Busy, busy - all play and no work.

The tiki palapa is the place to be.

The preliminary exploration of our first day in the French Harbor of Roatan was a large success. First we went over to Fantasy Island where we met an American couple from California, Rick and Marsha. They told us where to find Jerry, who manages the marina. A short walk down the dirt road led us to a hotel  lobby.

On the way to the hotel, we saw several agoutis (a guinea pig relative), iguanas nearly as large as a basset hound, green parrots, a peacock having a stare down with itself in a mirrored window and small black monkey’s  running across the lobby of the hotel. I’m like a small child with excitement every time I see the most common animal. I was anxious to take my camera back to fantasy island.

 This is an agouti. It's a relative to the guinea pig. They roam around, staying close by minding their own business and seem quite harmless.

This iguana just emerged from the hole under the tree roots. It must be his home.

This young rooster lives at the tiki palapa. He plops down to sleep next to anyone who will let him. I guess he wants to be around the humans.

There's no missing this bright green iguana.

At the hotel we found Eric and Sandrine enjoying  the use of free internet. We also found Jerry;  he told us we could drop our propane tank off to be filled at three that afternoon, we could leave our laundry (if needed) and dump our trash. Rick and Marsha gave us all the details on the potluck that evening and how to get to the grocery store.

We retrieved our propane tank and dropped it off at the tiki hut, as instructed and then dinghied across the harbor to Old French Harbor. We tied our dinghy up at the Roatan Yacht Club. The cost is $2.50 or free if you order something from the restaurant/bar. Just a short hop, skip and jump and we were at the grocery store. The store is modern and quite large; they have all the brands and products  we’re used to. We bought our groceries and headed home.

The potluck was a hoot. Between twenty and thirty people showed up. When we first arrived, a newly acquainted cruiser, Susie had us talked in to playing volleyball on Monday. Later that evening she put together a game of Mexican Train at the tiki palapa for the following day. Rick and Marsha sat with Eric and Sandrine and Jimi and I. After dinner an American couple from North Carolina, Tim and Pam, visited with us. They gave us a lot of good information on the Rio Dulce. They are headed that way around the same time we are.

We were told of a ship wreck and a plane wreck we could dive and snorkel, as well as other reefs with plenty of sea life. I was told to watch for the horses that are transported by boat every morning across the bay to another island. I’ve never seen a horse on a boat before.

We’ve made it through our first week here and beginning on our second.  It’s a blast. Social events everyday – all play and no work.  Volleyball every day at 3 pm, we’ve only been twice though. Hamburger night on Wednesdays, nautical swap meet on Thursday, Lion fish fry on Fridays, Potluck on Saturdays, the bus run Eldon’s grocery store on Tuesdays, the veggie truck arrives with fresh produce on Mondays and the tiki palapa is open for business every evening except Sundays. The drinks are cheap. A can of beer is 30 LEM ($1.50).

Musicians among us – an evening at the tiki palapa. Jimi, Eric and Stu brought their guitars and Stu’s wife, Stephanie, brought  her violin. They strummed until well past dark, while Stu sang. The only thing missing was a camp fire.

At Wednesday’s potluck we celebrated cruiser Joe’s birthday. Susie brought her DJ equipment, Stu and Stephanie played their instruments and a man named Brian played some old rock and roll. Some of us danced to love songs, the YMCA and…yes, the macarena. We’ve made so many new friends here; most are American, a few French and the rest are British. Many of them are going to the Rio Dulce, as we are, and we’re hoping to see them there.

Jimi and I spent an afternoon at the park. As you can see from the photos I’ve attached we  saw parrots, ducks, geese, a turkey, a grand representation of Foghorn Leghorn, agoutis, iguanas and a couple of monkeys.

 This size of a basset hound.

The roosters are quite large.

Is this rooster mean mugging me?

The sweetest face.

