Leap Into the Sweet River

Our week-long adventure of hardware store excursions, system tests, and cruiser happy hours was at an end. Cordelia was tucking into Texan Bay to wait for a critical part and a better weather window, Andrew was flying into Roatan in 3 days, and The Parents (praise their experience and fortitude) were preparing to meet us in Livingston. The Rio held many more treasures awaiting exploration, but it had become time to say our goodbyes. We knew many of our new cruising friends would be following in our wake sooner or later, and we would meet in another anchorage and another bar. (This concludes the Sentimental Hemingway portion of the post) 

Under the bridge and away

We made our way down the river, eager to finally meet up with The Parents and begin the adventure in earnest. It had felt a little too much like work up to this point, and we were looking forward to snorkeling expeditions and real Caribbean sunsets.

The trip down the river also marked the "go live" moment of Navionics on the iPad. We had tracks and anchorages from our trip in July, but only of Roatan and Cayos Cochinos. The trip down river was our first experience navigating unfamiliar waters with only our eyes and a set of charts to trust. Fortunately, the Rio Dulce is broad and deep, with a select few places shoaling to less than 20 feet. We had plenty of water under the keel, and very little traffic with which to contend. In fact, the only other sailboat we saw was 10 minutes ahead and picking out our channel for us! The only true navigational hazards we faced were strings of floats for fish traps, placed right across the middle of the channel by local fishermen. We picked our path, emerged unentangled, and made our way to El Golfete.

What began as a picturesque cruise past misty mountain valleys became a hard fight against rain, wind, and waves. We were motoring straight into the teeth of the wind, and were still heavily laden with cargo. As a result, we made no better than 2.5 knots on an inland lake, and began to fear for our chances on the open sea. We lost our lead boat, and soon picked up a follower. Clearly, we were not keeping pace. We turned North off our rhumb line in an attempt to get close in with the lee shore and give Leap an easier time. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, and we forged ahead through the driving grey. We crept along the northern shore to the head of El Golfete and Texan Bay. Our following boat had closed to almost within hail, but they turned aside and pulled into Texan Bay. We would be alone for the final stage of the river journey, through the rugged canyon to Livingston.

The canyon channel appears out of nowhere at the head of El Golfete, turning a tight corner at the foot of a cliff. An entirely new world appeared before us. We left the cold, driving rain and waves of the lake and entered a sun-dappled river which barely seemed subject to the passage of time.

Local fishermen plied the river from dugout canoes while launchas full of schoolchildren passed in both directions. Monkeys chattered from their perches high in the trees while pelicans and white storks plucked fish from the river in brilliant flashes of silver. Wisps of blue smoke drifted lazily from the jungle behind small docks and riverfront palapas, the only visible signs of a traditional Mayan way of life that seems little altered by the centuries. Given the pace of development in Fronteras and the ever-increasing traffic on the river, this pristine existence seems unlikely to last much longer.

We stood enchanted, scarcely speaking except to point out some new wonder. The spell did not last long, and the sweet river soon gave way to a muddy transition zone. We turned a final corner, and saw that we had reached the sea.

Next time: a reunion in Livingston.