So here we are finally OUT of Guatemala, coming into Honduras with a series of events that have been exhilarating, exhausting, and downright terrifying (read on and you’ll see why). We left on the 8th, after barely making it over the bar at Livingston (despite it being a really high moontide).
It seemed like the whole process of leaving the Rio Dulce was a comedy of errors. First, Sjelle lost our bucket in El Golfete as we motored out and she was trying to rinse off the foredeck. Then, we ran aground on a shallow bank on the river on the way down to Livingston. Luckily, a lancha came by and the lanchero took our bowline and dragged us out to deeper water. Really crazy stuff.
Once we got back out to the bluewater, we raised our sails and made our way around Punta Manabique towards Honduras. The winds were brisk, and we were making good time. Luigi had just cut my genoa down to a working jib, so I was hoping for some heavier wind to try it out. And boy, was my wish granted.
For the first 8 hours into the trip, we had some massive winds from the southwest, blowing 20-25 knots, maybe even a little more. Luckily we were heading eastward, so we were able to utilize this heavy wind effectively and keep a broad reach going. We were booking along easily at 9 knots into a current. It was fun and exhilarating sailing, which was LONG overdue for Andiamo, even more so, me.
About 4 hours later, we got hit broadside by a NASTY squall that was howling well over 30 knots from the North. I knew that there was a coldfront coming down, but it was supposed to still be more than a day or two away. I guess it had sped up, because it was on us now. We hauled in the main to just a small sliver of sail, and kept going on the jib. The boat handled fine, and we continued keeping course and decent speed. The seas, however, became really confused, and that was causing the boat to bob and pitch something horrible.
These conditions lasted the next 10 or so hours and it started taking a toll on me. I actually got seasick for the first time in over 16 years. Sjelle was fine (I now think she’s a cyborg or something). Luckily, I was able to remain functional through the seasickness. The boat continued to pound and get smacked by the confused seas as we tried to keep making way. Eventually, the wind died, but the rains and seas continued to rage.
I had to make a judgement call on where we should go. The seas were still quite rough and it had slowed us down to about 4 knots. I know from previous experience that the port captain has been known to close La Ceiba’s harbor when the seas get as rough as this. So I had to take that into consideration. After talking it over with Sjelle, we decided to head to Utila for the night. The harbor is easy to enter in any weather and even at night, I’d done it a dozen times. Then we would assess the weather the next day and head over to La Ceiba then.
When we got close to Utila, the weather continued to remain absolutely, incredibly heinous. The rain was BLINDING. Absolutely ZERO visibility, gusting wind on the nose, and just plain awful. I was concerned because I couldn’t see any landmarks onshore because of the blanketing rain. It was as if I was flying a plane with just instruments because there was no visibility, trying to find the runway.
We still made it into Utila, dropped the anchor (we were pretty much the only boat in the harbor, as Utila is still kinda being blacklisted by cruisers because of all the bad thefts last season), and tried our best to dry off. The rain was pretty ruthless even through the night, but our anchor held, and we were finally able to dry off and get some much needed sleep.
Ok, so next morning, the weather’s looking a little better. Not so rainy, though still overcast, and still kinda windy from the west. I came up with the idea of taking the boat up to the fuel dock to take on some diesel, check the weather, and maybe get some food supplies if we needed it. Getting the boat into the dock was tricky, and it took a couple of tries to do it. The guy working on the fuel dock did not appear to know much about handling lines, so that made things even more difficult.
After finally tying up, we took on the diesel, and I went into town to get a phonecard and see what the weather was like. Sjelle stayed aboard and cleaned the boat up a little. While in town, I saw Monica, and we chatted briefly, I told her we’d be back in a few days and headed back to the boat. When we thought were ready to shove off and head to La Ceiba, I told the fuel dock that we were ready to go. I told him to wait for Sjelle to come on deck before untying the lines. It was still quite windy and rolly, and I didn’t want anything going wrong because of his incompetent line handling.
