Guyana continued...

Oct 31 - Dec 1…

Essequibo River, Baganara Resort, Bartica, Guyana  

6 degrees 20 minutes North

58 degrees 35.5 minutes  West

Our home port for our stay in Guyana has been off the island of Baganara.  A family owned resort complex in it’s early stages of tourist development.  Stuart and Paul oversee the general workings of the resort while employing numerous locals to run the daily operations.  There is an airport, Trans Guyana Airways, servicing the island 3 times a week to and from Georgetown, the capital city.  We are one of the few cruising boats yearly that has ventured the 50 or so miles up the Essequibo River navigating it’s shoals, skinny water and drift nets.  Some stay for a couple weeks others for a month or two.   

Guyana.  214,970 square miles.  75%  tropical moist, 25% tropical dry.  Rain fall of 55 - 118 inches a year.  3 regions. The low coastal plains; 1 - 1/2 meters below sea level requiring elaborate drainage systems nearest the coastline.  The Hills; sand and clay with dense forests. 75 % of their forests are intact.    The Highland and Interior is savannah.  Mineral such as bauxite, gold and diamonds are found throughout the country. 

The main rivers are Demerara, Berbice, Corentyne and the Essequibo.  The Essequibo is the longest river in Guyana and the 3rd longest in South America.  

Guyana is english speaking. It’s people are a mix of the indigenous Amerindians, East Indians, and Africans, a few westerners thrown in to keep things interesting.    

Oct 31 - Nov. 3

We took a very memorable expedition 200 miles into the interior of the country.  Our destination Iwokrama River Lodge with a day trip to Atta Lodge for a canopy walk.  Iwokrama means ‘Place of Refuge’ in the Amerindian language.  It took a full days ride rough to get there from Georgetown.  We flew the 30 minutes from Baganara to Georgetown where we were met by Mark and Brandon (driver and mini van).  Brandon : Kingdom of Dreams and Magic; a brand new 10 passenger mini van equipped with air conditioning, named after Mark’s son.  On the roof rack, extra fuel jugs.  Inside Big Dick and Debra, Rich, Tom and Sabrina, Jim and I.  Stuffed under the seats our backpacks.  A couple of stops for snacks and beverages, then to purchase our ‘passes’ allowing entry through the check points we would encounter along the route.  Mark sped through Georgetown and continued south to Linden town, an hour and a half on descent paved road.  A quick stop; bathrooms break and fuel.   

The remainder of the trip would be on the Red Road.  Compact, mineral laden red dirt.  Pitted, scoured, grooved and potholed.  The next 150 miles would be on very stubborn terrain.  We crisscrossed the road in search of the least amount of cavernous potholes.  Most of the vehicles traveling this route are ‘tough trucks’… Monsters with massive wheels and engines to match.  15 mile an hour max speed.  6 x 6 and 8 x 8’s (wheels) with a military look, hauling fuel and supplies to remote villages and logging camps.  A few 4x4 pickups and an occasion personal vehicle or bike… pedal or motor.  In the rainy season vehicles travel in pairs so that one can pull out the other when they get stuck… if both get stuck, they wait for a passing tough truck do assist.  

On and on we went along the countries only north south road.  7 passengers and Mark.  Bouncing along sipping Banks (local beer), trying not to chip a tooth on the bottles, we marveled at the landscape.  Low coastal lands giving way to higher ground, forests littered with logging and mining camps.  

Large parcels of indigenous trees, Purple Heart, Green Heart and many others piled along the road ready for transport to the mills via logging trucks of gigantic proportions.  Each tree and its stump are marked with an identifying number.  Each logging company must comply with country regulations and can only log their allotted amount.  

Deeper and deeper into the interior we drove, the road getting gradually more narrow and unbelievably more rough.  At ‘Mile 58’ we stopped for a quick lunch and more fuel.  A small community servicing a large, very remote area.  Food, drink, fuel and very basic staples.  

