Only the Few

Having risen before 6am we had only time for a single cup of coffee before pulling away from the docks. So when our outward bound bar crossing at Bahia del Sol proved to be entirely unexciting we were entirely pleased not to be more rudely awakened. Crashing waves were non-existent and we didn’t get even slightly wet.

We crossed the bar as a company of two boats. S/V Avant, crewed by Rob and Debra, are heading to Panama and we are tagging along with them for a portion of their trip. As the end of the day’s light was dimming we made it around the corner into Golfo de Fonseca and into a calm anchorage at Playa Tamarindo.

Happy, happy to be sailing again.

Crossing the bar with Avant.

The following day was a short 3 hr passage to Isla Tigre, just over the border line into Honduras. Alice and I had been there the year previously and the neat simplicity of the procedures we had experienced checking in and out of Honduras proved to be an illusion. It turns out we had never actually left the country. We showed the officials a copy of the exit zarpe they had issued (permission for the boat to leave) but could show no corresponding exit stamp in our passports. Muy problema! The sign on the wall stipulated that we had to pay a fine of $US1,791 each. Ouch! As in, no bloody way, ouch.

After a lengthy back and forth discussion in our miserable Spanish, and upon some reflection on their part that the mistake might not have been entirely ours, it was proposed that the fines could be reduced to $170 each. Hmmm. How about still no? ...Ok, if you leave in 24 hours you can depart with no fines, but no passport stamps for you! With this ruling we have now officially become permanent illegal residents of Honduras. Ordinarily we wouldn’t care a whit about such a thing, but we had a sickening certainty that without an exit stamp the officials in Costa Rican would deny us entry into their country. Grrr. We took a small comfort in the fact that we were not being threatened by a stay in a room with bars.

The solution to the kerfuffle was a morning skedaddle followed by an unscheduled stop some 60 miles down coast into Nicaragua. Finding themselves unexpectedly in the company of international scofflaws, Rob and Debra chose to join our unlawful gang, damning the authorities with their rules and taking their chances as outlaws. Having previously been there, we felt reasonably confident that Nicaraguan officialdom would overlook the missing Honduran exit stamp and place nice new ones in our passports. We would thus be able to obtain officially issued paperwork that would satisfy the fussy bureaucrats in Costa Rica.  So off we went, criminals all.

Illegals exploring Amapala, Isla el Tigre for the day.

Our second visit to beautiful Isla el Tigre.

Lots of pangas and fishing nets to dodge in the Golfo de Fonseca.

Marina Puesta del Sol is a lovely but virtually abandoned resort in the pristine estuarial waters of coastal Nicaragua. The tumultuous politics of Nicaragua have virtually destroyed their tourist industry and elegant resort properties located in remote estuaries no longer receive visitors. We stayed a week, for 5 days of which we were their only guests.

Docked at Puesta del Sol Marina, Nicaragua.

Empty docks.

The pool all to ourselves.

Sunrise view.

The 2nd pool, ocean-side version.

Flor de Cana Tour, an hour by bus from the marina. They make world-famous rum. 

There was one dock-side guest however, that proved to be a real night-owl party animal. One of those guys you just can’t get to leave. We decided he was a rat. This assessment proved to be under-rated when we learned that he had much more impressive teeth than a rat. This made him a marsupial.  This important animal difference, while difficult to discern, is akin to the divide between a total scum-bucket and a guy all the girls are dying to date.  Turns out that while he's cute as all get out, he is afflicted with a rare eating disorder: "shrimpanolia" is known as an insatiable appetite for shrimp. Go figure. Our night-time marauder lost interest after we locked up all the shrimp containing food items in marsupial-proof plastic buckets .

And now go away so do we. Next stop, Costa Rica.

Opossum snacks

The Boat Awakens and We Road Trip!

The heat that hit us upon our arrival at Bahia Del Sol felt like a wrestler’s take-down. Hot, sweaty and like that start-of-a-fight inside voice that says you are going to lose.

Our boat had rested on its mooring for six months and now it was time to wake it up. Each year this means reversing the week of effort we previously spent on lay-up preparations. It also means installing the various “boat bits” we have carried from home in our luggage to remedy the problems developed during the previous sailing season.

Arrived!   Back at Bahia del Sol, El Salvador.

Greg checking out the new Bahia Del Sol Marina bar, relocated after the earthquake damaged the bar/restaurant pilings this past summer.

View from Anduril on Bill and Jean's Moorings in Bahia del Sol.

 Local boys from Isla Cordoncillo.

Jose ferrying me and the groceries back to the boat.

It also means discovering new problems that have developed during 6 months of lay-up. On a boat, the first rule is that everything, and we mean everything, is subject to failure. This year we were sort-of lucky. The nearest boat to us in the mooring field had a bad lightning strike (USD$120k damage) and the boat on our opposite side also suffered significant damage.

All this raised considerable fears when the navigation and auto-helm system failed to properly boot up. Uh, oh. After several days of sweaty and frustrating trouble-shooting Greg finally managed to isolate the problem to an AIS com port gone kaput. We’ll never really know the cause. Lightning related, or just product obsolescence? A new AIS has been ordered from Canada and we stand relieved that our troubles are not a lot worse.

An Engineer's approach to trouble shooting the AIS problem.

Four dingy trips to the fuel dock to fill the diesel tanks using jerry cans.

Ongoing problems with the rubber dingy strip coming unglued.

The water in an estuary is invariably mucky and murky. One of Greg’s chores was to ream and unclog the underwater thru-hulls. This required a lengthy snorkel in seeing-eye-dog underwater conditions. The next day we learned that a 4-metre crocodile had been spotted lounging around in the estuary and now none of the locals would go swimming. Ignorant bliss is the finest of all human conditions!

