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I spent several days in Placencia, waiting for the norther to pass through. It didn't amount to much, and I was peeved with myself for not staying out at Lighthouse Reef for a few more days. The anchorage was crowded, and I felt like a timid mouse hiding with all the other mice.
However, I did meet some wonderful people on the neighboring boats. Vic and Charlotte, along with their dog Martha, on Aunt Clodagh, were wonderful. I knew I would like them when I saw they rowed their dinghy instead of using a motor. Paul and Melinda on Day Dreamer were full of helpful information, as were Mike and Kay on Pinky II.
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| Aunt Clodagh |
When I went to check out I realized it was Easter weekend, the biggest holiday in Belize. As expected, the Immigration official wasn't in, and I would have to wait a few days. I debated sailing south and checking out at Punta Gorda. It's a more fun place to check in and out from my perspective; much less hassle, and generally friendlier. But it's an open roadstead, and not a good place to hang out. Assuming you overnight in the cays farther north or in New Haven, by the time you check out reaching Livingston before dark is problematical -- at least if you're sailing all the way.
So I lazed around for a few days, helping repair a few electrical things on some of my new friends' boats.
Checking out was a real pain in the butt. I took the dinghy up to Independence, where Immigation is located (in the Police Station) Immigration was cool, once he was there. Then I hitched a ride the two or three miles to Big Creek, where the Port Captain has his office. When I told him I wanted to check out, his first question was "Where is your boat?" I replied that it was anchored in Placencia. He informed me that the official port is Big Creek, and if I wanted to check out, I had to bring my boat to Big Creek. Technically correct, but splitting hairs, as was soon evident. I thought for a moment, knowing I couldn't get back in time to bring Malakii up the creek and check out that day. I asked if there was no way around it, and he said, "No, unless you pay a $20 US 'fee'." I've never been comfortable with bribes, and this was no exception. I had heard you could pay something and get him to come out to your boat in the anchorage. I don't mind paying for special services and the man's trip and gas. But when I go to him, I don't expect to get fleeced. I declined, and the next day sailed up to the port and checked out.
After finally getting properly checked out I sailed to New Haven for the night, then headed out early the next morning for Livingston. As an experiment, or a test, or a confidence builder, I turned off the GPS. It was very hazy, so I couldn't see the coast after I left New Haven, and I couldn't see the Guatemalan coast until only a few miles away. I was delighted when I hit Livingston on the nose, although I still wonder how I would have done if I hadn't. I should have headed deliberately high or low, so I would know which way to go when I hit the coastline.
I had light wind most of the way, so I flew the spinnaker until a few miles out of Livingston, where the afternoon wind picked up and I knew I would need it down to come in.
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| Spinnaker from Bow | Spinnaker from Stern Rail |
Checking into Guatemala was painless and cheerful, friendier now that the officials know me a little. Especially Raul, the customs man. In spite of my lousy Spanish... their English is much better, although I try to speak Spanish anyway. My VHF radio was broken -- I could transmit fine, but I couldn't understand the received signal. So when I got in I radioed the Port Captain and told him, I think, that I needed to check in but that I couldn't understand anything because my radio was broken. I think he told me to wait on the boat; fortunately, I knew that was what I should do anyway. The officials come out to the boat, where we did some paperwork. As they were leaving, the singlehander on the boat anchored next to me, who was heading out, swung by in his dink and handed Raul a small ice chest with the parting shot, "Give it back to me when I check out next year." Then he continued on. The officials all smiled and said their thanks, and when Raul opened the ice chest, he found a large hunk of fish steaks. Nice guy! I need to think of things like that, a wonderful way to say thank you.
I spent the night in Livingston, watched the fishing boats come in in the morning, and then headed up the Rio. There was no wind, so I ended up motoring at first. The Rio was as hauntingly beautiful as ever.
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| Heading Up the Rio | Swallow on Lifeline |
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| Rio Dulce's quiet waters.
White blobs are a fisherman's floats |
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| Boat | Cayuco |
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| Ibis |
There are more and more fancy houses along the shores. Just as in the more developed countries, people with money want fancy vacation homes in beautiful places. Land is too precious for second homes, I think.
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| Fancy Houses, Rio Dulce |
I stopped at Rio Titan on the way up, took the dink up to Ak Tenamit, and bought a few things for friends at home. Then I continued on up to Bahia de Buena Vista, Malakii's home while I am away.
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| Water Lilies, Rio Titan |
One evening, a Freedom Yacht came in. It's an interesting boat, with free-standing spars and a wishbone type boom arrangement.
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| Freedom Yacht |
It is always relaxing at Jennifer's. The early morning quiet is wonderful, and I always enjoy the parrots flying to and fro. Bob and Carol arrived in Livingston the same time I did, so Foole was back at her mooring outside their rented space across the bay.
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| Foole |
After a day or two cleaning up and buttoning up, I left Malakii in Jennifer's care and headed to Guatemala City and my plane home.
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| Malakii buttoned up |
The bus to the city was right on time, I got there with the afternoon still free. So I went down to the market and enjoyed some shopping and some sights.
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| Guatemala City |
The next morning I caught my plane home. It was good to be home, with lots of projects to do; but I'm looking forward to going back. Hopefully I'll make it to the Bay Islands in Honduras next year.
This page last updated on 2013-10-23.
