Tehuantepec to Papagayo

Life on Isla Meanquera, El Salvador.

IN BETWEEN WINTER STORM SYSTEMS there occur small windows (typically 24 to 48 hours in duration) of opportunity for making a 250 nautical-mile passage across a difficult stretch of water, without getting badly beat up in the process. The catch is, you need to know a weather window when you see one. 

On Anna, we look at multiple forecast models, both uninterpreted computer-generated models (GRIBs), and interpreted analysis. For example, the NOAA regional text discussions, and the various U.S. Navy GRIBs (e.g. GFS, COAMPS, and WW3 models). If most of these models concur, we take a leap of faith and go. 

Occasionally the models are right. The wind speeds and the wave heights and the wave directions and the wave periods and the meteorological conditions over a specific time frame coincide with the computer-generated model or the interpreted forecast. 

And then, occasionally, the models are wrong. In the end, we make a decision and then live with it.

Anna crosses Golfo de Tehuantepec.

On December 22, Golfo de Tehuantepec had what NOAA described as a wind event. Funneling through the gap, at the isthmus, were 50 to 60 knot winds (storm force), and the seas were running up to 20 feet, with a very short six-second period. Big, steep waves arriving every few seconds. 

It would take a day or two for conditions to settle down. Ideally, we look for long, smooth seas with a modest swell, and the breeze from the aft quarter (unless the air is light, and then we prefer the breeze forward of the beam). Of course we always prefer a favorable current. But what we prefer and what we get aren't often in agreement. The area we are sailing through, at this time of year, typically, has very strong winds, choppy seas, and an opposing current. The ride can be slow, and occasionally lumpy, and at worst, untenable. And that is why we wait for a window of opportunity. The wait can take time. Days or possibly weeks, if the storm systems, or reinforced trade winds, from the wrong direction, refuse to let up.

We didn't have long to wait, in Huatulco. The models were in agreement for a passage within the next 48 hours. A low-pressure system would dominate the Gulf of Mexico and quiet things down for the next 60 hours, in the Gulf of Tehuantepec. We needed 54 hours to sail across the gulf to the safety of Chiapas, the last protected port along the Pacific coast of southern Mexico. Six hours is not much time to spare in a volatile stretch of water that could blow up without much advance notice. There's no place to hide if conditions deteriorate. But December and January are just like that here. So we do our homework, and we make the call, and we stay, or we go. We went.

Conspicuous sand dunes off  Salina Cruz,
NW sector, Golfo de Tehuantepec.

It was a good decision. The models were correct. The analysis was spot on. We had head winds, but a strong current in our favor (Anna zoomed along at 7 to 8 knots) for the first 80 nm. A very good start. Then the current reversed and we had 2 to 3 knots against us for the next 70 nm - slow going. The last hundred miles offered us an indifferent current. The winds were light to moderate, and varied in direction from hour to hour, over the 54 hours it took Anna to complete the crossing. The waves and swells were moderately sized and well spaced. 

Anna , with full main and drifter deployed, crossing the Tehuantepec.

We had one surprise: we were able to use our full, unreefed mainsail, and fly our drifter for long stretches. The day after we arrived in Chiapas, the Tehuantepec saw extreme winds and seas once again. We had slipped through the crack.

Fish boat with bright lights works the near offshore waters at 0100,
on Anna's initial approach to Chiapas, Mexico.

After resting up a for a few days at our last port in Mexico we obtained our international zarpe (final customs clearance papers) and set off, once again, on another four-day passage, direct to Golfo de Fonseca, Honduras. We decided to bypass Guatemala because of the bureaucratic red tape and excessive customs and immigration fees. The first three days and nights were good to us. We sailed against the wind, seas and current, but the ride was comfortable. By the fourth day of our passage Anna was making her final approach to Honduras when the wind and seas began to develop. Forward progress was threatened, but we managed to zig and zag our way through the heavier conditions. At 0400 we turned the engine on to clear the approaching entrance reefs and work our way into Golfo de Fonseca, to a protected anchorage. And that's when the engine stalled out and quit. In the dark, seven miles off a lee shore, with developing seas and wind and an unfavorable current.

The problem was that the rough seas we had passed through earlier had stirred up sediment in the fuel tanks and clogged the primary Racor fuel filter. The fuel filter would have to be replaced and then the diesel engine would have to be bled before restarting. Bleeding the primary fuel pump, then the fuel injector pump, and finally, three of the four fuel injectors did the job. It took us half an hour, but the venerable Perkins 4-108 roared back to life as we slipped into the quieter waters of Golfo de Fonseca. 

