From Bocas del Toro to Kuna Yala

Needing to leave the country because our visas were expiring, we cleared out of Panama in Bocas del Toro on August 16th. Our destination was Cartagena, Columbia. We decided to pay one last visit to the Bluefield Range before setting off. We spent just under one week in the Bluefields enjoying muddy jungle hikes and friendly locals and Peace Corps volunteers. On August 23rd, we raised anchor and headed towards Escudo de Veraguas, a beautiful hard to reach island off the coast of Panama. We had been trying all week to get a weather forcast off our SSB (Single Side Band) radio. No one who could transmit was responding to the net controller, during the morning Panama cruisers´ net, so the net controller assumed no one was listening and opted not to give a weather forcast. Since our SSB radio is only a receiver, we were unable to transmit to the net controller to let her know we were there and were eagerly awaiting a weather forcast. We eventually gave up hope on hearing a prediction and decided to get underway and hope for the best. Outside the protected lagoon, we discovered 6 foot swells coming abeam (from the side) with no wind. These are not very pleasant sailing conditions. Since there was no wind, we motored as we rolled about from side to side. We decided to try listening to the SSB Panama cruisers´net one last time. Amazingly, they actually gave a weather forcast, 6-8 foot Northeast swell with little to no wind. The net controller then commented that there was no way she would venture out in such rough seas. We chuckled as we motored past numerous Ngobe indians, who had taken their dug-out canoes off-shore for a day of fishing and turtle hunting. We anchored at Escudo de Veraguas in the early afternoon and enjoyed a brief walk ashore. We had hoped to spend the following day exploring the island, but after a restless night at the uncomfortable and poorly protected anchorage, we decided to continue on. We planned to follow the Panama coastline to its northern edge near the city of Colón before cutting across to Cartagena. (The coastline of Panama soon beyond this point takes an S curve to the southeast.) Unfortunately the sailing conditions were no better than the day prior. We experienced 8 foot seas from the northeast and only had 5 to 8 knots of wind at our backs. We were wishing for stronger wind and that evening we got it. Unfortunately, the wind we got was right on our nose at 25 to 30 knots. That night we also witnessed an awesome (and yet terrifying) lazer light show from all of the numerous lightning storms surrounding us. The following morning, we decided to pull in to the well protected anchorage south of Isla Naranjo, a small uninhabited mangrove covered island several miles east of Colón. The calm smooth water and good holding mud bottom would provide us with a well needed rest. That night we awoke to a powerful lightning storm. The lightning was so close there was no time interval between the flashing bolts and the resonous thunder that vibrated the whole boat. We sat inside in silence, our hearts racing, hoping that it would pass without hitting us. After it passed (with no damage), we were deluged with rain. The rain persisted for the next 3 days. We bilged our dinghy and still collected enough water in the dinghy to wash all of our clothes, bedsheets, and towels. We reaccessed our plan. Perhaps we should continue along the coast of Panama and then up the coast of Columbia to reach Cartagena? This would allow us to sail during the day and then anchor at night. Plus we would get to visit some amazing places, such as Kuna Yala (named the San Blas by Spanish invaders), which is a nation of indigenous Kuna indians inside of Panama. The only problem was that we had cleared out of Panama almost 2 weeks prior and technically were supposed to have left the country. Would the port captain in Cartagena give us trouble if we arrived over 1 month after leaving Panama? We decided to take our chances with the authorities instead of with the weather. On July 29th, we left Isla Naranjo bound for a region within Kuna Yala known as the East Holandes Cays. We had much better sailing conditions for much of the trip, although at times the wind was very light. We made our approach through the coral reefs the following morning and anchored in an area known as ¨the Swimming Pool¨by the local cruising community. The Kuna indians originally inhabited the Darién mountains of what is today eastern Panama. During the time of the Spanish invasion, the Kunas moved to the Carribean coast and later to the offshore islands. In 1925, in defense of their land and culture, the Kunas revolted against Panamanian authorities, killing numerous Panamanian policemen, missionaries, and children of mixed blood living in the area. In 1938, Panama declared Kuna Yala its own nation with near autonomous rule. Technically Kuna Yala is still part of Panama, but it has its own government and its own laws. Today Kuna Yala consists of almost 200 nautical miles of Carribean coastline and hundreds of beautiful islands covered with palm trees and sandy beaches. The Kuna have established their own system of government that stresses communal ownership and discourages socio-economic divisions between citizens. During our visit, we observed no significant economic disparity between Kunas. The typical Kuna is quite poor by western standards, earning on average only $30 per month. We met a store owner on the island of Niadup, who told us he earned $600 per month. What was interesting is that he lives in a small (1-2 room) home made of bamboo walls and thatched roof just like everyone else in the community. He did not flash is wealth. He also told us that even though the Kuna only earned $30 per month, they never went hungry because they were able to harvest all of the food they needed from the surrounding jungle and ocean. They also barter for food and other materials.

A Columbian boat brings in materials to trade with the Kuna for coconuts.

The majority of islands in Kuna Yala, such as those in the East Holandes Cays, are uninhabited. Each island or group of islands is owned by a family. Members of the family take turns (usually spending one month) visiting the island and harvesting coconuts. These coconuts are used as currency and are traded with boats from Columbia bringing fabrics, flour, and other produced goods. A coconut is worth 20 to 25 cents. The Kuna women use the fabrics to sew amazingly elaborate designs called molas, which they then fashion into colorful blouses. They wrap strings of bright beads around their legs and arms arranging them into different patterns and designs. They also wear gold and silver jewelry in their pierced ears and noses. The Kunas are the second smallest peoples in the world (only the pygmies are smaller). While walking through towns and entering stores, we had to stoop down so as not to hit the thatched roofs and doorways. Unfortunately we did not take any photographs of the Kuna people, as photographs are discouraged and are actually forbidden in some communities.

While in Kuna Yala, we saw many albinos. Apparently albinism is quite common in Kuna Yala, as the population is small and the Kuna rarely marry with outsiders. Although the albinos suffer numerous medical problems and suffer from the burning tropical sun, they are respected and treated as equals amongst the Kuna.

We also saw a number of transvestites, and we were happy to learn that homosexuals and transvestites are openly accepted in the community. They are treated as equals and are permitted to have their own families. Often times the Kuna will give away one of their children to a sibling who is gay and unable to have his own child. We spent over a week in the East Holandes Cays enjoying the crystal clear blue water, snorkeling the beautiful coral reefs and walking on the white sand beaches. We then worked our way eastward, visiting the islands of Narganá, Coco Oeste, Niadup, Yauala, Playón Chico, Mamitupu, Uastupu, Isla Piños, and the town of Carreto on the mainland, as well as some other islands.