Back in the van we pushed on, the Ferry Crossing is still hours off and we must be there before 6 pm the last crossing of the day or we will be sleeping next to the river.  The next stop was for a police check point.  Mark instructed Big Dick in the passenger seat to put on his seatbelt… Dick is a BIG guy and not ashamed of it.  While Dick is struggling to secure the belt he nods to Mark and says… ‘what about yours?’  Mark had yet to even attempt to buckle his, the police are within steps of the drivers door.  Mark’s response, ‘I don't need to, I’m packin’… Dick replies ‘packin?’  Mark: ‘yeah, If you’re carry a pistol you don't have to wear a belt.’  Ohhhh.   Logic aside we are all eyes and ears watching this unfold.  The police approach a few words are exchanged and we are given the go ahead… so on we go… 

A mandatory stop in  Mabura Hill for the Police Outpost Check Point.   We all present ourselves to the customs agent with our passports as instructed; ID’s recorded.  The remote village reminiscent of picture book old west towns, horses replaced by atv’s.  Aged wooden buildings, dogs lopping along the streets, locals refreshing themselves with a cold one.  Snacks are purchased from the ladies by the road.  A few pictures snapped and we are off again.  More rough road, more narrow bridges and a few more Banks.  

7 hours out of Georgetown we make the Ferry Crossing at 5:30pm.  Mark backed ‘Brandon’, now encrusted in Red Road dirt, onto the barge ferry as instructed and we followed on foot.  A quick transit of the Essequibo, we were within a couple miles of Iwokrama River Lodge.  Michael the lodge director greeted us with a heart felt welcome.  Our lodging was up graded from the dorm facility  (housing for the ongoing research done here ) to the research cabins.  Private rooms.  Shared toilet and shower facilities. No AC, no fans, lots of critters scurrying about.  Home.

Iwokrama

4 degrees  39 minutes North

We were given some time to shower and unpack  before heading to dinner, buffet style.  The dinning facility is on the second floor of a large open air timber building.  Octagon.  Peaked roof to catch rain and allow air to flow, over looking the river.   The meals were of local ingredients; filling and all you can eat.  Fresh squeezed juices, coffee or tea.  Michael met with us after our meal and we made plans for tours with guides for the following 2 days of our stay.  

We were up just after dawn for a forest tour.  Indigenous trees, numerous birds and plenty of flora to ponder.  Scarlet macaws, Toucans, Agouti, iridescent blue butterflies, spiders and insects and Bullet Ants; one bite puts you down with debilitating paint for a full day.   

Sankar, the resident black caiman made a number of appearances both thrilling and ominous.  A local pointed out a very well hidden Tufted (tummy?) Screech Owl, Jim saw the aft end of a very LARGE banded snake and Sabrina pointed out very large ‘cat’ prints… the elusive jaguar.   

Atta

4 degrees 14 minutes North : our farthest point south 

An additional hour in the van took us to Atta and the Canopy Walk, part of the Iwokrama Forest Reserve.  Michael And Marci accompanied us as our guides.  Many large birds were sighted along the road, in the creeks and trees.  At Atta we hiked a short 20 minutes up to the canopy.  Safety instructions given, we each stepped out on to the creaky suspension bridge and over the forest below, into the tree tops.  3 long stretches to cross, each ending with a viewing platform.  Rumbles in the distance, clouds threatening rain, made for an eerie experience.  Listening quietly to the jungle settle in for night, Marci began a series of hoots… each call returned with increasing volume.  Soon the trees were alive with rustling as small figures appeared, masked by the branches.  Capuchin monkeys.  A small troop curious about our presence.  A quick peek at us and they were off in a flurry of fur and leaves.    

Our return to Iwokrama was uneventful in the dark, small eyes on the road side reflecting off the headlights; birds and small mammals.    

We took a night tour aboard one of the river boats to look for caiman.  Several juveniles were sighted, very shy, they dipped below the surface into the murky water for safety.  Returning to shore, Sankar was forced to vacate his ‘spot’ next to the boat launch so we could disembark.  The sign warning ‘absolutely NO swimming allowed’ hardly seemed necessary.  

