Sorry for the lack of posts but life has been crazy the past year. As I write this its June of 2026, the start of Hurricane season and I’m broken done on the Island of Utila in Honduras with my engine in pieces waiting for parts and watching the weather. More about this later.

So let me fill you in a bit.  I returned to the Rio Dulce in Guatemala in November of 2025 where Maiatla was on the hard at Marina Nana Juana. The marina had finished painting Maiatla’s decks and I was excited about getting underway after Christmas and sailing to Belize. But in the mean time, I was able to hang with my old friends, Bill and JoAnne of the trimaran Ultra, as well as meet some new cruisers. Life is seldom boring when cruising as there is always something interesting to do here in the Rio and as usual, JoAnne was up to organizing the cruisers for some short excursions around the area. 

On what would prove to be the Guatemalan version of a “Pub Crawl” a group of 18 of us took a panga ride across the lake and down river.  Our travels would take us about 20 miles through the famous river gorge and past the entrance to the Rio and the frontier town of Livingston.  Livingston has the reputation of being quite lawless and sailors will not anchor there overnight as getting boarded and robbed was likely. I have stopped there 8 times so far while checking in and out of Guatemala. Livingston is quite the eye-opener and worth seeing, but visits are best done in the daylight.

Leaving lake Izabal, the waterway narrows and on each river bank, the jungle grows thick and echoes with exotic bird songs, howler monkey demands while emitting that musty, fung smell that sticks to the inside of your nostrils. The broad leaves and towering trees let little direct sunlight to strike the land so it was common to see three and four-foot-long iguanas sunning themselves on branches overhanging the water. Other cantilevered branches supported scores of White Egrets and Blue herons.  The river continued to narrow as we approached the tall, guano covered lime stone cliffs, the bottle-neck of the pass and most scenic spot on the river. When sailing this section on Maiatla, we had to stay clear of the shore because massive trees reached out over the water, threating to hook our tall masts if we dared to get too close.  

We raced passed kids and adults in dugout canoes, fishing with hand lines or casting nets. With enthusiastic smiles, they always waved in return.  It was a vision little changed from the past centuries, aside from the workhorse of the river, outboard motors. Some of the waterfront homes were obviously owned by the wealthy, but most were rough-hewn shelters constructed of what could be scavenged or the jungle provided. Functional homes occupied by humble people who fish the river for a living.

Without stopping at Livingston, we shot over the river bar and headed north across a four-foot swell which, at times sent spray over the otherwise happy cruisers.  Light rain showers initially struck forcing the crew to further huddle under sheets of plastic or garbage bags the boat captain provided. This was not my first trip through a rain forest so I brought a rain coat. The sun finally broke out as we rounded Punta Cocoli and tied to a thin, but sturdy dock owned by a small beachfront resort called Playa Blanca. Set against the backdrop of a thick, now steaming tropical jungle, it was a picture-perfect place with fine sand to squish between your toes and the quintessential canting coconut palms for shade. Any direction you glanced a postcard worthy image blessed you.

 There were colorful tables and chairs organised under the shady spots with a giant swing strung between to lofty palms which permitted the occupant to swing out over the beach and water. The tiny resort boasted some interesting little cottages that were for rent. There are no roads into this part of the jungle, water access only. There was a fellow with a cleaver prepping drinking coconuts for sale. Purchasing a coconut I promptly added a few ounces of Guatemalan rum, just to sanitize the coconut water.   Can’t be too carful!

 Under partially cloudy skies, some ordered food while others dove into the sea while clutching margaritas or rum punches or “enhanced” drinking coconuts. It was here, in our group I met a nice family from North Carolina, Caleb, his wife Jackie and their 12-year-old daughter, Melissa. I took photos of Caleb pushing young Melissa in the giant swing. Great father, daughter moment which triggered a flood of memories with my own daughter, who is likewise named Melissa.  As I videoed a touching moment, I had no idea that in just four days, this family would suffer a personal tragedy that would threaten their future cruising dreams.

Clutching a reloaded coconut, I wandered down the beach where a small stream, now swollen with the recent rain, flowed into the sea. As I approached the bank, suddenly an awful screeching emanated from across the water. Wading up stream, a crudely build home with a tin roof came into view. On the sandy bank next to the home stood a man and a woman with two young children and they all appeared to be wrestling with a dog-size pig as it struggled on the end of rope leash.  Amidst the high-pitched screams of protest from the pig, the animal was none too gently, dragged into the river where the family began to give it a bath. I videoed as the ruckus continued. I assumed either that the family pet was stinking up the house or it was being prepped for a diner invitation. I concluded the latter.  With squeals still reverberating across the water, I wandered back to the resort and friends where I downed a couple of more rums while standing chest high in the surf.

Before noon, we departed to race over a choppy sea, past Livingston and onto another resort favored by the locals, Punta Del Palmas. The beach was not as nice as the first place but the beer was equally cold and rum abundant. The food proved to be quite good but we did not hang out long as JoAnne had a special surprise waiting for us back up river. It was again a wet and bouncy ride past Livingston and up into the gorge.

As we rounded a corner, a sprawling two story structure came into view. It was a grand restaurant with a pair of colourful waterslides that originated on the upper open deck, designed to dump its patrons into the river below. I assume crocodiles are few in this stretch of the river. Meal orders were placed and while waiting, gleefully, Melissa challenged Jackie to a race down the slides. The restaurant specialized in local dishes, as well as some western style burgers and fries. I had a prawn dish which proved quite tasty. We departed the restaurant as the sunset and only managed to get back to Nana Juana before dark.  It was a great day and all had blast.

It was just a few days later as I was working on the deck of Maiatla in the boatyard when my rigging was shaken by a violent explosion. As I glanced about, I spotted a plume of black smoke rising up from between the neighboring boats. Stunned at first, I watch as flames were propelled into the sky. Shooting down below, I grabbed a fire extinguisher.  By the time I arrived at the scene, several marina workers with water hoses and fire extinguishers where already battling a blaze aboard the catamaran, SV Little Bird. There was not much more I could do other than stand there. Moments later I saw Caleb come out of the washroom shack behind me and he was visible distraught. Understandable as it was his boat that was burning. I went over to see if I could help. That is when he told me that their propane stove had exploded when Jackie attempted to light it.

Jackie was now under a cold shower attempting to alleviate the pain from what would prove to be second degree burns over 60% of her body. principally her face and arms. The bomberos from town, the firemen and paramedics were quickly on scene attending to Jackie and the fire. As I held and extremely fearful Melissa, I attempted to comfort and reassure here that her mother would be fine.  The fire was extinguished even before the ambulance departed for Morales and the hospital. Surprisingly, there was little damage to their home and boat and after just a couple days in the hospital, Jackie, resembling a mummy was released form the hospital and returned to the Marina. The family took a room at the hotel for a few days while Caleb cleaned up their boat.  This event spurred me to check all my propane connections and hoses while making a metal note to upgrade my propane sniffer. We forget how quickly life can change.