***

Anna spent the first day anchored off of Isla Meanguera, a small island in El Salvador, ten miles from the entrance to Golfo de Fonseca. After a rolly night we moved further into the gulf to a calmer anchorage, off of Isla del Tigre, Honduras. Very strong northeastly winds blow through the gulf in January making many of the anchorages uncomfortable. But there are places here and there, in the lee of the volcanic islands, where the seas are flat and comfortable, even when strong northeasterlies blow through. 

Isla Meanguera,  El Salvador, southern anchorage.

The reason we chose Honduras was simple. The clearance procedure was extremely simple. The paperwork required was minimal, and the international entry and exit fees were waived. This is unique. Nonetheless, clearance into Honduras is required. So, after a couple days of rest, we landed our inflatable on the black-sand (volcanic) beach and then began our walk to the port captain's office, two miles away, in the village of Puerto Amapala. Along the way a tuk-tuk style (three-wheeled motorcycle and carriage) taxi stopped and offered us a ride into town. We had no Honduran currency, yet the driver insisted that he'd like to give us a ride into town regardless. So we hopped in and bounced our way (no suspension) along the cobblestone road that led to the village, and to the port captain's office.

Breakwater at Isla del Tigre, Honduras, location of port captain's office.

The port captain was not in, the office was closed. So our tuk-tuk driver said hop in, and we'll go find the port captain. He drove us to the official's  house and knocked on his door. The port captain's son said he was napping. But a  few minutes later the port captain came out to greet us. He jumped in the tuk-tuk and we all went back to the dock where his office is located. That's where the typewriter and carbon copy paper and official stamps are kept. He filled out a couple of quick forms, stamped them, and said welcome to Honduras, we are proud to have you here. There will not be any customs or immigration fees - unlike neighboring El Salvador and Nicaragua.

Amapala village, on Isla del Tigre, Honduras..

We spent a pleasant afternoon roaming the village before getting a ride back to the beach where we left our dinghy. 

El Tigre women, Honduras.

Simple house on El Tigre, Honduras.

 El Tigre man,

El Tigre street.

Honduran girl, Isla del Tigre.

Typical home and storefront, Isla del Tigre.

Man, El Tigre, Honduras.

We had $10 USD in our pockets (small villages like Amapala, with no banks or ATMs, have a hard time making change for anything bigger) so we found a small general store (pulperia) who changed the ten-dollar bill for Honduran currency. And with that we were able to buy a couple of drinks for our tuk-tuk driver and for ourselves, pay for the ride to town, then all around town, and finally back to the beach, and have enough left over for a dinner, under the palm, shed roof of a primitive beach cantina. Drinks, deep-fried whole fish, green salad. Ten dollars for all that. No customs fees. Perfecto.

Anna's anchorage off Isla del Tigre, with a view to close by El Salvador.

Honduran razor wire sits atop
 wrought-iron fence and white-washed,
decayed, concrete wall.

This old Honduran woman told us that she lives alone on Isla del Tigre.
Mangoes and oranges grew in the trees she tended along the side of her house.

After a week, anchored off volcanic El Tigre, with no additional expenses, we set off for San Lorenzo, a small Honduran town, 27 nm away through a buoyed channel. 

A volcanic chain runs throughout Central America.
Some of the volcanoes are active.They form
 a distinctive landmark when viewed from sea.

The waters are shallow, the tides are 12-13 feet, and the currents and winds can be strong here, in January. We failed to make it to San Lorenzo on our first attempt because the northeasterlies were honking and the resultant wave chop was significant. We got half way there, and then turned around and went with the flow,  sailing all the way back to El Salvador for the night. The next day was different. The winds and seas abated, the channel to San Lorenzo was calmer and we made our intended anchorage, alongside the quiet mangroves, in five hours. No fetch. Still waters, even when the winds were howling.

San Lorenzo channel leads to Puerto Henecan, Honduras
 and the protection of the estuary, at San Lorenzo..

We set out the next day to explore San Lorenzo. We left Anna anchored out by the swamps near San Lorenzo, then dinghied in a mile to a small dock at the edge of town. We were greeted upon our arrival by an ex-pat German, named Werner, who blew a conch shell when he saw us coming. He came to Honduras to visit for a couple months, 37 years ago, and never left. He married a Honduran woman and built a restaurant, bar, and dock and has been blowing his conch shell to welcome visitors ever since. 

Friends, Isla del Tigre, Honduras.

Young girl and her baby brother, at iglesia, El Tigre, Honduras.

Honduran man, Isla del Tigre.

We saw no other cruising boats or foreigners for the entire time we were in Golfo de Fonseca. The Hondurans seemed very surprised, puzzled to see us, and to see Anna. It seemed we came from a place far far away, and the sighting was rare. We liked the Hondurans, very much. And by the time we were ready to leave the country, we had tucked away some memorable moments. 

It was time to get our international exit zarpe. And once again, we found the customs official fast asleep. 

