Friday, 8 February 2019

El Salvador on High

Circle trips are good trips; new adventures are always ahead and there need be no retracing of steps.  In El Salvador the big car brand seems to be KIA.  Our rental car proved to be a Kia Soul, an automobile with a motor not much more powerful than our boat bilge pump.  With the engine screaming like a race car we hit the road for an 8 day tour. 

As in Mexico, driving in El Salvador requires a combination of patience and iron nerves.  The roads are mostly single lane and very windy, with a wide mix of fast and slow vehicles.  Sugarcane trucks, 3-wheeled tuk-tuks and farm vehicles are often parked or moving slowly on the road shoulders. The widely accepted driving practise is to pass using the “faith-in-god technique”.  To drivers schooled in more rule-driven methods the condition becomes one of hyperactive vigilance: at all times you need to be primed for an imminent driving crisis to suddenly jump out from a blind spot.  With a potential road crash at all times seconds away, the calm voice of the Google map lady has proven to be essential.  We speculate that she and her counterparts all over the world are actively preserving marriages that otherwise would surely be foundering. 

Stuck behind another sugarcane truck.

Many Volcanos

The Salvadoran sky-scape is punctuated by numerous volcanic peaks and periodic explosive eruptions have played a major role in the area history, from the times of the Maya and into modernity.  Viewed from the Bahia del Sol estuary, the prominent massif is a double-coned formation that appears as a shapely set of breasts.  It is called Volcan de San Vicente, but it is more usually called Chinchontepec , which boyishly translates to “mountain of two breasts.” Our first stop was on its eastern slopes – for a lunch break in the church square of San Vicente.  We were struck there by the sight of a simply humongous 500 metre long queue of elderly men and women, cowboy hats galore, in a line that wrapped around the block.  They were all patiently waiting to enter a bank, to what purpose we never learned with certainty, though it was later suggested that in the lead-up to the presidential election a newly available rural pension cheque might have been issuing inside.

One-one-thousandth of a bank line


The extremely charming town of Suchitoto awaited us after our first day driving.  Clean, well-kept and colourfully painted residences line the cobbled streets.  Our late afternoon stroll after hotel check-in found us randomly stumbling upon the quietly spectacular deck of the Restaurante el Mirador.  Expecting our cervesas to be served on a non-descript table, the cliff-edge view of the completely-invisible-from-the-street lake below was incredible.

Main church square

Choir boy statue

Street scenes

Lounging outside our Suchitoto room

|Street scenes

Street scenes

"In this house we want a life free of violence towards women." This phrase is stenciled on many of the walls in Suchitoto.  Leaving aside those encouraging words, note the old bullet pock-marks on the wall...

Street scenes

Suchitoto offers attractive tourism opportunities, but overwrought international fear mongering and travel advisories have proven highly effective in keeping the crowds away.  We woke for a 6am morning bird watching tour down on the lake.  The two of us were guided by our English speaking guide Robert, by Melvin the expert naturalist, and by our panga driver, Edwardo.  Both of us being incompetents in the subject of bird-watching, we were still pleased to see and have so many birds identified for us.

Bird touring




The afternoon brought a little shopping (indigo dress for Alice), an otherwise nice dinner at a Tex-Mex styled restaurante but where the Mexican art of Margarita making has fallen into a condition of “lost art.” This drinking disappointment was amiably rectified later that evening at the El Necio bar, where we took shots of rum and moonshine with Billy the bartender and with Gerry, an aging veteran FMLN rebel fighter.  Bar El Necio has a character that exudes rustic authenticity, conveyed distinctively in the form of a bare-planked bar, lashed-together stools, earthen floors and a rusting tin roof structure.  They with no English and we with our less than rudimentary Spanish made for a sort of communion that only lubrication can remedy.  By the end of the evening we were best of friends with Gerry and we understood each other perfectly…

A poster in Bar El Necio.  Women were considered the bravest fighters of all.

