The road less traveled....for a reason

Leaving Antigua was tough but I know it is a place I will definitely return to.   So after pushing off my departure day after day, I finally picked a date and bought a bus ticket to get things moving towards La Ceiba, Honduras, the jumping off point to Utila and Roatan.  These are two islands off the coast of Honduras known around the world for their fantastic diving.  Having a look at a map on how to get there, I decided, since I was so close to El Salvador, it would be very easy to cut through the northeast corner of the country and get the El Salvadorian stamp in my passport to add to the collection.  It would only add about half a day to my trip.

Luckily for all of you, I have blazed this path many folks do not take so it should make things easier for ya'll if you choose to follow.  However, I would not recommend following me down this path.   Read on.

Since most people want to go to the west side of El Salvador for the beaches, the ticket agent at the bus station couldn't understand my reason for taking an extended route to get to Honduras.  After a severely long conversation, the conclusion was that the only city I could get to that wasn't on the west coast was the capital, San Salvador.  They told me it was only 1.5 hours past the border which didn't seem too bad. I was picked up at 9 am in Antigua and expected to be in San Salvador in the early afternoon since they said it only takes about 5 hours total to get there.

Arriving in San Salvador around 9 pm that night seemed a bit off schedule especially after the 3 hours of travel time through El Salvador.  For those keeping score that is easily double the above quoted time. On top of that, El Salvador is too cheap or lazy to give any type of entry marking into your passport. I would have to hope and get one on the way out.

I guess in San Salvador space is of the essence as in any large city however here it seems the bus drivers are trained to park as close to the wall of a building as possible when letting passengers off.  So picture a bus parked next to a wall with just enough space to clear their mirror and allow room for one person to squeeze through.  Now dump all the people out of the bus while unloading their luggage from the same side.  Have them find their bags and then try to get out of the way of the others.  I just stood on the opposite side of the bus where there was plenty of room and watched until there was just one old man with a cane left.

After the bus debacle, I was somewhat worried about accommodations in San Salvador since I hadn't looked for anything in advance since I thought I would be getting there in the afternoon and now I was dropped off in a dark street in the middle of the crime stricken capital city being forewarned by Guatemalans to be careful of the banditos in El Salvador.  Luckily there was a hotel right next to the bus station.  It seemed like a pretty decent place and then they showed me the roof top single man's traveller's suite they must have been saving for a guy such as myself.  It was an obvious after-after-after thought to the design of the structure that allowed them to stuff as many people as possible into any nook of the building and more money into their pockets.  Following the inn keeper (not sure if that word is used any more except in the Bible but I wanted to try it out) up a couple flights of stairs, then a labyrinth of steeper stairs/ladders, we ended up on the roof top looking at what appeared to be a door from an abandoned prison with the number 41 painted on it.  Inside, however, was clean with a private shower/toilet and the inn keeper was sure to point out the 10” tv to me, which is why I was charged the exorbitant fee of $12 for the night.  I included a few pictures below to help build the picture in your mind.

Prison block walls with the shower/toilet combo

You may have noticed the shower (open pipe from the ceiling) includes a toilet or visa versa (I have the single shower valve turned on to try and capture the spectacle of gravity acting on water in a still photo for the you, the audience).

Also, since the one and only source of light is outside the shower, when you close the thick vinyl curtain, the shower doubles as a dark room to develop that black and white film you've been holding onto since 1987.  For the particularly astute, you may have asked yourself, “Well the shower seems fine and all but where is the sink?” Good question.  They have solved this issue by placing it outside so it can double as a washeteria shown here:

Outdoor sink with a view

Once settled I went back to the bus station to buy my ticket for the following day to La Ceiba.  Then I found out a funny thing.  There are no busses from San Salvador to La Ceiba.  I first had to go down south through the rest of El Salvador then cut up northeast, to cross into Honduras and spend the night in the town of Tegucigulpa (Yes, it takes some time to learn how to say this much less know where it is).  Then from there I could get to La Ceiba. Fantastic.  I get to see more of El Salvador than I bargained for.

The bus wasn't leaving until noon the next day so I had a few hours to walk around San Salvador in the morning.  I am assuming they don't get too many tourists walking around there since I was stared at like a woman at a Free Mason's convention the entire time.  I did manage to visit the National Palace, the largest church in the city, and the markets. I should have known the markets were a bad idea. No tourists means when one arrives he is swarmed by hawkers trying to sell anything and everything to fresh blood. I haven't had that many women run toward me at one time since....well I've never had that many women run toward me ever.

Back on the bus for another 8 hour work day of sitting.  This bus however came with a built-in shiatsu in the form of a kid repeatedly kicking the back of my seat.  The first kick felt nice but the following 3,146 were annoying.  I counted all the small bruises on my back.