Stuart, Paul, and friend Eli joined us for dinner, they had driven their vehicle up from Georgetown and toured the area with a side trip to Brazil for lunch…

Heavy rains during the night meant for a wet and even bumpier return ride to Georgetown.  Over 8 hours.  Our late arrival met an overnight in Georgetown.  Sleep Inn Guest House.  We bid farewell to Mark and sought comfort in our small, air-conditioned rooms.  A brief nap before we took to the streets, scouting for beverages and dinner.  Lots of locals out seeking the same.  

The next morning we hired a taxi van to take us to the town of Parika to catch the ferry to Bartica.   Any gringo attracts a lot of attention here, let alone 7 caring backpacks and coolers.  We boarded a boat as directed by the dock master and waited for it to fill.  ALL seats must be sold before departure.  A short, hot 20 minute wait.  Sitting on hard wooden benches, sweaty body parts sliding again each other.  Finally we were off, clipping away the kilometers.  An hour ride, fairly smooth.   We disembarked in Bartica.  Headed in separate directs to provision and grab some lunch before our next boat shuttle to the Baganara.  There are NO stores on Baganara; a restaurant and bar service the patrons.  Open 24 / 7, the cruisers making up the bulk of the clientele most days for happy hour…  

  

Rich’s time aboard would end soon so we squeezed a few more outings in.  A trip to Clear Water Creek near the lodge for a dip in the clean and cool tannin waters.   A hike on the island sighting a red howler monkey, millipedes, spiders and local birds and the elusive sloth on Sloth Island which parallels Baganara.  Baganara’s boat captain Lincoln, spotted a jaguar swimming between the islands and had time to get video of it!  Very impressive.  

We saw Rich off in Bartica, then went to locate the laundry lady, have lunch and provision for the next few days.  A trip to Bartica takes a minimum of an hour one way by dinghy if we time the current right. 2 fuel jugs filled with diesel and our purchases we headed back to Baganara.  A squall threatening to the east meant getting wet but also cloud cover and if we could make it home before the heavy rain we could catch more water!  With Rich’s help earlier  this week we captured over 50 gallons!  

Back aboard we settled into life sans Rich.  It’s very quiet.  We’ll miss his wit and laughter.  Tonights dinner of local  Butterfish was superb.  The taste and texture much like a brook trout, a light salad on the side.  

New arrivals, s/v Girraff, with Peter and Anna aboard.  Dutch nationals.  They are very much do it yourselfers and LOVE creepy crawly critters, turning over every log and leaf for inspection.  They needed some supplies from town and invited the crews of Inishnee and Honey Rider to accompany them aboard their boat.  Our dinghies in tow we were off.  A very productive day spent refueling jerry jugs, picking up laundry, eating and provisioning.  We placed orders for beef tenderloin having discovered an amazing source (and sampled it) at 3 dollars U.S. a pound!   On the return to Baganara, Anna forced us to sample her homemade concoction of mango juice and rum with bitters dashed on top.  If you need a day job Anna, you have several favorable references from your tipsy guests.  Pizza for dinner purchased from the only pizza joint in Bartica.   

Fresh veggies disinfected, rinsed and stowed.  Time for a night cap on shore to welcome the newest arrivals, s/v Kestrel, to the island mix.  

Kaieteur (Falls)

Sunday November 20 found 6 cruisers and a handful of Canadian journalists awaiting the plane for the Falls via Baganara.  Accessible only by plane or a multi day; long, rough, boat ride up river; then an arduous climb up the side of cliff… All passengers aboard, we lifted off with a fly-by of the island then south and slightly west to Kaieteur.  The terrain rose from coastal plain forests to hills then to the very dramatic rugged mountains.  A few mining camps and forestry operations dotted the very green, very dense landscape.  