The following day was all about the 1980-1992 civil war.  Near Suchitoto is the mountain village of Cinquera, which was bombed to oblivion and abandoned.  The majority of the town was taking refuge in the church when it suffered a devastating direct hit.  Rebel fighters from the area regrouped in the nearby mountain forests, where we were guided on a very interesting walking tour by a metal band rocker and affable young conversationalist named Daniel.  The tour began by sitting down with a rebel veteran fighter (Daniel translating) who first trained at 16 years of age in Cuba.  There he learned Vietnamese jungle fighting techniques so as to properly lead his troop of fighters. World geopolitics was in major play back in the 1980’s: funding and armaments to fuel the conflict came from around the world, with the US backing the right-wing government and the communist bloc the rebels.  At least 80,000 dead was the consequence and since the 1992 truce El Salvador has been in rebuilding mode, scars of war fading slowly but not yet forgotten.


Alice posing with an a rebel veteran leader.


Daniel showing us the kitchen of the rebel fighters.    The smoke was tunneled underground to seep out undetected away from the kitchen camp.


The rebel hospital deep in the Cinquera woods.  This was the operating table.


Guns from the civil war were disabled by the United Nations as part of the peace keeping process. 


The village church rebuilt many years after being destroyed by bombs dropped by the military.  The villagers were seeking refuge in the church and not many survived.


The rebels proudly brought down this fighter helicopter supplied to the right-wing military by the US government.    As with many of the military's weapons, it previously saw action in the Vietnam war.


This mural in the main village square depicts first a beautiful rural economy, then the tragedies of the civil including the torturing of village women, and finally the peace treaty.


Cotton Trees

Two hours drive onwards, in Santa Ana, is a city of beautiful Spanish European influenced architecture (both intact and crumbling).  The main square is fronted by an impressive Cathedral and Theater.  A pleasant dinner can be had there overlooking the night-lit buildings at the restaurante Simmer Down. Yet in this area it is nature’s architecture that stands most impressively.  Hiking the Volcan de Santa Ana our hot exertions were rewarded by a view of the huge caldera with its stinky green steaming lake far below, laying at the bottom of the shear drop edge of the crater wall. Afterwards we drove a little distance away for a cooling off dinner where we enjoyed the view of another even more gigantic lake caldera, Lago de Coatepeque.  The explosion would have been epic indeed that formed this now serene 5km diameter lake with its dockside homes for the local wealthy.


The Cathedral of our Lady Saint Anne.


Teatro de Santa Ana


A typical Santa Ana store front.


Strings of Salvadorian meat balls in the Santa Ana market.


Beautiful but neglected architecture everywhere in Santa Ana.


Pretty crinoline dresses for the little girls.


The dairy shop, obviously.


Santa Ana market

View of Santa Ana from the room top of the Casa Verde Hostel.


Hike up to the summit of the Santa Ana Volcano - 2,381 metres 



This young entrepreneur over passes the gringos on the trail both up and down.   He had cold ice cream to sell at the summit.

Despite the fearful xenophobic stories you may have heard or read we have found the people of El Salvador to be friendly and ever-helpful.  On a tip from Carlos of the excellent Casa Verde hostel, we journeyed en-route to the town of Ataco, taking a 10km detour on a rough rabbled road to the waterfalls of Salto de Malacatiupan.  These infrequently visited by tourist falls are unique in that they flow at the absolutely perfect-for-hot-tub temperature of 40C.  Far out! (as we used to say).


Thermal waterfalls of Salto de Malacatiupan



The Tazumal site was occupied by the Mayans from 1200 BC.

