While the bulk of our cohort scatters for the US or the laid-back English-speaking Bay Islands (Roatan, Utila, Guanaja), we droned east along the coast of mainland Honduras on a windless day, thinking that some paint we ordered in Puerto Cortes might have arrived there.
Flat calm had its rewards – a pod of dolphins stayed to play for 15 or 20 minutes. PHOTO DOLPHINS And I swear the one in the middle kept rolling over to look at me.

An interesting book I read last year, Beautiful Minds: The Parallel experiences of Dolphins and the Great Apes, or something like that, made the point, among others, that despite their intelligence, dolphins are sort of ‘stuck’ evolutionarily, because neither their bodies nor their environment offer the ‘advancement opportunities’ that the great apes have received in their jungles. That might have been Stephen Hawkings looking up at me with the key to the universe, were I capable of receiving it!

I did my best to emote empathy and encouragement, but the dolphins moved on anyhow.

And so did we, anchoring in the slanting late afternoon light in the southeast corner of the bay, a big port operation on one side, Navy base ahead, and a beach on the other side, mountains beyond, yellow quarantine flag flying.
ANOTHER DOLPHIN PHOTO, the boat and I are also reflected, and my technology tool, created from mined, processed, transported and fabricated materials, by opposable thumbs.

Doug is a believer in evolution: “It’s made me what I am today”, he says.

We got out of the Rio Dulce yesterday, before the flag police decreed we needed a new one! We crossed the bar with a few inches to spare, and almost enough daylight to make a snug anchorage, Graciosa, across the Bahia Honduras, almost before a rainy squall arrived. Two boats behind us motored out while a local cabin cruiser held them heeled over via a line from the masthead – interesting to watch, although I’d hate to have to go that way myself!
Onwards, towards Honduras, but first a lazy day.

Life in the Slow Lane
This is a test (more successful than previous attempts, I hope) of sending emails to the blog via the HF radio and a Pactor modem. I plan to come back and add pictures when the Internet is available.

We broke the marina force field ten days ago, although we did go back again later in the evening for the Halloween party. But then we had boxes on our heads, so it was different. PHOTO OF HALLOWEEN BOX HEADS HERE,.
Photo by Jim Ellis

Mainly what we left, aside from the cool refreshing pool and the so-welcome shelter of the sun awning, was our electricity and our internet, such as it sometimes was.

Since then we’ve been drifting around the Rio, a day here, a night there, another run to town. After three days of watching how hard it was for the batteries to run the refrigeration – air and water have regularly approached 90 degrees (F!) -we turned off the freezer. Turned off the ice for licuados, mainly, and found some ‘treasures’ which have been dutifully, if nervously, consumed.

The pressure canner, Mason jars, and I are eyeing each other warily. It’s still hot for cooking, although better at anchor than it was in the marina. Frankly, it’s sometimes too hot to eat, although Doug never thinks so. We’ve left Sundog’s good bread; time to start kneading,(or stop eating) and baking in the middle of the night just like the pros.

The shore power should be replaced by the solar panels and the wind generator, but there’s often not much wind in the Rio. Rainy season, so quiescent that droughts are being declared inland, has poked its nose out far enough to shade the solar panels.

So we’re moving towards the slow lane in energy too – no movies on the computer for Doug, no internet for me. Books!! And boy do I have a nice stash – Catfish and Mandala at present earning a top rating. At least until cruiser midnight, which I try to put off until at least 8 PM.

Gotta get the weatherfax and ham radio systems sorted out now that we’ve finally had the first ‘tropical event’ of our season here- technology on the boat has improved in the last score of years, but have I? The soothing chummy rhythm of a clear B&W fax pictures from NMG accompanies me right now, with a background of ethereal stellar roar, (and big numbers on the amps-going-out scale) so that’s a reasonable metaphor. TD/TS/Cat1 Ida gone, cold front coming…energy being consumed everywhere.

Other slow lane indicators: writing in a notebook rather than typing in a power-sucking computer. Setting up a rain-catcher. Swimming in my laundry with a bar of soap (fresh water, ya know!)

