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!

September 23, 2016: Houston, Texas

Fall is here, and hurricane season ends in a few weeks, so we're heading back to La Peregrina.  

We came back to the states in July, since it is unwise to sail during hurricane season.  It's been a great summer.  What a treat to see family and tribe again!  We visited Jade in Houston, Mom and Julie and Cameron in Pittsburgh, Molly in Denver, and many wonderful friends in Tennessee and Colorado.  We are enormously grateful to everyone who provided a bed, meals, cocktails, and storage space.  Regrettably, we didn't get to the Carolinas as we had hoped.  We visited the doctors and the dentist.  We helped Molly move from Denver into her new apartment in East Nashville.  It was a busy time, and we loved it.

I spent much of the summer hiking the Colorado Trail, the 500 mile walk from Denver to Durango.  It was a little more solitary tha I had expected, and a little harder on the old man's body.  On the very first day out, I tripped on my own shoelaces, fell on my face, and then brandished a beautiful black eye for the next two weeks.  I was charged by a moose, but managed to scare her off (probably the black eye did it.)  I got stuck on a high ridge in a lightning storm, hunkered down in willows in the cold rain.  But mostly it was just a whole lot of walking, up and down and up and down and up and down.   I met some fascinating people, and saw some spectacular scenery.  Here's a video:  

On September 21st, the last day of summer, Maribeth and I threw our backpacks into the back of the car and drove out of Nashville.  We've enjoyed spending the last couple days with Jade.  We're now at Houston Hobby airport awaiting our flight to Belize City.  Tomorrow we'll travel by bus, ferry, and water taxi and hopefully reach Rio Dulce, Guatemala late tomorrow evening.  We're anxious to see how La Peregrina has handled being closed up for three months in the humid tropics.  We have a little work to do on the boat, and we'd like to do some inland exploration of Guatemala.  But within a few weeks, we hope to be sailing again.

Don't forget, you are invited to come join us.  Let us know when or where you'd like to come, and we'll start working on the details.

Joe and Maribeth 

A Retrospective: The Plan

Way back in March, 2008, Maribeth and I decided to commit our plan to writing.  We called it "The Five Year Plan," but it reflected a plan we had first discussed three years earlier, and a dream we had been nurturing for nearly twenty years.   

As it turned out, of course, the plan didn't come to fruition until 2016.  And we ended up with a 34-foot Cabo Rico instead of a bigger boat.  ObamaCare solved our health insurance problem.  

Implementing the plan was terrifying, and we had many doubts along the way.  We realized we'd have to quit our jobs, which seemed irresponsible, even dangerous.  We began to call it “Our Year of Living Dangerously.”  But the years were flying by (still are) and we felt it was now or never.   

We're now three quarters of the way through our year.  By the criteria we set eight years ago, we're succeeding.  So far.  We've got a very few more months of sailing remaining, and then we must face the "get new job when back" part of the plan.  I think we'll be ready for it.

July 1, 2016: Belize City International Airport

We took four days to sail from Guanaja to Livingston, Guatemala.  We had glorious, fast sails to Roatan the first day, and to Utila the second day.  Each day offered 20 knot winds from the ESE, and La Peregrina seemed to enjoy the romp downwind under genoa alone.  Each of these islands is unique and inviting.  We would love to come back and spend more time exploring them.  It was an overnight sail from Utila to Livingston in generally light air, though we had a thunderstorm during my midnight to 4 a.m. watch with 44 knot winds and a deluge of rain.  Maribeth slept through it, oblivious to the whole thing. Clearly, she's become accustomed to travel under sail.

Guatemala promises much to see and do.  The motor up the Rio Dulce from Livingston to Frontera is spectacular.  After months of open salt water, we suddenly found ourselves on a narrow ribbon of green fresh water squeezed between 300-foot walls of limestone and jungle.   There are hundreds of thatch-roofed houses along the river, and a handful of restaurants and tiendas.  There are no roads, so all travel is by boat.  Everyone seems to have a cayuco, a traditional boat that sits low in the water and is paddled like a canoe.  There are also water taxis and ferries with outboard motors that carry larger parties up and down the river.  On El Golfete, a natural lake along the way, fishermen use traditional techniques as pelicans float nearby, hoping for a free lunch.  We did the trip in a few hours, but could easily spend several days getting to know it better.

There is a tall bridge over the river at the town of Frontera, which, confusingly, is also referred to as "Rio Dulce."  Here is where hundreds of sailboats that have traveled the Caribbean Sea since the fall are now waiting out hurricane season.   We are much better protected from storms here than we ever were in New Orleans (we weathered 2 hurricanes in our 6 years there.)  The town is interesting and busy.  There are Mayans here!  I guess I assumed the conquistadors had wiped them all out.  But they are still very much alive and well, very distinctive in their appearance and culture, even if they are no longer in charge.  There are also a few Garifunas, and many Creole, which are a mix of Spanish, African, and Amerindian.  And a bunch of salty, weathered sailors.