Instead of listening to me, he just walked up to the bow line and untied it!! Sjelle was just coming out of the companionway when I noticed he was untying the line. I told Sjelle to get up there asap, but it was too late. The bow got caught by the incoming waves and started to swing out toward the other dock starboard to us. Then, the idiot ran over to the stern line and tried to untie it, but it was too late, we were jammed on a sandbar between the two docks, getting slammed by the incoming waves! The guy just sort of stood there like an idiot, not really knowing what to do. I yelled at him that this was an emergency and we needed to get a line secured for the bow on the other dock. I told him to run over to the dock next door and get our line. He ran over and we threw the line over and luckily he was able to get it tied. We were still stuck but at least now we wouldn’t have the waves pushing even more towards the shallower ground and rocks just a few feet away. We then managed to get an extension on our stern line, put it on the port winch and start winching the stern closer to the dock. But we were still stuck. We needed to get the bow pulled back up to the fuel dock.
By this time, word had gotten out that there was an emergency at the fuel dock and a bunch of locals showed up, thankfully. They were trying like hell to get another line out to us so I can run it to the bow, but nothing was long enough. They came up with the idea to use a small bobcat, attach a line to it and wheel it up the dock so it would pull us closer to the dock. I came up with the idea to take down one of our jib sheets as a line, so we took it off the jib, and tied it to the midship port cleat. We managed to throw the other end to the guys on the dock and they were able to secure that line. We then tied a couple of dock lines together and put it on the bow cleat so they can have two lines to pull us in. After much effort, we got the lines secured to the bobcat, and it did its thing. It pulled us off the sandbar, and started to bring the bow back towards the dock. Whew… that was close. That was probably the closest I ever got to losing Andiamo. If the bow had gone into the other dock, there is simply no telling what would have happened, but it would have ended badly.
After thanking everybody for their help, we got the hell out of there, and motored out of Utila harbor. This whole ordeal had cost us time, and we were going to have to hurry to get to La Ceiba before dark. Luckily, the winds were still blowing hard from the west, but the seas had smoothed out somewhat. We pulled up both sails and kept the motor running. By doing this, we were able to get keep Andiamo going over 9 knots. We got to La Ceiba with time to spare, and despite a hairy entrance into the breakwater (had to surf in again), we made it safe and sound.
So we tied up at La Ceiba Shipyard, hoping that the worst was over. I still had to figure out how to get to San Pedro Sula by the next day to meet up with my old navy buddy Miguel and his wife Arcelia and get them back to La Ceiba. They were coming down for a week on Andiamo. After a good night’s sleep, I caught a 10AM first class bus to San Pedro, that would get me there with plenty of time for their 2pm arrival at the airport. The plan was then to get back to town, and catch the 6pm bus back to La Ceiba.
I made it to San Pedro Sula with no problem. I killed some time in town, had lunch and caught a cab to the airport. Miguel and Arcelia’s flight was on-time, but they got held up by a slow line through customs and immigration. They got out in the terminal an hour later. It was good to see them, and the bag of goodies he was bringing me from the states.
We headed back to town, killed some time yet again, and made it to the Hedman Alas station with plenty of time for the bus. We boarded the bus, went through security, like everybody else, and got comfortable. I donned my mp3 player and broke out my Nelson deMille book, my typical routine for a 3 hour bus trip. It looked like it was going to be a normal, painless bus ride back to La Ceiba.
Wrong.
About an hour out of San Pedro sula, I noticed some commotion going on behind me. We were seated closer to the back of the bus. I heard some shouting over my headphones and turned my head to the left, to find a guy standing over me with a 45 automatic in his hand. When I looked up at him, he smacked my head with the barrel of the gun telling me to look down. I took a peek up to the front of the bus, and noticed another guy with a shotgun in his hand. A shotgun!!! How in the hell did these guys get these damn weapons through the security check???? This is all that was running through my mind during those first couple of minutes.
