Wayne
Yesterday,
we were shocked to discover that it was June already and decided that we
had better hurry up and write. The old saying that time flies when
you’re having fun must be true. We’ve done a lot of things and seen
a lot of places since Christmas, so here goes.
We
spent Christmas and New Years with our friends Dennis and Judith on
their boat “JAD”. This is
the second year in a row that we’ve spent Christmas with them and now
we’re officially family. The weather felt a bit weird for
Christmas, as the temperature never went below 65 degrees even at night
and there was no snow or Christmas trees. We had a great time anyway,
‘cause Judith is a fantastic cook. She made some traditional Eastern
Canadian dishes and Susan made delicious pumpkin pie.
Twiggy
celebrated Christmas in her own special way by going swimming at 2 AM
Boxing Day. She woke us and all the neighbors up with her screaming.
When we got up on deck we discovered a little drowned rat-like creature
in the water next to the boat holding on desperately. We dragged her out
and then spent the rest of the night drying her off and warming her up.
She was hypothermic and probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer.
Anyway, we got her warmed up and took her to the vet the next day.
He’s really nice and very gentle, but Twiggy found it pretty
unpleasant as we had to go back four days in a row to treat water in her
lungs. The worst part was getting her temperature taken. I’ll leave
that to your imagination.
Early
in January, we took the bus from La Paz to San Diego to visit Susan’s
folks. They spend the winter in Palm Desert these days, so it was handy
for us. The bus ride is pretty ugly. The buses are actually quite nice,
as they are air conditioned, have washrooms and make frequent munchie
stops. The problem is that the trip takes 22 hours. We eventually made
it and spent the next week in absolute luxury. Howard and Shirley bring
their motor home down and then stay in the nicest campground I’ve ever
seen. There’s a couple of pools, Jacuzzis, weight room, ping-pong
table, snooker tables, cable TV and telephones to each site. We ate a
lot, went to a movie and shopped for hard-to-find food items. Then back
to the boat on our 22 hour bus ride.
Shortly
after we got back, my folks came for a visit. They brought tons of mail
which included a pile of personal letters that we devoured. We had
Christmas again, including a Santa Claus piñata. We got Mom to bash it
open but it turned out to be a dud, no candy inside. While they were
here we also went for a sail out to a nearby bay and I took Dad and Mom
for a ride in our dinghy to a sandbar a mile away. Between the two of
them they cleaned almost every shell and dead puffer fish off that
beach. They smuggled most of them home, even though some of the puffer
fish were still giving off fishy odors.
We
left La Paz a few days later. We were heading for Mazatlan but for once
we weren’t in a huge rush. We were traveling with our friends Harry
and Petra on “Thetis”.
Harry and Petra are irritatingly young, just 26 and 24 respectively.
They are the youngest couple that we have met out here. It would be OK
if they were on some ugly mutt of a boat that was always on the verge of
sinking, but “Thetis” is a really nice boat. At least we can force unasked and
unneeded advice on them since it’s a law
of the sea (that should be said in a deep voice) that you must
provide unrequested and preferably incorrect advice at every opportunity
to anyone younger than yourself. We should know, having received more
than our share. We sailed to an island called Espiritu Santos (Holy
Spirit). There is a really great anchorage there where we went last year
with Randy and Leanne when they came to visit. We had a good time
passing on the time honored chocolate clam hunting techniques to Harry
and Petra even though the water was a wee bit on the chilly side and
they didn’t have wetsuits. We also had a bonfire/barbecue on the beach
one night and Harry, Petra and I climbed the island. It isn’t very
tall, maybe a thousand feet, but it’s very steep and the rock is all
crumbly, with big boulders ready to fall all over the place. It’s a
Wile E. Coyote sort of place. Last year Randy and I had climbed it and
we thought we found some burial mounds but Randy wouldn’t let me dig
them up (some sort of a grave-robbing phobia). Now I know that this is
going to be hard to believe, but, Petra just happens to be a papered
anthropologist. This means that it’s science when she’s grave
robbing! Naturally started digging. Only one problem, they weren’t
graves. We still haven’t really figured it out. The mounds sit on top
of solid rock. They are piles of smaller stones about ten feet long,
three feet high and four feet wide. They sure looked like burial mounds
but there wasn’t anyone inside. We continued our island tour and found
a pair of big horn sheep horns. We had been told that they lived on the
island but it was hard to believe until we saw those horns.
We
finally headed off for Mazatlan. This is about a two day crossing of the
Sea of Cortez. It was a really hard passage for us as there was almost
no wind. This meant some very slow sailing and quite a bit of motoring.
We did have a funny experience on this trip. Just as we were leaving the
Baja coast, we heard Dennis calling us on the radio. Dennis and Judith
had left a week or so before for Mazatlan and our radio only has about a
15 mile range so this was a bit of a surprise. As it turned out, they
were in Mazatlan and we were getting a radio skip of almost two hundred
miles. Twilight Zone material.
We
spent a couple of weeks in Mazatlan. It’s a really nice town and we
had the additional excuse that I had to go up to the States for a couple
of days. There’s two parts to Mazatlan. The old town in which the
buildings probably average 100 or more years old and have a Parisian
look to them and the Gold Zone or tourist area which could be anywhere,
full of tourists and shysters. We, of course, preferred the old town.