Other ‘back in cruising mode’ indicators involve getting to know the boat and its systems all over again. Do either of us remember exactly what the sounder says as we run aground? Apparently not! Where did we put X, or y, or z? It’s a pretty small space – where can this stuff go? I’m ashamed to admit that I get confused which boat is which, since I apparently do a lot of things rotely, without much actual thought. “Well, they used to be there, in the red line bag” I’ll say, looking at a bag which once was blue (Absolute) and now is white.

Actually setting an actual sail meant decimation for generations of spiders; they flee as if from a police raid. The ant population supply line is interrupted; those crafty insects are still negotiating, trying to outsmart me, but no longer can rely on reinforcements, so the contest is evening out. Both ‘insect overlays’ have prospered during their time with us; pity they couldn’t keep each other more in check or I’d have let them both stay.

Modern times: we’ve enrolled the customs agent Raul who has all our papers ready for Thursday morning. We’ll “swing through” Livingston- to pick them up and spend the rest of our Quetzales, and be out with the tide at the end of the day, beating the Friday the Thirteenth jinx.

It’s not that I’m crazy about birds (not yet!), but I do like spending time with enthusiasts – anyone (almost) who has a deep enthusiasm and interest in something esoteric (confined to and understandable by only an enlightened inner circle).
PHOTO BINOCULAR LENSES

Birds generally are present in many, often pretty, places. Each species’ individual story tells something curious, or fantasic, or just worth knowing about the world. Hence, a visit with the bird nerds.

Guatemala has plenty of interesting birds of its own. Think toucan and quetzal, then add the less famous but really cool trogon, differentiated hummingbirds, seed-eaters, woodpeckers. But wait! There’s more! Many North American migratory species pass through or over-winter here, starting about now. Guatemala, the size of Ohio, has nearly as many species as the entire US/Canadian land mass.

So a handful of us strode off into the back lot of Hacienda Tijax, quite near Fronteras, our temporary ‘home town’. Las senoras, from boats were easily identified by their extra-heavy night vision marine binoculars, quirky footwear, and lack of bird book or birding life list. But we caught on quickly enough, with a little help from our new friends. As always, keep your mind open and your mouth shut, and remember the golden rule. Also, on the canopy bridges, don’t let your attention wander too far.
PHOTO TIJAX CANOPY BRIDGE

So, when all I would have seen was a distant little flutter, Leo or Meynor or Bryan (a young man who also taught us, in the guise of a drawing lesson, to notice the shape of the beaks, the feet, the wings, as well as a bit of birder vocabulary) would announce: “Oh, a white-collared seed eater.” Heads swivel. Binoculars up. “Female” “ooh” pencils out to mark down the sighting, Howell’s book out to show ‘las senoras‘.

The birds kept coming – in the hour or so before sunset we, or at least they, saw 17 different bird species, and knew them by first last and middle names, and sex, in several languages.
One of the most charming aspects of birdwatching in Guatemala is that English is the bird-nerd language; aficionados earnestly discuss anatomical features, such as the ‘slatey’ tail feathers which distinguish one trogon from the next …, in English!

Probably somewhere, Cicero’s ghost is gleefully saying ‘and ya know, they still use Latin too!’ All the guides knew those names as well.

Next day many more, many different, birds. And some real spectacles: the trogons were a colorful revelation.
PHOTO VIOLACEOUS TROGONPhoto by richard-seaman.com
The black-cowled oriole is related to my state bird, but I’ve never seen one in Maryland. The American redstart. The cuckoo something – I forgot to write it down, but remember Leo’s description of the long swinging tail and my mental image of my grandmother’s cuckoo clock.

And me, another spectacle. Now I’ve got a pencil and a book too, and a tangle of strings around my neck, connecting me to my hat, sunglasses, camera, pencil in my mouth, book under my arm. Ahha! So that’s why they have those vests with all the little pockets! I hope this urge to accouter is not contagious.