Sunset in Kuna Yala

Niadup, also called Ticantiqui, was by far our favorite island. This small village sees very few cruising boats and foreign tourists. The locals are very friendly and as we were walking through town we looked down to discover three little children clutching our hands and staring up at us. This island does not have any electricity. The houses are clustered together as a community and are surrounded by lush breadfruit trees. Early in the morning, the men paddle their dugout canoes (called ulus) to mainland where they harvest bananas, pineapples, and other plants from the jungle, or the men paddle (or sail) out to the reefs where they fish or dive for lobster, crab and turtles. These divers occassionally will free dive 60 feet to catch dinner! Throughout Kuna Yala we enjoyed eating the huge crabs, which had 6 inch bodies and 6 inch long legs on each side. Each crab costs between $1 and $3. While on Niadup, we were surprised to see several gringos walking through town. We went to meet them and learned they were from Houston, Texas. We had read that the Kunas had driven out all of the missionaries in 1925, so we were surprised to discover that these Texans were Baptist missionaries. They were quite friendly and had very kind intentions, but we were saddened to witness (in our opinion) the harm they were inflicting on the Kuna culture because of their misguided ways. The Baptists had brought all sorts of toys for the children, and the children were swarming outside the Baptist church playing with toy airplanes. It saddened us more to see that they were targeting the children. The Kuna are the most peaceful and happy culture we have so far encountered on the boat. These people do not need to be changed or their culture destroyed by western influences. It is also a catch 22, because as much as we gringos want to visit and witness their beautiful culture, we are also having our own impact by bringing in relative economic disparity with our expensive cruising yachts, electricity, western magazines, and western influences. It is therefore our responsibility not to exploit our relative wealth when we visit.

Our friends on "Fia" enter the anchorage

In Mamitupu, we met a few other cruising boats. David and Judy have been cruising the Carribean for 20 years aboard Fia, a 40 foot Endeavor. They were also headed to Cartagena and assured us that Columbia would not ask a single question about our having been checked out of Panama for so long. We enjoyed Dave and Judy´s company so much, we explored the rest of Kuna Yala with them.

Scrambling on the rocks with Dave and Judy from s/v "Fia"

One of the highlights of Kuna Yala was the rocky, metamorphic cliffs off of Carreto. WooHoo! Climbing! We found one overhanging wall which offered a number of bouldering problems. We also found a 30 foot clean sheer rock face that dropped straight down into 40 feet of water. We swam out to the rock in our climbing shoes and climbed. If we fell, no problem, we´d fall right down into the water. It was great to climb again for the first time in 6 months. After Carreto, we set sail for Zapsurro and the Columbian border. We had spent a month and a half in Kuna Yala and hadn´t seen a motorized land vehicle the entire time. We also had only seen 3 cucumbers and no other vegetables during our entire stay. I guess you take the good with the bad, and the serenity of Kuna Yala was definitely worth the compromise. July and August 2008

Bocas del Toro, Panama

We hadn´t been on the hook more than a couple hours when an Argentinian sailor came up and told us that if we didn´t move our boat the Panamanian officials would charge us $100. This was not for anchoring in the path of the water taxis so much as that the taxi drivers would report our arrival to the port captain. If you do not check in the day of your arrival, you are fined $100 even if the port captain´s office is closed when you arrive. Alas, we moved, slept and then radioed in at 9am the following day to announce our "recent" arrival, so conveniently coordinated with their office hours. The Panamanian officials came aboard our boat for a routine inspection, which involved little besides inspecting to see if we had $175 on hand to add to their pockets. The Argentinian sailor, Lobo, and his Uruguayan wife, Erica, are sailmakers who live and cruise aboard their boat, Arenas, together with their 7 year old son, Juan. We mentioned to Lobo that we had been looking for a yankee headsail since our genoa was improperly fitted to our boat. Lobo stopped by, took a look at our sail plan, and suggested cutting our genoa and turning it into a yankee jib, rather than purchasing a brand new sail. He also took a look at our mainsail and staysail after we mentioned to him some problems we had been having with them. We decided to hire Erica and Lobo to do work on all 3 sails.

Juan flying a kite

Before they were able to work on our sails, due to scheduling, we took the opportunity to explore the area. We headed NW along the SW coast of Isla Colon (the island on which Bocas del Toro town is located). We stopped at a couple of calm, protected and serene bights filled with the sounds of birds, howler monkeys and the occasional kayak going by. The kayaks are dugout canoes of all sizes from 1/2 m by 3 m to larger ones up to 1.5 m wide to 10 m long! While the longer are moved by outboard engines, most are smaller and are still paddled. We relaxed, read, snorkeled and explored some trails heading into the surrounding jungle. Our next berth was Starfish Bay, where a mostly uninhabited beach runs a mile or two with overhanging palm trees (one of which has a phenomenal rope swing into the ocean which we hope to never be too old to enjoy). At Starfish Bay we met Paula and David camping in their tent by the beach. While young at heart, they are both in their mid-60s, still sleeping on the ground and living very healthy lives while they continue to fight for many environmental causes, which they have been doing persistently since the 1970s. It was in the 70s that David was hired by the United Fruit Company for environmental education and soon after that that the UFC fired him for doing his job so well! To this day he continues to study and to educate people about the toxic run-off from the banana company as well as (among other things) to study the ecological health of the coral reefs and fish population.

While the reef near Starfish Bay was unhealthy and dying, possibly due to the UFC, our next anchorage on the SW of Isla Colon lay beside a pristine, healthy and thriving reef. We spent the next day snorkelling and admiring the colorful labyrinth of reds, yellows and greens.

On May 19th,we returned to Bocas del Toro to meet up with Lobo and Erica and to do some much needed maintenance on Chandrika. We were extremely fortunate to have met Lobo and Erica and to have had the opportunity to have some much needed modifications made on our sails by such experienced and hardworking sailmakers. We now have a properly sized yankee-cut working jib, a hank on staysail (which originally had an improvised and poorly functioning roller-furling system), and we extended the life of our mainsail. Lobo and Erica allowed us to come aboard Arenas to watch and to learn the tricks of the trade.

While in Bocas del Toro, we also did some repair and maintenance work on the boat, as well as making some improvements. Most importantly, using white reinforced PVC fabric, we sewed ourselves an awning that rests over our boom while we are at anchor to provide some desperately needed relief from the burning tropical sun. We also designed it to serve as a rainwater collection system. The tap water in Bocas del Toro is not potable (even the locals do not drink it) and bottled water is over twice the price as we have encountered elsewhere in our travels through Central America. It being the rainy season, we are now able to collect more than we use. However, we worry about the many locals who live in small one or two room wooden shacks with either thatched or tin roofs. Do they run out of drinking water during the dry season? The cost of $5.50 for 20 liters of water seems prohibitively expensive for many in this area.

Additionally. the price of food on this island has been increasing dramatically. In the course of 2 months we have seen the cost of some food items increase as much as 50%! Because of Bocas del Toro is on an island and food arrives by boat from mainland Panama, rising fuel prices will have a significant impact on the lives of many in this area. We also wonder if food prices are due to gentrification and the increasing number of foreigners that are moving to the area.

On June 17th, Sue´s brother, Peter, arrived from the states for a 2 week visit. Peter was rather jetlagged and chose not to join us as we provisioned the boat for his visit. The following day after Peter came out of his hibernation, the three of us visited the Bocas del Toro branch of the Smithsonian Research Institute, where we saw various colorful indigenous frogs amd we talked with scientists about their ongoing marine research. Soon it was time to head out for some experiental learning of marine wildlife.