The geothermal potential of the Ataco area has been developed and 15% of El Salvador’s energy is produced using this natural resource. The area is also coffee-bean central and this means both good brew is available in the mornings and of course, a tour of the coffee bean processing plant. Very interesting 1930’s era equipment is used, though the strongest memory imprint of the tour came from watching the line of 14 women pick sub-standard beans from a conveyor belt.  Eight hour days of the most tediously repetitive work we have ever seen is compensated by daily wages of $8.00 (the minimum wage here).  The bliss of morning coffee ought never to be the same for us, yet already our guilt fades under the silk-sheeted blanket of our every day privilege. 


Enjoying a latte at our modest hotel in Ataco.


Ataco murals everywhere.


A short morning hike to El Mirador de la Cruz provides good views of Ataco.



Brightly painted shops in Ataco.


Kids all over the world enjoy a pop and their toys.


Sight seeing party bus in Ataco.


Greg lost in the coffee bean stores.


Women working for $8.00 a day sorting out the less than perfect coffee beans.   Every 30 - 60 seconds the conveyor belt brought them a new pile to sort.   Greg and I agreed it appeared to be the worst job in the whole world.


By every road since departure we had been climbing.  Leaving Ataco we stopped for brunch in the garden of the Celeste de Jardin, before reaching the summit of our trip in Juayua.  Sundays are known for their food festival and people travel from near and far to enjoy plates of food served in the square.  After choosing a plate for lunch, we trekked downhill to another system of waterfalls and cheated on the return trip by hailing a tuk-tuk. Not being much hungry anymore, our dinner was a small meal of pupusas (corn-flour tortillas stuffed with cheese or meats) at $0.25-0.35 each. 


Brunch at the lovely Celeste de Jardin.


Flower petals



A typical room on our road trip.


Greg enjoying the gardens at Hotel Anahuac in Juayua.



Joining the weekend crowd at Los Chorros de Callera waterfalls near Juayua.

Unfortunately, the local street foods brought Alice a stomach bug and crappy feelings for the next 48 hours.  Such is the pleasure and sometimes stomach pain hazard of travel. Declaring herself fit for the road we zoomed downhill towards San Salvador where Greg was seeking hard to find plumbing parts and Alice could complete her recuperation in a comfy citified bed. She felt just good enough that evening to try a beer flight at the nearby Cadejo Brewing Company.  By morning she was recovered and shopped at Kreefs, a German deli.  Life on the boat involves frequent evening invites for drinks and at those events appetizers are required.  Ingredients for good appies are darned hard to find in coastal village tiendas, so a German deli must never be passed over.

With another shopping stop at a Super Selectos supermarket and a 1-1/2 hour drive back to the boat, our road trip was complete and declared a happy success.  More of El Salvador will most certainly be in our future plans.


Greg & Alice

Friday, 1 February 2019

Bienvenidos a El Salvador


Transit from Chiapas was an uneventful 39 hours long with dolphins and birds. We were pleasantly surprised to spend about half of that time with mostly favourable winds.  A brown boobie hitched a sunset ride on our radar mount and kept a close eye on Alice during her night watches.  With the morning came another nearby flying boobie and our bird (nicknamed Gordon) departed his perch with a sunrise squawk.

Arrival at Bahia del Sol involves crossing an estuarial bar where great big breakers crash into the beach and only an experienced local knows what path over the bar avoids the disaster of a grounding.  Trying to find your own track into the estuary, especially in a deep draft boat like ours would be the height of stupidity – so upon our 4am arrival we dropped anchor in 35 feet to wait (and sleep a little) for an 8am high tide and the arrival of a guide to tell us exactly where to go.

Morning brought an overnight increase in the surf and from our roadstead anchorage the unbroken view of breaking seas over the bar was daunting indeed.  Choosing faith in a local guide’s experience over one’s natural boating caution feels a little like praying.  “Follow us in at full throttle” said the guide and so through the foaming sea we went.  Moses did not appear, but we might have missed him as our attentions were otherwise occupied with steering the boat and watching the depth sounder, which bottomed out at 12 feet – not bad.