As I walked across the park and small monkey came running up to me like we were long lost friends. I was a bit startled at first. He wrapped his arms around my ankles and then began climbing up towards my shoulders. After a couple of minutes I was in love. We spent the next hour playing with the little guy. He would bounce off to another park of the park, but with camera in hand I would follow him. At the drinking hole, he tried to get a sip, but it was too deep. He dipped his tail in the pond and then sucked the water from it. A larger monkey showed up after a while and we could tell they were competing with each other when they became a little aggressive. We’re told they like to steal things: sunglasses, hats and anything not held down. We kept a pretty close hold on our belongings. Their little hands and feet are soft like velvet and their eyes and faces are expressive. Jimi clearly saw an expression on the larger monkey’s face when he mean mugged Jimi. As Jimi was teasing him with a pair of sunglasses, finally the monkey became annoyed. He looked at Jimi with angry eyes, brows puffed and pointed, eyes slightly squinted and mouth open making a slight hissing noise. Then the monkey let go of the sunglasses, turned around and left.

Getting a drink of water.

I just wanted to cuddle him like a baby, but he was a little nervous of me.

Monkey playing with me.

Tuesday everyone in the harbor experienced a bit of excitement when we heard a distress call over the radio.  A sailing vessel landed on the reef and was calling for help. The female voice spoke broken English. We only heard her cry for help once and then nothing. We were told the victims might be French, so Eric was asked to continue to try to make radio contact with them. A dive boat from the dive center was sent out to help and there may have been other boats who responded also. Jimi and I wanted to go out there, but the seas and winds were too rough. Our anxiety levels were raised as we could sit and do nothing but listen and wait. After a couple of hours, we were notified that the couple (in their 70s) were leaving the boat and coming ashore. Cay’s Harbour gave them a place to stay for the night. Other than a few bruises, they were safe, however, their boat was still bouncing around on the reef and the chances of it surviving was not good.

We’re not sure how long the tug boats spent trying to free the vessel. Jimi and I went out to the wreck at 11am on Thursday morning and finally at 5:30 Thursday evening they succeeded. They towed the boat to another harbor so the damage could be accessed. We at least knew it was still floating. They next day, Friday, we were informed that the aluminum boat has a large dent on one side, but it is otherwise fine. The twin keels, rutter and prop, as far as we’re told, is not damaged. What an amazing blessing for this couple, who by the way are German, not French.

Here and There in Honduras

I had wanted to write a week ago, but when we moved to a new anchorage, we found ourselves without an internet connection. I’ll have to back up a bit to catch you up to the present day.

On the sail to Honduras, Eric caught a large tuna. He invited us and Gerard and Elle to share in his catch. Jimi and I provided the appetizers: bananas wrapped in bacon. Sandrine prepared the tuna in a sauce with rice and Gerard and Elle treated us with two flavors of homemade ice cream, mango and chocolate, made from their own ice cream machine. We were suppose to play Mexican train after, but the hours flew by and we didn’t have time.

A few days after our last post we decided to move to another anchorage a couple of miles away. The area was empty. We were the only cruiser there, until one evening a sailboat anchored not far from us. After a couple of hours Jimi noticed they weren’t floating. The tide had gone out and they were sitting on the ocean’s sandy floor.

Jimi jumped in the dinghy to offer them some assistance. After roughly and hour of tugging and pushing with two dinghies, and the use of the second anchor, the monohull was again floating. They left the area shortly after and we heard them on the radio later telling their friends about their misadventure. Even with our own problems piling up, Jimi was able to offer a lending hand to someone in need.

On our way to the new spot, our Garmin chart plotter quit, it just blacked out. Jimi tried numerous troubleshooting attempts, but nothing brought it back to life. He then called Garmin tech support just to hear, “We’re sorry sir. You can send it in and we’ll refurbish it for $225.” The fact that it’s less than two years old and we paid nearly $700 for it and the fact that we are in Honduras, had no bearing and we got no sympathy.

Being without the chart plotter isn’t the end for us. We have other means to chart our course, but the crucial point is the loss of depth. Our depth sounder was wired in to the plotter. Sailing without knowing our depth could be risky.

Jimi had another idea though. He had a spare depth sounder aboard. The old depth sensor imbedded in Sanibel’s hull had to come out, so the spare could be inserted. Normally this is only done out of the water, but we had no choice.

I was nervous, but Jimi went forward. After a lot of pounding and banging, he removed the old sensor. Water sprouted through the almost two inch hole until he could get the spare in. And even then the spare was a different shape than the original and water continued to leak in. I sopped up water with a towel, ringing it in a bucket, while Jimi took a tube of  5200 and dove under Sanibel to apply the goop and fill the hole. This process took a few hours, but we finally succeeded. To our disappointment the spare depth sounder did not work.  He even tested it before installing it and it worked. He tested it again after he installed it, but before he glued it in place and it worked then too. However, now it doesn’t work.

