Grand Caribe Again

Friday, 14 February

Alex delivered me with my luggage to MV Grande Caribe mid-afternoon. I settled, met a few of the other passengers, enjoyed the first of a sequence of superb meals, and retired to my comfortable cabin.

Like most cruises this year, the ship had only about half the number of passengers it is designed to carry. Pat Snyder, the captain’s wife, told me that on the previous cruise, one of the passengers explained that the stock market decline had cut incomes drastically for the ship’s age-50-and-up passengers’ incomes. While a few potential passengers changed plans to travel because of terrorist fear, more were deterred by reduced disposable funds.

To my delight, Captain Luther Blount was aboard. He came, trombone in hand, with a member of his band, another trombonist. They spent hours practicing, waffling about whether or not they eventually would perform for the passengers. Eventually they found a wonderfully capable semi-professional musician who could play an incredible array of tunes from memory. Len, Luther’s friend, had an acceptable voice and often sang lyrics to the Golden Oldies they preferred. The three began playing during Happy Hour after about three days into the cruise. Some evenings they even ended with a song that everyone could join in singing.

Saturday, 15 February

Passengers enjoyed their first swimming and snorkeling when we anchored at nearby Goff’s Caye. Pause at another one of Belize’s uninhabited, picturesque islands gave them a second chance to enjoy the water in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, I began what became my usual pattern of reading, using my laptop, and visiting with Pat.

The Captain’s Dinner is held the second night of cruises because most of the passengers arrive hot and tired late Friday afternoon after a day-long excursion to Xunantunich. I was invited to join Captain Mike Snyder and his wife Pat, long-time friends, at the head table.

Sunday, 16 February

Breakfast was a revelation. In the first place, there were sliced strawberries with brown sugar in a bowl next to them on the buffet. Then at our tables we were served lovely, crisp waffles to be topped with thick mashed strawberry sauce and whipped cream. This was my first exposure to this particular delicacy. Normally I do not eat waffles. Later Pat told me that years ago, a chef in one of the pancake houses who was famous for his crepes decided to try the toppings on his Belgian waffles. It was a great success and the idea flew around the country.

Fate saved me from indiscretion at that breakfast. I had finished and was eyeing a basket of muffins that had not been passed. It was in front of Luther, who was in the middle of one of his lengthy stories. I did not want to interrupt him. While I continued to ponder over whether it was a good idea or a bad one to have a muffin, the stewardess asked if I were through with my plate. Fortunately I replied that I was and she whisked it away, resolving my problem.

That night Luz Hunter, our naturalist, alerted passengers to an unusual phenomenon. From one side of the ship could be seen the setting sun and from the other, the rising moon.

When I retired to my cabin after dinner, a full moon was shining brightly through my large window. I quickly turned off the lights so that I could enjoy the moon and the sweep of silver on the sea.

A few minutes later, the ship changed position to anchor and I lost my moon. It returned briefly as we swung around, but by then, it was almost hidden in haze. On the mainland, great flashes of lightning slashed the sky, though rain had not reached the ship.

Monday, 17 February

Dawn brought heavy clouds and wind. I went topside before breakfast, but it was too blustery to stay. Mike decided to proceed directly to Placencia rather than pause for swimming, hoping that the weather would improve by afternoon.

After lunch, one of the passengers stopped me to say that he had been in Belize in the early 70’s. He asked a barrage of questions, most of which I could answer. When he asked if I knew Gordon Roe, I said we should sit down and talk. Bill said he had the entire file on his Belize trip. We arranged to meet in the lounge.

A Houston friend of Bill’s who had been in Belize many times in connection with cattle operations—possibly involving Bull Headley—talked Bill into coming down to investigate an offer of ten thousand acres of land bounded on one side by Beaver Dam and on the other by the Northern Highway. He had been told that it contained the last large stand of first growth mahogany trees left in the country.

My eyebrows disappeared in my hairline.

Bill told a wonderful tale of coming down, setting off on horseback with a non-English-speaking guide, who ran them in circles for four hours before admitting that he was lost. Finally he took them to a vast stretch of savanna without a tree or bush in sight. He threw his arms wide and indicated that this was where the mahogany trees were supposed to be.

While the sale of land collapsed instantly, Prime Minister George Price had been notified of the arrival of some major investors. He and his driver chauffeured them around in the official prime minister’s car, flags flying on the fenders. There was some talk about their buying a large lot in Belmopan for a small hotel with shops on the ground floor. Development concessions offered were excellent, but the time frame for completion was impossible.

Price introduced the Americans to Felo Fonseca (his finance minister), Gilly Canton (his brother-in-law and, I think, a senator at the time), Fred Hunter (a member of the legislature and possibly minister of agriculture), Sandy Hunter (a senator and senior advisor), Gordon Roe (insurance), Ford Young (real estate), and Willy Francis (lawyer). Most of them were guests at a party Marie and Gordon Roe had for the visitors.

Bill read excerpts from his journal. I found it fascinating. Furthermore, I was impressed by how well he had evaluated the situation he had fallen into and the people he met.