Susan went to Spanish school there and thoroughly enjoyed it. We ate out
a lot and sat sipping drinks in outdoor cafes on the square. Very
European. For some reason everything seems to be cheap in Mazatlan,
especially eating out. The harbour is a really good anchorage but
unfortunately it is straight downwind from the sewage plant. We never
actually smelt any sewage because the chemicals they use are so
overpowering. Eventually we had to leave just to get away from the
smell. As it turned out though, Carnaval was starting the day we wanted
to leave. Mazatlan is supposed to have the second best carnival in the
world so we stayed one extra night to see the beginning. They closed off
the waterfront for about twenty blocks and there were bands, dancers,
restaurants, and hawkers everywhere. In addition, most of the attendees
dressed up, wore masks or painted their faces. Everyone had a good time
spraying each other with shaving cream and silly putty string-in-a-can
or throwing empty eggshells that had been filled with confetti. We were
approached by this woman selling something, which we couldn’t
understand. Eventually, she talked me into holding onto two little
silver bars attached with wires to a box on which she was turning a
dial. I let go when I started to get a shock and the woman put her nose
up, said it was only four volts and flounced away. We eventually figured
out that it is a test of machismo. You are supposed to hold on as long
as you can and apparently I did not exhibit much machismo.
After
leaving Mazatlan, it took a couple of days to get to Puerto Vallarta. PV
is not really our favorite place, but we needed cellular service so we
stopped for a while at La Cruz which is only a few miles from PV but
much quieter.
From
there, we spent a day and a night getting to Bahia Tenacatita. This is a
nice bay, with no town to speak of and a really neat little river that
winds back up into the jungle. The jungle encloses and completely
overhangs the river and it’s full of birds, iguanas and fish. We
followed it for miles until we came out in a lake on the coast.
After
only a couple of days in Tenacatita we headed to Manzanillo. Again we
needed cell service. We ran into a friend there. This guy’s name is
Bob and his boat is Adios. We have run into him from time to time over
the last couple years, but never really got to know him. He is alone on
his boat and was getting ready to leave for Tahiti. We had him over for
a coffee one day and he told us an amusing story. He had done a passage
out to Hawaii and back to San Francisco in the late ‘80s. He was by
himself then as well. One day he had the bad luck to get a spinnaker
wrap. A spinnaker wrap is when the spinnaker (a sail) gets wrapped
around the forestay (a heavy piece of wire coming from the top of the
mast (tall pointy thing in middle of boat) to the front of the boat).
This is a relatively bad thing and really has to be solved. After trying
everything that he could think of and gradually passing from the
desperation zone into the insanity zone, Bob decided that he would have
to go up the mast. This is never much fun, but when you go up a forty
foot mast at sea, the gentle rolling and pitching at deck level might be
a ten or fifteen foot swing because of the leverage and you’d spend
most of your time holding on for dear life. Anyway, he was struggling
with the wrap when a big wave came along and rolled the boat badly. He
lost his grip on the mast and went swinging out on his harness around
the forestay. He now had a spinnaker wrap and a Bob wrap. He had no way
to get down at this point and started to worry that he might be found
there two or three months later dried out like a piece of beef jerky.
Finally after several hours, another big wave came along and rolled him
back. He was so exhausted that he clambered down the mast and fell into
bed. Later when he woke up, the spinnaker had miraculously unwrapped
itself.
We
were in a rush at this point as I needed to go up to Utah for a month
and we needed a safe place for Susan and the boat to stay. We spent a
couple of days getting down to Ixtapa which is just a couple of miles
from Zihuatanejo. We put the boat in the marina there and I spent a
month in Utah and LA.
Susan
I
settled in for a month of loneliness and work on the boat while Wayne
was away. Being lonely and working hard on the boat both proved
difficult to achieve.
First
off, Marina Ixtapa is decadent. I felt like someone on ‘Lifestyles of
the Rich and Famous’. The marina is brand new with great shower
facilities, nearby restaurants and an incredible private pool with beach
access and beach palapas. At least part of every day was spent lounging
around the pool, body surfing in the waves or building sand castles on
the beach with friends. So much for working, it was way too hot anyway.
The marina also has its own crocodile (or crocodiles for all I know).
When I finally saw the beast lazing along between the boats, I was
astounded by how big and prehistoric he looked. I’m glad Twiggy
didn’t try to practice her swimming here.
This
also turned out to be a good place to have guests since we were actually
staying put for a while. First our friend Bobbie and her friends Robin
and Trish came to visit. Talk about a small world. After a day or two we
discovered that Robin and I went to high school together in Prince
Albert (we were a couple of years apart). I certainly had that
‘don’t I know you from somewhere’ feeling. The girls had all sorts
of adventures while visiting and I hope, a good time.
Shortly
after they arrived (and got their first sun burns), we four and Harry
and Petra set off for a few days in Mexico City. We had a great time!
The trip there was quite an adventure as we accidentally got cheap bus
tickets. These cheap buses have no bathroom, heat or air conditioning.
This is my second trip to Mexico City and I loved it more this time.