Riding in the guide-boat to welcome us was our good friend Pamela Bendall who, with her partner Henry, is a frequent boating denizen of the estuary here.  As we landed on the dock of the hotel we were greeted with a crowd of welcoming cruisers, handed a cold rum-fruit punch and introduced to the waiting Immigration Officer and Capitania de Puerto.  With a few short steps to an office above the docks the paperwork to complete our entry into El Salvador was a friendly breeze.

We chose to first spend two days enjoying the comforts of a dockside tie-up proximate to the hotel bar with pool before heading off to swing in the nearby mooring field.  Cruisers arriving at Bahia del Sol are greeted by the extraordinarily friendly Bill and Jean Strain, retired US expatriates who have established themselves on a lovely estuarial island estate that overlooks a mooring field they manage.  Bill and Jean function as enthusiastic greeters and also as fonts of local knowledge – no matter the obscurity of the desired service, with a radio call on channel 16 the answer will be at hand. It bears mentioning that this amazing service is also frequently offered in discussion at nightfall on their private dock with cold Margaritas in hand. If in your imagination all this sounds a little like paradise you would not be misled.

A four mile dinghy ride daytrip brings you to the charming restaurants and tiendas of Herradura (yes, like the tequila and also the Spanish word for horseshoe).  The journey feels a little like Conrad’s description of a trip up the river Congo, but instead of heads on sticks to greet your arrival you are served cervesas and comidas.

The cruisers here, spearheaded by Bill and Jean, have carried out all sorts of local development work with the local island dwelling people.  Among B&J’s many fundraising and development initiatives: water cisterns to store seasonal water, safe outhouses, energy efficient cook-stoves, and encouraging schooling for the local children.  Pamela B has also been instrumental in working with the Rotary Club, organizing and fundraising to assist the local community in cleaning up their beaches.  Like developing nations all over the world, one of the great blights of progress are plastics that have polluted their communities, roads, rivers, lakes, estuaries and seas. 

A week soon disappeared as we worked on things to do (boat maintenance of course), visiting with other cruisers and lounging in the estuary and learning about places to visit in El Salvador.  Next up: an El Salvadoran road trip.

Greg & Alice



"Gordon" hitching a 12 hour ride through Guatemalan waters.


A pretty sunset before night watches begin.



Waiting to cross the bar into Bahia del Sol.


Guiding us over the bar.   Hi, Pamela!


Two comfy days at the Bahia del Sol Resort.


Our arrival was a good excuse for the cruisers and expats to get together for pool time and dinner.



Our view of Isla Cordoncillo from the La Palma Mooring field.


180 liters of water delivered to our boat.



Appies and drinks with Bill and Jean and cruisers on Isla Cordoncillo.


A school competition to raise litter awareness.


In all fairness to Greg, he did not order the turtle egg dish. He was offered one from a local's plate and guiltily admitted it was delicious.  Do not eat turtle eggs!  It is illegal and turtles are protected.


A bus trip into Zacatecaluca to get Sim cards and a Claro data plan.


A dingy ride to Herradura.   


Tie up at the restaurant and enjoy the Suprema cerveza and whole grilled garlic fish.


Beach walks with Pamela and Henry.


One of the beaches cleaned up by the Rotary Club beach trash project.  Thanks to Pamela for initiating the project.  We like to fill a few bags every time we beach walk.    There is still trash but not like before.


Hanging out at the beach shacks with the VHF Radio.   1 boat leaving and 3 entering today.   Unfortunately, the window closed and the final boat had to sit another 24 hours at anchor before crossing the bar.


Over the bar!!!


Panga taxi ride with disco speakers blaring music at 25 knots.  Woo hoo!



Calm night on the mooring ball.