We are now sailing without any measure of depth other than a thirty foot piece of string with a weight tied on one end.

That’s not all our bad news, at some point during one of our recent sails the throttle lever broke off. Jimi now uses a pair of vice grips to give our old girl the momentum she needs.

Not to be discouraged. We take the bad with the good and on a sail boat these things are to be expected.

May 24^th was my day…my birthday. My family has always made birthdays a special event and even though I am far from home, I still try to do it. Jimi and I baked a small cake (half of a boxed mix) cut it in the shape of a sailboat, frosted it and gave it two masts. It didn’t look fantastic, but it was recognizable as a sail boat. We were so eager to dig in that we didn’t take any pictures. We ate the majority of the cake that day and finished it off for breakfast the next day. Yum!

At 5pm that evening, we met our French friends, Eric, Sandrine, Gerard and Elle at a German run establishment for dinner and drinks. It was the Manati Restaurant and Bar. Clouse and Annette came from Germany nineteen years ago and have been running the restaurant for fourteen years. Hans, also from Germany, owns the land and building, but rents it to Clouse and Annette. Hans came to Honduras twenty-eight years ago and liked it so much, he stayed. We also met a couple of Americans and a man from New Zealand. The place was filled with laughter and every time, I turned around I heard a happy birthday.

For dinner I ate homemade German noodles and chicken cordon blue, which was divine. Jimi had French fries and roasted pork. I was surprised with a large dish of chocolate ice cream with a heart shaped lollipop on top. It was a great evening.  So if asked what I did for my birthday, I will say “I, being American, spent the evening with French friends, New Zealand and German company in Honduras.” Now who can say that?

   

Jimi and I headed home about 1:30am. Gerard tried to talk us in to coming over to his boat to continue the celebration, but Jimi and I were too tired. We heard the next day that Eric saw the sun rise with Gerard. J

After our special night out, we stayed put for several days. Jimi and I both had projects to work on on Sanibel. We took laundry to shore, ate lunch at a local Honduras place and bought a few groceries. The lady that did our laundry, does it by hand. Many people don’t have washing machines and no one has dryers. We’re told the electricity is very expensive. She did three large loads for us for 300 LEM (about fifteen U.S. dollars). We picked it up a couple of days later, clean and smelling a lot better than it did when we dropped it off. She was even able to get all the ‘ring around the collar’ out of Jimi’s white shirts.

Unexpectedly one evening, Eric sent Jimi and message asking him if he wanted to go to Manati to play pool. “Sure,” we both said. We arrived expecting to have one maybe two drinks, play some pool and then leave. Sandrine wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed home and Elle came later. We played half a dozen (or more) games of pool, drank more than two drinks, and Jimi and I shared a dinner of german sausage and french fries. We got home about ten.

A couple of days later we left Banaka sailing twenty-six miles towards Roatan. That is where we sat without any contact from the world wide web. A local fisherman came by everyday for several days trying to sell us conch, lobsters and fish. We weren’t interested, but Jimi engaged him in conversation and we gave him some goodies to take to his daughter and family.

This is a wreck we came across while out and about in the dinghy.

Eric and Sandrine showed up after five days or so. They brought us water for our tanks and then we shared an evening of pizza, cookies and Mexican train.

This morning both vessels sailed to the French Harbor of Roatan. We have our internet back – Yay! Tomorrow we’ll check out the town and our surroundings. There are a lot of boats here and we understand that there may be weekly potluck events along with other cruiser activities.

Six Hours Lost - A Story of Our Honduras Hike

We’d planned a hike on the north side of the island for Saturday, May 17th. Our sailing buddies, Eric and Sandrine, agreed to join us. Between the four of us, we were equipped with food, water, rain gear, a GPS , VHF radio, bug spray and a machete.

The last of the six mile, thirty minute dinghy ride could be compared to riding a mechanical bull in the rain. It wasn’t raining hard, just a steady flow.

Our hike began at the Island House Resort, owned by a man named Bo. Upon our arrival we secured the dinghies to a palm tree on the beach. Within a few minutes Bo welcomed us. He is a soft spoken, tall, middle aged man with a ship wreck coin hanging from his neck and speaks fluent English.