Upon exiting El Salvador to Honduras, I did not get a stamp in my passport either or any mark that would indicate I was there which was the sole purpose of this side trip.  I asked one of the bus attendants and he said “Yes, no stamp” with a smile as if I should be delighted on how easy it is to get in and out of El Salvador.  I slumped back in my chair to the intermittent kicking of my shiatsu.  The only thing I got from El Salvador was this crappy picture at the immigration office of these gentlemen who appear to be eagerly awaiting to open the door and welcome you to their country but in return they just want to offer you a great deal on exchanging some money.  Not sure why it takes thirty of them to do this.

Fight through a mob of money exchangers to get back to the bus (in background) at the border crossing

After the border crossing made it to Teguciculpa and was again dropped off that night on a dark street corner in a large city with no idea where to stay and being forewarned by the El Salvadorians to be careful of the banditos in Honduras.  I did want to stay somewhere cheap and close to a bus station where I could get a bus to La Ceiba.  After trying to convey this to a couple of guys on the street in broken Spanish, one lead me to his taxi, I assumed, since it had a few large numbers in the rear window but looked more like something suitable for destruction derby, after the destruction.  After arriving at a hotel and haggling over the exchange rate as I had no Honduran Limpiera, I was shown to my $16 room with a much nicer private bath with separate toilet and sink along with a large flat screen tv.  Didn't realize $4 could make that much difference.

The one comforting factor when getting off the bus at night in these large cities is that they always have a friendly security guard with a rusty shotgun hung over his shoulder by a sling made of a few shoe strings tied together and a few shells tucked in his belt.  Doubt the shotguns actually work or the guards know how to use them but they are spotted around most of the cities frequently at any shops that make a lot of money such as lumber yards, jewelry shops, or ice cream parlors.

Woke up at 6:00 am the next morning to get the 7:00 am bus heading to La Ceiba. It was a pretty uneventful ride aside from being surprised that you could get carne guisada at a gas station.

We arrived in La Ceiba in the early afternoon with plenty of time for me to catch the 4:00 pm ferry to Utila, my sought after destination.  The ferry is named the Utila Princess which is very regal and appropriate name for a boat.  It's a large enclosed catamaran to protect passengers from spray in rough seas.  However, the rough seas and lack of ventilation also cause passengers to get sea sick which is why I think it was named actually for a princess after a night of binge drinking.  The boat attendant stands at the ready with paper towels and plastic bags for the many victims that were claimed by the drunken princess on our hour ride to Utila.

Finally on Utila, it doesn't take long to know your way around the 2 main streets that intersect at a “T” at the harbor.  It is a little place that caters specifically to divers and backpackers and looks like a lot of fun. I hope to return soon.

Hope everyone is doing well and will post again when I am back on the trail.

City in the clouds

It's been a while since I've posted anything as I have been pretty busy traveling so I'll try to catch ya'll up. I've written two long blogs, this being the first, that get me from Belize to Guatemala, through El Salvador, and finally to Utila and Roatan in Honduras. I actually just got to Roatan last night after spending a day in Utila as I need to head back to Texas for some time to attend to some family matters. I am not sure when or where I will return to pick up my travels, so you have plenty of time to read the long posts and check out all the pictures. I've added all the photos for Guatemala as well as Belize with captions if you haven't viewed them yet.

Last I wrote I was tired of hanging out in Placencia, Belize and so took the ferry-bus-ferry-ferry combo to get out of the country and up the Rio Dulce into Guatemala. Heading up the Rio Dulce starting from Livingston at its mouth is a majestic trip. You pass through tall cliffs covered in a jungle filled with howler monkeys and some of the most poisonous snakes in the world. You pass tiny huts hidden under the canopy of trees at the water's edge where locals use dug out canoes to catch their daily sustenance. Then the river opens up and is speckled with marinas where yachtsmen bring their boats to safely make it through the hurricane season. Some end up dropping anchor for good seeing that they have reached their paradise.

The focal point of the river is the bridge that spans the river at the town of Fronteras. It is the longest bridge in Central America and is a major artery supplying goods across the country. I stayed at a hostel at the base of the bridge opposite the hustling town of Fronteras. It was a welcomed change from Belize in that things were much cheaper and cleaner for the price and the people seemed warmer.

I stayed for a few days to check out the sites, meet up with some other boaters I knew on the river, get a super tight $2 haircut, and figure out where I was going next. I had a few places in mind but after talking to a few other travelers at the hostel I decided to head west through Guatemala City to Antigua.