Needless to say, it was pretty terrifying. The guy that was closer to me, was talking to me in a very rapid staccato dialect of spanish that I really couldn’t understand. That, coupled with the fact that I was nervous as hell at the fact that he was pointing his gun at me really affected my spanish comprehension. Miguel chimed in, thankfully, that I was a friend of his that he was visiting, and that my spanish wasn’t too good. He told the gunman that he’d translate anything he wanted to say back to me.
I decided that I would just break out my cash out of my wallet right away, since I assumed that they were just going to hold us up, take all our cash and valuables, and just get off the bus. At least that’s what I was HOPING that they’d do. I also wanted to try to save my credit cards and my wallet if possible. I tried to be smooth and subtle about it, but the guy up front saw me fiddling with my pockets. He came up to me with his shotgun poised right at my face yelling like a banshee. I just showed him my money in my hand and told him that I was just getting my money out because I thought that’s what they wanted. The other guy told Miguel to tell me that they would tell me when they were going to want my money and to not do anything before that. This was starting to get beyond scary. I felt the bus go off the main road on to what felt like a gravel road. We were not on the main highway anymore. This couldn’t be good.
After a couple of minutes of driving on this gravel road, the bus stopped. The gunman (and the girl “passenger” sitting behind me, who we later came to realize was part of the crew) told us all to get up and get off the bus. I didn’t like the sound of that at all. I’d heard too many stories in Guatemala of buses that had been held up, and everybody was taken off the bus, robbed and then shot. Things started becoming very very terrifying at this point.
when we got off the bus, there were at least 2-3 other guys waiting for us with rifles and shotguns. They had been tailing the bus with 2 other cars. They lined us all up along a barbed wire fence and started going by each of us and rummaging our pockets and bags. One guy grabbed my wallet, despite the fact that they had already taken my cash. I tried to tell him that it was just my driver license and other documents in there, and asked if I could please keep them. He just looked at me, smirked, and threw the wallet into the bag. At this point I was really afraid, because it was almost as if he was saying… “you’re not going to be needing this anymore”. The gunman who had poked me with his 45, walked up to me and took my casio diver watch off my wrist, he was also wearing Miguel’s polo jacket. I guess he’s going to have a good Christmas.
After a couple more minutes of pandemonium, the gunmen started yelling for everyone to take off their clothes and run into the woods off the road. I didn’t quite understand what they were saying at first, then one of the guys with a shotgun walked up behind me, smacked me in the back of the head with the butt of his gun and said “tira tu ropa!”. I proceeded to do just that, it was easy because I was just wearing a tshirt and a pair of light cargo shorts. I kept my underwear on, and jumped through the barbed wire fence and started running. The further away from the bus I got, the safer I felt, because I honestly did feel like they were going to shoot us all in the back.
After running though some hellacious swamp and muddy ground for about 75 yards or so, I heard Miguel and Arcelia calling out to me. We all met up and were glad that we were all ok. Poor Arcelia had to cover herself up with palm leaves because they made her take everything off. We had all taken at least one spill after climbing over a log and falling into a deep ditch full of nasty swamp water, nettles and thorny plants. Not long after, we thought we heard them drive off, but there was no way anyone was going to walk back to the buses to find out. About 20 minutes later, the bus driver called out that it was all clear. We started working our way out of the boggy swamp back to the road. There were clothes strewn everywhere. I managed to find my shirt and flipflops, but not my shorts. Miguel’s jeans were missing too. They actually stole some of our clothes! What’s more, they also ransacked all the luggage, and took it all too. So Miguel and Arcelia lost all their clothes, and I lost all the gear they brought down for me. Unbelievable.
One of the passengers managed to keep her cel phone, so the driver called police. They showed up about a half hour later. Even though there is much to be desired about the Honduran police, we were nonetheless glad to see them. After about an hour, they decided to take us all to Tela where they would take our statements, and then put us on another bus from there to La Ceiba.