“Bo, we’ve heard of you,” Jimi said.

Bo somewhat smiled but continued to ask, “you are here to see the waterfall?”

“Yes and we want to go to the peak,” Jimi said.

“O.k. see that boat?” He pointed to a white boat laying on shore.

Jimi nodded.

“Turn right just past that. You’ll see a bridge. Go across the bridge and then you’ll see a sign and the trail to the waterfall. “

“Good…good…and does that also lead to the peak?”

“No, the trail to the peak is separate. Do you have plenty of water?” Bo asked.

“We each have about three liters,” Jimi said.

“O.k. You need a lot of water. Go back across the bridge and you’ll see a tree in the middle of the stream. The trail goes up and to the right from there. Some of the trail may be grown in and when you get to the ridge stay on the trail otherwise you’ll run in to saw grass.”

We all thanked him and he left.

It was ten a.m. when we began. We stopped briefly to admire a dugout canoe now made into a swing. I reached for my water tucked in the side of my back pack. “My water‘s gone. It’s must have fallen out in the dinghy,” I said.

“Go get it,” Jimi said, “we’ll wait.”

“I’ve got two more. I’ll just leave it,” I responded.

“I think you should go get it,” he insisted with a sideways motion of his head.

O.k fine. I shrugged and walked to the dinghy, retrieved my water and tucked it in the side pocket of my backpack.

The grounds were polished just as one might expect a resort to be. A coconut half planted in the sand sprouted a new tree. “Lorie, take a picture of this. Get down low,” Jimi said.

I knelt as low as I could without touching the wet sand with my legs and snapped the shot.

The nature made trail to the waterfall was large boulders we stepped over and around; it took about five minutes to get there from the bridge. The rain coated our surroundings with a shiny gloss deepening the colors. The waterfall was at least thirty feet up with a small pool at the bottom. We reveled there for a while, taking a few pictures before we left.

Finding the start of the trail to the peak was clear. The trail was covered in leaves of browns, yellows and oranges. Under the leaves were rocks and dirt. The uphill trail wasn’t painfully steep or slippery. Wildly grown trees, grass and bushes surrounded us.

 Jimi led the way and I completed our group in the rear. I could hear Jimi and Eric in conversation, but couldn’t always hear what they were saying. Sandrine and I had our own conversations going. We talked about books, making yogurt, bug bites and vitamin B12.

We walked up the side of the mountain in a zigzag pattern for a long distance. I told Sandrine,  “this reminds me of the hikes in Colorado. We went one or two times a month during the summers.”

Then I heard Jimi telling Eric about the 14er’s we’d climbed.

Just then I reached around to get the water bottle from my bag. It wasn’t there. “I lost my water bottle,” I announced. Everyone stopped and looked at me. “It must have fallen out of my bag somewhere.”

“You need a drink?” Eric asked as he was taking water from his bag.

“No. I have more. It’s ok. Maybe we’ll find it on the way back down.”

Before long my shins and right ankle began to burn slightly with each step. I knew I would be a hurting unit by the time we reached the top. I asked Sandrine if her legs were burning yet. She told me her legs were not but her hips were.

Then I heard the guys talking about the trail up ahead.  We’d come to a fork.

Jimi was looking at his GPS and Eric was investigating one of the trails. We headed off into one direction but it came to a dead end. We turned around stopping at the fork in the road and after more discussion we headed the other direction.

Soon we realized we were no longer on the trail nor was there any kind of trail in sight. We continued  toward to summit anyhow.

The brush was think. Branches scraped my legs as I walked by. We had to crawl up the side of a hill, which turned out to be a false summit. My feet, inside my shoes, were wet, either from the rain or sweat, causing my feet to turn sideways with each step. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get a good grip on the soil. With every two steps up, I slid one step down. My legs burned, my back ached and my feet were too sore to go on, but I did – we all did. At the top we were disappointed to find yet another false summit.

We walked through grass patches taller than us and climbed two more hill sides on our hands, knees  and feet only to find more false summits.

Finally we stopped at the final false summit. We gawked at the view, took a few photographs and each grabbed a seat to eat our lunch.

After eating we continued to the peak, which was hiding in the clouds a short distance away. It was noon when we arrived.  “Just six hours to get back,” someone said. There was no mistaking the trail on the ridge. We discussed following our GPS tracks down the way we came or taking the trail. The obvious choice to all of us was to take the trail.