I've never been so impressed upon entering a town. Antigua is just a short trip from Guatemala City and it sits high in the mountains at the base of a few volcanos which are usually covered in a light mist. It is an old colonial city built in the 16^th century with cobblestone streets lined with one story buildings that are all seamlessly connected broken by the occasional church ruin. The only thing that differentiates the houses is the distinct vertical line where the colors of paint change, sometimes old and tattered while others are freshly painted in a deep hue. The local Mayans still stroll around in their traditional garb and work in the bountiful markets, while tourists and Guatemalans fill in the gaps. On top of that there is a vibrant art scene, trendy, low key bars, international cuisine, and a delightful central park that is great for people watching any time of the day. The photos easily do more justice to the city than any more words I can write.  So make sure to have a look at those.

The only unnerving thing about Antigua are the firecrackers that constantly echo throughout the town. It's always a series of about 100 – 200 black cats and just when you think it is over, one loud boom at the end to cap it off. When I first arrived on Saturday, I thought it was for some sort of celebration. Then hearing them on Sunday before sunrise I thought maybe it was a weekend long celebration. Then hearing them on Monday I finally asked someone what was the occasion and they looked at me a little confused and replied, “The firecrackers could be for anything. A birthday, a wedding, graduation, finishing a long book.” Basically any reason would suffice.

After spending a few days in Antigua, I took a short bus trip to Lake Atitlan which is described by Aldous Huxley as "really too much of a good thing."  Before our bus departed to get us through the mountains to the lake, our bus driver said a little prayer and touched his cross hanging from the rear-view mirror next to a small Mickey Mouse doll and an air freshener in the shape of a marijuana leaf. I wondered if I should feel better about the trip since we would now have this invisible bubble of protection around us or worried that the road was so bad, the driver felt a prayer was necessary for us to make it through safely. It didn't take long to find out that these bus drivers were miracle workers. They could turn a 1.5 lane road into a 3 lane highway for passing around blind corners. When a road was washed out with water still running over it down the cliff, they could somehow drive on water where no road appeared to be. They could dodge boulders and rock slides with ease as if somehow they could see the future. And this was the tourist mini-van bus. The locals take the “Chicken Bus” which is a brightly painted school bus packed to capacity with people, goods, and the occasional chicken. These guys run the buses around the corners almost on two wheels passing us like we were sitting still. I think they must double up on their prayers before they depart.

But once on Lake Antitlan it was all that I expected. An ethereal lake formed in the caldera of an ancient volcano that had long erupted and now smaller volcanos surrounded the edge of the lake with tiny towns scattered along the water's edge. The hostel I wanted to stay in was in the village of Santa Cruz which was only accessible by boat. It was a great place a few steps from the boat dock and served family style dinners each night which was a refreshing change of pace.

After a couple days of hiking, scuba diving, visiting the towns, taking Spanish lessons, reading lake side in the hammock while it rained in the afternoons, I thought I had escaped the excitement of the firecrackers that plagued Antigua however the last morning I was there, while doing my toiletries, I heard an enormous bang on the roof which I thought was going to bring the building down. My first thought was that someone had thrown just the finale firecracker on top of me. After I stopped choking on my toothpaste I went outside to find the culprit. It turned out to be mother nature once more and this trap took years of planning and foresight. She had planted and raised a fine, tall avocado tree just next to the showers. And on this avocado tree hung the largest avocados I have ever seen. The one laying at my feet must have weighed close to a solid pound and fallen 15 ft before it hit the tin roof I was standing under, bounced off and then land on the ground giving the exact result she had patiently been waiting for. I looked up and smiled at the proud tree and went back in to finish up.

I made my way back to Antigua through the mountains not sure how many more days I would stay there but fully enjoying the days that I did.

On the road again

Picking up in San Pedro, once off the boat I was back to my roots as a backpacker and as a backpacker began seeking budget accommodations. I was directed to a place a couple blocks away that was clean, cheap, had a pool, and thanks to advances in technology, shockingly (pun on the way) had warm water showers.  This was a step forward for budget accommodations since my last trip.  Little water heaters installed just prior to the shower head were cheap enough for these places to install to provide one more comfort for the weary traveller.  However installing the correct circuit breakers to deal with these cheap devices was not in the budget.  The problem being if there is any short in the water heater, which I would give a 50/50 chance on, the dirty human beneath it turns into the next test subject for shock therapy in cell block D of the San Pedro Psych Ward.   I stuck with cold showers.

Things did turn around as I noticed that this hotel seemed to only be inhabited by foreign women who liked to lay around the pool and as Lobster Fest was well under way, the main party for the evening was at our hotel as well.  I did get a job with the hotel that evening of picking up people from their hotels in a golf cart to bring them to the party however I didn't read the fine print in the contract that doesn't allow the "designated driver" to do body shots with the passengers.  I was let go but was still allowed to join the party, try my luck at chicken drop bingo, and have some of the much talked about lobster pizza.

