Bay Islands of Honduras

Many many lifetimes ago I read a glossy tourist magazine in a waiting room about 'The Bay Islands', and I determined to go there one day.

That time came only two months ago, and as in my earlier day-dream I was sailing my own boat, free to explore as I chose. But it was much easier and more rewarding than the reality.

Leaving the idyllic Rio Dulce of Guatemala and full of anticipation we set sail for the Bay Islands, a two day sail close to the wind but a good forecast.

After 12 hours and dawn just breaking we were a third of the way there when I felt the boat was very sluggish. I went below to find salt water just pushing above the cabin sole, yet no bilge alarm or pumps running. The main pump had obviously failed, and the emergency pump would only work on manual when it usually kicks in automatically. The Henderson hand pump came to the rescue and after a couple of hours of frantic work we had things under control -but where was the water getting in??

If the pumps failed now I knew we wouldn't make it to Roatan so I turned Whakaari for the mainland of Honduras. The closest port with facilities appeared to be Puerto Cortez, so that was our new destination. As soon as we were within VHF range I hailed the Port Captain and requested emergency assistance. The response was immediate and professional, and in no time we were being escorted to the anchorage, emergency bilge pumps on standby, and a direct line to the Naval Base who had a travel lift to get us out of the water.

By this time Jackie, my crew, and I had had enough of manual pumping and stressing about water levels in the bilge. After a 2 hour wait for the travel lift to be free, we earned envious looks from another yacht that had been anchored off the naval base for a week wanting to be hauled.

I was certain the leak must be a gradual worsening of impacts to the hull from my run-in with a coral head back in Mexico many weeks before.

So began our Honduras experience, on the hard at a naval base in Puerto Cortez, going over every inch of the hull, stern gland, sea cocks etc trying to work out why the bilges had filled, and why the pumps hadn't activated. In brief, it turned out the emergency pump had no vented loop or non return valve and so had set up a self syphoning action that pulled more water back into the boat than it pushed out, then the wiring failed as it became saturated, due to corroded joints. The main pump had blown both it's valve sets, the relays in the bilge for both pumps had failed, and there was a fault in the fuse holder for the main pump up at the switch board – all good stuff to find out in relatively safe inshore conditions, and the point of having a shake-down cruise.

We took a cheap room at a nearby hotel, and spent the three days on the travel lift doing a quick bottom job – fibreglass repairs to the coral head impact area, a layer of epoxy paint to the lower keel, and more bottom paint – Jackie seemed to delight in getting old antifouling paint all over her, when she wasn't ogling at the many virile young Navy men taking their morning swims by the boat or working out nearby.

Back in the water ( in typical rush rush Navy style) we set sail for the Bay Islands once more, having picked up a back up bilge pump and float switch, and sorted a make shift arrangement for the pumps until a full service kit arrived with Annika.

The wind died almost immediately and we were left with no choice but to motor sail through an uncomfortable swell. BUT – the engine refused to turn over. Starter Motor! No problem, I've got a brand new one in the spares locker. Pulling it out of it's unopened packaging my heart stopped – completely the wrong unit, too big, too many teeth on the sprocket, etc etc.

So there was no choice but to overhaul the existing starter motor right there in the cockpit, tossing around on the sea. Once re-installed the engine fired up and has been ever since – tho I was holding my breath during the Panama Canal transit recently – that would be a costly disaster, to have engine problems and cause a big delay!

This latest event just added to my concerns about heading out into the Caribbean Sea with unresolved boat issues, so I decided to stay close in and head for a bay that a cruiser also on the hard back at Cortez had recommended – Escondido. He is a film maker and seems to have found some wonderful places in Honduras, and we were happy to take his advice.

The slow progress meant we made our approach into this tight deserted bay well after dark, and with no moon, minimal details on the chart, and only a hand drawn sketch from the film maker, I was totally reliant on radar and depth sounder.

All worked out fine and in the early dawn, woken by the deafening calls of Howler Monkeys, I could see we were safely positioned in this beautiful pocket bay.

Our morning here was a delight, going ashore to wander amongst palms and look out along the rugged coastline, seeing the fishermen come and go in their cayucos, and hearing the intense birdsong in such a natural harbour. It was only when we left that we read in the cruisers guide that this bay was not recommended to yachties as two boats were recently attacked here with fatalities resulting!

The next day we arrived in Utila, the first of the three main Bay Islands, anchoring in South East Bay and dinghying in to explore the village.