All in all, it was an interesting session. Of course, Bill, his wife Nancy, and I are special friends now.

 

The cruise director announced that this would be “Pirate’s Night.” To my dismay, the new, untrained cruise director had changed things. The crew, not the passengers would dress up. I decided that it didn’t matter if I were the only passenger pirate, I was not leaving my carefully collected pirate’s regalia unused.

I tried every way possible to secure my macaw to my red vest. It drooped downward sleepily. In desperation, I fastened my precious bird to my wrist, bracing it slightly by my side, and slipped my hook onto the hand. With eye patch, two snees, and pirate hat, I was a relatively effective pirate. Fellow passengers were delighted at my costume—and relieved that they had not had to create get-ups for themselves. The crew pirates were equally pleased. I posed for pictures as requested by passengers and even one stewardess.

I was pleased at the reception I received, but felt let down that Pirate’s Night was not the big party with a parade that I remembered from earlier cruises.

Tuesday, 18 February

Clouds and drizzling rain. We docked at Punta Gorda, where many of the passengers went ashore. I went up to see Pat and we sat in her cabin discussing books. Mike poked his head in to say that Luther wanted me in the dining room.

Luther was seated at a table with three Belizeans. Ludwig Palacio and Mrs. Sabal were Garifuna and the third man was a Mayan from San Antonio. Luz Hunter, our naturalist, joined us quickly. Mr. Palacio, handsome, black, with a brilliant smile, was in charge. He explained that they wanted to see how they could work with ACCL to the advantage of Punta Gorda.

Luther visited Punta Gorda several years ago hoping to develop a tour there, but the routes to the ruins were almost impassable, and he had no one to work with, so he gave up the idea.

Since Luther retired, his daughter Nancy is in charge. Luther was upset that Belize Tourist Board publications barely mention his company whereas, if he knew ahead of time, he would book ads. I blame his new agent in part, as well as a non-operating promotion department in his Rhode Island office. According to Pat, there is a cruise website that lists ships / cruises with full information and pictures for a fee of $350. I thought this was a good time to suggest it to Luther and urge him to follow through, as if it were my own idea.

I made a point of explaining to the Belizeans the problems all cruise lines are having: fear of traveling because of terrorists and reduced income because of the economy.  

These people were bright, articulate, and full of ideas. Mr. Palacio, who is a published poet, and Mrs. Sabal had good suggestions about tours to Mayan villages and maybe the three ruins. Groups would have to be kept small. The necessary vehicles are available in Punta Gorda. They are going to work up a plan with costs, make a video tape, and present it to Luther.

Meanwhile, Luz says that the new Tourist Board officers are young, without any background. She intends to invite a woman who has something to do with the board, and who knows tourism well, to bring some of the officers aboard for a tour of the ship, to meet some passengers, and generally to see who ACCL is and what they do.

I have been delegated to work with the Belize Tourist Board to see that ACCL is mentioned in government publications involving tourism. I demanded a title, to the amusement—and agreement—of the Belizeans, and will be “Personal Representative of Captain Luther Blount.” I doubt that I need documentation for the title. This will be fun.

 

We crossed the Bahía de Amatique and anchored off Livingston, Guatemala. Two sand bars with 6-foot depths block entrance at the mouth of the Rio Dulce. ACCL ships are the only ones of shallow enough draft to go up the river. Mike announced that they usually touch the bars entering the harbor. This time we didn’t. A small cruise ship, not much larger than the Grande Caribe, was anchored at the mouth of the river, unable to enter the harbor because it could not pass the bar.

The weather continued cloudy with misty rain. Despite the damp, I, like most passengers plastic-draped or umbrella-d, went ashore. Pat exclaimed at the cleanliness of the streets, a big change since her last visit. Aside from that, Livingston is a typical Central American town with half-starved dogs foraging along a succession of open-front small shops, all displaying the same mixture of plastic buckets, gaudy hammocks, and native fabrics.

To my relief, Captain Mike decided to anchor for the night off Livingston instead of proceeding up the Rio Dulce to El Golfete, as he had planned. I would have hated traversing that gorgeous green gorge in rain.

Wednesday, 19 February

The sun smiled on us next morning. The Grande Caribe cruised slowly up the Rio Dulce, allowing time for Luther and the travel writers to follow in the skiff so they could approach the banks, aflutter with their wealth of birds. Green mountains rose from the water, reaching vertically to the sky. We passed more and more small cayucas (dugout canoes) with fishermen. Pelicans, often as many as five at a time, floated expectantly near the little boats, hoping for a free meal.

Hawks soared above us. Many more were nesting on the ridges in a wall of exposed limestone. Pat was surprised at the few egrets we saw. She said that they were numerous in January, the males in their mating plumage, but now must have settled down to nesting.

Pat described her most thrilling passage up the Rio Dulce. Mist shrouded the mountains on each side, lending a sense of mystery. Suddenly dozens and dozens of egrets and pelicans took up station ahead of the ship and flew in advance of them as they proceeded up the river. Pat was lucky enough to capture the scene with her video camera.

