?” (actually he said, “?Quando llegaste a la marina?”). We had very little urgency in checking in when we arrived, and besides that, we needed to translate the rental contract to English so we could understand how to fill in the blanks on the form. We had not done that yet. I told the manager I would have to go back to the boat to look at our log for the date. We keep track of such things in a book. So, the book told us that we actually had been here in Rio Dulce/Frontera for over two weeks.

Here we tell you about our arrival in Guatemala- Our destination on this voyage. 

Moving down the Maya Riviera Coast and Belize

After leaving Isla Mujeres, we spent the first night on a mooring ball in Puerto Moreles, and the next couple days anchored off of Cozumel adjacent to the ferry and cruise ship docks.  It was not the best anchorage with the continual wakes from non-stop passenger ferries dropping off the masses of tourists in the heart of the central plaza.  And despite what the guidebooks say, we were not allowed to land our dinghy anywhere near the ferry docks.  Getting ashore was difficult.  Diving to check the anchor was probably the best part of our stay. The water visibility was incredible, even in ten feet of water adjacent to downtown.  

Our mission in Cozumel was to get some dive gear repaired.  After checking out our gear in Isla Mujeres, we needed to repair a leaky regulator and BCD.  We found a dive shop in Cozumel via the internet with excellent ratings- Cozumel Scuba Repair.  The only way we could get ashore was to take the dinghy near the beach and drop one of us off on the shore. We would communicate using the hand-held radio and the VHF on the boat.  Bud was much more adept in bringing the dinghy into a rocky shore, so  Tracy had to navigate the two and a half miles to the dive shop and back, equipped with her few phrases of Spanish. Recall that English is Tracy’s second language, and she doesn’t have a first.

An hour later, Tracy was back at the shore hailing Bud on the handy radio for a ride. But she did not have the dive gear. We had hoped the repair would be quick and we could be on our way. It was going to take some time to repair, and with the weekend approaching, it was  going to be several days.  It also meant we would need to go ashore again. 

We really we needed to find an alternative to wading ashore. The dive shop suggested to try the marina about a mile north from our anchorage.  We took the dinghy to the marina, but there were no places to tie up. We asked a guy if there were slips available, but he told us the the marina was full- it is always full. Understanding our situation, Steve from Grand Cozumel, offered to let us tie our dinghy to his catamaran when we needed to go into town.  We thanked him for his generosity.

The weather was predicted to change for the worse in the next couple days, and we did not want to sit out the weather in the anchorage.  We decided to take Steve up on his offer, and we went into town together to see if the dive shop could speed up the repair. Expressing our concern to the owner of the shop, our dive gear would be repaired by 4:30 pm that afternoon. 

  

While waiting at the dive shop, we had a ‘flash from the past’.  A man walked in with a shirt from Caribbean Divers.  We both thought we recognized him and the name of the dive charter operation.  Sure enough, he was the owner of the dive charter we used in Cozumel over twenty five years ago!    

We spent most of the afternoon getting to know the owner, Larry Cleghorn.  Larry has been in the dive industry his entire life, and told story after story about some of the more famous folks in the industry.  Larry is now making his own brand of regulators and BCD’s at a fraction of the cost of the major scuba companies.  If you want a great price on dive gear, go to Cozumel and find Larry.  After going above and beyond on repairing our dive gear and at a reasonable price, Larry offered to take us back to the marina.  Again, the folks in Cozumel proved to be incredibly generous.

Larry of Cozumel Scuba Repair. 
One of the most knowlegable and generous dive guys you will meet.

With the weather looking to deteriorate, we decided to head to the mainland to a resort called Puerta Aventuras with nice protected dockage (and inexpensive at $20/night).  We spent the next week waiting for a weather window to head south, exploring the resort and the town, and provisioning.  Just a short walk from the resort was a taqueria with excellent reviews called El Arbolito.  Behind a counter were twenty to thirty pottery bowls filled with various saucy fillings, from chicken, beef, and pork, to chiles, hard boiled eggs, and chile rellenos.  To the side of the counter, there was a woman making fresh corn tortillas.  We first went to pay for the number of tacos we wanted, and then we moved along the counter and pointed to the fillings. We topped the tacos with radish, cucumber, cabbage, various salsas, onion, and lime.  The tacos were so good that we went back a second time. We could both eat for less than $6! 

This is not Leilani, and these are not our guests.  In Mexico, booze cruises are the norm. 
Screaming happy people at the Puerto Aventuras Resort.

Surf was up at the mouth of the protected harbor. 
Several days before, we had to surf in on Leilani (on a much smaller wave, thank goodness!)