A short walk down the trail led us into a tall patch of overgrown ferns. The ferns were green, orange and brown. Feathering over us, they were overgrown, invading a clear but camouflaged path. We forced our way through them snapping a couple of pictures along the way. Jimi was in the lead with his machete.

Little by little we began running into saw grass. It came and went and we dodged it whenever we could. Sometimes it latched on to a piece of clothing or scraped across someone’s flesh causing piercing paper cuts. A large piece of grass attached itself to Eric’s nose making it to bleed. Sandrine and I let out peeps indicating pain when it attacked us.

By this time we knew we had lost the trail, however, we could see the beach where the dinghies were and continued to head in that direction.

We came to a cliff. It looked to be either a dried up creek bed or ground that had washed away  in a mud slide. The ground was dry, dusty and loose with dirt, rocks and gravel. Eric made it down first, fairly quickly. I guess it was about  twenty feet or more.

Jimi began sliding down next, but the strap on one of his shoes broke. He sat momentarily trying to fix it, but without a piece of string, it was useless. He threw his shoe and machete down the slope to free his hands and scooted down rest  of the way.

I  thought if I sat on my butt with my feet in front of me, I could scoot down. The gravel was loose and with every move I made I felt I’d lose control and plummet down the twenty foot slope. The inches I slid felt like more. As panic began to take over, I took off my shoes and used my toes to dig into the dirt. With Eric in front of me he held out his hand and I kept my composure. I became more confident as I inched closer to the bottom.

Sandrine followed my lead and Eric assisted her the same way.

Jimi was sitting at the bottom tying a piece of rope, he’d found, around his shoe. Then he got up to retrieve his machete.

Now we were following what appeared to be a dry creek bed. We followed that for a short distance before meeting up with a small mountain stream. We were still going in the right direction and knew the stream would lead us down. I felt a sense of relief.

The rocks were wet and some were slippery, but as long as we watched where we stepped we were fine. At times there was nowhere else to step other than in the clear cool water.

Up ahead I heard Jimi holler, “a really large iguana just fell out of this tree…I’m not kidding man. This thing was right above me and almost landed on me. It landed right here.” He was pointing to a pool of water inches from his feet.

Eric scurried closer to have a look. “Did you scare it?” Eric asked.

“I guess so,” Jimi laughed, “freaked me out a little too.”

After following the stream for a long while we came to a waterfall with a thirty foot drop. Jimi and Eric were looking over the side while Sandrine and I stopped behind them about ten feet. I heard Jimi tell Eric, “Lorie will never make it down this,” he paused, “I won’t make it down this. We need a rope.”

The left side of the stream was a bank, straight up. Jimi looked at the GPS and said, “the trail we came in on is three hundred feet that way.” He was pointing towards the bank. The other side of the stream was a mountain thick with trees, vines, grasses, rocks, bushes and more saw grass. Jimi decided he’d go up the mountain to find another way down. Eric studied the waterfall for other options, while Sandrine and I took rest on a rock.

I told Sandrine, “why can’t we use a vine like a rope to climb down the waterfall?”

Exhausted, she shrugged.

Soon Jimi returned and said there was no other way. They studied the left side of the falls thinking they could wedge a tree trunk getting us from one landing to the next until we were down. It was worth a try. They went up stream  and began cutting a trunk with the machete.  Jimi also cut a vine even though I hadn’t told him my idea.

After more discussion they decided to use the trunk on the right side of the falls first. I saw that they were ready for it and decided it would be most efficient if we used an assembly line method to get the trunk to the fall. I crawled over to the cut down trunk and began inching it towards Jimi who was just on the other side of Sandrine. Sandrine’s foot was close by. The log bounced when it hit the rock thumping the top of her foot. 

She squeaked and snapped her foot back.

“Oh, Sandrine are you ok? I’m so sorry,” I said.

“It’s ok,” she said while rubbing her foot.

Eric was next to her and said, “do not break anything,” pointing his finger with a playful tone.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” I admitted.

She looked at me and again assured me she was fine.

Handing off the log, the men got it to the edge of the fall but it wasn’t long enough. They decided to try it on the other side but wanted to first try the vine. They managed to get the log perpendicular across the stream and left it there.