 My brief tenure as chauffeur 

Chicken Drop (Sh@t) Bingo:  Fairly self-explanatory

The next day was my cousin's birthday and she, her husband, and nine month old had just arrived in Placencia, which is in the southern part of the country.  Instead of taking a 90 minute ferry and then a 5 hour bus ride to get there, I spent the extra $80 to take a few puddle jumpers to get down there in less than an hour.

For my pilot friends, Tropic Air uses a Cessna Caravan which is a single engine turbo prop that fits 15 people including pilot and co-pilot.  When we took off from San Pedro I noticed that we used a lot of runway to get the thing off the ground and it climbed like a turkey fattened up for Thanksgiving.  But we  were on our way to Belize City Municipal and the view of the islands was great.  Coming into Muni, I noticed the runway seemed pretty short but at least it was surrounded by shallow water in the event of an emergency;)  After unloading a few people and taking on a few more, we taxied downwind and the pilot turned her around using every inch of ground available.  I think the nose wheel actually got a little wet.  Then he gunned it down the runway and by "gunned it" I mean "we started a slow roll to the other end of the runway."  When we passed the airport terminal, which was close to the end of the runway, I was hoping we would have more speed than we did.  I could see the pilot starting to pull up which immediately signaled the stall horn.  So instead of gaining altitude for take off, basically the runway just ends, the plane stays level, and you are left flying a few feet over the water.  Luckily there is no 50 ft obstacle to clear which left us free to gain speed and altitude and make our way to Dangriga and then Placencia which both have longer runways.  I looked up the specs for the Caravan and the runway at Muni.  The Caravan needs 1,500 ft for take off and the Muni runway is around 1,600 ft.  Just enough.

Looking south down the peninsula of Placencia

After getting safely on the ground in Placencia, I found my cousin and her family which wasn't hard to do since Placencia was just kicking off its Lobster Fest and everyone was at one spot on the beach.  Placencia's Lobster Fest is boasted as the biggest in the country and the best party of the year.  From what I gauged over the weekend of activities was this:

- All the restaurant owners close their comfortable spacious restaurants to cook in a short row of tents which offer no seating for customers, minimum shade, minimum selection, and expensive lobster plates. ~ negative

- All the hawkers who endlessly try to sell you their "handmade" wood carvings of a 5 ft long mutated crocodile that they say will easily fit into my backpack convene under one tent keeping the streets hassle free to stroll through. ~ positive

- The 20 ft x 20 ft stack of half blown speakers that relentlessly pound out local hip hop artist's music which is actually re-re-mixed American hip hop songs with the words slightly changed that can be heard anywhere within a 1 mile radius. ~ negative

- For being boasted as one of the biggest parties of the year, it basically just gave the locals and tourists one single place to gather and drink beer instead of being spread throughout the town ~ positive/negative

Aside from that, Placencia is a very laid back place that claims the world's narrowest main street at 4 ft wide according to the Guinness Book of World Records.  The following week was spent relaxing and hanging with  my family which really meant doing everything according to a 9 month old's time line.

Belizien high chair

• 5 am:  wake up
• 8 am:  take nap
• 11 am:  eat lunch
• 2 pm:  take nap
• 5 pm: eat dinner
• 7 pm: go to bed
• wake up twice during the night
• repeat

We got the occasional walk along the beach or golf cart ride in there as well and it was great to see them.  After they left, I have just been in Placencia for a few days hanging out with the locals and waiting for any boats heading to Guatemala.  There have been a few but either they have enough crew or are heading north.  I have been at least eating well thanks to local cook, Brenda, who has a tent and barbecue pit down by the harbor and she always serves up a heaping of great local food along with a side of sexual innuendoes that usually leaves you feeling slightly uncomfortable.  It's either that or the food.

Brenda's Magic Cookin'

Enticing as that sounds, things are a bit too slow and I am tired of waiting, so I am taking off to catch a few ferries and a bus to get to Livingston, Guatemala where I can start heading up the Rio Dulce.  So the next time you hear from me, I should be somewhere in Guatemala.

Should have all the pictures uploaded for the Belize link by tomorrow.

Cheers,
Jay

And I kiss the ground that is Belize

It's been a rough few days.

First off, sorry about the whale shark video.  I just uploaded it last minute before we left Mexico and didn't realize I had to make it public.  Welcome to Youtube.  I put the link on the right.

Summary of the last 3 days.  Left Puerto Aventuras early Monday morning with high winds, 15- 20 knots from the southeast, the direction we were heading, and darks skies with the occasional torrential downpour.  Sounds bad and it was, however it was the best weather window we had for days with good forecasts for the next few days which we needed to get to Belize.