A family exploring the tide pools at Puerto Aventuras. 
In Mexico, the public has access to all beaches.  This beach was adjacent to the Omni Resort.

Casual dining at El Arbolito. 
The guys at the counter are selecting their saucy taco fillings.

Beautiful, yummy tacos from El Arbolita.

Our friend Armando, one of the security guards at Puerto Aventuras. 
Always smiling and always helpful.

One final provisioning run to Chedraui. 
Bud is stocking up on 2 pounds of one of the many moles.

We departed Puerta Aventuras, Mexico after finally receiving our exit papers. We had planned to make a couple of hops with day sailing along the coast. The weather was good but likely to change soon, we decided enroute to change our plans and just kept going without further stops in Mexico. We sailed continuously for about 48 hours until we arrived in Belize. We were quite pleased with our feat. We did not want to clear in because it was going to be expensive ($300-$400) and, because we really wanted to come back when we had more time after hurricane season to explore the reefs. We sailed on with two short hops and anchorages in gorgeous and secluded lagoons in Belize.

The immigration officials on Leilani at Puerto Aventuras. 
They are smiling because they just took $280 from us to leave the country.

The first of two mahi mahi to hook our lines almost simultaneously - successfully landed.

Fisherman Bud pulling in the second mahi mahi after the reel broke. 
If you zoom in on the splash, you can see the feint yellow of the dorado. 
This one was much bigger than the first, and managed to get free just as we brought it up to the boat.

Sunrise at New Haven Bight in Belize.

We have arrived in Guatemala

We had studied the pilot and guide books, but there was nothing that could prepare us for our arrival in Livingston, the frontier town at the mouth of the Rio Dulce and the port we needed to clear into Guatemala. We made about a 4 hour passage from the last beautiful anchorage in Belize to arrive in Livingston at about mid-day.  

We had read about crossing “the bar”, the notorious shoal that impedes entry to Livingston. The bar must be crossed with care, especially if a boat has more than 5 ½ foot draft. While Leilani has a 4 ½ foot draft and we probably would be OK, it still meant that we would have less than a foot of water under our keel as we crossed. That always makes us nervous.

Consider this- any boat, such as Layla, our previous boat, with a 6 ½ foot draft would have to be escorted across the bar. “Escorted”, is not really sufficiently descriptive. An escort boat comes out from the port, negotiates with the vessels captain relative to his need for their services, and they then secure a line to the mast of the sailboat. The escort boat then takes a heading at an angle to pull the mast over to about a 45 degree angle! That is right, the other boat pulls the sailboat over by the mast to swing the keel up which then allows the deep draft boat to inch across the shoals without going aground. The sailboat must also have the engine engaged to maintain forward motion while being pulled by the escort boat. We were quite thrilled that we did not have to have an escort. However, we did see 5.2 feet under the boat as we crossed the bar, so we did “bounce” at least once.     

Livingston – Riding out a squall, clearing in and tour of town

We had little time to breathe a sigh of relief after crossing the bar as we came immediately into the chaos of the port of Livingston. We needed to anchor to prepare for official clearance into Guatemala. Boats of all kinds were coming and going from multiple directions. Pongas, certainly one of the most numerous of boats in Latin America, sped in at near full-speed to the public dock. We had learned previously there is no such thing as a “no wake zone” anywhere in Mexico and Belize. We quickly learned that leaving a big wake is not considered discourteous in Guatemala.

Lanchas or pangas zooming in and out of Livingston harbor.

We quickly chose a spot to anchor and Tracy began to let out the anchor as we attempted to maneuver among the other boats. As we had approached the port moments before we noted a power boat, a cabin cruiser, with passengers that appeared to be port officials on the stern. Bud watched as the official passengers climbed out of the cabin cruiser and transferred to a panga bouncing in the wakes. The wind had picked up dramatically and a dark menacing squall was approaching. It was going to be on us in a couple of minutes. Somehow that menace of the squall did not deter the officials. The panga bounded over to the stern of Leilani. Bud yelled to Tracy, who was still on the bow completing the anchoring, “Come on back to the stern. We are being boarded. These guys are the port authorities”. There were six people in the panga, two crew who stayed with the bouncing boat while trying in vain to keep it from banging our hull, and the four officials, who clumsily climbed aboard. We had not completed anchoring but somehow that was not an issue for our new guests aboard.  

One official, the individual who would serve as our agent, introduced himself in English, and then introduced the others. There was no time for much discussion as Bud urged them to go inside the cabin. The squall was now upon us. Bud stayed at the helm with both engines running and engaged at half throttle in an attempt to keep the boat in position into the wind. The wind speed gauge showed gusts to 35 knots and steady at 25 knots!