Looking back, this was the nicest of all the Bay Islands. The place is colourful, with a happy feel, and everyone is very relaxed & friendly. It's a backpackers haunt, popular for diving courses, so the visitor crowd is very young and lively. Oh, and the Cinnamon Rolls are 'to die for'. There are lots of bars and cafes along the waterfront where you just dinghy over from the yacht and step up to your table.

On to Roatan, over some shallow coral areas, past isolated shacks on rocky outcrops, we ended up anchoring in a small hole of a bay to weather a blow, right at the end of the airport runway. Its only redeeming feature was the friendly crowd of kids who swam out and spent some time with us chatting and diving off the stern ladder.

The next day we rented a taxi to look around for somewhere interesting to sail and anchor -it was all a big disappointment. The coast is a mess of fading industry or failed developments, or its crammed with squid fishing fleets and mooring facilities for cruise ships, with roads coming to a dead end at the patrolled gates of another exclusive resort.

I did manage to find where I could get some help from tradesmen, so we moved Whakaari from Coxen Hole to Dixon Cove where they service the fishing fleet and the cruise ships dock.

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Chong, a Nicaraguan, and a black Caribe just the spitting image of Cuba Gooding Jnr dealt with tricky electrics – the float switch repairs to finally (I thought) resolve my bilge pump issues, and my temperamental SSB – turned out the microphone element had gone, which Cuba fixed pronto.
Jackie, despite her undiagnosed back injury, got into the R&M as well.

After the unpleasantness of anchoring amidst fishing boats, ferries and cruise ships we decided we needed a special treat so we found Barefoot Cay resort, and indulged Whakaari with her own private dock, and for us a poolside restaurant and beachfront cabin, complete with hammocks.

Jackie left from there, back to a snow warning in Aspen, and I moved to the quiet  (cheaper) location of Old Roatan Yacht Club, a place once teeming with cruisers, but I found they'd been forced out by rising prices and uninterested management. The anchorage is now dominated by fishing fleets, and the water is filthy due to the overcrowded shanties perched on the waters edge with no sanitation.
It is unbelievably hot and humid here, just breathing brings on a sweat. The air is thick with smoke haze, and the wind is toasty warm when it blows. The temps never seem to go above 35 but it seems twice as hot with the mugginess. Running the aircon is essential to get rid of all the moisture so I had Whakaari on shore power snug in a slip with the Aircon full on – I was never impressed at having to leave her cool interior to get wifi and attend to the never-ending list of jobs.

Annika arrived via Mexico and mainland Honduras having had the third degree from Customs en route as to why she only had a one way ticket. She brought lots of treasures in the form of a bilge pump overhaul kit, generator spares and a Central Americas chip for my chartplotter and a new plug-in for my GPS.
With two paddleboards we were able to explore the Fantasy Island area where all the cruisers seem to hang out, and we did a little snorkelling, but really Roatan seemed to offer very little... It didn't help that the trade winds were blustery and water visibility was poor, but we couldn't understand the attraction or why some of the cruisers we'd met had stayed so long. The best memory I have is snorkelling with many large crayfish (lobster to the locals)all walking about or fighting one another in a protected marine reserve.

So soon we sailed to Guanaha, the last of the Bay Islands, looking for more interesting territory. There was a long period of strong tradewinds forecast, which would make our progress towards Panama very slow, so we would have to make a decision to leave straight away, or end up spending a full week in Guanaha. A quick recce by dinghy and paddleboard showed we could do the best stuff in a day or two then make sail for Providencia and on to Panama, rather than try to fill in a whole week here. The one thing I'm sad we missed out on was a music night put on by fellow cruisers at the german Manatee Cafe.

Guanaha's special treats were the Venice-like Bonacca Cay where most of the population crowds onto one tiny island with no streets and some cute little canals, and the cut across the island that you can motor through and see some clean water, a stunning lighthouse, and Columbus' landing place on the north coast.

Eventually clearing out from Bonacca Cay (me waiting for the Port Captain to return from a 2 hour lunch and Annika fending off the attentions of many local men at the wharf) we headed out into a rough sea and head winds to round the treacherous Nicaragua Bank via Vivarillo and Providentia (Columbian territory!) then down to northern Panama to cruise the Boca del Toros region.
A number of yachts were leaving at the same time so we expected have some company, though we only saw one other boat. Annika's concern was the unwanted company of locals from Bonacca who now knew too much about where we were headed, just two of us in a valuable yacht, with lots of isolated terrotory ahead of us. The Bay Islands celebrate their history of pirates and buccaneers (Henry Morgan, to be sure, aye), though I'm not sure that pirates are still active. Still, it does fire the imagination!

I recalled another cruiser back at Cortez saying as we left - “now's the time to stop being nice, there are some desperate characters out there”.