One of the only highlights from our trip:  Sunrise at anchorage

To kick things off, I threw up my Dramamine in the first 2 hours.  It is supposed to help against sea sickness.  Stan threw up later.  Before half a day was over, the rain dodger came loose on the starboard side and the starboard stern lifeline broke which is never good especially in rough seas however it did give me easier access to chum when required.  After 12 hours of this we got to our first anchorage without much incidence aside from the fact that I got the dinghy line wrapped in the prop.  This did give me the chance to actually have a use for the scuba knife I bought.  After a rough night's sleep at anchorage, got going around 6 am and after a bit of a rocky start were on our way once again to San Pedro, Belize.  We planned to sail all day, through the night, and arrive on Wednesday afternoon.  The skies cleared thankfully but the winds stayed strong making it a very rough and arduous passage.  We at least were able to get the sails up which kept the boat a bit more stable allowing us to stay un-sea sick.  After a full day, full night, and another half day of this and eating only 6 small cake donuts along with a bottle of water on a queazy stomach, we made our final turn for the inlet between the reefs into San Pedro.

It's a bit taxing, to say the least, after 2.5 days of rough sailing to have to find a 75 yard cut between a 23 mile long reef in 10 ft seas.  The only thing we had were the coordinates from the guide book which had already failed us once before.  With this cut being particularly tricky in that once you make it inside the main cut you have to make an almost due north turn, hard right, to avoid another reef dead ahead.  We were told this was marked by a yellow buoy.  I couldn't find a drawing of the harbor entrance so I drew this extremely detailed map of the reef entrance to show how tight it was:

We made a few calls on the radio for assistance on entering the harbor to no avail.  We approached slowly with the waves growing in size and strength and seemed to be online at least to a point where the waves weren't crashing on the surface in mighty blows but still no yellow marker.  Finally, with a pucker factor of 10 out of 10, we pushed through the main cut and it seemed we had passed the main reef safely.  I could make out the secondary reef ahead, so we turned north for a bit and after we took a breathe, realized we were safely in San Pedro harbor.  Stan had some friends here who greeted us at the dock with a much welcomed Belikin in hand for each of us.

So after that adventure, when the only thing you want to do is pass out face first on the beach, we have to hunt down the Port Authority, Immigration Office, and Customs Office to legally step foot on land.  The Port Authority is conveniently located at the southern most tip of the island well out of town.  As our taxi driver took us there on the 20 minute ride and the roads got worse and population got very sparse, I began to think he might be taking us "rich yachters" out to the desolate ship junk yard to rob us.  I kept thinking this will be funny for him because the only thing I had on me was about 7 pesos in the pocket of my swimming trunks which I wouldn't even want to get out since they could've probably stood up on their own after wearing them for the past 3 days at sea.  However that was just a passing thought.  Our taxi driver was a very nice guy and got us to the shack that was the Belizean Port Authority.  Once inside, they read our boat name was Mobius.  Then one said, "Ah, that was you on the radio calling earlier.  We thought you wanted water at the Yacht Club."  Strange because I specifically remember saying, "Anyone listening in the San Pedro area, this is sailing vessel Mobius.  We are seeking assistance to enter through the reef and safely into the harbor.  Please come in."  I guess somehow that got lost in translation.  We also asked them about the yellow buoy.  They said, "Oh yeah, that broke off Saturday in high wind.  We are looking into getting a new shackle for it."

So after that episode we had to go back in town to the Immigration Office for an hour or so, then next door to the Customs Office, where the official didn't have time to check our boat personally but took our word for what we were claiming and of course we were fine with his laid back island attitude.

Finally back to the boat to clean her up, shower ourselves, and eat.

In other news, this last trip was the straw that broke the camel's back.  As Stan and I came to heads, I decided to leave the Mobius and become a land lubber like the rest of you.  My goal now is to get down south to Placencia to see my cousin and her family who are here on vacation for the next week.  Recuperate, relax, wash my swim trunks, and after that we"ll see what happens next.  It is Lobster Fest now in Belize and my cousin and I always get into trouble so I am sure I will have some good stories shortly.

Hope everyone is well and I appreciate hearing from you.

Cheers,
Jay

Just a quickie

Well we got holed up in Puerto Aventuras due to poor weather farther down south.  Hopefully we are leaving tomorrow or the next day.  Still looks like a rough sail to Belize.  Have the foulies ready.

As for Puerto Aventuras, it's a luxury resort complex that has a multitude of lagoons where tourists can interact with dolphins, manatees, and sea lions for a fee of course but to watch is free.  There are shows throughout the day so it's always entertaining.  No matter how old or grumpy the guys are who go in the water with their families, they always get a child-like grin when they are getting pushed through the water by the dolphins.  Not sure what exactly is happening below the water line but it looks like a good time.

