Ajaia ajaja

Ajaia ajaja (ah-JAH-ee-uh AH-jah-juh), or Roseate Spoonbill,
also known  in Spanish as Espatula Rosada; surveying the
estuary, in Puerto Corinto, Nicaragua. Rare sighting.

ONE HUNDRED SIXTY NAUTICAL MILES separate Anna from the international border crossing at the intersection of southeast Nicaragua and northwest Costa Rica. Negotiating the stretch of coastline from Monypenny, Nicaragua to Bahia de Salinas, Costa Rica has been like trying to drive a 1964 Aston Martin DB5 through a brick wall. Impossibly difficult.

We have been stopped dead in our tracks three times now, each time when we reach the vicinity of Corinto, Nicaragua. Steep, square wind waves, directly on the nose and with very short periods oppose a strong, unfavorable, one- to two-knot counter-current. Add to that an ocean swell from an opposing angle and what you get is big, confused, choppy seas. Close to the coast the ocean depths are extremely shallow as well, compounding the steepness of the combined, near offshore waves. 

And to make matters more confusing, this stretch of ocean is where the fierce Papagayo (Central America gap winds) pulse through, usually strongest between midnight and six in the morning. There are no truly protected anchorages along the way for at least a hundred miles, which represents approximately twenty-four hours, at Anna's pace. So there it is, in a nutshell. All we can do is continue to look for more favorable conditions at this time of year, along the Nicaraguan coast. And those conditions are far and few in between. The most promising conditions we've seen in the last month now appear to be coming up in a couple of weeks, maybe. If we go for it, it will be our fourth attempt to attain escape velocity.

Whitecaps in February in Golfo de Fonseca.

Meanwhile, we continue to explore the spectacular estuaries and working ports of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua. All fascinating countries, each with their own identities and idiosyncrasies. So while we have been delayed in our progress south, we have not been dismayed. We have had more time to explore Pacific Central America, and especially the more remote islands.

Local fishermen in Golfo de Fonseca.

Fishing in Honduras is often for subsistence.

Isla del Tigre, Honduras.

On our first attempt to depart Nicaragua we never made it out of the anchorage in the estuary at Aserradores; a series of light gales blew through and held us in place for ten days. On our second attempt, the forecast looked marginally promising, and so we left the anchorage and headed out to sea. But the wind and waves grew steep and from the wrong direction, near Corinto, Nicaragua, and Anna was forced to take shelter fourteen nautical miles to the southeast, in the working, industrial port of Corinto, for a week. 

Barn swallow takes a break while resting
 on Anna's self-steering device.

On our third attempt we slipped past the entrance to the port at nightfall, and once again, within seven nautical miles of Puerto Corinto we encountered fast building wind and seas - directly on the nose - despite the forecast of smooth seas and light winds from just forward of our port beam. Our speed through the water fell back to two knots and Anna began to hobby horse and crash hard, through increasingly uncomfortable and unacceptable seas. 

Sunday brings Hondurans to the beach to cool off.

Fishing,  in the waters of Honduras.

We made the decision to abandon our third attempt to sail to the south and east, toward Costa Rica. This time, however, instead of returning to Nicaragua we turned Anna around, 180 degrees, and sailed a relaxed and comfortable broad reach, to the north and west, with following seas. This was a relief and we simply sailed through the night for seventy nautical miles, returning once again, to Golfo de Fonseca, to wait for better weather. We anchored out off of small, remote, Isla Meanguera, El Salvador.

Simple fisherman's house on east side of Isla Meanguera, El Salvador.

Analyzing the weather along this particular stretch of water (from northern Nicaragua to northern Costa Rica) is rather challenging. It is very complicated at this time of year. In fact, it is more complicated and unpredictable than any other place that we have sailed. The weather is unstable, at best, this time of year. Quite difficult to predict and extremely challenging to sail. 

This volcanic road leads us along a steep descent to
 the black-sand beach, on Isla Meanguera's south side.

The wind and waves are constantly reinventing themselves. They change direction and force without much advance notice. And of course even the best high-resolution computer weather models only predict tendencies, over time. That is, their reliability decreases over even short periods of time. Our confidence level in predictive weather models along the Nicaraguan coast is marginal. Closer to shore, the land effects (nearby mountains, gaps, solar heating, nighttime cooling) tend to complicate matters. 

Fishing in the whitecaps of  Golfo de Fonseca.

Fishing village path, at Isla Meanguera, El Salvador.

The best we can do is analyze the hi-res wx-models, look for the development of a favorable pattern, and take a chance, yet once again. On the flip side: we like it here, in Central America. So staying longer works too! We recently climbed to the top of the volcano, on Isla del Tigre. Only slipped and fell three times on the way down.

Anna, anchored out; taken from the volcano on Isla del Tigre.

***

A day in the life of Puerto Corinto, Nicaragua:

Puerto Corinto, Nicaragua heavy industry in background. Fishermen
 in primitive, sail-powered dugout canoe, in foreground, make
 their way to land on the nearby beach, to sell their catch.

The car carrier, Auto Atlas, unloads at Puerto Corinto docks.

 Gray heron, white crane, and roseate spoonbill fish
 the mangrove estuary, at low tide, at Puerto Corinto.

Net fishermen prep the gear alongside estuary banks, at Puerto Corinto.

Auto transporter gets ready to depart the docks, at Puerto Corinto.

Sugar-cane fields burn, and deposit strands of black ash
 everywhere, downwind, along estuary, in Puerto Corinto.

Moving wood cargo by rowboat, northbound,
with the prevailing current, in Puerto Corinto.

Container ship unloads cargo at Corinto docks.

Workers commuting along  Corinto's estuary, often carrying up to
 fifteen men in a small, wooden launch, regardless of weather conditions. 

Overview of Puerto Corinto commercial docks, and diesel-electric plant.

Three men carrying a mangrove  by dugout canoe,
 up the estuary, and with the current.

Primitive, dugout fishing canoe, rowing past Anna.

Fishing fleet at anchor close by Anna.

Volcanic backdrop alongside Puerto Corinto's estuary, where Anna is
 anchored out. Puerto Corinto provides excellent protection from
 heavy wind and seas, just off the harbor entrance.