Such life, such history and movies, movies, movies! Harry, Petra, and I
got our fill of new (well new to us) films and we all did some
sightseeing. One day was devoted to the pyramids at Teotihuacán just 30
miles north of the city. This is a must see! If you know any of these
girls, check out their pictures. I forget how many they took on the trip
but I’m sure it’s some kind of record. Harry, Petra, and I also had
a rather frightening experience on the subway. Just imagine thick smoke
and the smell of something burning all experienced in a dark subway
tunnel between stations in a stalled, lightless subway car many levels
below ground. We all could have lived without that experience.
Everything turned out OK of course and it was only a few minutes of
terror. Aside from that, the subway system here is exceptional and the
best and easiest way to get around in this huge city.
Our
return trip to Zihuatanejo/Ixtapa was quite a bit different. We went for
the deluxe bus with air conditioning, a snack bar, reclining seats with
leg supports and best of all, a bathroom. Thank goodness for the
bathroom as I got deathly ill on the way back and was sick for a couple
more days after that. Bobbie, Trish and Robin had continued on to
Acapulco from Mexico City for a few days. It turns out that both Bobbie
and Robin were just as sick as I was.
Robin
and Trish flew home after two weeks and Bobbie stayed for another week
to take diving lessons. A couple of days before she left and just after
Wayne returned, our friend Helen and her friend Emma arrived.
Now
just so you aren’t saying to yourselves ‘don’t go to Mexico,
you’ll get sick’, know that Emma arrived here already quite ill.
Helen and Emma took full advantage of the pool and beach to relax and
unwind. Our accommodations for tall people are somewhat lacking and
they’re both allergic to Twiggy but I think they had a good time too.
Sadly
here we said good-bye to Dennis and Judith on “JAD” as they headed off for Hawaii and ultimately Victoria. As you
tell by how much we write about them, they are the best of friends and
have been since we met them in San Francisco in September 1994. We are
missing them a lot and look forward to seeing them again someday.
One
other interesting story while in Zihuatanejo. Wayne and I played doctor!
Not what you’re thinking! After carefully studying the Where There
is No Doctor book, we jabbed each other with needles to administer
our second dose of Havrix for hepatitis prevention. We’d been storing
it in the fridge since our trip to San Diego in January. We were overdue
to be getting this shot but I’d been conveniently forgetting about it.
Wayne was just dying to give me mine, but I wanted to go find someone a
wee bit more qualified. He finally convinced me (I think there must have
been hypnotism involved). Let me tell you, as my mother used to tell me,
it was much easier to give than to receive. Somehow I’m sure that she
was referring to something else. So here goes! We’re all washed up and
looking like doctors who’ve just scrubbed for major heart surgery. We
then had to transfer the serum from the syringe that it came in to a
smaller one. The nurse that sold it to us assured us that we didn’t
want to use the original, much larger, longer needle. Now it’s time to
give the shot, and Wayne wants me to stick him first. According to the
book, you hold the syringe like it’s a dart and jab it in quickly to
avoid pain. Well I was shaking so badly, that I’m surprised I didn’t
miss his arm (this is not a butt shot). All goes well, even pulling back
on the plunger to make sure I didn’t jab a vein. This sounded the
worst to me but wasn’t so bad. Now it’s my turn!!!!!! Wayne winds up
with his dart stance and jabs me good. I’m not looking but actually
feel the bottom of the syringe contact my arm as he buries the entire
needle! Thank goodness the nurse had us change needles or it may have
come out the other side of my arm. Wayne tells me that he was a little
surprised by just how easily that sharp little needle sank into my
flesh. Perhaps he was expecting to have to put some real muscle into it.
I’m still not looking and it doesn’t hurt at all but it feels a
little heavy and weird. It turns out that you need to get a new grip on
the syringe after getting the needle in with the dart stance. Wayne
thought that it was pretty thoroughly attached being that it was
completely buried in my arm so he let it dangle free for a moment while
he collected his thoughts and got a new grip on the syringe. He seemed a
little surprised when I bled quite a bit more than him after withdrawing
the needle. I wonder why! All kidding aside, I thought we both did a
great job and it was kind of fun, after the fact that is.
Wayne
An
EPIRB (emergency position radio beacon) had been on our wish list for a
long time. When activated in an emergency, these beacons radio your
exact position anywhere on earth to a satellite and from there to
various Navies and Coast Guards. This is something that you would never
use except as a last resort since you typically get to leave your boat
behind when you are rescued, however, we like the idea of having one as
ultimate insurance. We finally decided to get an EPIRB while I was in
Utah. This along with the dozens of other things that I had been asked
to bring back, put me over the Mexican Customs import limit. Normally
boats and ships are allowed to bring in almost anything duty free as
they are considered to be ‘in transit’. This was my plan, but, the
people at customs weren’t having any of that. They gave me the choice
of paying the duty or leaving it behind and returning the next day to
sort it out with the boss. I returned the next day and was told that
they were trying to work it out and that I should come back the next
day. The next day I took Susan along for backup. “Remember to cry!”,
I said. She brought a bottle of water and a bag of chips as ammunition.
When we arrived they said we would have to pay the duty. “Oh no!,”
we said “That won’t be possible.” Well then we could go to
Acapulco and talk to the big boss. “Nope, can’t do that either.”
“OK,” they said “We’ll try to work it out but it’ll take a
long time.” “No problem.” said Susan, commandeering the chair in
front of the boss’ desk and pulling out her water bottle and chips.