The mist from the falls drifted above the canopy as we flew into the Potaro river gorge.  Stunning!  Absolutely stunning.  The plane made several passes over the falls before landing on the remote airstrip.  A quick orientation and our guide, Jamal, led us through the shrubs of the savanna, stopping periodically to highlight things along the trail.  We clambered up, down and around boulders to the first of several view points.  The falls descend 741 feet, the highest sheer (straight) drop in the world!  No rails to keep lookers from toppling over the edge, just common sense.  The cascading water creating the mist is the life blood for many plant species and the tiny, very rare golden frog whose life is spent primarily inside the leaf pockets of the Giant Tank Bromeliads that cling to to the edge of the cliffs. 

An Amerindian legend claims the Falls are named in honor of an old Patamonas Chief Kaie, who sacrificed himself to the Great Spirit Makanaima by paddling his canoe over the falls to bring peace to his  feuding tribe… The word ‘falls’ in Patagonia translates to “Teur’… 

Kaei (chief) Teur (falls).  

With the sun hanging its head in the western sky we made our way reluctantly back to the air strip and our flight home….

Racquel… 

The Baganara resort employees a full time live in  staff including a chef… Racquel.  Having sampled Racquel’s cooking numerous times, I approached her with the idea that maybe…. she would teach me to cook a few of her dishes.  She heartily agreed! A trip to Bartica to purchase the ingredients on the Baganara fast boat skippered by Kquazi… then down to business.  Seldom have I had such a good time in my boat galley.  It was a flour flying, onion weeping, sweat dripping good time.  We learned lots about using local ingredients and the techniques needed for produce scrumptious concoctions…Curry chicken to die for!   Mince beef balls wrapped in cassava dough fried to a golden brown and coconut bake with real, fresh coconut.   My new purple heart rolling pin got a workout making roti’s, the flour ‘skins’ from smacking the hot dough (to separate the layers) are still surfacing weeks later.  We cooked non stop for 4 1/2 hours in Inishnee’s awesome galley.  The 3 of us, taking turns stirring, rolling and chopping made for a cozy kitchen …. Jim and Tom kept vigil in the cockpit occasionally requesting a ‘Banks’ for sustenance.  Anna (girraff) joined us later in the day then finally the rest of the yatchie’s joined us for the sampling…. OMG… It may have been the best meal ever to come out of this galley but due to Racquel’s tutelage it certainly won’t be the last !

Bruce was next to volunteer s/v Wild Matilda to take crews to town for the day.  Provision, lunch,  a break from the hot monotony of living on the the River Essequibo.  Honey Rider joined us, 2 dinghies in tow we made the hour long voyage to Bartica.  The day was spent provisioning for the upcoming week as well as acquiringThanksgiving dinner fixin’s, to be celebrated potluck style.  No turkey to be found… Sabrina had an ace up her sleeve… a frozen turkey breast from Trinidad !  We found enough local items to make a more or less traditional american meal… stovetop stuffing, fresh green bean for casserole, potatoes for salad,  and fresh pumpkin for dessert… ohhh, and a little High Wine for a toast… YIKES! very potent grain alcohol…unique to Guyana, NOT for the wimpy and  defiantly NOT wine… 

Monday 28… day one of the passage to Tobago

Time to say good by after 38 days in the country… Paul and Stewart departing with us as crew.  Up early and to Bartica for immigration and customs.  A few purchases at the fresh market and diesel for the boat.  The anchor was up again at 10:30am, the current helping our exodus.  The current south again in the later afternoon, 4 more hours of travel to make the open ocean through the piles (fish nets) so we dropped the hook for the night off Fort Island; Parika in view, just a few miles from the mouth of the river.  A good place to rest, eat, and review safely measures and what to expect on the passage with our novice crew.  The parrots returning to roost flew over as the dinner hour approached then ‘Captain Ron’  entertained us before hitting the bunks.  