I took one of the days to go diving with whale sharks.  Figured most folks were tired of reading long blogs from me, so I spent some time and made a short video.  I put it on Youtube.  Here is the link:

Whale Shark Vid on Youtube

Enjoy.  (There is audio)

Also, one of my friends submitted one of my pictures to a USA Today blog and it got in.  The link is on the right.

Hopefully the next time you hear from me, I will be in Belize.

Cheers,
JB

The Yucatan

Hola y bienvenidos.

First off, I added a lot of photos to the Mexico link to the right under Images.  If you do anything, at least check those out.  I put captions on most of them to help fill in some detail.  If you are bored at work and trying to kill time in the afternoon, read on.  I've written two short stories further below.

Right now I am writing from the El Cid Resort Marina near Puerto Morelos.  It's a quiet little port town on the mainland between Cancun and Playa del Carmen.  Since there are no public marinas or good anchorages down south at Playa or Cozumel, Stan was kind enough to keep the boat here for a few days and gave me shore leave so I could head overland and take the ferry to Cozumel to do some scuba diving.  Also clearing immigration here is a lot easier than further down south, so Stan was ok with that too.  We plan to leave here tomorrow continuing south to Belize.  No marinas along the route so we will sail all day and then anchor at night for a few days until we get to San Pedro, Belize.  The icing on the pastel is that the Mexican Navy is trying to out do their welcome by giving us a generous send off.  We were informed from the customs/immigration officer at the marina that the Navy will be performing maritime exercises with live rounds down south.  They were nice enough to give us the coordinates to make sure we avoided those areas.  Follow along on my Spot Tracker.  Should be entertaining.

As for the Yucatan, between Isla, Cancun, Cozumel, and Playa del Carmen, Isla Mujeres is easily the winner.  The rest are tourist meccas overrun by luxury accommodations, an endless amount of hawkers, and expensive prices although Cozumel is worth it for the diving.  Isla does cater to tourists but only has one main street with tourist shops and restaurants.  A block away things have a more local feel.  Quaint and tidy cobblestone one-way roads criss-cross the islands north and south towns that are filled with brightly painted concrete houses.  The locals use scooters as SUV's packing their family of four on them while the tourists sit stretched out on their rented golf carts.  The only other cars on the road are the red taxi cabs I am guessing were bought on overstock.com from the video game "Frogger".  They always posed a challenge when crossing any street especially after a few tequila shots, taken by either the driver and/or the pedestrian.

I will admit, the island lifestyle is easy to get used to especially in Central America where siestas are a welcome habit.  The two things for me that took some initial adjustment are the native species.

Story #1 - Iguanas

Iguanas blend into almost everything on a tropical island.  With the brains of a beauty pageant contestant and the looks on par with the creature from the black lagoon, they have at least been blessed with an all mimicking camouflage which has helped them survive where others have failed along the evolutionary process.  While the pedestrian walks innocently down the street unknowingly approaching a sunning iguana, the iguana will sit as still as possible hoping the large creature approaching him will change direction or stop coming closer.  The iguana holds his ground until he realizes his bluff has been called.  The distance they allow one to approach is in direct correlation to the size of the iguana.  The larger the iguana, the closer they let you get.  This is then in direct correlation to how far the human will jump upon seeing a large reptilian object move around his feet.  One of God's little jokes.  Usually the unaccustomed human chooses the flight response of the "flight/fight" instinct jumping far enough to end up in the street trapped among the red taxi cabs in his own game of the aforementioned "Frogger" while the iguana scurries off to the best vantage point to see if it's game over for the human or if he gets out of the street safely to advance to the next level.

Scene of the attack

As the wiser of the two species, I assumed, I chose a prime location for my office/siesta location/reading nook (pictured above).  It was a hammock at the marina comfortably situated between 2 palm trees in the shade well above the ground, roaming territory of the iguana.  One afternoon while swaying between reading and snoozing, I felt a dull thud on my thigh.  I almost thought nothing of it thinking it was just some inanimate object that fell from the tree above, but as humans are inquisitive by nature, I looked over the top of my book to see a foot long iguana staring back at me.  Dear God!  They were now attacking from the sky.  They were smarter than I thought and accurate enough to land near one's man-hood.  I had under estimated my enemy.  This was his home turf after all.  I immediately sat up as best as I could in a hammock and gave him a quick swat strong enough to clear him from the vicinity of my crotch.  After the hammock stopped swinging wildly and my heart steadied, I looked for my adversary who seemed to have vanished into thin air.   Apparently they also have the skills of a disappearing ninja behind a smoke screen.  