“We’ll be happy to wait.” Things moved pretty fast after that and
twenty minutes later we had our EPIRB and were being driven back to the
boat by an assistant. We did end up having to pay a small fee and we
never were able to determine for certain whether it was legitimate or
went to the office party fund. Personally I’m waiting with baited
breath for the day that Susan tries the old chips and water bottle
tactic on Canada Customs!
For
my birthday, Susan took me to the hottest restaurant in the world. This
place is hot in every way. It’s in Mexico so that’s a start. The
meat for the tacos is cooked on an open rotisserie that you can get a
tan from and they have a record collection of the worlds hottest sauces.
The sauces come in many colors, including red, burnt orange and grass
green. Even the guacamole, which can usually be relied upon as less than
hot, was muy picante! The sauces come in three levels of hot; very hot,
weapons grade, and nuclear power. By the time we were done dinner, we
had each drunk about two gallons of juice and we were still
phosphorescent for several hours after.
The
passage from Zihuatanejo to Acapulco was one of the nicest we’ve ever
had. We had cleaned the bottom of the boat just a couple of days before
leaving and as a result the boat was very fast. In addition, the wind
was from behind and fairly strong at about twenty knots. We put up our
twin jibs on spinnaker poles and just enjoyed the ride. For hours on end
the boat would do seven and eight knots and once we actually hit 9.5
knots. We did almost nothing the entire time as the wind was steady and
our windvane did all of the steering. This is what sailing should be
like every day!
Susan
As
we remembered from the previous year, Acapulco is a great place to stock
up and get your fill of ‘civilization’. We ate ribs at Tony
Roma’s, frequented the brand new 10-plex movie theaters and shopped at
Wal-Mart and Costco. We were a little sad here as it brought back
memories of our last few days of cruising with Allan and Didi last year
before we went in opposite directions.
Wayne
An
interesting incident occurred while we were anchored in Acapulco. There
is a big old steel party ship anchored out in front of the Acapulco
Yacht Club. It is yellow, green and pink with fake palm trees on deck
and a concrete or papermache water slide that slides you right into the
ocean. It’s about 150 feet long and looks like it may sink at any
moment. We anchored near it, as there isn’t much room for anchoring.
Of course we always worried that it might swing into us in a windshift,
but, we didn’t have a problem until one night at about five AM we woke
up because the ships’ watchman was yelling at us from just a few feet
away. It was dead calm and we had drifted in opposite directions. The
ship was close enough that we could reach it to push off with our feet.
The rail of this thing was over our heads so we would definitely have
had some serious damage if we had touched.
Susan
Just
before leaving Acapulco, we put the boat in Marina Acapulco so that
Wayne could make a quick two day trip to the U.S. It was the most
expensive marina that we’ve ever stayed in (no other choice in
Acapulco). It turned out to be about $50 Canadian per night but it sure
was nice! For the four days that we were there, I/we took full advantage
of the beautiful rooftop pool and better yet, a lounge with comfortable
sofas, intense air conditioning, and a big TV/VCR. Each night we’d
settle in, blast the air conditioning and watch some of our taped movies
or the TV shows that Wayne taped while in Utah. It was Heaven! Acapulco
was unbelievably hot and humid! It seems that the last month or two
before rainy season begins is almost unbearably hot.
Wayne
As
we say good-bye to Acapulco, we are finally heading off to see some new
territory.
We
had our first squall the night before we reached Huatulco. It was just
after sunset when the lightning started and the wind went up to about 25
knots. This is an uncomfortable amount of wind and means that we were
getting heavy spray and the tops of waves onto the deck. These things
weren’t really the problem though. The problem was the lightning. It
was all around us, mostly sheet lightning with the occasional bolt
looking for something nice and tall to hit. Of course we know that the
chances of being hit are almost incalculably small but that didn’t
stop us from being worried. You can see a squall on radar and this one
looked pretty small, maybe one mile across. Unfortunately, when we got
into it, it seemed to grow and we had it with us for hours. By the end
of that time we were soaked, the cat was soaked and the boat was swampy
down below. Since then we’ve had lots of squalls and are getting used
to them and a little better at dealing with them. They still seem to
either grow or follow us whenever we get near one though.
Our
stop in Huatulco, Mexico was basically just to clean the bottom and
obtain an exit Zarpe but it was a sad day for us since we were leaving
Mexico. We had been there for fifteen months and have nothing but good
memories. The Mexican people are honest, kind and friendly. The country
and coast are beautiful and the climate is very nearly perfect except
during hurricane season which is what was hurrying us to leave. We’re
trying to be optimistic but are having a tough time believing that
we’ll ever see a nicer place.
The Gulf of
Tehuantepec is famous for bad weather. It actually does get some strong
wind, but, I think that its reputation has grown out of proportion
because of the surrounding mild weather. It would only have half the
reputation if it were situated between San Francisco and Victoria. The
wind here is caused by the fact that Mexico is very low and narrow at
this point. As a result high-pressure winds in the Gulf of Mexico
(Atlantic) are squeezed over to the Pacific at this spot. Huatulco is at
the Northwest end of the Gulf and Puerto Madero is at the Southeast end.