Day 2 , passage to Tobago

Up with the sun, coffee and juice. Engine ready and so were the crew.  The current pushed us swiftly passed Parika and into the ocean along with millions of gallons of river silt.  The ends were stronger than predicted but welcome after weeks of scorching heat inland.  We dodged the drift nets and picked our way through the piles… 10:30 am, 299 nm to go.  Sails up.  Main reefed.  We were hitting 7 knots, then 8… then approaching 9!  The winds steady at 18 -20 knots.  The Guyana current shoving us northward.  The seas a bit confused with the wind and current in opposition for the first few hours, the crew indifferent to the ride.  As the river water diluted into the sea we started seeing ocean going creatures again.  Portuguese Man O’War, Magnificent Frigate Birds, Brown Bobbies… and of course, flying fish, large schools escaping our wake.  Several fishing trawlers in the distance.  The night hours brought the familiar sparks of light next to the boat from the bioluminescence disturbed in our wake.  Shooting stars over head.  Crew in sync with the motion of the ocean.  All seems well aboard.  

Day 3 of passage…

Our first 24 hours of ocean sailing set an all time record sail for Inishnee!  24 hours, 188 nautical miles!   Has Inishnee has sprouted wings and taken flight?  We reefed again to make land in the daylight… A bit of a tickle in my throat I left the ‘watch’ to the guys for a nap which lasted for several DAYS!  Unknowingly, I had picked up strep throat in Guyana and it surfaced at sea.  A made a couple trips up top as needed for sail changes but was pretty much down for the final miles… Jim showing signs of the bug too… Stuart and Paul helped as best they could.  Thankful for Pepper Pot (the national dish of Guyana, a stew / soup of beef and broth with bread for sopping… no peppers (?) ) provided by Linda, the house maid for Stuart’s mom.  Several meals in one big pot.  Night watches divided among Jim, Stuart and Paul, my fever too high to leave the bunk.  Jim was called on deck for advice in the wee hours… a huge fishing trawler bearing down on us!  Dumb luck saved the day and Inishnee sailed on.  Tobago  and Store Bay insight in the early morning hours; sails dropped, the approach to the harbor navigated… Anchor down and the crew relived of immediate duty…. 

Thursday, day 4. Passage complete : Tobago 

A short rest and coffee.  Cold cereal and Pepper Pot… yes, it is eaten traditionally for breakfast.  Dinghy readied and crew aboard, my every movement filled with aches.  Mr. Piggy (not his real name) arranged for a taxi and we sped off to Scarborough the capital to check in. The very helpful officials cleared our vessel and occupants quickly and we were off to find a doctor… After a  looong wait, the (private) doctor assessed my conditions, prescribed meds and sent us off with a Rx.  Filling it became an ordeal… Simple penicillin was not to be found at any of the pharmacies… only at the hospital which refused to sell the drugs because we didn't use ‘their’ doctor!  Luckily my doctor had given me a few fever / pain reducers at the office so there was a small comfort… Back aboard for another night without antibiotics … (Penicillin; the only Rx we didn't have on board in our mini drug store! ) Paul and Stuart opted for a hotel for the next few nights before their flights back to Guyana…  

Jim was on the phone early the next morning and found a pharmacy that had the meds and promised we could actually buy them… He taxied back to Scarborough while the driver waited and returned with drugs!  A raw throat made swallowing the pills nearly impossible but down they went… More sleep and more pills… 2 days later I finally made it topside to see our new home (beautiful!)…. Just in time for Jim to start his ordeal… the virus clung to him in the form of cellulitis… under the skin from a small abrasion.  A call to cousin Dr. Jim Nee (seriously) in Chicago for a consultation and we luckily had the Rx for Jim on board…. Let the healing continue.  

THANK YOU cousin Dr. Jim and congratulations of Doctor of the Year award!!!!  

We spent the entire weekend self quarantined aboard.  The ocean breezes wafting through the boat a major relief.  Jello and squishy white bread, washed down with water… yum!  and watermelon!  Cold, juicy, sweet and soft going down.  

The following is a compilation of pictures from our adventures...