I grabbed a hold of the vine, handed it to Sandrine, who gave it to Eric. Eric gave it to Jimi and Jimi secured one end to a tree. It looked like it could work. Halfway down was a landing. Eric went down as far as the first landing, stopped there and helped Sandrine down. Then he continued to the bottom and Sandrine followed him. Jimi and I copied the same pattern. “Always keep a hold of the vine,” he told me. “Place your hand here and one foot there…hold on to the vine with the other hand. Good… Good… now turn around and holding on, lean back so your feet are in front of you, not under you, “ he instructed.

I did everything he said and before I knew it we were at the bottom. That was fun. I want to do it again.

Further down we came to another tricky spot. This time we took off our backpacks handing them down to Eric. Eric instructed us to sit on the large rock in the stream and placed our feet in very strategic places otherwise we’d slide down the stream, one with the water. My foot and hand slipped and I fell smack on my butt. Eric and Sandrine ooed, but I said “it’s ok, I didn’t hit my tailbone.” We continued. We endured many of these incidents – too many to recall or write about. The entire day was filled slipping, sliding, tripping and falling with each of us helping one another. We were all tired, internally cranky and disgusted but no one showed it.

“It’s four  o’clock, Eric,” Jimi said. By this time there was a little worry and panic in our voices.“It’ll be dark in an a couple of hours. We’ve got to make a plan man.” They both looked at our surroundings, but no one knew what to say. “Well lets go, we have to hustle and get through this crap,” Jimi insisted.

“Did anyone bring a flashlight?” Jimi asked.

We all said no and Jimi continued swinging his machete forward.

There were other impassible areas on the stream and we had to go up into the mountain, around and back down to the stream. Each time we racked up more cuts.

At 5:20 p.m. I heard Jimi yell, “hey we’re at the top of the waterfall.”

By this time we were spread out. When I reached the waterfall, it was determined there was no way down from there. We had no choice but to go up and around once again. We were so close and yet so far away. The sun was setting; it would be dark soon and we still had to dinghy to the other side of the island.

Climbing the final stretch, the brush was among the thickest. Vines, two inches thick, went every which way. Saw grass tugged at every part of me. My feet and back pack got stuck on the vines. We had to climb and crawl through openings no more than a couple feet wide. I was falling behind. My foot sunk in to voids camouflaged by patches of leaves and vines . I mustered everything I had to pull myself up. Inside, I was wailing. I desperately wanted to have a break down as my chin quivered. Jimi asked me how I was doing and with my shaky quivering voice I replied, “O.k.”

Jimi and Eric had arrived at the bottom of the waterfall. Then I heard Eric shout, “I see Lorie’s water bottle.”

And then Jimi yelled, “I claim it.”

Wow, they found my water bottle. I can’t believe it.

I heard Eric ask Sandrine if she could see me. She could not. She stopped, waited for me and then we inched down the steep hillside together.  I could now see Jimi and Eric standing, intently watching us.

Finally at the bottom Jimi hugged me and said, “you did good babe.” It was all I could do to hold myself together.

We had less than forty minutes to get to Sanibel. We arrived at the dinghy at 6pm. As we dragged the dinghy into the ocean, my legs burned with rage from the salt water. Jimi must have felt the same thing because he hollered, “Woohoo! That salt water fired my legs up.”

The dinghy ride to Sanibel was another mechanical bull ride experience. We arrived home at 6:30 p.m. with a light sprinkle and dark clouds above our heads. It was about to rain hard.

In the days to follow Jimi and Eric fared well. They were a little sore the following day. The cut on Eric’s nose healed quickly and was barely noticeable. A severe rash, almost like a poison oak, appeared in the back of Jimi’s neck and his machete arm. I was sore the following two days, barely able to move. Sandrine seemed to get the worst of it. She was laid up longer and had the most cuts and scrapes on her legs. The cuts were like thousands of paper cuts on our hands, arms ankles, and shines and our clothes were black with mud, especially the butt areas.

I wouldn’t say it was a life or death situation, but it did become serious. There had been a chance we might have had to spend the night on the mountain without any camping gear. Eric had a handheld VHF and we could have contacted the authorities to let them know we were up there. 

I have a new respect for everyone. In a tough situation we stuck together. No one snapped under pressure, no one felt they had it worse and no one placed blamed. We worked together, checked on one another and talked each other through a difficult time.