They are about two days apart, but, most of the action happens in the
middle eighty miles from about Salina Cruz on. When we arrived at
Huatulco there were five boats waiting for a weather window to cross the
Gulf. We announced that we were leaving in two days and four of the
boats decided that we must know what we were talking about (silly error)
and they would go too. |
|
We
left at about 3 PM planning to arrive at Salina Cruz at daybreak,
however, there was a strong current with us and we arrived at 1 AM. We
had had no wind for a couple of hours but off of Salina Cruz it went
from zero to twenty-four knots within a couple of minutes. Luckily for
us, one of the other boats was ahead so we knew what to expect. It was a
beat but very fast and we had a really nice sail until mid-morning by
which time we had our full mainsail up and our genny and spinnaker out
on poles. The rest of the Tehuantepec was easy with squalls at night and
light winds and calms during the day.
During
the second night in the Tehuantepec we heard a Mayday call. This is the
nautical equivalent of dialing 911 and is only supposed to be done in
life threatening situations. Unfortunately the call was not complete
with no boat name or position given. Down here, everyone pretty much is
the volunteer coast guard so we tried to raise the person who had
initiated the Mayday to get enough information to help, however, we
never heard another thing. This really worried us. There is nothing that
you can do without knowing the location of the boat that’s in trouble
and because whoever it was spoke English, they were almost certainly a
friend or acquaintance. Later, we heard that one of the other boats,
whom for convenience we will designate ‘Mayday Bob’, was boarded by
the Mexican Navy right at this time. Mayday Bob is a bit of a doofus and
decidedly xenophobic, so although he wouldn’t own up to it we are
pretty sure that he is the key to our little mystery. We think that the
Navy surprised him and he was thinking pirates or something silly like
that.
Puerto
Madero is in the state of Chiapas. This is the area in which there has
been an armed uprising lately. As a result, I guess, the Navy keeps a
pretty close eye on this section of coast. All of the other boats that
were doing the passage when we did were boarded and searched. We
weren’t, probably because we prefer to spend our time well offshore
beyond the 12 mile limit and we didn’t stop at Puerto Madero. We were
planning to keep going out of Mexico, past Guatemala and finally
stopping in El Salvador or Honduras in the Gulf of Fonseca.
Off
the coast of Guatemala, we encountered contrary winds and seas. Since we
weren’t making much progress anyway, we decided to stop at Puerto
Quetzal, Guatemala. After we had made up our minds to go to Quetzal, we
decided that we had better bring down the mainsail. We had left it up in
the faint hope of a breeze, but the swells were rolling the boat so much
that it could have been damaged, so it had to come down. To do that we
both went up on deck and began folding and tying it to the boom.
Suddenly the boat took an extra big roll, the boom swung across and
caught both of us in the stomach, taking us with it for the rest of its
swing. We both got a death grip on the boom and when the boat rolled
back, we ended up pretty much where we had started. We had visions of
the autopilot steering the boat into Quetzal three or four hours later
with the two of us dragging along behind in our safety harnesses.
It
was along this part of the coast that we started to see all of the
volcanoes. What a view on a clear day. Most of them are so straight that
they look like green pyramids. We were also struck by the green lushness
of the land after leaving dry season Mexico.
News
flash! You’ve heard of the Bermuda triangle, well now there is a
Guatemalan Time Triangle in which time actually stops! We have on board,
three watches, one kitchen timer and a wind-up ship’s clock. When we
arrived in Guatemala all three watches and the kitchen timer had bit the
dust.
Quetzal
is Guatemala’s manmade Pacific port. The commercial section looks
really modern and efficient, though small. We were over at the other end
in the middle of the Navy base. The base area was nice and clean and
seemed pretty secure since the gates were guarded by several men with
machine guns. The Port Captain comes out to check you in here and
charges a fee of one hundred US dollars for seven days for which there
is no receipt. We knew that this was the deal here, but, have made up
our minds that we are going to try to get ‘no receipt’ fees lowered
in the future.
The
day after we arrived we went into the nearby town of San Jose. I
hesitate to call this a town, city dump might be more appropriate.
Actually that would probably be an insult to a well run dump. This place
is the grubbiest, filthiest, smelliest place we have ever been in. Most
of the streets are dirt except when it rains and then they become six
inches of mud. There are a couple of canals that look like they might be
made up of fifty percent plastic garbage and fifty percent sewage. There
is definitely no litter ethic here. When you’re done with something,
you just drop it on the ground, even if you are at the front door to
your mother’s house and twenty people are looking at you. We recommend
San Jose as a tourist destination only to those who wish to study
infectious diseases.
Having
experienced the joys of San Jose, we’re very glad that we decided to
take a short inland trip to see Antigua. If we hadn’t, San Jose would
have summed up our impressions of Guatemala. Antigua is fairly near
Quetzal (the country is really small) but it feels like it’s in a
different world. First of all it’s up in the mountains so it’s much,
much cooler than the coast. It’s also very clean. Antigua is the old
colonial capital and many of the buildings and ruins are hundreds of
years old. The city has been around since the 1500’s but it is ringed
by volcanoes and has experienced several devastating earthquakes so the
capital was moved to Guatemala City. There are dozens of really old
buildings that are ruins but have been left alone. It makes the city
very picturesque. Antigua is also well known as a place to come and
learn Spanish. There are dozens of small, private schools.
There
are many Mayans in Antigua (and all of Guatemala) selling handicrafts.
They are famous for their embroidery. The embroidery is very colorful
with lots of pinks, reds and yellows. All of the ladies wear embroidered
blouses which, if you know the system, identify the wearer’s village.