Open doorways and open windows
 invite conversation in Honduras.

Typical life of a dog, Honduras.

We took a taxi to make the requisite visit to both the immigration officer, and the port captain. The immigration officer asked us to come by his house so he could stamp our paperwork and clear us through. And the port captain came to his office after our taxi driver called him and explained to him that we needed our zarpe, today, because we planned to depart at 0500, next morning. That's what the weather demanded of us. Leave at 0500 and keep going until we see the first port of entry into Nicaragua, 16 hours and 75 nautical miles later. 

Honduran island girl.

Honduran island boy.

Mother and daughter in hammock, under the
 shed roof of their beach  hut, Isla del Tigre, west side.

Honduran island girl walks the village and sells
bags of nuts that she carries on her head.

El Salvador island boy harvests sea life
 along the rocky shore, with his machete.

We dinghied back to Anna, after buying some fruits and vegetables, and beer at the public mercado. Later that afternoon we were getting Anna ready to go. We would leave on the ebb tide, just after dark. 

Honduran island girl is curious about
 us, and wants her picture taken.

And as we were getting ready to go, one of the port officials dropped by, with his daughter and grandchild, to say hello. We invited them aboard and had a nice little visit. And it put a big smile on everyone's faces.

***

Anna arrived in Nicaragua, at Estero de Aserradores. We stopped to water up and refuel and clean the heavy salt deposits off Anna, at the docks of Puesta del Sol. 

Typical palapa roof and shade terrace, Aserradores, Nicaragua.

We were greeted the next afternoon by four customs officials who travelled from Puerto Corinto, about an hour away. This was different than our experience in Honduras. More formal. No nonsense. Four officials, in uniform, wanted to fill out the necessary paperwork down below, in Anna's cabin. This took approximately one hour. Document after document, filled out in triplicate (with carbon paper), each page stamped with the official seal. An immigration fee, a vessel entry fee, an international exit fee, and a couple other odds-and- ends fees were assessed and collected, in cash, on the spot. I made the mistake, after watching this endless stream of paperwork float past us, for an hour, of telling Anna's guests that if this went on any longer they would need to go chop down a few more trees to supply more paper for the endless forms and copies that still needed to be filled out, signed and stamped. One of the officials didn't find this comment particularly amusing. An eyebrow or two were raised. But that was as far as it went. Clearly, Nicaraguan officialdom was not anything remotely like clearing in and out of Honduras.

Twenty-seven miles north of  the entrance to Golfo de Fonseca lies
San Lorenzo, Honduras. We anchored here at the end of the estuary
 and dinghied one mile, into the small town of San Lorenzo,  for supplies.

But the Nicaraguan people we have met so far, including the officials, have been very friendly and welcoming. The Pacific coast of Central America is lush, sandy, lined with mangroves and palms, and backed by a volcanic mountain range. We will visit the long, deserted beach today, about a half mile walk past a small fishing village, close by our moorage. And tomorrow, we will take a local bus into Chinandega, a one-and-a-half hour bus ride to the closest town, to look around, and to do some provisioning before we depart Nicaragua for Panama, via Costa Rica. 

Lush landscape, Pacific coast of Nicaragua, near Aserradores.

Once again we must negotiate the coast south, beyond Golfo de Papagayo, where the winds blow fiercely, in the wrong direction, during the winter months, and the seas grow steep. We'll be looking for a 36-hour weather window before we set out, beyond the tranquil protection of Estero de Aserradores, Nicaragua.

Aserradores beach breakers, Nicaragua.

Currently, the strong Papagayo winds are persisting. There does not appear to be a 30-hour window where the winds and seas moderate, for at least the next 10 days, possibly more. A good opportunity to explore the area a bit, by local bus, at least until the heavy weather settles down.

***

Aserradores, where we are currently moored is a rural, coastal fishing village set off the mouth of the estuary. The locals fish the estuary, nearby farms grow sugar cane and papaya and banana and many other types of fruits and greens that we have never seen or heard of before. When sugar cane is burned, and the wind blows, smoke wafts downwind for miles and miles and drives the mosquitoes, in the nearby mangroves away. More likely than not, the winds will howl through at this time of year, so the mosquitoes present little problem.

There is a decommissioned yellow school bus that arrives at Aserradores at 7:30 a.m. and negotiates the dirt road that leads past the small fishing village. 

Bus ride to Chinandega, from Aserradores, Nicaragua.

It hooks up with a cobblestone road that eventually transitions to a one-lane blacktop, skirting the ocean and farmlands and volcanic range, before terminating at Chinandega,  one-and-a-half hours and less than a dollar later. 

Road from Anna's moorage, in Aserradores, to the bus stop.

