October 31, Rio Dulce, Guatemala

It's been more than a month since we returned to Guatemala and we've grown quite fond of the place. 

Time is different here.  When we Americans think of our history, we might start with our independence in the 18th century, or with the pilgrims in the 17th, or maybe with Columbus 500 years ago.  Our family histories typically trace back to Europe or Africa.   Our country is new, and I always assumed that was true in all the Americas.  

It is not true in Guatemala.  Here, the Mayans are huge portions of the population, and their story goes back millennia.  There is 3000 years of recorded history here, written in the few books the conquistadors did not burn, and chiseled in thousands of hieroglyphs throughout the countryside - complete with the names of the protagonists and precise dates for key events.  These are people whose ancestors have been here for thousands of years.  This is their only motherland.  The Spanish conquest in the 1500s was one more chapter in these people's long story:  not the beginning, and not the end.  This makes everything in Guatemala seem a little timeless, primordial, mystical, different.

The Mayans are quiet, humble people.  Almost none speak English.  They speak Spanish as a second language, but their first language - the language they speak at home - is one of the 20-something Mayan languages that thrive here.  Unlike much of the Caribbean, the people here do not hustle sailors, and never ask for handouts.  Physically, they are small.  The average Mayan woman is only 4' 8" tall, and the average Mayan man is 5' 2".  They do not, however, look underfed.  Some are quite round.  

The town here - officially Fronteras on the north side of the river, and Relleno on the south side of the river - is unofficially called Rio Dulce Town on both sides of the river.  There are few cars here.   It is buses and large trucks carrying cattle, fuel, or merchandise that clog the roads.  Motorcycles seem the most common conveyance used by locals.  It is common to see three people on a motorcycle, or even an attractive young woman in a little black dress and high heels.  Otherwise, people get around on tuk-tuks, little three-wheeled vehicles which carry five people or more, and do it very inexpensively.  

The main road through town is dangerously narrow, and we frequently glance over our shoulders for coming traffic as we walk.  Mayan women wearing traditional brightly-colored huipiles sell fruits and vegetables from tiny stands.  Children of five or six walk barefoot hawking chewing gum or plantain chips for 2 or 3 quetzales (30 or 40 cents.)  Women flip fresh tortillas or grilled chicken with their bare fingers as the smell of their propane and wood fires mixes with the aroma of diesel smoke and cow manure.  A young man stands next to the open door of his van, offering customers a ride to the next town:  "Morales, Morales, Morales!"  The deafening sound of jack brakes punctures the air as an 18-wheeler descends the Puente Rio Dulce to the traffic jam below.  A middle aged man wearing blue jeans and a cowboy hat jumps out of his truck and purchases a coca-cola before the bus in front of him starts moving again.  It is a grimy, smelly, chaotic delight of a little town.

Like trolls in the fairy tales, we sailors live our lives under the bridge and below the town.  There are several marinas clustered together here on the Rio Dulce, each with its own character.  Mar Marina and Tortugal attract boaters with their weekly movie nights.  At the appropriate hour, lanchas are sent around to the other marinas to pick up customers for the evening's dinner, drinks, and cinema.  Nana Juana has a boat yard and a Travel Lift big enough to raise the largest catamarans.   Bruno's has a free dinghy dock and a monthly swap meet where boaters trade or sell no-longer-wanted "treasures from the bilge."  SunDog has pizza, and Marvin's Shack has great music and decent hamberguesas.  It's all a strange and wondrous little world.  

Here at RAM Marina, we have nearly everything a sailor might want during hurricane season: a huge boatyard; a fuel dock; a convenience store/restaurant; a West Marine store; a covered workshop area with a drill press, a vice, and a grinder; and an air conditioned boaters lounge with wifi.  The workers here are the best I've found anywhere.  They are highly-skilled, professional, friendly people.  And they are cheap:  $50 per day.   (This is perhaps why they are so good.  When the hourly rate is low, people take the time to do things right.)

RAM Marine from Puente Rio Dulce

We took two trips inland.  We spent six days traveling west to Guatemala City and Antigua.  Guatemala City is a large, modern city with a couple million people, a Walmart, and at least one shopping mall with all the same stores we have in malls back home.  The people here are mostly Ladinos.  They are descended from the Spanish, they are taller and paler than the Mayans, and they embrace western culture enthusiastically.  Antigua, for us, was a welcome retreat from the busy city.  It is a quaint old colonial city nestled in a valley below three volcanoes.  It was built by the Spanish in the 1540s as Guatemala's first capital, but was destroyed by earthquakes three times before the capital was moved to Guatemala City.  We stayed in an AirBnB on a quiet edge of Antigua, a short walk from everything in town. Our host, Evelyn, was wonderful, and the house was amazing:  the center of the house was open to the sky - no air conditioning or heating is needed in Antigua - with a rooftop patio for watching the volcanoes belch.  And we had a fabulous dinner with Bill Harriss, a former HIYC member now residing in Antigua.  It is easy to understand how one might come to Guatemala and never leave.

Antigua, from Cerro de Cruz

El Arco de Santa Catalina with Volcan de Agua behind, Antigua

We also took a trip north.  We were among 70 people on a bus with 44 seats.  I stood in the aisle for 3 hours.  Two overweight men with legs sprawled feigned sleep in the seat to my left.  A family of five, including a nursing infant and luggage, shared the two seats to my right.  I stood with my arms outstretched, clinging to handrails on either side above me, and imagined crucifiction.  We (finally) arrived in Flores, a delightful little tourist village on a small island on a lake.  From there we took the 3:00 am shuttle to the Mayan ruins at Tikal, where we sat atop Temple IV, listening to the jungle come alive as the sun rose behind the clouds.  (Howler monkeys sound like dinosaurs!)  Tikal was occupied for about 1800 years, starting in about 900 BC.  It was a large and wealthy city; there are literally thousands of stone and mortar buildings there, most still covered by earth and foliage.  An amazing place, full of critters and ghosts.

The Jungle Comes Alive; Sunrise at Tikal

One of the temples at Tikal

The sailing community is bustling right now, as many boats are preparing to leave the Rio for adventures East, South, and North.  We've been busy also, taking on dozens of little boat chores.  We've re-stitched and re-sealed canvas, varnished the cap rails and moustache, removed and re-bedded a port light, polished stainless steel, and finally replaced our aged freshwater pump.  We've got a couple more little items we want to address, and then we're off sailing again.  We can't wait!  

Our immediate plan is to head first upstream, further away from the salty sea.  A brief exploration of huge Lago Izabal will be a shake-down cruise before we leave the resources of Rio Dulce behind.  Then we'll head east, back to the Bay Islands of Honduras.  The Carltons will join us there for a week.   Captain Howard is also planning to join us later in November.  You should be planning your visit to La Peregrina also!  

You can follow our progress by using this link:

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0YlaJhqedjWOR0R0VymNUvLKqY4mhKChe

And check out SailLaPeregrina on Instagram.

Happy Halloween to everyone!