These are actually a genuine article of clothing although it may be the
equivalent of ‘Sunday best’. We bought a few pieces of embroidery
and some wood carvings. The Mayan people that we talked to struck us in
two ways. They are really tiny. Even Susan looks down at most of the
women. The women probably average 4’8” and the men no more than
5’2”. Also they were really nice. After Mexicans, Guatemalans
didn’t seem all that friendly, but the Mayans were always smiling and
seemed to enjoy talking to us.
Before
returning to Quetzal, we took advantage of the many restaurants to
choose from in Antigua. We ate far more than our share of Italian,
Japanese and Thai food.
The
buses in Guatemala are really fascinating. They are all old Blue Bird
school buses, brightly painted in vivid colors, usually packed full with
the roof piled up with baskets, boxes, jugs and lumber. Besides the
driver there is an assistant whose job is to convince people that they
need to go wherever the bus is going. The assistant starts in the
terminal by excitedly yelling the major destination at anybody silly
enough to be within earshot. Once the bus leaves it slowly cruises the
town, not obviously on any set route, looking for people who just might
want to go somewhere today. Surprisingly, they actually get a few.
Throughout all of this the assistant is screaming the destination to
anyone within a half block or so and the driver slows or stops for
anyone who exhibits the slightest interest. Eventually we head out of
town. Usually by this time there will be three people in each seat,
actually two and a quarter people in each seat. The three quarters that
is hanging out in the middle is held up by pure thoughts and by leaning
against the fellow unfortunate who is falling out of the opposite seat.
Out on the highway there will be people standing on the side of the road
waving at the bus. The driver can’t resist stopping and soon there
will be ten or fifteen people standing. Last year when Didi and Allan
were here there were so many people standing that people slept standing
up. Standees must now be illegal because when we pass a cop the
assistant yells for all the standees to duck, and they do. The other odd
thing on the buses are the snake-oil infomercials. These are well
dressed young guys who stand up near the front of the bus and give long
impassioned speeches about the benefits of using their particular
snake-oil. Then they walk down the aisle distributing sealed childproof
bottles of something-or-other. Surprisingly enough, many people shell
out the few Quetzales requested. The Home Shopping Network needs to
branch into Guatemala. Don’t get the wrong idea about these buses.
Provided that the trip isn’t too long, they can be the cheapest and
most entertaining way to travel.
Prior
to leaving Guatemala, we wanted to get a little fuel as we were low and
we were pretty sure that it wouldn’t be easy to get in Honduras. There
seemed to be two possibilities at Quetzal. We could take a taxi into
town with our jerry jugs, or try to buy it from the Esso station on the
Navy base. Naturally we thought we’d try the base first. The Esso
station was just a pump, no shack and no attendant. I continued on to
the nearest building, a navy radio room, I think. The duty officer was a
really nice guy, but, I had a difficult time understanding him. The
Guatemalans use a lot of different words and have a much different
accent than the Mexicans and I never did feel that I was getting all
that they said. Anyway, he told me that I couldn’t get fuel there and
that I should go into town for it. I said OK and started to leave when
he called me back and said that I should come back at seven and he could
help me get fuel. I assumed this meant that he was going to drive me
into town and so I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted and as I
didn’t want to hurt his feelings I agreed. Harry needed fuel too, so
we both went up to meet this guy just after dark that evening. When we
got there, he had us tie the dinghy to one of the navy ships, introduced
us to the guard (complete with machine gun) and asked for our jerry
jugs. We were starting to get worried about this whole thing, but handed
over the jugs. He disappeared down into the ship only to reappear a few
minutes later to say that the fuel supply was locked up. We were
delighted to express our sorrow and appreciation and then skeddadle.
The
first night out after leaving Quetzal, we had been motoring because
there was no wind. Often in these conditions, we can leave the main and
the mizzen up, and just roll up the genny. This is what we had done when
one of us (no names to protect the guilty) saw a squall approaching. I
(oops, gave it away) brought down the mizzen and left just the mainsail
up. Five minutes later the wind was up to fifteen knots. Fifteen knots
is a nice sailing wind, however, that same nameless person might have
thought about that huge black lightning-filled cloud a quarter mile
away. Oh, no. Instead, the genny was rolled out. Within seconds, we had
thirty-five knots of wind trying to tear down our mast, tear up our
awning and throwing bathtubsfull of water onto the deck and into the
cockpit every second. There was so much rain and spray in the air, that
you literally could not breath facing into the wind and the rain felt
like cold little needles being driven into your skin. We managed to get
the genny reefed and two reefs put in the main. We even got the awning
down with only one big tear and several small tears.
After
a difficult trip from Quetzal with many squalls and way too much rain,
we had a nice sail into the Gulf of Fonseca. We were able to sail right
up to our anchorage at Amapala on the island of Tigre in
Honduras. Within minutes there was a launch headed our way with
the Immigration officer, Port Captain, Chief of Police and four or five
others. They all came aboard, looked over our papers and performed a
cursory search. These searches always amuse us. There are literally
hundreds of places to store things and we regularly spend hours looking
for some seldom used item. Searches normally take less then five minutes
and usually not even all of our cabins are looked into. Our largest
locker, which is big enough to store two or three people in, has never
been noticed. Once the search was over, the Port Captain explained that
there was a $75 US fee to pay. We knew this was the going rate and even
though we were expecting it, we tried to bargain him down. No dice. He
did say that if we didn’t have the money (that was our ploy), he would
allow us to leave but we’d have to leave immediately. We finally gave
in and agreed to pay. This is an unfortunate thing for the people of
Honduras. They are unbelievably poor and partly because of this fee, few
boats stop here. Given the number of boats on this coast, the money that
would be taken in by local businesses could be quite substantial.