After scanning the area to see if any bystanders were able to get some enjoyment from my apparent epileptic fit, none of which were so lucky, I went back to reading.  About 5 minutes passed before one of the other boat owner's dogs, Kiba, came up to say hello.  Kiba was always very friendly but something was different about his mannerism.  The hair was up on his back, tail at attention, and stiff as a statue pointing towards something directly under me.  I thought somehow this crazy iguana was back for more.  I looked on the ground under me and saw nothing.  I sat up a bit and felt something odd between myself and the hammock.  Sitting up a bit more I realized what a precarious situation I was now in.  Somehow when I "swatted" the iguana off my thigh, he had just haphazardly fallen off and ended up at the base of the "V" my hammock was making where I in turn sat on him.  He in turn felt it was as safe a place as any especially since his maneuverability was limited.  However now with a brittany hunting dog staring him in the face with only the mesh of a hammock separating him from his demise and just enough room to move since I had sat up more....well you can imagine the chaos that ensued.  Cue the dust bowl you see in cartoon drawings of the Tasmanian Devil fighting Elmer Fudd.  

After the dust settled, I was strung up in the hammock like a Mexican puppet that you've let a group of 4 year olds play with all afternoon.  The iguana's evolutionary chain ended after he became a chew toy for the dog.  The dog got bored after his toy stopped playing back and decided that all the activity deemed him a dip in the water while the owner came around to find his dog a soaking wet mess.

Lesson learned:  Don't ever underestimate the intelligence of a beauty pageant contestant.

Story #2 - Crabs

Crab traps (holes) litter the ground at the marina

Another pre-historic creature that calls Isla it's home is the land crab.  Walking around the marina's boardwalk, it's hard not to notice the large holes scattered throughout the property (pictured above).  I inquired as to what these holes were from and was told crabs.  I was also told they were harmless aside from the holes being ankle breakers at night.  I pictured small harmless crabs that had just continuously dug out one hole until it was the size of a human head.  Wrong.  These things needed every centimeter of the hole they dug to fit their body and one huge claw inside (crab pictured below drinking a Dos Equis)

Drinking buddy... after a bit of convincing

During the day these "harmless" creatures are hard to spot however the crabs come out at night, to poorly quote the hit Whodini song.  Walking off the security of the raised boardwalk at night is a bit unnerving to say the least.  You can hear the crabs moving before you can see them.  So you know they are there and just hoping they are not moving toward you.  

Once again I was in my acclaimed hammock reading at dusk.  A couple other guys came out to the deck to drink some beers and one pointed out that a couple of crabs had actually made there way into human territory and were up on the deck.  I began to look around for these crab conquistadors who were trying to claim our land as there own when I noticed one of them had the bookmark I laid on the ground in his massive left claw and was slowly making his way back to his lair to writhe in the glory of his new bounty.  

Well I had been duped by one of the native species already so this time thought it would be worthwhile to employ the help of the other two non-native bystanders, Jethro and Larry.  They were from Louisiana so I was sure this wasn't their first rodeo plus if anything at least there was safety in numbers in case this crab called in for reinforcements.  With the drinking they had already done in town, we devised a pretty intricate plan to contain the crab and retrieve the bookmark from his cold, dead, claw if force became necessary.  If we would've actually been smart, we would have set up the video camera to record our antics in trapping this crab as it would've made us $10,000 richer on America's Funniest Videos.  

When facing off against most wild animals be it a bear, a dog, a rabid rabbit, they will usually move in a back and forth manner when facing you.  When facing a crab, the natural motion of a face off can be thrown out the window.  When staring into the tracheal beady eyes of a crab and getting ready to make your move toward him, instead of the crab retreating backwards as one would expect, they scuttle quickly to the right or left starting an unpredictable arc that continues until they are behind you like a master jujitsu technician.  Again one of God's little jokes as the 3 of us are now in a competition to see who can jump the highest and not scream while the crab cuts around us each time we take turns trying to block it from entering it's home base.  

Finally, our numbers paid off and it makes just enough of a misstep for Jethro to give it a clean whack to its head that scalps the top part of his shell off.  Humans 1 - Crabs 0.  I still had to muster up some courage to wrench my bookmark from his tightened grip and did so with the assistance of my flip flop.  In the end we shared a beer with the poor fellow as he did put up one heck of a fight and I had to remember what page I was on so I could put my bookmark back to its intended use.

Lesson learned:  Beer bottles are handy in bar fights and in retrieving one's bookmark.

Life at Sea - Part 3

Welcoming committee in Isla Mujeres

Marina Pariso (not my photo - from their webstie)

After 400 miles of open ocean sailing and battling the Yucatan current, the first sign of land we saw was the white lighthouse on the the northern tip of Isla Contoy.  The island just north of Isla Mujeres.  From here it was just a few more hours of smooth sailing until we were tied up to our dock at Marina Pariso.  Just as Isla Mujeres was insight, with the large frigate birds greeting us from the sky, the sun began to set.