I was very impressed with the enthusiasm and knowledge of the speakers. I was also impressed with the quality of the INGUAT-certified guides, not for the first time. In fact, as we noticed, we have almost never spent time with well-educated Guatemalans before. It was a treat.
PHOTO MEYNOR SCOPEMeynor was a wizard at setting up his ‘scope’ and making sure we all saw something.

So my visit to the nation of birdwatchers was a great success. Makes me think that from now on, rather than wandering around clueless, I’ll find the local ‘twitchers’ as the Brits call birdwatchers, and see what they find interesting.
PHOTO ROW OF BIRDWATCHERS WITH GUIDE
Photo by Carole Webster.

PHOTO GROVE OF RUBBER TREES

Think AIDS, which sent the consumption of latex gloves in medical facilities skyrocketing. Think latex condoms, which are available at nearly every checkout stand in most countries, but seem insufficiently used.

Think rubber mattresses, expensive, but ever so comfortable, I hear, and they last a lifetime. Think rubber boots and tarps. Or think vehicle tires, which is actually where most of the world’s rubber production goes.

Where it comes from is here. At least some small fraction of the often-preferred natural product (most ‘rubber’ is synthesized from petroleum) comes from right here on the Rio Dulce. The tree, Hevea Brasiliensis, is a native of Brazil, local to Central America and was used by the Mayans for their rubber game balls. In some respects (climate, rain, sun), this Rio Dulce area is ideal for rubber plantations, and there are several.

Also, as I learned at Tijax, another local plantation, their trees are a cross between the Brazilian and a Malaysian variety. As well, during dry conditions, as we have had recently despite the so-called rainy season, tapping stops in the interest of arboreal health.

In 1844 Charles Goodyear patented the process of vulcanisation, the process of mixing raw rubber with sulphur under extreme heat. This made a cheaper more elasticated rubber. Gloves, and condoms, are made by dipping glass forms into liquid rubber.

As usual, most everything I ‘know’ I Googled. Here’s some more.

In the world scheme of things, far more rubber is produced in the vicinity of Malayasia, Thailand, and India. The forest that was cleared to grow these trees may have been ecologically preferable to the orderly rowed plantations; but economic forces have their own logic. In La Esmerelda almost all the workers I see are young men; but in Southeast Asia, it’s often women’s work, which is to say, poorly paid.

Whenever I asked my informants about the harvesting work, they always refer to ‘ulli’ trees. Come to find out that ‘ulli’ is a Mayan word, meaning blood, or rubber. Also, one of the sometimes contradictory factoids of Google indicates that hevea brasilensis and the maple tree may be related. Or not, but it seems like they should be.

For reasons of tree hydraulics, the trees are tapped at night or very early in the morning. On my daybreak walks, I sometimes see people still wearing head-lights, and hear the scritch of their knives as they move from tree to tree opening the veins, so to speak. They could be tapping new latex every couple days, as in Asia, but I don’t think it’s that intensive here. I should go out in the wee hours sometime to make sure, (but probably won’t).
PHOTO TREE TAPPER WITH KNIFE

The tree, handled skillfully, is said to be good for twenty years of latex. Then its wood, stronger than oak (according to the rubber-wood-marketing board), can be used for furniture etc.

Mexico may be Guatemala’s main latex rubber customer. Factoid: rubber is the only naturally-grown product used in the automotive industry, with the possible previous exception of silk.

The Asians seem to try to keep their rubber in liquid form, which means using ammonia as a solvent, according to a Google site. Or, according to the guide at Tijax, a muriatic acid solution is used.
PHOTO TAPPED TREE DRIPPING

Here, the latex rubber is harvested in ‘cup form’ and as ‘tree lace’ (peeled from the drip line). Its processing involves a lot of heat, which destroys at least some of the proteins (latex allergies are blamed on proteins), and the result is solid rubber.

The workers leave their ‘cup forms’ and ‘tree laces’ beside the road for a tractor to pick up. Gnats seem to like this powerfully scented ‘ulli’.
PHOTO RUBBER PRODUCT

For more info see
http://www.irrdb.com/irrdb/NaturalRubber/History/History5.htm
http://www.immune.com/rubber/nr1.html#e, or try Google, and see where you bounce!