The
only bank in Amapala doesn’t do Visa cash advances so I had to go to
the town of San Lorenzo on the mainland to get some money. Getting there
from Amapala is interesting. First, you take a ferry to the mainland.
This is not like a BC ferry. It is a hollowed out log about three feet
across and 30 feet long. They hold up to 20 people or so and make pretty
good time as they are outboard powered. The trip takes about 15 minutes
and costs 50 cents. From there you take a bus to San Lorenzo. The bus
was the oldest, most decrepit vehicle that I’ve ever seen. It was
stitched together with welds, had a piece of twine to keep the door from
opening too far, and a piece of rebar to keep it closed. It was always
kept running or parked on hills so that it could be roll started. The
scenery was beautiful with bright red rock and green, green jungle. San
Lorenzo was a nice, neat little city with very few cars. On my way back,
a different water taxi driver wanted me to pay $5 US for the trip. The
entire group of passengers was assisting the driver in trying to
convince me that this was an appropriate price. I ended having to pay
$1.50 US and later was told that $5 is the cost for a whole boat to
yourself.
Susan
The
first day anchored in Honduras, a young woman, her young son and her
brother in a wooden canoe made by hollowing out a tree visited me. Her
name was Mercedes and she spoke very little English. My Spanish skills
were tested but I think all the studying has been worth it, as we were
able to understand each other. She offered her services to do our
laundry and also asked if we had any vitamins to spare for her boy. I
gladly dug up a bottle of One-A-Days to give to her and she was very
grateful. Each day Mercedes returned to visit (or return laundry) in her
canoe. Her and her young brother found our photo albums entrancing. On
my birthday, they even rowed out to the boat with mangoes as a birthday
present.
That
first day, a larger hollowed out tree boat used for fishing also visited
me. The fisherman’s name was Antonio. He spoke no English but I
managed quite well. He was offering me some of the largest shrimp that
I’ve ever seen. I explained that I had no money at the moment as Wayne
was in San Lorenzo at the bank. He seemed surprised and explained that
he would rather trade for the shrimp than sell them. I asked what he
needed and his answer surprised me. Here’s his list: fresh or canned
vegetables or fruit, canned beans, canned chilies, canned meat, or best
of all; peanut butter. It turns out that it’s difficult to find and
buy just about anything around here except shrimp and fish. I had no
problem unearthing two apples and two grapefruits to trade for a large
quantity of delicious shrimp for dinner. The next day we got even more
and larger shrimp for my Birthday dinner in exchange for a can of fruit
cocktail and a can of peas. You gotta like that! Antonio and his partner
came aboard and chatted with Wayne for quite a while. Wayne brought out
the photo album to show Antonio a Dorado as they were talking fish and
he was just as fascinated by the pictures as Mercedes and wanted to look
at them all. Antonio also explained to us which of the surrounding
islands belonged to Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua. It’s rather
confusing as this bay is fronted by all three countries.
Wayne
Hondurans
are so poor, it’s scary. Amapala especially has fallen on hard times.
Everywhere we went, drunks would hit us up for a few Lempiras, kids
would extort a little money out of us for ‘watching our dinghy’ and
everyone would peer over our shoulders in banks and shops to count the
money in our hands. We constantly felt that we had to watch our things
and we never felt comfortable leaving the boat alone. On the other hand,
things were so cheap that you could live with paying the outsiders price
(like 25 cents for a Coke) even though you’d see them charging locals
less. We actually had a couple of things disappear from the deck of the
boat and although they could have fallen overboard, we never really felt
comfortable afterwards.
By
the fourth day we were tired of Honduras and ready to leave. We got up
at five AM to finish up the repairs etc. from our last trip. When the
town started to wake up, I rowed in to spend our last Lempiras on diesel
fuel. One of the men standing around on the pier met me as I arrived and
took possession of two of my jerry jugs. Obviously he was going to help
me get fuel. We walked into town (none of the three vehicles on the
island are cabs) to the fuel store. It had no diesel. I thought this was
the only place in town, but my guide knew of another. It too was out of
diesel. At the third store, now at least a half mile from the waterfront
we found a source. They wanted about fifty cents per gallon more than on
the mainland but since they have to bring it over in open boats in fifty
gallon drums, the price didn’t seem out of line. They tried to palm
gasoline off on me (it’s a little cheaper here) but I caught on and
insisted on diesel. Then they measured out 13 gallons of diesel using an
old one gallon syrup bottle with a broken neck and wanted me to pay for
fifteen gallons. After a little arguing, I got my fifteen gallons. My
assistant meantime had tied an old piece of twine between two of the
jugs and after placing an oily old scrap of cardboard on his shoulder
heaved them up. We made our way back to the pier and for his help, he
charged me ten Lempira (about $1.20).