Entering any new harbour, much less at night, can be a tricky conquest but Stan had the authoritative sailing guide book on the area and all the waypoints correctly entered into his gps.  We just had to track the line on the gps screen.  The buoy lights marking the channels were hard to distinguish between the island's lights but we found the inlet with no problem and took a right to stay on course.  Just had to get around the beach on our port side, turn left and we were there.  The beach however did seem unnecessarily close to me with so much open channel to the right.  I asked Stan and looked at the gps screen which indicated we were right on track.  I went ahead, grabbed our big spot light and went to the bow.  When I turned it on and shined it in front of us, all I saw was beach.  The bearing the guide book gave us had cut the corner way too close.  I immediately told Stan to turn hard right but no sooner had the words left my mouth than we felt the boat bounce of the bottom and then come to an abrupt stop.  We were both in disbelief.  So close and now this.  We tried all the tricks in the book to get the boat off but were surrounded by shallow water.  On top of that, the waves were ever so slowly pushing us to what appeared to be a rocky outcropping extending out from the beach.

We were on the radio as well trying to ask for help from the marina or anyone.  Finally after an hour or so we got word that a coast guard boat was on its way.  Once they arrived in their fishing boat with a deteriorating coast guard symbol on the side, the scene turned even more chaotic if somewhat humorous.   Over a 2 hour period, the only thing their small boat with two 200 hp outboards managed to accomplish was add a few "Welcome to Isla Mujeres" tattoos on the side of the boat in the form of two holes and numerous scrapes.  At the end we were just trying to save the boat more from the coast guard than the sea.

With the boat basically sitting on her keel and alternating between severely listing either to starboard or port, things weren't looking good.  I told Stan to throw an anchor over so we would stop drifting towards the rocks and hopefully in the morning the tide would rise and we would have a better chance.

The coast guard came by one more time and asked if we wanted to stay on the boat.  The captain of any boat is held by duty to stay on board until she goes down.  However I was not the captain.  I could see no use in my spending the night on this see-saw only to abandon ship at a later point without a rescue boat, so decided to take the ride ashore.  Least to say it was an experience of it's own.

With my brief exchange with the coast guard who then transferred me to the Navy boat here is my impression of their application process and training:

Only one question on application:
Question 1 - Can you make sure to drink before coming to work and if time allows drink while at work especially it you are driving the boat?  Must answer yes.

Training:
If someone yells forward - apply the engine at full throttle in the opposite direction
If someone yells reverse - apply the engine at full throttle in the opposite direction
If someone yells stop - apply the engine at full throttle
If someone yells - apply the engine at full throttle

I think the point of training is that yelling only makes things worse.

After passing this training you are handed the keys to a revamped fishing boat and a six pack of El Sol cerveza.

Enough about our first, and hopefully only, encounter with Mexican authorities.  Just hope we really don't ever have to rely on them.

After 4.5 days on a rocky boat, one acquires what is called "sea legs".  Once on land, this skill can become somewhat of a detriment and cause one to appear extremely drunk.  However since I was in like minded company, although probably due to tequilla, I was not worried.  Went through some customs/immigration papers.  Had a medical, which I was told was routine for any "rescues".  (Dave Beaver -  no inappropriate comments please.)  After the exam the medical officer asked if I felt ok.  I stared at him blankly thinking about the last 4.5 days and mildly nodded in the affirmative.

I was told of a cheap hotel to stay at and while given directions at 2:30 am asked if it was safe to walk there now since I was unfamiliar with the island and had a single bag with all my expensive gear in it.  They said it was very safe to take the main street....but it would probably be a little safer to take a back street.  I grinned to myself and found the hotel a few blocks away.

In the morning I went down to the beach and to my surprise the boat was gone.  I walked to the marina and saw it moored in the harbour.  Stan said he kept motoring the boat, moving inches at a time and after 4 hours was in deep enough waters to motor to the anchorage.  After talking to the harbour master at our marina once we got settled, he said the guide book we have is good but the one thing they have wrong is the north entrance into Isla.  Really?! We told him we were radioing them for a while before entering to get some local knowledge on the area and he said "Oh, sorry about that.  It was my night off and I was really drunk anyway."

So now safely tied up to the dock we decided to take a vacation and spend a week on the charming island of Isla Mujeres -  the Island of Women.

JB

PS:  To get folks caught up, it has been a week and we will be heading south in a day or two to Puerto Morelos near Cozumel.  I have enjoyed my time here greatly and will write a few choice stories and download a bunch of pictures next time.  Hope everyone is well.  It has been great hearing from you.