The brown, vinyl-covered seats on the old, yellow school bus are cushy and in excellent shape, and the heavy-duty spring-leaf suspension provides a remarkably comfortable ride. The bus is packed. Every seat is taken and it's standing room only. Each stop along the way packs another person in, just when you thought it wasn't possible. And then come the food vendors, working their way down the crowded bus isle. Selling tamales, and watermelons, and oranges, and interesting drink concoctions.

Aserradores, Nicaragua fisherman pumps
 fresh water from the well by his home.

Farmers bring large baskets of produce on the bus to the marketplace. There's a roof rider  - a guy who stacks baggage and animals and crates of produce and anything else, non human, on the rack atop the bus - and a dedicated  fare collector in addition to the driver. Efficient system. And it puts more people to work in a country with extraordinary unemployment (about 1/2 the population). 

Chinandega is a great town. It's colorful, busy, friendly, organized, tidy, inexpensive and not excessively loud or polluted, like the small cities of Mexico. There are small restaurants and hardware stores and loads of smaller shops, in addition to the countless market stalls that are loaded with everything from flip flops to mangoes. 

Busy Chinandega, Nicaragua marketplace.

Nicaraguan girl and boyfriend, Chinandega central market. 

Proud clothing merchant at Chinandega market
 requests that we snap his picture.

More proud market merchants, Chinandega, Nicaragua.

The central, public mercado appears to go on forever. Fruit and vegetable stands, minuscule eateries, repair shops, and clothing stalls. Tourism is negligible in Chinandega. Actually, apart from ourselves, we saw only locals in Chinandega. On the bus ride back to Aserradones a couple of young surfers handed their boards and backpacks up to the roof stacker and then jumped onto the bus. They were hoping to find a spot to set up their tent on the deserted beach, near the breaks, and watch the waves roll in, left or right. Figure out the rhythms of the wave sets. Do a little surfing. Watch the waves some more. And then move on, repeating this cycle as they moved along the coast to wherever the swells were favorable.

Getting around Chinandega was simple. It's not a very large city so you can walk anywhere. If you get tired of walking you can hop on a pedaled cart (an inexpensive, human-powered taxi). An open-fronted carriage with a seat big enough for two or three, hitched to a bicycle, pushing from behind. 

Pedal-powered cart dominates
 the traffic in Chinandega.

This is a nice way to get around town. It's quiet, clean, inexpensive and the locals use them. There's not much car or truck traffic. Mainly buses, some mini-cabs, a few collectivo pickups with bench seating in the truck bed, and a lot of pedal-powered tuk-tuk style people movers, in addition to horses and horse-and-cart transportation. Chinandega. Not modern, not hyper, not loud, not polluted. A thriving, small-city marketplace with everything you need for day-to-day living.

In Chinandega, a cow is transported to one
 of the local restaurants to provide fresh milk.

Central market lady, Chinandega, Nicaragua
 has beautiful produce and a smile to match..  

But not modern doesn't necessarily mean backward or not convenient. Chinandega also has copy shops, a computer shop, Internet connectivity, banks, ATMs, a couple of very good supermercados and a variety of bus routes leading to other interesting places in Nicaragua. 

A strange cultural anomaly:
racy, barbie-doll-like mannequins
 lure customers into a few clothing
 shops, in Nicaragua. Mexico too!

The people are so friendly and helpful here. We needed some information about the location of the bus stop and bus schedule back to Aserradores. One man we talked to walked us back to the correct bus stop and then found out for us when our bus was scheduled to leave. He waited there with us for the bus to arrive, and then put us on it when it came - and then, as if that wasn't enough, waved goodbye to us as the bus rolled away. Friendly, happy, good-natured. 

This simple yet elegant iglesia in Chinandega, Nicaragua  is packed
 at 8:45 a.m. - an ordinary Friday morning. 

***

The heavy Papagayo winds persist, and make departure from this part of the Central American coast dicey, at best. The forecast shows no sign of moderation any time soon. We see the same recurring pattern: a six- to twelve-hour break, once every two to three days. And then the pulsing, resurfacing of heavy conditions, once again. Our better judgement tells us to wait for conditions to improve. To move from marginal to moderate winds and seas before Anna migrates to the south and east, and across the indifferent, Golfo de Papagayo.

The sun rises along the Pacific coast of Central
 America, as Anna moves slowly southward.

***

A small craft is not only beautiful; it is seductive and full of strange promise and a hint of trouble. It is without question the most compact and ingenious arrangement for living ever devised by the restless mind of  Man. A home that is stable without being stationary, shaped less like a box than a fish, or a girl, and in which a homeowner can remove his daily affairs as far from shore as he has the nerve to. Close hauled or running free - parlor, bedroom, and bath, suspended and alive.  

         -- E. B. White  (co-author of The Elements of Style)