The
trip to Costa Rica was tough. Having gotten the Honduran fuel out of
drums, we weren’t too sure whether it would be OK and without using it
we couldn’t do much motoring. Of course the wind took this opportunity
to be from dead ahead. We had decided to stay at least twelve miles off
of Nicaragua to avoid being boarded by their Navy, but after two days of
beating into 20 to 25 knot headwinds (this wind comes over Nicaragua
from the Caribbean and is called a Papagayo wind) we turned and got as
close to the shore as we dared. This gave us much smaller waves and we
made better progress. We finally arrived in Bahia Santa Elena, Costa
Rica three days and one hour after leaving Amapala.
Non-sailors
will probably want to skip this next paragraph. We learned an
interesting thing about sailing on this trip. We had about 20 to 25
knots of wind about 45 degrees off the bow with three to six foot
windwaves for most of the trip. Being an offshore wind the waves were
close together, about twenty-five to thirty feet apart. This made it a
beat with the added complications that while the boat was descending one
wave, it would often slam into the face of the next, virtually stopping
us. In addition, when the bow got up in the air on one wave, it would
often be thrown to leeward and we would lose some mileage until the boat
got straightened out. We had our 95 percent jib up and a double reefed
main and thought that putting a reefed mizzen up might help hold the bow
up. It may have helped a little, but it also increased our leeway and
had our lee rail about three inches under water. Finally we took down
the mizzen, rolled up the jib and leaving the reefed main up, we put up
our new staysail. We didn’t actually think that it would work well
with this amount of wind (the staysail is very small), but we were tired
of walking on the walls down below. Amazingly, the boat stood up, our
speed went up to about seven knots, the bow stopped blowing off and
leeway almost disappeared.
We
have two charts of Bahia Santa Elena. The British Admiralty chart calls
it Port Parker and the US Defense Mapping Agency called it Bahia Santa
Elena. Whatever you call it, it is a fabulous harbour. The day that we
came in, it was blowing over 20 knots outside while inside it was as
smooth as glass with just a gentle breeze. Because it is 30 miles or so
upwind from the first Port of Entry into Costa Rica, not a lot of boats
come here. Also it is a national park (Santa Rosa) so nobody lives on
the shores. The result is a clean, quiet anchorage with wildlife on
shore and fish in the water. We’ve enjoyed a whole week of solitude.
We’ve done a few jobs on the boat but basically we’ve lounged about,
watched the sunset (beautiful here), swam and snorkeled. Surprisingly
enough, it is rainy season but we’ve only had one rainy day. I know
that the north coast of Costa Rica is drier than the rest but I wonder
if this is typical throughout rainy season.
Our
favorite wildlife recently has been the squeaker birds. We actually
don’t have a clue what their real name might be, but I can assure you
that squeaker bird is a good name. These little guys are about 8 inches
long and the same wide. They’re brown and white and they have huge
Donald Duck feet. They don’t seem to need to eat, they just fly around
squeaking and having fun all day long. For some reason they really like
the boat. I think that the backwash from the sails must be fun to play
in. Anyway, they get a group going and fly around and around one side of
the boat squeaking away. Once in a while one of them will show off by
landing on the deck and tottering clumsily around while slyly watching
you out of the corner of his eye. Or, when they get tired, and want to
stop for a rest on the water they put their landing gear down, brace
their legs and water-ski for about six feet. They’re really comical
little guys and we like having them around.
Another
bird that we like less is actually called a Boobie. Boobies are really
dumb. They’ll go after your fishing lure and occasionally get
themselves caught. Lately, Boobies seem to be very tired and feel the
need to rest on our boat while we’re at sea. In addition, they all
seem to have diarrhea. A couple of weeks ago, we had one sitting on top
of our mast, one on the anchor, one standing on deck and one on the
mizzen boom. They are really clumsy and for the first few minutes they
were continually falling off of their perches. Eventually they got used
to the motion and settled in. We were pretty surprised by this behavior
as we have seen lots of Boobies before but none have moved in with us.
They wouldn’t leave even when we walked right up and yelled at them.
Susan finally pushed one off and I bonked one on the head with a book.
We didn’t mind the one on the anchor but the one at the top of the
mast was making a mess and bending our wind instruments. We tried
everything including a slingshot, but finally had to give up and keep
him for the night.
We’ve
seen two new kinds of dolphins recently. Heading into Honduras, we were
escorted by the two largest dolphins we have ever seen. They were at
least twelve feet long. We wondered if they might be pilot whales but
never got a good enough look to be sure.
The
other dolphins are very small. They’re between three and four feet
long and very dark. The really like to jump and often will jump right
out of the water for a breath rather than just raising their blowhole.
Since
passing Huatulco we have seen thousands of sea turtles. These are the
big boys of the turtle world, anywhere from eighteen inches to three
feet across. They seem to spend most of their time hanging out on the
surface getting a suntan. When it’s calm you can often see four or
five without moving your eyes and once in a while you’ll see a bird
standing up on the water. When you get nearer it turns out that he’s
resting on a turtle. When it’s windy and the waves build, you can’t
see the turtles at all. This worries us as they can weigh up to three
hundred pounds and we wouldn’t want to hit one at speed. The behavior
of the turtles seems to vary by country. In Mexico and Guatemala they
ignored the boat even when you could reach out and touch them. Off of
Nicaragua, they dived as soon as they spotted us. I wonder if this means
that they are still hunted there.
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