The Bay Islands

From the cockpit, the sail from Grand Cayman was fairly smooth. Sanibel soared through the water with ease. Jimi set a course, turned on the auto pilot and sat back to enjoy steady five to six knot speeds. Nothing required him to adjust the sails, which is usually a never ending job. However, the last thirty mile stretch was a different story. Just as the sun said goodnight the winds picked up. Jimi fought to keep Sanibel on course, the autopilot couldn’t handle the pressure which meant  Jimi had to hand steer the final six hours while regularly being smacked with salt water from the port side. He changed our destination for the night to the lee of the island because the winds were blowing to strong to enter our planned anchorage. He safely anchoring us about 1am Monday morning. The passage took about sixty hours. Jimi managed the helm the entire time taking twenty minute cat naps throughout. 

From below deck,  contents rolled around (including me). I decided not to take any motion sickness medication in case Jimi needed me to keep watch. For the majority of the trip I was miserable. I got up about twice a day to use the head. Barely drank any water, so I wouldn’t have to get up more and had a pile of snacks by my side. Laying there rolling back and forth, trying to hang on, every muscle in my body ached and I may have shed a few pounds. After the first twenty-four hours, I thought I’d have given anything to be able to get up out of that bed and walk around. By the time we anchored, I was so wore out, I didn’t want to get out of bed. Ironic? Usually I like to read, write, watch a movie or do some craft while we sail. But this trip I could do much of nothing.

The following morning we raised our quarantine and Honduras courtesy flags, pulled anchor and headed for the town of Banaka to check in. Approaching the point, the wind gusts picked up making us uncomfortable to continue. Jimi opted to find a hidey hole, anchor and wait it out. If caught we could be fined additional fees – well actually we weren’t sure what the consequences would be – but decided to take our chances.  It was Wednesday before the winds subsided to our favor. Surely our friends s/v Jingle would be wondering where we were and what happened to us. Therefore, we were anxious to make contact with them.

The bay was bustling with activity when we arrived. Small locals were skimming the water in their little motor boats. Helper boats were catching our attention trying to sell us some fuel or other service. Three to four other monohulls arrived about the same time, all trying to anchor and get to shore to also check in.

Check in was a breeze. No questions were asked by customs or immigration. No one boarded Sanibel to  inspect her and everyone was friendly. We were automatically given ninety days on our cruising permit and visas for a total cost of 114 LEM or six U.S. dollars We are specifically  at Guanaja Island. There are several islands here and as I understand it, there aren’t any roads, street signs or even automobiles on any of these islands. The town, built on one of the islands, is Banaka with several ma-and-pa grocery stores (or more like mini-mini Wal-Marts), an internet shop, restaurants and more. It’s all here but in close proximity and small scale. With only sidewalks available, everyone walks everywhere.  Locals line the sidewalks with their product for sale: clothing, fruits, jewelry, etc. Boats or skiffs are used to get from one island to another, water taxi’s are readily available for those without their own mode of transportation. Canals come into the city; it’s said to be the Venice of Honduras. It is a floating town. The native language is Spanish, but many of the hanging signs are in English and we’ve talked to quite a few people who speak English nearly as well as we do (still with their Spanish accent).  The grocery prices are right on target with what we would pay in the United States. After Cayman, who wouldn’t be happy about that? The currency is Lempira. Approximately 20 LEM is equal to one U.S. dollar. We withdrew 4,000 LEM from the ATM when we arrived. So much money makes us feel rich, but it also went quickly when we began buying a few things. At the grocery store we bought a small bag of dry milk, a handle of Bacardi, a block of cheese, and a bottle of vodka – the cost was nearly 800 LEM. And then we spent 600 LEM on a data card for our phone. Along our walk we came across a man selling mangos and plums. He talked us in to buying mangos, normally 5 LEM each, but for us a special price of 10 LEM for three and a small bag of plums also for 10 LEM. To fruit isn’t ripe yet, so we  haven’t tried it. Jeston, our mango sales guy, is now our ‘go to’ man. He’s helped us many times finding supplies, as we have also sent our cruiser friends to him for mangos.

After the check in process and a small tour of the town, we sailed to where Eric and Sandrine on s/v Jingle were waiting for us. We explained where we’d been only to find out they left Cayman twenty-four hours after us and had only arrived  in the Bay Islands on Tuesday. They were still wondering where we were, but only for a day and not three like we’d thought. That evening we went aboard their boat. Sandrine  prepared for us a beef and gravy meal with mashed potatoes.  And then we played Mexican Train.