Our first stop was Zapotilla Cay Numero Uno. To get there we had to navigate through the treacherous Crawl Cay channel. The inaccurately charted and unmarked channel weaves for 2 nautical miles through submerged yet shallow coral reef patches. In our favor, we had excellent light for visibility, at least until the last half mile when a thick cloud moved in front of the sun. We exited the channel without any mishaps and set sail for the Zapotilla Cays. There anchorage behind the first island turned out to be very rolly as the northeast swells from Columbia quite commonly contradict the local currents and winds, causing Chandrika to sit with seas abeam. Fortunately, the uncomfortable motion did not bother Peter in the slightest. We went for a walk along the white sandy beach, being careful to stay below the high tide mark, as this island is a common turtle nesting area.

Zapotilla Cay

We continued on towards the Bluefield Range the following morning with good but light sailing winds. Once we were no longer in the protective lee of the Zapotilla Cays, we experienced the full effect of the 6 foot ocean swell hitting us abeam. Because this contradicted the light winds from astern, we soon resorted to motoring. What surprised us even more than the fact that Peter prefered to stay down below reading his dictionary instead of seeing the sights, was that with no sails up and motoring with seas abeam, Peter didn´t find this motion all that bothersome. For those unfamiliar with sailboats, these conditions cause one of the most uncomfortable motions that can best be described as being trapped inside of a washing machine. Were it either of us sitting down below reading, our faces would be pale green from seasickness. Why didn´t Sue inherit Peter´s lack of motion sickness? After a couple of uneventful squalls hit us, we reached the entrance to the lagoon into Bluefield Range, where we anchored in the first bay in front of Playa Raya.

The Bluefields is where we were first introduced to something that has unfortunately been persistent during our stay in Panama, begging and swindeling. That afternoon we went for a walk on the beach. On our way back, there was a man standing beside our dinghy clearly waiting for us. First he asked us if we had used the trail that goes across the peninsula to Playa Verde. We said we had not, but we were considering hiking it in the morning. ¨You have to pay to use the trail. Not very much money. Only $10 or $15. Since you are going to use it tomorrow, you can pay me now,¨ he said. ¨No, if we use it we will pay you in the morning,¨ Sue replied. We had no intention of paying him anything to use a public trail knowing the chance was highly likely he would keep the money for himself. ¨You need to pay for your walk on the beach today.¨ At this point, Graham was sick of the bloke and was pulling the dinghy into the water telling Sue and Peter that we needed to walk away and go back to the boat, which we did. The following day, guess what, the Ngobe indian paddled up to our boat with a pineapple we were happy to pay a buck for.

We also had another Ngobe gentleman paddle up to our boat in a small kayuka, a dugout wooden canoe. He informed us that he was a member of the Panamanian National Guard. ´In a dugout canoe?´, we thought to ourselves. He then said,¨You will need to pay to visit Punta Sirian.¨ Punta Sirian is the town just a short walk down the coast from Playa Raya. ¨It is not much. Only $15. Something to help the community.¨ Of course he wanted payment right then, and of course we refused.

Later that day, we hiked on the trail to Playa Verde, or so we thought. The path led us through dense jungle and up and down muddy, slippery slopes. The trail forked and we were uncertain which way to go. We picked one path and soon realized it was incorrect, so we turned around. Peter who was in the back, was now in the lead. The other path went down a hill and around a bend. Just as he was rounding the bend, Peter discovered the vegetation was not growing on firm ground, but over about 2 feet of muddy swamp (or as Peter liked to call it ¨Quick Mud.¨) While this type of experience happens quite commonly while walking around in the jungle in the middle of wet season, Peter did not find it nearly as entertaining as we did. We decided to retreat before the jungle followed us whole (or at least before it swallowed Peter). On our way back, we passed a few thatched homes where we asked directions to Playa Verde. An older woman showed us the way. She walked barefoot with great dexterity over the wet slippery logs. We were soon to follow suit. We found Playa Verde and walked through the small town along its single concrete path. We met a men there who mentioned the delicious oranges in the surrounding jungle. After returning to our dinghy on the other side of the slippery, muddy, log-covered trail, we saw him following us, carrying a large bag of oranges that he had collected for us. ¨Regalo¨ (which means ´gift´), he said. We sat with him and ate our oranges and shared some carrots we had brought. How nice of him to collect the oranges for us and to walk all that way to bring them!

Our next adventure was further inside the Bluefield Range lagoon, where we dropped anchor outside a small village called Punta Allegre. Upon arrival we were immediately approached by a group of school aged children in kayukas. ¨¿Qué hay?,¨ they demanded. As this translates to ¨What is there?¨, Sue was at first confused. We had only just arrived. How did we know what there was here? It did not take long to realize what they meant. They wanted to know what we had brought for them. ¨Notebooks? Pens? Pencils?,¨ they asked. Well, even if they were rudely begging, at least they had their priorities straight. We gave them a choice. They could each have one pen or one pencil. Upon receiving one, without even saying thank you, they then demanded the other. Realizing we were not going to give them another pen or pencil, they wanted to know what else we had on board. Then they started to lay it on thick. ¨Tengo hambre,¨ (´I am hungry,´) one girl pouted while putting on her best starving puppy dog face. We glanced at the fish, lying in the kayukas, that they had just caught. These were young con artists at work. It was difficult to get rid of them, but finally they gave up their act and left for home.

the kids who told us they had nothing to eat

A little while later a middle-aged man approached us in a kayuka. He said, ¨Buenos dias¨ and introduced him as the mayor. His name was Orlando Hooker. He told us that there were different classes of people here. Some just wished to benefit from our visit. He told us of a man by the name of David, who used to charge sailboats $20 per night to anchor in the Bluefields. David used to put $15 in his pocket and give the remaining $5 to the community. Orlando had arrested him for fraud. Orlando told us not to give anyone money. It was free for us to explore the land, as all the land here is public and owned by the community Ngobe elders. He wished us a good visit and continued on his way.

We visited the small town of Punta Allegre with its approximately 200 residents. All of the inhabitants of the Bluefield Range are indigenous Ngobe indians. During WWII a number of Americans also used to live here, but they have since left the area, leaving behind only their last names, Hooker, Johnson, Smith, etc, and their bright blue eyes. The village had one store, a small elementary school and numerous one or two room thatched-roof homes. The insides of these homes are typically one open room with one mattress (shared by an entire family) against the side, dirt floors, and clothing along with their few other material possessions pushed up along the walls as there is no other furniture or cabinetry. Chickens, pigs and goats roam around freely often wandering inside their homes.

the town of Punta Allegre

The three of us wandered through town, crossed a small stream that split right through the middle and continued along a muddy path into the jungle. The surrounding forest contains numerous banana trees of several different varieties, bamboo, and many other plants that the Ngobe cultivate and use to build their homes and kayukas and to collect for food. There is no private property here. All of the land is communal and is shared by everyone.