Tracy led the group inside where they continued with the mostly one-way conversation about clearing in. Bud could not see the bow of the boat with the intensity of the wind and stinging rain. Despite Bud’s continual urging to do otherwise, the panga had now moved to Leilani’s port stern, getting the greatest impact of the wind. The panga continued to bash against the hull. (The green paint scraped on the hull from the panga has been mostly cleaned off now.)

Meanwhile in the salon, a couple of the officials sat down on the settee and began to look at their phones. The Port Captain, dressed in the official military-like green uniform, stood by watching and occasionally nodding and smiling. Finally, the “agent” clarified that there were two ways in which we could complete the clearing in process. One way was to obtain an agent, which he quickly added, “I am an agent”, to do the paperwork. The second approach was to go to each of the separate offices in town to get the proper stamps and authorizations yourself. Recall there is still a nasty squall pounding Leilani which we had no idea when it might end. Tracy peaked her head out of the salon to give a report of the activities and the options for the next phase. As the boat continued to rock and the wind and rain continued to pelt us, we quickly agreed there was little choice, “We should just do the agent”. It would add about $30 to the about $180 fee- An inconsequential amount we calculated.

The winds and the rain had begun to diminish as the “gang” moved outside to begin departing Leilani. The squall had churned up some sizable waves in the harbor and the ponga remained a bouncing target. All but the last of the gang boarded the panga without mishap. Our agent and new friend lost his footing and fell on his back and into their panga, amid the laughing of his partners and the gasps from us. No harm done. Whew!

The port captain and Raul in Livingston harbor aboard Leilani during the squall.

Two other officials that boarded Leilani in Livingston harbor. 
We have no clue what these two officials were there for!

The calm is deceptive in this picture as the officials left after the squall. 
We were too busy during the squall to take pictures.

Once the panga departed, we finally took a sigh of relief. What the hell was that!? We laughed and remembered we had to finish securing the boat at anchor. Bud removed his yellow rain slicker as the sun was now peaking through the clouds. Pangas were once again coming from all directions. Welcome to Livingston.

Tracy reviewed the details from the meeting in the salon. We were directed to meet Raul, our agent, in his office in about two hours. Until then we could simply eat something and hang out. We laughed again as we realized all this happened and it was only 12:00!

Cute little birds drying their feathers on Leilani's bow after the squall. 
Anyone know what kind of bird these are?

We spent most of the two hours checking out the town of Livingston.  As we walked up the main road, we dodged motorcycles and tuc-tucs (three-wheeled “taxi” carts) and walked along shops selling baked goods, fresh tortillas, and souvenir trinkets of all sorts.  

At the end of the road, a local Garifuna passed us and then stopped to talk to us.  We were just entering the Garifuna neighborhood, and asked if we would like a tour.  We followed a winding dirt path up and down the coastline past block homes and learning about the Garifuna culture from Polo Martines.  The Garifuna are of mixed ancestry, primarily with West and Central African, Island Carib, and European descent, tracing their roots to Saint Vincent.  When the British took over Saint Vincent, they exiled the Garifuna to Roatan, Honduras.  Because there was not enough resources to support their population, the Garifuna petitioned the Spanish authorities to settle on the mainland of the Spanish colonies.  Today, the vast majority of the Garifuna in Guatemala live in Livingston.

Tuc-tucs, scooters and dogs on the main street in Livingston.

Overlooking part of the Garifuna neighborhood. 
They are still recovering from the latest hurricane.

Our guide through the Garifuna neighborhood, Polo, and Bud in front of
two typical houses  - block walls with wooden shutters and tin roof. 
Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead provided funding for some of the housing in the neighborhood. 

After an hour, we were back on the main road.  We picked up our passports and documents at the agents office, and headed down to the dinghy dock where we picked up a Guatemalan courtesy flag, paid the boy watching over our dinghy about $10 quetzales (about $1.50 US), and headed back to Leilani.  It was official.  We cleared into Guatemala!   

Stay tuned: Next time when we swim under geothermal waterfalls, cruise down the Rio for more fun, meet the locals, and explore Guatemala.  

 

**We are watching the news of Hurricane Florence growing in intensity and looking like it is going to be a catastrophic storm. It is menacing Layla in Beaufort, who will be all alone in the boat yard as everyone is evacuating. While we know we made the right decision to bring Leilani here to Guatemala, our hearts are aching now for Layla and all of our friends in the southeast US.