We’re excited to take photos of the area. From the water, houses line the mountain sides, their roof tops peek through the mountainous carpet of green trees . Old wood pylons protrude from the water’s surface and docks hover over the salty blue liquid.  Sanibel is anchored close to a rock islet which a large structure is built upon, supported with stilts on the massive rock. We can see vegetation peeking over the top of the structure, it looks to be some sort of garden area in which the house is built around. Trees also decorate the front of the building. It’s one of those things you might expect to see in a magazine or on the internet, but never in person. It’s quite an amazing sight and a beautiful structure.

I’m a little off on my times again. While Honduras is in the Central Time Zone, they do not adjust for daylight savings time. So now we are on what we know of as Mountain Time.

Cayman Style

                   Jimi took this photo while we were sailing from Georgetown  to the North sound. The vessel is S/V Jingle and a water spout, which are  quite common.

After viewing the photos we’ve taken, it will be no surprise to you when I say the Cayman Islands are a wonder. The people are extremely friendly, it encompasses all the modern conveniences and the clear blue water is spectacular with abundant reefs and underwater creatures in every turn.

When we  left Georgetown, we sailed around the finger of the island to a place known as Stingray City. We anchored there for several days. Stingray City is an area in the ocean’s bay with a shallow sandbar. For hundreds of years fisherman have cleaned their fish feeding the scraps to the stingrays. Now tourists are brought to the area so they can feed and swim with the rays. Jimi and I took our dinghy to the sand bar a few times (early in the morning before the tourists would arrive) and although they didn't like the food we had for them, they still hung around and we still swam with the stingrays. There were about two dozen of all sizes, the largest being larger than Lorie and the smallest about the size of a pizza pan. What an exhilarating experience and probably a little unsettling at first to be surrounded by so many of these majestic creatures. Jimi took some wonderful underwater photos and video.

While in the same area we snorkeled one of the most beautiful reefs we’ve ever seen (for Lorie at least). The abundant sea animals everywhere we look is incredible. Some of them are quite alien looking, most are unafraid of us and curious of our presence. We swam with and through schools of fish with no threat to us or from us. The brain coral is enormous, as well as the sea fans. The water is clear and the colors are vibrant.

Saturday, May 3^rd was Georgetown’s annual Batabano Carnival. The streets were filled with patrons looking for a good time. Art and food vendors were on display and we enjoyed a highly energetic parade mostly made up of feathered costumes. They threw beads and danced through the streets of Georgetown and afterward the party continued with a DJ and more dancing. Jimi and I enjoyed the parade and a couple of drinks, but were otherwise tucked away in Sanibel by 8pm.

Jimi and the sea-bean stock; one week ago Jimi planted an African sea bean we found on Cayo Rosario. After a few days a wee little sprout poked through the dirt. The following day the vine was four inches tall and now it’s nearly three  feet tall. It’s attached itself to the ceiling and is now making route elsewhere. Jimi is becoming worried that we’ll wake up one morning to find  we’ve been taken over by some alien life form produced from the sea bean. To be continued…

Jimi has booked our flights home for the fall. We’ll fly from Honduras on October 21^st to Denver, Colorado. We’ll spend the bulk of our time in Nebraska to celebrate my parents 50^th wedding anniversary, thanksgiving and attend Jennifer and Joel’s wedding. Our plans are to try to spend some time in our old stomping grounds of Colorado to visit with friends. As time gets closer we’ll make a more concrete schedule.  Then we’ll fly back to Honduras on December 16^th. During our absence, Sanibel will be in a marina on the Rio Dulce in Guatemala. 

We’re now headed for the Bay Islands in Honduras. We expect a three day sail. Eric and Sandrine on S/V Jingle will leave when we do, however their catamaran sails at faster speeds than Sanibel does, so they’ll arrive first. I have prepared plenty of food ahead of time: hard boiled eggs, soup, mac & cheese, burritos, banana bread and sandwiches. Jimi will do the majority of the sailing, but I will keep watch as needed so he can rest. We hope for fair winds and easy sailing. We’ll check in when we arrive and figure out the availability of communication.

Cayman in Two