Later that afternoon, while Peter was relaxing and reading on the boat, we went to shore to stretch our legs. We were approached by a young woman, named Loreica, who asked us where the third member of our party was. She turned out to be the daughter of the mayor, Orlando Hooker (one of his approximately 60 children). Upon discovering that Peter was Sue´s brother and not her husband, Loreica was delighted. She was further excited to hear that Peter was single. ¨Quiero un gringo!¨ (´I want a gringo!´) she yelled with glee. She said she found Peter very attractive and asked if we would bring him by later to introduce them. We brought him by later that day, but could not find Loreica.

Loreica was on the hunt for a gringo as she came up to our boat that evening in her kayuka. Though not the ideal dating situation with his sister translating every word, it was soon deciphered that Loreica, who enjoys fresh sea turtle on a regular basis and saw nothing wrong with her father´s killing (and eating) off the entire Howler population on the peninsula, was not the best match for a vegan gringo. She told us how the fisherman go out early to hunt the endangered and actively protected turtle so as not to get caught by the vigilantes (care takers). As Peter and Loreica struggled for common ground, we learned how the Howler monkey meat is eaten to cure nose bleeds. This ¨date¨ was at least entertaining, and Loreica is very fun to talk with as she has a happy and energetic spirit. (We later heard a first-hand account of turtle hunting from a gringo that we met. Apparently the Ngobes go out of sight of land in sometimes 10 to 12 foot seas in their paddled wooden kayukas. The Ngobe at the bow stands in the kayuka and harpoons turtle at a range of 20 to 30 feet. Amazing!)

Loreica in her kayuka

Turning 180 degrees, we made a stop-over at Cayo de Agua. The anchorage was rolly and the coast was littered with No Trespassing signs. Just a year ago, the 20 Ngobes who shared ownership of the island were holding a meeting with a broker regarding selling a large portion of the island. As is custom with such meetings, the broker offered them drinks, which were not refused. Quickly, as is typical of people of Native American blood, the alcohol hit strong and it wasn´t long before they were all well intoxicated. When the socializing was over and the negotiating began, the broker threw them a low-ball figure of $100,000 for the 100 hectars (approximately 250 acres). The eyes of the Ngobes bulged out at all those zeros and they accepted this ridiculously low offer. The following week the Ngobes paddled over to the island to harvest coconuts as they had been doing for generations. When they reached the island, they were told that they were no longer allowed to set foot on the property as they had signed over ownership. Apparently, at the time of the negotiations, the Ngobe were not fully aware that selling the land would prohibit their ability to use the land, as ownership and private property are not part of Ngobe culture. The property is now being subdivided into lots. It would not surprise us if this property were split into 100 parts, each selling for at least as much as the entire purchase price. History is known to repeat itself and events like these are no exception to the harsh reality.

As the bulk of Cayo del Agua is now private, we were not permitted to explore very much of the land. We decided to go for a row around the northern point which was semi-protected by reef. The swells were getting big and there were breakers in the distance so we finally decided to turn around. We were being cautious some might say, yet after 5-10 minutes of heading back, Sue and Graham are looking up at a 7 to 8 foot wave breaking over Peter´s head. Amazingly, the dinghy did not flip! But, it was filled about 3/4 full with sea water and the dinghy was now very tipsy because of it. As the water sloshed back and forth in the dinghy, more water came in. We were sinking. We all jumped out. We flipped the dinghy over and then righted it, in an attempt to get water out, but to little success. Unfortunately, not all of our possessions floated, and we lost three masks, three snorkels and a speargun. The flippers however floated and we put those on. While Sue guided the boat away from the rocky shore, Graham bailed the dinghy. After all land is the enemy (though Peter at the time begged to differ). We were thankful for the extra 100 pounds of flotation we had added to our dinghy and once it was empty, we all got in. Peter, who just days prior was not able to get into the dinghy from the water, had no trouble hopping in. We rowed back to Chandrika without a scratch. This was one of those waves that only breaks once every half hour or so, and it is possible this was the first breaker at this spot since we arrived near the reef. Although, we also had a number of thoughts in retrospect. First of all, Graham was rowing, Sue was in the bow, and Peter was in the stern. This meant that as we rowed towards the reef, he was the only one with a constant view of where we were going. We should have put him on designated watch. Secondly, though it goes entirely against instinct, we should have jumped out of the dinghy immediately with the painter (dinghy rope) in hand, thereby eliminating any more water from entering and raising the waterline on the dinghy by about a value of 500 pounds of bouyancy. This would have made recovery easier.

Our view of the coast right before being swamped

After an adventure packed two weeks, it was time for Peter to return home. We sailed back to Bocas del Toro so he could catch his flight. Between the ´quick mud´ and the swamped dinghy, we hope we haven´t scared away Peter from a return visit. Perhaps we can lure him back with more eligible bachelorettes? We always cherish visits from family and friends, and it was wonderful to be able to spend such close time with Peter.

enjoying a meal on the boat

The night after Peter departed, we were harshely awoken by a flash of blinding white and a simultaneous loud thunderous boom. We jumped out of bed to turn off all switches and unplug anything that could be unplugged. After an hour of nail-biting, nerve-wracking waiting, the lightning storm passed without hitting us. There is nothing like sitting in an endless pool of water (the ocean) with a tall metal rod rising up 54 feet in the air during a lightning storm to make the heart start racing. The following morning, we turned on the laptop (to update the blog). It turned on, but was making all sorts of funny noises. The next time we tried to start it, it would not start. Even though the laptop was unplugged and turned off through the entire lightning storm, the charge from the nearby lightning still put it out of service. We now keep both hand-held GPS, our portable SSB radio, and our MP3 player in the over to create a metal cage to protect from lightning. As we continue cruising, we learn more and more lessons. This one was learned the hard way. May to July, 2008