The Rio Dulce opens to become a long lake, El Golfete, then debouches into larger Lago de Izabal. Izabal has two special features for the cruise, a visit to the orphanage and another to the picture-book little fort at the entrance to the lake. The Castillo is a favorite of mine. It is a little gem of a fort, a perfect miniature with a moat, dark curving narrow passageways, sunny patios, and crenellated turret.

 

After looking in on the quiet lounge, where small groups were having quiet conversations the preceding night, Mike berated the passengers for being dull. He determined to shake us up.

Mike announced that Happy Hour would be on the top deck, where he would preside over the bocas. When we arrived, we found Mike in gaudy shirt and gaudier apron tending a grill, while palm fronds bowed over an impromptu bar, where the Chief Mate served rum drinks. Soon Mike produced great platters of marinated grilled shrimp and chunks of wonderfully tender beef. The shrimp, in particular, was the best I ever had tasted.

Meanwhile, a marimba was set up and three musicians beat out a succession of tinkling tunes. It took awhile—or a couple of the delicious rum punches—for people to begin dancing. The darlings of the dance were a Canadian couple—he, a very tall, very hefty German and she, a tiny smiling woman with soft gray curls. Ernst posed as he danced, a wonderful and dramatic variety of expressions flashing across his face. Vivienne played up to him with the grace of a former ballet dancer. They were endlessly inventive and charming to watch because of the fun they obviously were sharing.

When we finally were called to dinner, we found the dining room decorated with pastel balloons. Pink napkins wound into the shape of candles set off the tables. Small colored disks sprinkled on white tablecloths were a festive note. The Celebration Cake destined for dessert was displayed on a small table, a white frosted square decorated with a large red bird in an upper corner and bits of green forest about the edges. Champagne and toasts completed the festive evening.

Thursday, 20 February

A restful day for me. Breakfast was earlier than usual so passengers could leave by bus for a tour of the ruins at Quiriguá. I did the trip on an earlier cruise, so did not repeat it. I luxuriated in a day of working on my laptop, visiting with Pat, and reading.

In the afternoon, I claimed my favorite position along the rail at the bow on the top deck. Luz Hunter, the naturalist, was with me. She pointed out birds and foliage that I might not have noticed or been able to identify. Ahead of us in the curves beyond our sight, the mountains on each side appeared to fold into each other in the distance. The slow cruise through the narrow, winding Rio Dulce was almost as exciting to me this sixth passage as it had been the first time.

The cruise director announced at dinner that she hoped the Garifuna dancers would arrive for a performance, but added sadly that last cruise they had not shown up.

I returned to my cabin after dinner and waited until 8:00 to hear if the dancers had come. I assumed by then that they wouldn’t appear, so got ready for bed—just before the announcement of their arrival. Unfortunately, only about a third of the passengers went to the top deck for the dancing. Some, like me, had given up and gone to bed. Others had begun watching the movie shown as a substitute for the Garifuna and did not want to leave. The ones who saw the dancers enjoyed the show. Some were lured into dancing by the visiting performers.

Friday, 21 February

Glorious weather. The swimmers and snorkelers had a wonderful time.

It was Caribbean Night. Passengers dressed in their most flowery garments. Drinks again were on the top deck with rum punches or Tequila Sunrises dispensed by the Chief Mate in his palm-decorated bar. The Chef produced a roasted suckling pig with the requisite apple in its mouth. The meat was incredibly tender and delicious

In the evening we had the Yankee Swap. A stuffed toucan on a swing was the favored gift, passing from hand to hand.

Saturday, 22 February

Calm and sunny. Mike decided to forgo Lime Caye, which probably would have had weekend Guatemalan holidaymakers, and proceeded to Tom Owens Caye, perched on the reef itself. He only can go there in very calm weather. This is ideal for swimming, snorkeling, and for the glass bottom boat, or “the glasser” as it is called.

Pat and I spent most of the day in conversations that wandered off in all sorts of fascinating directions. She is a delightful, well read, thoughtful person with a lovely sense of humor.

Sunday, 23 February

Luther called me for another conference about advertising. I always enjoy our visits, professional or otherwise.

I did my preliminary packing so that I could make an easy exit the next day. Through the day, I made a point of saying goodbye to my special friends, knowing that farewells would be complicated when I left the ship next evening.

Monday, 24 February

Suitcases were zipped by mid-morning, so I had time for a last visit with Pat. Alex collected me-and-mine after lunch. The dogs greeted me with all the enthusiasm I expected of them. I had a couple of hours to unpack and regroup before dressing to return to the ship for the Captain’s Dinner.

Again Mike invited me to join Pat and him at head table. To my delight, two of my favorite couples were with us, plus the old friend of Pat’s, her dentist, whom I liked very much.

The steel band arrived to play for passengers on the open top deck after dinner, so I was able to slip away unobtrusively. Much as I had enjoyed the cruise, it was pleasant to sleep in my own bed that night.