The daily routine starts with an early rising and coffee. The sound and smell of the second cup eventually wakes Alice. Sweltering conditions are in full force by 10am so any energetic boat chores or tasks involving rummaging in the steamy bowels of the boat must be scheduled for early in the morning. We conclude our daily boat-based activities with a 4pm dingy ride to the hotel pool, where the sailing community congregates for gossip and beers.

Some nights instead of meeting at the pool there are community dinners. These are fun and often include servings of the national food staple of El Salvador. “Pupusas” are a tortilla pancake made with corn flour, beans, cheese and sometimes crumbles of pork.

Alice spent a morning helping build the wall for the school on the island.   These 4 young heavily armed army guys have been stationed here for a few months guarding the cement blocks.   Who would steal cement blocks on a small island?   Today the army guys mixed cement while us volunteer cruisers helped the local women and children move hundreds of heavy cement blocks from A to B.

With the boat to-do list mostly whittled down to items requiring parts, and having avoided both lighting and crocodile strikes, we decided that it was time for a road trip into the mountains of Guatemala.

Renting a “carro típico” (Kia Soul in these parts) we debarked from the parking lot in our under-powered little car, engine screaming mightily as it accelerated us down the road.

Gregario, vamos rapido!!!    A frightening week of Greg driving on narrow roads in El Salvador and Guatemala.

Policia checking that our passports, rental papers, notary letters for permission to use owner's car, and driver's license was in order.   Greg smiled and in his best espanol said "Esta bien", and we were on our way.

First stop was the charming surfer-village of El Zonte where we stayed at a French-Canadian run villa, El Dorado, catering to well-muscled young people with long-hair and tattoos. Millennial surfer types should take note of this lovely vacation spot.  Cool fact: The couple who own the villa were travelling through Latin America when they were 25 years old and established this surf hotel borrowing a bit of money from relatives.

Driving across the border into Guatemala, if you have a moment of inattention you will miss it. Would they catch and jail you if you did? We stopped and somehow figured out at which little office counter we could get our passports stamped.

The drive along our southern coastal route was curvy but highly picturesque. The whole of driving in Guatemala can be said to be up, down and all-around: it is known as the “country of mountains” for damned good reason. With our knuckles often bare on the steering wheel we made our way to Antigua, a city founded in the early 1500’s and with many of its buildings partially destroyed in successive historical earthquakes. The result is a cobble stoned town of well-aged architectural beauty, complete with interesting ruins.

Awesome views from the roof top of Casa Cristina in Antigua.

For three days we enjoyed exploring the streets, the “ropes ladder” restaurant and a local Mezcal bar. OK, you’ve noticed that our bar pictures are fuzzy. Piss off then.

Cafe No Se:    Ilegal Mezcal...Donald is a stupid &*#$ fucker.....Bad hombre...

This is a Dance cage (caption provided for those who don't get out and party much).

Lacking a few facts but somehow this shady dude brought in the illegal mezcal from Mexico.

The depredations of our mezcal night were followed the next day by a leg-warming hike up Volcan Pacaya. Tourist novelties on the trip included roasting marshmallows in hot volcanic fissures.

 Greg roasting me a marshmallow snack.

Hippy-dippy was next on the agenda. Lago de Atitlan is a huge volcanic crater-lake that requires a precipitous 8,800 ft ascent up sinuous and narrow mountain roads. This is followed by a brake-burning descent to the lakeside village of Panajachel.

A quick stop at the Mazan ruins of Iximche.

 About to start our roaring descent from 8842 feet to Lago de Atitlan.

From Panajachel there are panga-boats that deliver you into the land of the beautiful people. For those not in the know, this is a place where the local indigenous people have created tourist Shangri-la for visiting western lifestyle yogas.

The village of San Marcos la Laguna is set among coffee bushes, avocado, and banana trees and is the place to see and be seen. The narrow little walking street up from the dock is non-stop groovy. In abundance are shops selling beaded jewelry, leather products and embroidered clothing. Tourist denizens wear dreadlocks, eat in ethical restaurants, enjoy massages and attend learning establishments dedicated to the location of Qi body meridians.

There, for $2.50 Greg went for a workout in a local gym while Alice had a $45 spiritually enabling massage. Despite being a little overwhelmed by all the bliss, we admit to having kind of dug the vibe.

Lago de Atitlan:   Beautiful, spiritual, cosmic, vegan, non-gluten, plant based smoothies, and Mayan abdominal massages with past-life regression. Alice played it safe and had a Swedish massage.

All good things do end. Leaving the lake, our trip back to El Salvador meant 10 hours of driving so we decided to break up the trip with another night in Antigua before the next day’s picturesque drive along the Ruta de Flores to the coffee industry town of Ataco. There we caught a night’s rest and in the morning stocked up on beans.

A lovely stop at Hostal Juares, Ataco.

Hmmm.....that is enough grass for a yoga workout.

Miles of downwards sloping mountain roads dropped us the next day into the metropolis of San Salvador. Our final road trip day was spent in a shopping spree for the boat.

So, the real reason we go on road trips is so we can sleep in a bed like this instead of......

..........our boat bed.

Provisions now being abundant on the boat, it is soon time for a new sailing adventure. We have concluded that we will be southward bound, but nothing further about our route has been decided. Weather and perhaps the whims of friends will help to dictate our path. Rob & Debra on Avant are also soon south-bound and we hope to share an anchorage or two with them as they head towards the Panama Canal.