Panama Bound

Our next destination was Panama, where we planned to spend the upcoming Carribean hurricane season. Being south of 11 degrees N latitude, Panama is generally considered to be a safe area, free from dangerous hurricane activity. To reach Panama from Guanaja, we would have to sail eastward for 208 nautical miles (nm) to round the corner of mainland Honduras before heading south towards Panama. We were not looking forward to sailing straight into the winds and waves for such a long distance, especially considering the fact that our oversized genoa with its high clew could not be sheeted flat enough to allow us to make decent progress to windward. We decided to wait for a cold front to pass through (the same northerlies we were hit by in Isla Mujeres). Unfortunately, towards the end of spring these fronts rarely make it as far south as the Bay Islands. As luck would have it, on April 29th a weak cold front approached the Bay Islands causing the winds to shift ever so slightly northwards. With 10 knots of wind and calm seas, we set sail at a close reach on a port tack, headed directly on course. Cayo Vivorillo, a small uninhabited island owned by Honduras, lay directly on our route, 150 nm from Guanaja. We had planned to anchor here as a resting spot on our journey. However, we reached this small cay shortly after dark on our second day at sea. Not wanting to make an approach at night, or to wait out at sea all night and approach in the day, we decided to continue on our way. Furthermore, the wind was still coming lightly from the NE, allowing us favorable conditions to continue. Because the ocean had been so calm, we were well rested and enjoying the sailing. Hey this is Squeak. Let me give my point of view. This passage was great! None of that loud obnoxious vibrating engine. And every few hours these humans, who I have wrapped around my little claw, came down to snuggle with me. After I had had my fill of snuggles and love, I´d allow them to sleep so they´d be rested to take watch while the other one would come down for more snuggles and love. Not only that, but since I don´t feel like going up to my food bowl while we are underway, I got them to bring me fresh food and water every few hours. 20nm past Cayo Vivorillo with only 30nm to go before we could safely turn southward, the wind switched to the east. With the wind being directly at our nose and being so light, it took us the next 24 hours to tack back and forth and to go the remaining 30 nm. Even though progress was slow, we could not complain about the calm seas. As we continued eastward, the winds gradually shifted southward. Late in the day on May 1st, we finally were able to turn to the south, having rounded the cape of Honduras (appropriately named by Christopher Columbus, ¨Cabo Gracias a Dios¨ or ¨Thank God Cape¨) and her miles of east lying coral reefs and shoals. Unfortunately as the wind had been shifting more and more southward, by the time we turned, the wind was still at our nose. While this made for slow progress, the upside is that at this point of sail, Chandrika completely steers herself, so we were able to relax and to read while on watch. From this point onwards, the winds were light and variable. Occassionally, we would experience light 5 to 10 knot easterly trade winds, but as we worked our was further and further south, the winds had almost disappeared. Hey its me again. While these guys bore you with all the details of the winds and seas, let me tell you the highlight of the trip. While I was stretched out relaxing on the starboard settee, a bird flew into the cabin. This bird thought he was hot stuff, flying in the companionway right over my head and then out the port side hatch, so I decided to let him go, build up his confidence a little. A couple minutes later when I was doing a little yoga on the settee, he came back in through the companionway. He was no match for me. I barely even had to move. I just reached out a paw and took him down. This bird was no fun. He didn´t even squirm. He just played dead. Birds aren´t all they are cracked up to be. I think I´ll stick with roaches. During the night of May 3rd, we passed Isla Providencia and Isla San Andres. These two islands are owned by Columbia and make a good stopping point along the route from Honduras to Panama. We decided not to make a stop since we had heard that checking in is very costly, we were still well rested and enjoying the passage and we had reached them at night and would have had to wait until morning to make our approach. The conditions from this point southward were light and sometimes nonexistent winds punctuated by brief and occassionally heavy squalls. Fortunately we had a favorable one knot current to carry us on our way. For the most part the seas were flat. However, neighboring squalls would kick up localized swells. Since we were outside the winds of the squalls, there would be no wind to fill the sails, and the waves would cause the sails to slap and to flutter, a nerve wracking condition that made us worry about the wear and tear on the sails and rigging. We would take down the sails, then watch and wait for the squall to approach. Once the squall reached us, we would pull out the appropriate canvas and resume sailing. During one exhilerating squall, we were able to sail at a speed of 8 knots, but it only lasted 20 minutes. Then we were back to sitting and waiting, again with no wind. Becalmed again. At noon on May 7th, we were only 14 miles from our destination, Bocas del Toro, Panama. Because we still had almost no wind, we calculated that if we were to continue sailing, we would reach land in the dark. At this point, the seas had also risen and we were experiencing 8 foot seas with no wind. In this region of Panama, it is not uncommon for the seas to be high, as the swell come from distand Cartagena, Columbia, with little to no wind. High seas accompanied by light winds is one of the more uncomfortable conditions for a small sailing vessel. There is not enough wind to fill the sails, and the swells cause the sails and the boom to bang back and forth. After having been able to sail the entire distance from Honduras (about 600 nm) without having to motor, we decided to use the engine the last 14 miles, guaranteeing our approach into the harbor in daylight. At 3:40pm on May 7th, we dropped anchor in the harbor beside Bocas del Toro, Panama, after having spent 9 days and 8 nights at sea.

May 2008

Bay of Islands, Honduras

Roatan is home to diverse ethnicities and cultures including decendents of Garifuna (those of African and Carib Indian decent who survived or escaped the historic slave trade), Hondurans from the mainland, and whites from the US and Europe who now live on the island both seasonally and full-time. Check in was stream-lined, simple, and most amazingly of all, Free!

We spent a few days in Coxen Hole, the capital of Roatan, attempting in vain to get some errands done. The island is constantly out of power and even ordinary provisions are often our of stock. After a few frustrating days of roaming around the town searching fruitlessly for an internet cafe with electricity, a functioning ATM, or even canned beans...., we decided we were much happier hanging out on the boat, while awaiting the arrival of Steve and Myra (Graham's dad and "step-mother").

Steve and Myra arrived safely in Roatan. The following day, March 29th, we headed east, giving them a harsh introduction to the strong (30 knot) trade winds and high seas of the Northwest Carribean. The wind and waves were at our nose, and we began trying to beat our way to Calabash Bight (also on Roatan). Shortly en route Steve commented, "It feels like we are riding a bucking bronco through a car wash," as the waves crashed over our bow and streamed down the deck. We were torn as to whether or not to motor or to keep sailing. In the midst of making this decision, Steve (while leaning over the rail and barfing his brains overboard) said, "Don't make your decision on my account. Blah.... I'm fine! Blah...." If this was not reason enough, our extremely slow progress convinced us to turn on the engine. We were impressed by Steve being such a good sport, despite feeling so ill, as he refered to this experience as "Bolemia Bootcamp." Myra, on the other hand, was complete soaked from head to foot and happy as could be. She must have natural salt in her blood.

Myra soaking up the salt

Upon arriving in the calm and protected waters of Calabash Bight, on the eastern side of Roatan, we had the pleasure of catching up with our friends, Mark and Lori on sailing vessel Aeolus, who we'd first met in the Dry Tortugas, and met up with in Isla Mujeres, Mexico and then again outside Belize City. Mark and Lori have recently moved to Roatan and intend to do some extended cruising through the Carribean while keeping Roatan as a home base. They are starting up a bed and breakfast, as well as providing some general services to cruisers. Anyone interested in learning more or possibly visitin the area should check out their website, http://www.turtlegrass.net/. Mark and Lori were amazing hosts, taking the four of us on a tour through the mangrove passages that line the eastern side of Roatan.

Lori

Mark

The wind and waves had only slightly subsided, but on April 2nd, we motored eastward towards the Pigeon Cays (two small islands surrounded by an elaborate system of coral reefs lying between the islands of Roatan and Guanaja). The Pigeon Cays made for a rough one night anchorage from which we then continued to the island of Guanaja. The approaches into the Pigeon Cays and Guanaja were excellent examples of why it is important to approach land in good light and to trust your vision more than following the inaccurate charts for this region. If we had followed the charts, we most certainly would have run aground on hard coral reef, lying submerged only a few feet below the water.

Guanaja

Guanaja isa large (4 mile x 11 mile) island, 90% of which is protected and undeveloped land. Extending beyond Guanaja is a large coral reef encompassing a number of smaller islands with great snorkeling and well protected anchorages. At one of these smaller islands, named Josh's Cay, we were accompanied by a very friendly dolphin that swam circles around our boat. Much to our surprise, he was still there the following day. He was easily identifiable by 3 white scars on the left side of his dorsal fin. He was far from tame, but for some reason had a tendency to stay near our boat. After having him accompany us at 3 separate anchorages, we named him "Tag". As soon as Myra laid her eyes upon Tag, she was in love. We think if she could have, she would have brought him home.