Saturday, 12 January 2019

Late, Way Too Much Late


Twelve hot, hard-working days in on our return to southern Mexico and the light of tunnel’s end shines large.  In a few hours we will depart for El Salvador. The boat worker’s adage “take your work hours estimate and double it” has proven true this year or worse. Nine months of storage in tropical heat has done its inevitable damage to everything rubber or plastic on board. We won’t bore you with the particulars, but we can tell you that remedy has involved an insufficiency of technical Spanish during numerous trips to at least five local Tapachula Ferreterias (hardware stores). And a whole lot of sweaty effort too. Imagine yourself scrunched up, nearly upside down, in an aft compartment (sized for a ten year old) working wrenches at impossible angles in 40C heat, sweat dipping in your eyes, all the while your knuckles are bleeding because the wrench keeps slipping explosively off the nut – bang and ouch!

Yet bruises remind us of being alive.  This year we are especially mindful of those who are now gone, ranging from close to distant, each passing life sounding as a gong on the heart of us still living. The list of loss over the past nine months includes 6 lovely people who deserve naming: Gordon Henderson (84, mentor sailor figure), Corey Dean (63, golfing buddy), Maya Whitehead (29, life cut too short), Art Harms (90, farewell father), Carol Abernethy (68, sister how we now miss you), and John Harms (63, cousin gone).  We mention not those whose health this year has brought us close to fear of further losses.  Were we religious we would make thankful signs of cross.  Being not religious, we breathe and are thankful all the same.

Tapachula is very near the Guatemalan border and the entry point into Mexico for the indigent and desperate migrants from Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua that have been caravanning northward to the USA, thus posturing themselves as fodder in the current cultural-political wars of so called America.  There are refugee camps and migrant centres here, with lots of military and police presence on all the roadways.  As with all that passes as normal hereabouts, we gringos are largely ignored.  Safety has never been a concern for us in Mexico, but considering how far south we have travelled we are definitely out of the protective aura of the tourist zone.  With the boat both seaworthy and provisioned  we are waiting for the inspection dog before we clear port and head for Bahia Del Sol, El Salvador, a +/- 40 hour passage.

Clearing out is a 24 hour process, more or less, with some patience required.   We presented ourselves yesterday at the dock office at 9am the day before departure, various documents in hand.  The marina manager then drove us to the Officina de el Capitan del Puerto, the Officina de Customs, and the Officina de Immigrationne where we scheduled the mandatory pre-departure inspection (at our appointed hour of departure - with sniffer dog) and finally back to the port captain.  At each location there were formalities and paperwork issued - with stamps! At the port captain’s office, after an hour of work on their part making various enquiries as to whether we had been of good behaviour while in Mexico, the stamped Zarpe exit papers were issued. Two hours from now the Marinas will come wearing camouflage uniforms and with their sniffer dog to declare us contraband free. We will then have 15 minutes to depart.  Apparently, if we take too long the whole process starts over.  Last year the sniffer dog seemed friendly though. May said dogs never become angry (or whatever sniffer dogs do to unlucky or stupid tourists).

So that’s it for now.  When we head for sea we will look out for bow surfing dolphins or other sea creatures.  Each will be named in turn and anointed by small libation as the passing spirit of one of life’s loves lost.
Greg & Alice


We found the boat intact after 9 months sitting in the yard.



Finally, in the water again, after Greg replaced the rudder gaitor.     The leak is fixed!


We never pass a Ferreteria without totally scoping it out.


All the tools all over the cabin.


My phone is not working!&*%$##@


Yeah!   Fridge and Freezer working again.    Cool beverages.


The worst, fiberglass itchy, dirty, crampy spot on the boat.    Dropping the rudder to replace the gaitor.


Tapachula modes of transport.


Beach restaurants at Puerto Madero include pools for the kids.    
Mexican Moms enjoy a cerveza while kids play freely.


Fresh salsa custom made at your table at the Baos restaurant.



Huevos Rancheros with salsa prepared at our table.


Rays swimming near our boat at Puerto Chiapas.


Third stop on our country checkout process.


Visit to the Port Captain's office.



Goodbye happy hour on Anduril.


15 minutes to departure - sniffer dogs and marines at the boat.