We haven't really seen much yet.  We had La Peregrina hauled out of the water for the summer.  We'll repair the damage to the keel that resulted from hitting the reef at Crooked Island on March 30, and she'll be given a fresh coat of bottom paint.  But first, we'll head back to Estados Unidos, the good old U.S. of A., the land of abundance, home sweet home.  As I write this, we sit in the airport bar at the international airport in Belize City, waiting to board our flight to Houston.  It's been quite the adventure getting here from Rio Dulce, involving taxis, a "ferry," a bus, and some interesting strangers.  We should be in Middle Tennessee sometime this weekend.

Happy July 4 to everyone.  We are excited to see you all!

Joe

June 18, 2016: Guanaja, Bay Islands of Honduras

We raised anchor at daybreak on June 8, motored out of Governors Harbor, and raised sails as we headed towards the channel leading out of Grand Cayman's North Sound.  Our intention was to sail the 460 miles or so to Livingston, Guatemala.  But we had several potential intermediate stops if necessary. 

It was an excellent passage.  The wind was SE at 15 to 20.   We were heading WSW, so it was a fast, relatively comfortable reach.  We did 4 hour watches, and the nights passed easily.  On the second day, we crossed paths with several large freighters on routes between the Yucatan Channel and the Panama Canal.  Late in the day we passed the Swan Islands (Isla de Santillas.)  We never came close enough to see land, but a big lumbering Honduran military plane (maybe a DC3?) flew out from the island and circled us.  We waved.

Each morning we listen to Chris Parker's weather broadcast on the single sideband radio.  On the third morning, he spoke of winds building to 30 knots or more.  We were only 45 miles or so from Guanaja, the eastern most of the Bay Islands of Honduras.  So we determined to make the stop and rest for a couple days until the weather settled down.

And so we found Paradise.   Guanaja offers all the best of Caribbean landfalls.  It is a gorgeous mountainous island covered in pines and palms, and surrounded by clear blue water.  It has cheap good beer, free protected anchorages, friendly people, excellent food, abundant easily accessible great-tasting water, outstanding snorkeling (the healthiest, most diverse coral reefs we've found,) and mountain hikes with clear cool waterfalls.  

There are 8 other sailboats in our anchorage tonight:  three from France, two from Canada, one from England, and two from the U.S.  There are a couple of nearby restaurants where we gather, mingle with the locals, and try to tell stories in our respective languages.  It sounds like the Tower of Babel, but somehow we understand each other.

We took a three day circumnavigation around the island, staying for two nights in a beautiful quiet anchorage on the relatively unpopulated north side of the island. We celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary there with margaritas in the cockpit.  No other sailors, no cell phone service, no internet, no radio traffic, but one really impressive sunset.  Excellent.

We kinda just wanna stay here.  If tribe and family were here, we would.  But we're now 8 days into our two day rest stop, hurricane season threatens, and we feel pressure to get to Rio Dulce.  Early tomorrow morning we will head west.  Our plan is to leave the boat in Guatemala, and return to the states for a couple months.  If things go according to plan, we'll be in Nashville on or about July 4.  Can't wait to see everyone!

June 7, 2016: Governor's Harbor, Grand Cayman

Jade flew into Montego Bay on May 16th, and three days later we were on our way to Jamaica's Blue Mountains.  Our goal was to climb Blue Mountain Peak.  At 7,402 feet, it is higher than any point east of the Mississippi in the U.S., and the highest point in Jamaica.

It is only about 80 miles from Oracabessa to Mavis Bank, the highest settlement on the mountain.  But it took all day to get there.  The mountain roads are incredible:  narrow, curvy, full of deep holes, and amazingly steep.  They drive on the left in Jamaica, and the steering wheel of our rental car was on the right, so I was constantly fighting my instincts and habits.  When trying to signal a turn, I turned on the windshield wipers instead. The road is wide enough for only one vehicle, but we regularly drove into the bushes when confronting cars (or trucks!) going the opposite direction at ridiculous speeds.  The road is often gravel or dirt, and a couple creeks must be forded.  There are a few terrifying bridges, 10 feet wide, with no railing, hanging 50 feet or more above a mountain gorge.  At one point, the road was so steep that the car would not go further until Maribeth and Jade got out and walked.  (I know, I know, it should have been my fat butt walking!)  Even after all that, we still could not drive to our planned destination.  A phone call, some haggling over price, and soon we were in a 4 wheel drive van, jostling and bouncing the last few miles to Jah B's Rastafarian hostel.  