Myra on "Dolphin Watch"

Tag

Steve and Myra were excellent boat guests. They adapted well to the slow pace and simple living, enjoyed relaxing on the boat and swimming in the warm Carribean water. We were soon headed back to Roatan. Our sail westward was beautiful and pleasant with the wind and waves abaft. Oh my, what a difference it makes! To our delight and especially Myra's, we were accompanied by numerour dolphins, playing at our bow. Goodbyes are hard, but soon that time approached us as it always does. The hardest thing about cruising has been missing family, as well as saying goodbye to those friends we've met along the way, simply not knowing when we will meet again, but hoping it will be soon.

Steve adapting to the cruising life

After Steve and Myra left, we went back to Calabash Bight to spend time with Mark and Lori. We enjoyed having time to relax and enjoy their company while waiting for a good weather window to continue eastward and return to Guanaja. With Mark's help, we were able to fix our wind generator. Amazingly we were even able to find the bearings that we needed in Coxen Hole! Our appreciation of their generosity can not be put into words.

From our experience with Steve and Myra, we had learned not to fight the strong easterly trades. We decided to wait for them to ease in intensity or for a northerly front to come in, temporarily shifting the wind direction. On April 24th, the eastern trade winds were light, at 10-15 knots, and we set sail. This time we anchored for one night behind Punta Castillo near the city of Trujillo on mainland Honduras. The following day we sailed to Guanaja. The sailing was extremely pleasant and idealic. One of our favorite things about Chandrika is how easily she sails. Especially when sailing close-hauled (very close towards the direction of the wind), she often sails herself. Even without using an autopilot, we have often let her sail for hours without touching the wheel. Unfortunately, however, she does not sail very close to the wind. We have discovered that this problem is not from her hull design, but rather from her improperly fitted genoa head sail, which is too large and the clew too high for the boat. This sail also presents us with problems in stronger winds (20-30 knots of apparent wind), as we do not have an appropriately sized working jib.

We arrived in Guanaja on April 25th and spent the next few days relaxing, hiking in the mountains on the island, and visiting our dear friend Tag. April 2008

From Guatemala to Honduras

One of the final highlights of Guatemala was Finca Paraiso. With our friend, Jesse, from Xela, himself a wandering tourist, we got to experience the cool pools and hot waterfalls (heated by the hotspring above). Not fully mixed, the water ranged in temperature from approximately 70 to 160 degrees F. Below were underwater caves stretching 20 to 80 feet back which we explored, as well as some aboce water caves still heated by the thermals and inhabited by a slightly unnerving number of bats (100s maybe 1000s). Jesse joined us for an overnight stay and motor/sail out the Rio Dulce, as we began our departure from Guatemala. Check out went smooth and we were soon out to sea once more. Our destination was Roatan in the Bay Islands of Honduras, which lay some 120 nautical miles eastward. The trade winds in this region blow straight out of the east and are customarily 20-30 knots (23-35 mph). We were not looking forward to tacking our way back and forth with our bow crashing into oncoming swell, but had the morale to do so. Luckily this morale never needed to be tested as the forcasted light easterly winds turned out to be light westerlies. Initially the winds were far too light (so light they were practically nonexistent) as we slowly bobbed around with the current carrying us towards Roatan. Worthy of mention, during our patience-testing drift eastward (moving at a speed of 1 knot) were two 4-5 foot long fish (no fisherman's exageration) that swam behind our boat seeking shade under her hull. We tried every lure and bait we had available but to no avail. In desperation, Graham leaned over Chandrika's stern (with Sue holding on to his leg) trying a speargun / gaff hook combination. The plan failed when the spear (shot point blank) ricocheted off the fish's skull, leaving no time for a quick gaff.

after a brief squall

The westerlies soon increased to a beautiful 5-10 knots abaft (from behind) and we were on our way. Overall we had excellent weather with the exception of one light squall. Towards the end of our voyage, the wind eventually shifted to the east, but they stayed light allowing for slow but comfortable sailing. We arrived in Coxen Hole, Roatan on March 24th (3 days and 2 night after leaving Guatemala). March 2008

Climbing in Cerro Quemado

Our second journey to inland Guatemala brought us to Cerro Quemado (meaning "Burnt Hill"), an outcropping of volcanic rock located just outside Guatemala's second largest city, Quetzaltenango (aka Xela). We were eager to do some rock climbing, since we had not done any climbing for five months, since climbing in the gym in Miami. The climbs at Cerro Quemado vary in length from 50 to 150 feet and vary in difficulty from 5.8 to 5.13, with most routes being in the 5.11 range. Most of the routes are fairly steep and technical sport climbs. It was wonderful to move over stone again, and we were pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt.

Cerro Quemado

climbing at last

Cerro Quemado is the most unique and strange place we have ever climbed, or have ever visited for that matter. Hundreds of fundamentalist evangelical pilgrims arrive each day from all over Guatemala and even from other countries in Central America to pray, to soak in the spiritual aura of the mountainous, rocky peak, and to speak directly to their god. Graham refers to their experience as "spiritual brainwashing." The vast majority of Central Americans consider themselves either Catholic, Evangelical, or one of the numerous indigenous American religions. However we have noticed the lack of definite borders between these religious denominations and have observed a vast spectrum of different religions resulting from the fusion of western Christianity, Mayan tradition and local beliefs.

While at Cerro Quemado, we observed Mayans in traditional dress carrying colorful bouquets of flowers and more modernly dressed mestizos lugging five foot tall speakers on their backs up the steep trail in order to blast various Christian songs while they sang and prayed. From before dawn until after dusk, the air was filled with the sounds of people chanting, moaning, wailing, and screaming in a disharmonious mix, combined with singing and upbeat, almost mariachi-sounding disco music. The voices and music came from around thirty or forty small outcroppings throughout the mountaintop, as different groups prayed in separate locations in either Spanish or one of the twenty different Mayan languages found in Guatemala. Moving from one area to another, one might hear five to ten of these different groups at any given moment. There was virtually no stop to these sounds, which resonated through the mountainside. It varied from day to day; although, typically it was only quiet from about 2am to 5am. One morning, however, we were awoken at 3am to the screaming voices of our neighbors, who were camping under a palapa (an open thatched or sometimes tin-roofed shade structure). One of our neighbors was performing an exorcism on his friend.

arriving at Cerro Quemado

mucha musica

chanting

jamming in prayer

All of those who we met and with whom we spoke were incredible friendly and kind. Their time praying and being in the beauty of this mystical landscape, with clouds rolling down its jagged peaks and spilling into the valley below, gave these people a sense of elation and happiness which was contagious amongst themselves and to us. Knowing the importance and sanctity of this place to these people, along with our witness of the enormous amount of trash thrown everywhere by these people, confirms that this culture lacks even the slightest environmental awareness. For example, they would leave beautiful flower arrangements, as an offering to their god, in cut-off non-biodegradable 2 liter Pepsi bottles. During the four days and three nights we stayed at Cerro Quemado, we were entertained by the behaviors and customs of these people and in turn we served as entertainment for them. It was not uncommon while we were climbing to turn around and see a small group of onlookers gathering at the base of our climb, watching us. Looking down at groups further away, we noted that we were often distracting them from their prayers. On one occassion, we asked a small group of Guatemalans if they would like to try climbing. Two of them accepted, a young highschool aged boy and an evangelical pastor in his early thirties, dressed in his Sunday best. The pastor was a natural, while the young teen appearing equally fit, struggled on the opening moves. With little interest beyond getting high on the cliff face, the teen climbed up the rope until his fear got the better of him. They were very appreciative of the opportunity, and as we go our separate ways, both us and them walk a little more culturally aware than before.

