WHAT’S AFOOT IN GUANAJA

If you look at the chart of Guanaja, Honduras, the easternmost of the Bay Islands,  you’ll see  a series of  ‘peaks’ in the one to three hundred-meter range. The highest point, Michael Rock Peak, logs in at 415 meters.
CHART OF GUANAJA
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug
You’ll also see the notation “Densely Wooded”. This is less true now, post-hurricane Mitch (1998), which mowed down huge swathes of pine forest on both sides of the island. Recovery is underway but for now the only dense woods might be in certain valley bottoms.
We took a hike up to Michael Peak with a resident gringo who probably knows more about the old trails than almost anyone else here. He hikes them regularly, carrying a machete as if it were a parade rifle.
Guanaja, we were told, doesn’t have the water problems that more developed islands like Roatan have. ‘Don’t believe everything anyone tells you’ said our friend.  ‘Water can be a problem here too.’ He took us to a dam which supplies the main settlement on Bonacatown the island.
PICTURE OF DRINKING WATER RESERVOIR
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug
Then he told us: was it 2005? Lots of weather systems coming through, and three days,  each with more than 25” per day  = an inch per hour.‘We had so much rain there wasn’t any water to drink’.  How did that happen, I wondered.  Turns out that the quartz sand in the soil washed down into the reservoir and filled it, so much so that it had to be dug out during the dry season. Credulously,  I can see how that might happen.  There’s a big delta-fan of white sand in front of Hans’ bar from the same summer.
It seems like several valleys have dams and streams, even waterfalls. We met another property owner  whose land’s finest feature was a constantly running stream with a dammed pool.
It would be a real treat to lounge here.
Otherwise, much of Guanaja’s land is little used. There once was agriculture, in the form of coconut products, but between disease and a blow from hurricane Fifi in the 1970s, that has long gone. Cattle, especially if loose, will ruin the water cachements. There are cows around, but not on that scale here. Even growing a personal garden is a struggle with the elements, the soil, and a multitude of critters. 


When I said that some day soon the trails would be too overgrown to find our friend said, no, your feet will find them. The soil is compressed so, that although vegetation may sometimes cover the visual track, the earth still holds the trodden line intact. And it seemed true. Trudging along, there was always room for our feet, no matter how much the grass, some of it ‘cutting grass,’ snagged at our shins.
On we went. A fire also went through here several years after the hurricane. In  areas,  the trees, some replanted and some volunteers, are finally getting tall enough to offer shade. And of course there are spectacular views under any conditions.
 Here’s a look to the south and west. The larger island is Bonacatown, where the bulk of the population lives despite the, to me,  salubrious environs of the peaks.
VIEW TOWARD BONACATOWN
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug
And here’s a view toward the second  settlement of Savannah Bight.
VIEW TOWARDS SAVANNAH BIGHT
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug
And a view of the anchorage of El Bight
EL BIGHT ANCHORAGE
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug
Can you pick out Galivant? You can also maybe make out the fan of white sand, and the canal with 6 feet of water that some local boats use as hurricane shelter.
Eventually, of course, we got to the top, just in time for a little shower from a little dark cloud that hangs out up here. I’ve been told that Guanaja means ‘dark cloud’. Should I believe that too?
G ON PEAK LOOKING S&W
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug
 On the way home, I had to retrace my steps to find something that I dropped, while the guys napped in shaded grass.

 Doug and I got more exercise in a day than we’d had in the previous month. “There’s a lot more ‘middle’ to this island than we can see from the boat”, Doug said. Nonetheless, next time I’m back in Guanaja I’m definitely going to let my feet find another trail.

Out of LaCeiba for good!

Funny how what once was tolerable seems less so the closer it gets to the end. That’s how we were feeling as we slipped away from La Ceiba Shipyard early Wednesday morning with a huge sigh of relief. The woman who made Doug’s lunch every day was starting to mark his styrofoam trays ‘delgado‘ ‘skinny’, so it was clearly past time for us to resume our normal life.

We motored toward French Harbor, Roatan, and then, actually got to sail at a tolerable rate of progress. And then, we caught a fish. It seems like years since we’ve hauled one in. PHOTO OF FISH IN BUCKETPhoto & Video Sharing by SmugMugAs you might recognize, this is a red-meat fish, not to everyone’s taste. We have a special marinade that we call ‘fishkiller sauce’, made with garlic, ginger, soy, oil. Makes anything taste good! Also, if you saw how fast a tot of alcohol to the gills stops a fish, you’d think twice about your own next shot! We used some of Thelma’s Canadian Club which has been languishing in various bilges for quite some time.

And then, anchored in the familiar harbor, I got to go for a swim. We visited some friends, I finished a good book (Margaret Atwood, Payback).That evening it rained and we caught nice drinking and shower and washing water. Could life get any better?

Well, no. Doug was eager to move east towards Guanaja despite the looming rainclouds of a widespread frontal trough. It rained and rained some more, the west wind never materialized (thankfully, neither did the lightening). As befits a shake-down (trickle-down?) cruise, we found leaks running behind the chart table, past acres of wiring, under the refrigeration compressor and out onto the cabin sole.

But the weather cleared decently on our final approach to the anchorage at El Bight. Flow analysis easily revealed the source of the leak – the chainplates – and now they’re all goobered up again. I caught more rain, started another book (Reefer Madness, Eric Schlosser, also very interesting) and life is fine again.

Being tied alongside a dock is nice for a change, but it’s great to be on the hook, where the humidity generally blows on through the boat rather than congealing on every interior surface. Even my wooden cooking spoons were growing fur! The solar panels and wind generator are back at work, trying to keep up with our ever-increasing power needs.

We’ve even got an invite for Thanksgiving dinner, which will be on Friday, since the supplies get off the boat late on Thursdays. Of course, we can’t commit until Thursday night – gotta check the weather, you know – but I hope we get to go. It’s the first invite I’ve ever had where jello shooters are on the Thanksgiving menu. Remembering that fish, I’ll probably stick to beer.
Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

On the gadget front: I’ve got a fondness for cunning little things that work with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of ‘elegance’. Here we have something called Super-Siphon. It’s just a shaped piece of brass, with a pretty blue marble inside, attached to a plastic hose. If you want to start a siphon going you just stick it into the ‘out bucket’ and jiggle it until the flow starts. Neat, eh? And it really works.
*one definition of cunning Executed with or exhibiting ingenuity.