15-39.513N
088-59.592W
Wednesday, November 30
Docked
Monkey Bay Marina
El Rio Dulce, Guatemala
Chichi and I never have traveled in a nation having more people who make
us smile.
This is a nation of unrestrained, natural human contact, where children unreservedly
respond to smiles and waves, waiters and waitresses continuously offer to
serve and to compliment patrons, where guards open doors, where eye contact
is held and acknowledged between strangers, where greetings include embraces,
where an unsmiling person is as rare as a championship for The Cubs. Connections
are instantaneous, not preceded by the restraint of initial doubt when a
stranger asks another for directions. This warmth is as apparent among the
mountain Maya as it is among the elite of Guatemala City.
A week ago Monday, Chichi, I, and 12 other cruisers joined Jungle Medic Missions
on a trip to the mountains of Guatemala, near Atitlan where mudslides killed
almost 2,000 persons. We worked two days in two communities giving
medical service to almost 800 persons. An essay about this experience
soon will appear under the essay section of this web site. On one hand,
we worked very hard. On the other, we were treated like royalty by
the sponsoring missionaries, one from Rio Dulce, another from Guatemala City.
We had excellent food and camaraderie, time to relax in two communities,
San Pedro and Santiago, that border the spectacular crater lake, Atitlan.
The sponsors even gave us a Thanksgiving dinner, with Turkey, mashed
potatoes and gravy, not a common dish in Guatemala. Of course, we each
paid a price, a glorious price, willingly paid, as we bounced hours on mountain
roads, in the back of an open pick up, through mist and rain. A day
after, in Guatemala City, the ancient American enemy, Montezuma, paid John
a serious visit for three days, and, on his improvement, a relative of that
warrior invaded Chichi's throat, residing there still this morning. The
people of our modest hotel ($30 a night, compared to $150 at the next door
Holiday Inn) treated us with care, as our room became a temporary hospital
bed. On Monday, Marion, the Texas physician who married a Guatemalan
and who loves this country, took superb care of us at La Clinica Hermano
Pedro. At least on the personal level, and probably on the scientific
level as well, this was among the best medical care we ever have experienced.
Prior to our departure December 15, Pachamama needs a bit of varnish and
Cetol, not our favorite task, but as necessary to her health as sun screen
to ours.
Anchored again in Shell Bay
Rio Dulce
Guatemala
Thursday, November 17
We came back here Monday from the bay of unknown name to attend a meeting
of Jungle Medic Missions. We will help Bryan conduct clinics near El
Lago de Atitlan.
In the midst of rain, with little to do, the critical mind starts to work
on some of the silliness of sailing and sailors, such as boat names, starting
with the sexually oriented names: Wet Dream, French Kiss , and IV Play.
These names sounded good and funny to the owners, but seem absurd when
broadcast on a morning net together with the others. Another boat name
that bothers is Nightmare, not an especially good image of the sailing experience.
Names we like here are Holiday Girl and Amazing Grace, though we suspect
that several hundred other boats around the world carry identical names.
Yesterday, the resort near us came alive for two hours. Dozens of
older, pot bellied, black Bermuda short visitors suddenly appeared, probably
from a cruise ship. The bright pink shorts of the ladies, and the men's
dark leather shoes with white sox, contrasted sharply with the casual more
subdued dress of locals and cruisers.
We have noticed that every business here important to cruisers is run by
Americans. That includes the popular restaurants and marinas. We
assume that lack of capital and experience are reasons why local people have
not exploited these opportunities. Personal services are from Dr. Hotwire,
a German; The Cowboy, a Texan; Stu on Mixto Listo, probably American; Jennifer,
from Minneapolis; her daughter Jerssica who manages La Lancha Restaurant;
We have found Ronnie of Rio Dulce Canvas, a local who will recover
our cushions.
A bit sad, don't you think?
15-40.525N
088-57.020W
Anchored
A bay of unknown name
El Rio Dulce
Guatemala
Monday, November 14
On a Saturday night, the batteries stopped charging. John did not
even notice the failure until the engine had run more than an hour. The
Link 20 should have shown higher voltage and lower negative amps. We
scrambled, found nothing, turned off the refrigerator that eats 4 to 5 amps
per hour, left the anchor light off, and tried to sleep.
Seeking help on Sunday usually is fruitless, but someone on the radio suggested
"Dr. Hotwire." A run to his boat revealed a man who had partied Saturday
night, and was in no mood to look at wires and connectors. Instead,
John looked for a marina, fortuitously meeting David at Monkey Bay Marina.
Within an hour, we were tied up along side, and taking on shore amps
like water. All was well. The refrigerated food would survive.
Nice week at Monkey Bay, made especially pleasant when Dr. Hotwire determined
that our voltage regulator had failed. Just as we were resigning ourselves
to weeks and weeks at the marina, because importing a regulator would take
more than two months, a neighboring boat offered us a replacement: same
brand, slightly older model, easily installed. By the end of the week,
we were ready to leave the dock, and to enjoy the serenity of life at anchor.
Tropical depression 29 is way east of us, probably not a concern. Still,
we are watching. It will likely become huricane Gamma.