The summit marker that appeared during our stay. Was this intended for us? Or just for Americans in general?

March 2008

The Cays and Reefs of Belize

Fishermen outside of Belize City

Dolphins swimming beside Chandrika under sail

It was due time for deeper exploration into Belize's islands and surrounding coral reefs. Our first stop after leaving Placencia was Lark Cay. While rowing to a coral reef next to a nearby island, we were called ashore by the locals who lived there. This unnamed island held a population of 3 and 1/2. The island was apparently owned by an American, who had hired Clayton to work the land, clearing and filling with plans to develop it into a tourist retreat. Accompanying Clayton was his 17 year old pregnant (hence the half person) wife, Shamra, and their little 1-1/2 year old daughter, Kilanie. They invited us over for a delicious lunch of rice, beans and fried fish, the typical local cuisine. It was pleasant to receive such open hospitality by the locals rather than being seen as either a source of income or a nuisance, the common view of foreign tourists.

A half days sail north was Crawl Cay where we met up with our friend, Doug, on Serendipity, who we had met in Placencia. Doug introduced us to the art and practice of spearfishing. Sue caught us dinner and was hooked on the sport. Graham with his catch of Grouper

We were tracking our way north with plans to renew our visas in Dangriga (having been in Belize for almost 30 days) on our way to Belize City to meet up with Graham's mom, Chrissy, and his Uncle Chuck (aka Uncle Fun). Dangriga, however, was found to be an open roadstead, meaning that its coastline was exposed to the prevailing winds and built up seas. A dangerous row ashore combined with strong easterly trades and an expiring visa, left us with no other choice than to continue sailing to Belize City.

A few days later on January 23rd, we picked up Chrissy and Chuck at the airport in Belize City. Chrissy and Chuck were to be our first overnight guests. Their new experience with life at sea would begin gently with a short and easy motor ride to Robinson Island, where we spent the night at a calm anchorage. The following morning, we sailed with pleasant 10-15 knot NE winds under full canvas (with all sails up) to Colson Cay. We spent the afternoon and the whole next day snorkelling, spearfishing, spending time together, and playing lots of bridge.

The rhythm of cruising is generally slow and highly reflective of the wind, waves and weather. Some people make plans more than others on a boat, as on land, but on a boat sticking to plans is ignorant and sometimes dangerous. Learning to pay attention to the elements and dance with them and not even saying "We'll go to Tobacco Cay tomorrow," was an attitude very contradictory to the American land-based life that Chrissy and Chuck were used to. We had been on the boat for a few days and had worked our way south to Tobacco Cay. Chrissy and Chuck had adapted well to the boat but were ready to step ashore and stretch out the legs.

Chrissy and Chuck adapting to "Boat Life"

Tobacco Cay sits on the barrier reef yielding beautiful views of crashing waves, transitioning the seas from 10 feet to 2 feet or less. We enjoyed good eats and snorkeling here and prepared for our return trip to Belize City. Our trip was filled with laughs and good times and good conversation. It was nice to share this lifestyle with family. We also enjoyed educating them and making them a little saltier. The love for family is a void which can never be filled and as we travel the seas, these visits are priceless.

Dropping sail at sunset

January 2008

Rio Dulce, Guatemala and El Mirador

Upon entering Guatemala, we checked in with customs and immigration in Livingston. We gave the officials hoards of money for them to stuff in their personal wallets, as is typical of these beaurocratic systems we call governments. We stayed in Livingston for the night and in the morning motored 25 miles up the river, known as the Rio Dulce (meaning Sweet River in spanish). The river narrowed as we entered into a steep walled gorge with a few exposed limestone cliffs. The river was full of Guatemalan men and boys paddling canoes while fishing.

The Rio Dulce in Guatemala

We moored the boat (and are now docked) at a marina near the town of Fronteras. The marina provided us with a safe place to leave the boat, allowing us to explore inland. We decided to visit El Mirador, the first Mayan city ever to be constructed, which holds numerous magnificent temples including the largest ever to have been built (235 feet tall). The ruins of El Mirador date from the early PreClassic period (1500 - 1000BC) but most are from the late PreClassic period when the city flourished (150BC to 150AD). These ruins were not rediscovered until 1926 and very few people have even heard of El Mirador, including the Guatemalans themselves. Fewer still ever visit the ruins due to their remote location.

In the afternoon on Wednesday, March 27th, we took a bus from Fronteras heading north to Santa Elena (outside of Flores). We spent the night in a disgusting hotel in Santa Elena. In the morning we caught a micro (a small bus) to San Andres. On the micro, we met the father of a Guatemalan archeologist. We met the archeologist in San Andres and told him of our desire to find the ruins of El Mirador without a guide. He placed a call to Carmelita, the small town where the trail begins, and spoke with the local who has assisted the archeologists with their work for the last 30 years. From San Andres, we began hitch hiking north on the dirt road to Carmelita. Due to the color of our skin, it was difficult to get a ride. We started walking. Our first hitch was only a few kilometers in which we stood on the back bumper of a pickup truck to the edge of town. Our second hitch was more fruitful, bringing us 30km closer to Carmelita. We rode in the back of a pickup truck with one other hitchhiker, and we picked up a couple more en route. The truck stopped in a small village with a school right beside the road. It being Guatemala, where the school children seem to always be on recess, the place was swarming with kids. Moments later there were forty small children staring at us with large, open eyes of curiosity. They seemed to be fascinated by anything and everything about us. We needed to find something to break the ice and to make them laugh. Sue had the idea of taking a blade of grass, placing it between the first and second joints of both thumbs, and making a whistle that sounds more like a dying duck. Graham was soon making all sorts of loud, funny sounds, and the children were bursting with laughter. They were continually staring at both of us with fascination as we kept making these strange noises. To further the entertainment, Graham started to dance to the tunes, and the children erupted in giggles. Sue asked in Spanish, "May I take your photograph?" They didn't really respond, so Sue whipped out her camera. Immediately, about thirty-five kids turned on their heels, and ran away at full speed, screaming as they went. We hung out and played with the ones who remained and the few who returned, while we waited for cars to pass by this deserted road, as we hoped to find another ride.