Jah B's is an amazing place with a sublime view.  In addition to running the hostel for visitors to the Blue  Mountains, Jah B and his family grow organic vegetables and, most importantly, coffee plants.   (Blue Mountain coffee is among the best in the world.)

The crew of La Peregrina with Jah B, the Rastafarian hosteler and Blue Mountain coffee grower

We climbed out of our bunks at 1:30 a.m. and were soon hiking toward the summit.  Thick clouds develop over these mountains during most days, so our plan was to reach the peak for a sunrise panorama. The hike was extraordinary:  a cloudless night, a bright full moon, the lights of Kingston below.  But cold fog developed on the summit just as we arrived, and we were denied our view.  Still, it was a memorable adventure. 

We spent the remainder of Jade's visit exploring the north coast of Jamaica.  We sailed west from Oracabessa back to St. Ann's Bay, a vibrant community with a fascinating market, and then on to Falmouth Harbor and finally Montego Bay, which is called "Mobay" by the locals.  

We bid Jade a sad farewell on May 25th, but happily welcomed my sister Julie.  We stayed a few days anchored at the Montego Bay Yacht Club, where we enjoyed the showers, pool, bar, wifi, and restaurant.  I got my first haircut in 3 months, and we stocked up at an excellent grocery store.  

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On Saturday, the 28th, we set sail for the Cayman Islands.  Julie was apprehensive, but proved to be excellent crew.  It was a two-day passage in relatively light winds dead astern, and we motored more than I preferred.

Grand Cayman is a pleasant place.  We tied up to a free mooring just off Georgetown for four nights where we found great snorkeling off the back of the boat.  An approaching tropical wave persuaded us to make the four hour trip around to North Sound and into well-protected Governor's Harbor, where we remain anchored today.  For eight days now, we have been enjoying the luxuries of this affluent island.  There is an excellent and inexpensive bus service that makes seeing the island easy.  We found a chandlery where I obtained proper parts to replace some of my temporary fixes.  We hiked the Mastic Trail and visited the Botanical Garden.  Maribeth made some outstanding meals with fresh tuna purchased from a local fisherman.  

The low pressure system has now moved north and become tropical storm Colin.  The winds are moderating here, and we are preparing to raise anchor and begin our passage to Guatemala.  It is about 450 miles, the longest crossing we have ever done without additional crew.   But the boat is ready, the forecast is good, we get daily updates via SSB, and we can stop in the Swan Islands or the Bay Islands of Honduras if necessary.  It might just be a blast!

We'll be out of touch for a few days. Best to all of you, and Happy Birthday to Tom Sharp.  We look forward to seeing you all soon.

May 15, 2016: St. Ann's Bay, Jamaica

We've been in Jamaica for 24 days now.  20 of those days were in Port Antonio, where we found ourselves stuck waiting for a part to arrive for our diesel engine.  We stayed at Errol Flynn Marina, and the living was easy.  We had all the water we wanted, showers every day, a friendly and inexpensive bar, and an assortment of fascinating people.  Port Antonio is a gorgeous spot.  Mountains and clouds reminiscent of the Smokies hang over the town and its harbors.  It rains 300 inches a year there, which is six times what Nashville gets.  

To make a long story short, the motor is fixed and now runs better than ever.  We are sailing again, heading east a few miles at a time.  

We're getting to know this beautiful, funky, misunderstood island.  I think I expected gangsters.  Instead, we've found the people here to be friendly, polite, and religious.  Young men in their school uniforms help old ladies carry their groceries.  Young families in their Sunday best take pictures under breadfruit trees.  A few Jamaicans are desperately poor, and they are not hard to find.  A very few, we are told, are obscenely wealthy, but they keep themselves hidden away. 

We don't quite blend in when we visit these little Jamaican towns.  I haven't seen another white man in a few days now.  It's an experience, a perspective, more people should have.  The Jamaicans make us feel welcome.

We're off the beaten path now, and have been for a few weeks.  We rarely have other boats in our anchorages, and the few sailors we encounter seem more likely to be European or Australian than American.  

We are anchored tonight in the exact spot where Christopher Columbus anchored his boat to do repairs about 510 years ago. The water is 30 feet deep here, with flat land only 100 feet to the south, and a reef 100 feet to the north.  It is a unique, extremely well-protected and comfortable spot.

We're very excited that Jade is flying in tomorrow!  She'll be with us for 10 days, and we hope to see much more of Jamaica with her.  Then, my sister Julie will join us for our crossing to the Cayman Islands.

We are really missing tribe and family.  Can't wait to see you all!  We wish you the very best.  

Good night.