School children during their full day "recess"

A logging truck was parked nearby. They spent about 2 hours fixing the breaks; afterwhich, the driver offered us a ride. We road another 10km to the next village in the front cab of the semi. In the next village, we sat and cooked a lunch of peanut curry pasta before catching our fourth and final ride in the back of a pickup truck that took us the remaining 20km to Carmelita. We were dropped off in the center of Carmelita in front of a guide agency offering guided trips with mules to El Mirador. We tried asking directions to the trailhead but quickly realized that it was as fruitless as asking directions from a cab driver, whose sole objective is to make business. The guide agency discouraged us from trying to go on our own and told us we would get lost. However, we still refused their services, as it cost more money than we had brought with us, but more importantly it went against our style and prefered method of travel. The gentleman, Brijido Perez, in Carmelita who had received a phone call from the archeologist was awaiting our arrival. He saw us at the guide agency and came over to introduce himself. He suggested that we go to his place and spend the night. Once at his place, we discussed with him the logistics of hiking in alone. The entire trail to El Mirador is about 60km and passes by many other ruins, including two former Mayan settlements, called La Florida and El Tintal. He agreed that we would be able to follow the trail on our own, but suggested that we hire a local to show us the way to La Florida (about 10km) as the trail had numerous branches. From there we would hike on our own. He introduced us to his friend, Jose Luis, who agreed to walk us to La Florida in the morning.

Graham, Sue and Brijido

At 6am on Friday, March 29th, we met Jose Luis and began our hike. The trail to El Mirador was fairly flat with only a few hills. The difficulty lay in the condition of the trail. It was filled with numerous, deep mule tracks formed in the wet season. It now being the dry season, the broken up ground had hardened and provided very difficult and painful walking. By the end of the trail, it felt as if someone had taken a meat tenderizer and had repeatedly pounded it on the underside of our feet.

following the mule tracks

The tropical forest through which we walked was filled with plants and wildlife. Most of the locals in the area, including our guide, Jose Luis, earn their living by collecting the green, leafy fronds of the xate plant, which is exported to the US and Europe for the greenery in flower arrangements. None of the xate collectors we met knew what the plant was used for, and the man who purched it from them either refused to tell them its use or did not know himself. The xate collectors earn about 25 cents for collecting 70 fronds, which must be in perfect condition. Many xate collectors also harvest the sap of the sapodilla tree, which is used to produce chicle, an ingredient in chewing gum.

Upon reaching La Florida, we said goodbye to Jose Luis. We met the vigilantes, or caretakers, that watched over the ruins of La Florida, protecting them from looting. To our surprise, we learned it is also part of their job to ensure that hikers do not get lost in the forest. A vigilante, named Jesus, decided to accompany us on the next leg of the trip (about 14km) to El Tintal. We reached El Tintal in the early afternoon, which gave us time to rest and to explore its ruins. The ruins of El Tintal have not yet been excavated, so we mostly looked at mounds of earth covered with trees and other foliage. However, we did see many trenches dug by looters into the sides of numerous tombs. We also hiked to the top of the main pyramid and from there we could see El Mirador in the distance.

We hung out with the vigilantes at El Tintal, who provided us with rain water to drink, and we spent the night in our tent under a thatched roof structure. Jesus asked us if we would like him to accompany us to El Mirador, but we declined his kind offer. In the morning, we set off alone to El Mirador. We were given general directions to stay to the right if we came to an intersection; although, on two occassions our instincts told us to stay left, which turned out to be the correct route. Most of the trail followed an old Mayan road, which due to the thick vegetation and overlying dirt was difficult to notice. The road bed rose up about four feet high and was approximately fifty to sixty feet wide. After about 8 hours of hiking, we reached the entrance to the National Park in which El Mirador is located. It was here that we saw our first excavated Mayan ruins, which dated to the early preClassic period. These ruins, known as El Grupo La Muerta (aka the Death Group), consisted of a pyramid temple beside a former stone residence. We were able to crawl inside the residence and see the interior sleeping quarters.

the residence of El Grupo La Muerta

We then continued on to El Mirador, which was another 45 minutes of walking. Upon reaching El Mirador, our feet were aching and we decided to spend the rest of the day resting and eating. While we were eating, we met the chief archeologist, who instead of giving up interesting archeological information, decided to express his conservative, living in fear attitude and hence his disapproval of our walking in without a guide. He was busy and had to be on his way, but we couldn't help wondering if his helicopter ride was really safer. We spent the next two days exploring the ruins of El Mirador. The Mayans were an advanced society of the time with a good understanding of astronomy and time. The Danta pyramid (on the east side of El Mirador) is positioned so that from El Tigre pyramid (on the west side) on will witness the sunrise over its central summit on the equinox and over its secondary north and south summits on the winter and summer solstices, respectively. They lived off the land (both naturally and agriculturally). They were also masters of stone from creating great temples of limestone to knives of obsidian and carvings of jade (both of which were imported). One of the biggest questions yet to be answered is why they buried the entire city under a few feet of rock and earth. This required huge amounts of energy and eventually resulted in the city becoming overgrown with jungle. It makes one think that it was perhaps an evacuation planned years in advance. Also no one knows why they left.

Map of El Mirador

Part of the thrill and experience of seeing El Mirador lies in the beauty of its natural surroundings. El Mirador is situated within the center of the largest tropical forest in all of Central America. It is so remote that, since the evacuation of the Mayans, it has been virtually untouched by mankind. The forest is filled with wildlife. Neither of us had ever seen so many monkeys. They were everywhere. We saw spider monkeys, which travel in large groups and are extremely quick, agile and always moving about, crashing around in the trees up above. We also saw howler monkeys, which are named after the loud growling sounds they make. We were warned not to stand directly below them, because the mischievious howler monkeys will throw sticks at you and try to pee on you. We also saw numerous birds, including a pair of toucans, as well as spiders and snakes. We also saw a few coatis up in the trees. These strange animals look like a cross between a fox and a racoon. Unfortunately, despite the wildness of the forest, it is threatened on its outskirts by illegal logging, slash and burn agriculture techniques and poaching. In the last 10 year, both spider and howler monkey populations have declined by 20%. We hope that recent efforts by the Guatemalan government will help to preserve and protect this amazing area.

Un Mico (A Spider Monkey)

Un Saraguate (A Howler Monkey)

A Loco Arriba Monkey

Unfortunately some of the wildlife we encountered on the journey was not so pleasurable. The forest is also filled with near microscopic-sized ticks. Graham unknowingly sat in a nest of them while wearing shorts. The next morning Graham had about 150 to 200 of these tiny creatures clinging to his body. We won't go into the details but they were in some of the worst places imaginable. Fortunately, the ticks in Guatemala do not carry diseases, as deer ticks in the US do. After two days exploring El Mirador, it was time to head out. We spent one long day hiking from El Mirador to La Florida, where we camped for the night. Along the way, vigilantes had been supplying us with rain water to drink. To our dismay, we discovered that the vigilantes in La Florida did not collect rain water but instead drank from a manky swamp. The hue of the swamp water would remind one of an expensive powdered greens drink one might find at a health foods store. But...it was not. It was swamp water, and we drank it (after bleaching it for 30 minutes and boiling it, of course!) The return home was uneventful, except for our micro ride, during which the driver had to stop ever 5 minutes to reinflate the front tire with a bicycle pump.

Our swampy drinking water

All in all the trip was not for the faint of heart. The reward was a great insight into the Mayan way of life. March 2008