After several hours sitting at the police station in Tela, they finally put us on the bus to La Ceiba. Most of us passengers had everything taken. My passport was gone, my id, everything. One lady had over $1000 cash taken, and her passport, and other id. This was so awful and so unnecessary. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for Miguel and Arcelia, since I put them on that bus. I’m still dealing with that.
Anyway, we did finally make it back to La Ceiba. The manager at that station told us that she was trying to reach the owner of the bus line to see what kind of remediation they will do for the passengers.
We managed to cancel our credit cards in time before they can do anything with them. I still have to go to Tegucigalpa and get my passport replaced. We’re doing dealing with the losses we experienced, but we’re all still quite shaken by this.
I’m really trying to reconcile all this. Why did this happen?? Was there anything I could have done to stop it? Why didn’t I just take a plane back from San pedro to La Ceiba instead???? What if something bad had happened to Miguel and Arcelia, how could I have lived with that??? It only happened a few days ago, but it’s still fresh, and it’s still painful. I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m hurt, I’m relieved that we’re still alive, and so much more. Not a week ago, Sjelle and I were so looking forward to getting back to Honduras, and now, I can’t leave here soon enough. Should I let those idiots who robbed us give me such a bad taste in my mouth for Central America?
I’m trying to keep focus here. I’m trying to remember that all this goes with the territory of my life choices. But it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with the fact that we could have all been killed out there. Life is cheap here, and these guys like to relish in their crimes. They know the only way their crimes will get on the front page is if there’s bloody fatalities. It’s a sick vanity that unfortunately these creeps just get off on.
What’s worse, is that this was not a crime rooted in poverty. It was a crime rooted in greed, class resentment, and crass, ugly materialism, coupled with the desire to control and humiliate. This is accented by the fact that the first thing the gunman took from Miguel wasn’t his money or his jewelry (they took all that later), it was his polo jacket! These guys just wanted to have the “stuff” that they see all the rich Hondurans strutting around in. Whatever cash they stole, you can bet will not go to paying for their kids’ school, emergency medical fund, or getting them braces, or anything like that. It will go into buying stupid crap that they see on TV, so they can acquire just a little more status over everybody else that’s “poor”. It’s a very skewed and sad commentary on life in these parts.
Look, it’s not poverty if you can’t afford a polo jacket. It’s poverty if you can’t afford to feed and house your family to a decent standard.
Anyway, we managed to pull ourselves together and get Andiamo out of La Ceiba for Miguel and Arcelia’s last few days here. I didn’t want this trip to be in vain, and you gotta love em for sticking out the rest of the week. I just wish there was a way I can turn back time and just erase the terrifying events of December 10th.
But I can’t.
Comment from: mietsie [Visitor]
Hi sweetie,
it must have been an horrific event. I’m still so glad that nothing worse happened. Don’t feel guilty about what happened, none of it has been your fault… Take good care of yourself, CC
love
mietsie
12/14/06 @ 16:40
Comment from: Michael Greaney [Visitor]
Tony,
I’m very glad that you were not physically harmed too much! In time, the mental trauma will diminish. I check in here every week to see how things are progressing down there. I’m so gald that you are doing well. Remember your old flight deck mantra…keep your head on a swivel!
Merry Christmas and best wishes for a happy and Safe New Year!
12/19/06 @ 07:10
Comment from: Janet [Visitor]
Geez Ton, just horrible. I’m sorry – sounds like a rough time. I hope things are looking up. I’m thinking of you. Merry Xmas to you – stay safe.
Love Janenator and the boys!
12/20/06 @ 07:39
Comment from: Jen [Visitor]
Jesus, Tony! I changed my mind. That is my new worst nightmare. Thank God you all are OK! It wasn’t your fault, Tony. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have happened just as easily on the bus right before yours — or the one after. Chalk it up to what it was– really unfortunate timing. If you find it helpful to look for a reason that such an awful thing happened, there’s the reminder of the value of friendship, and life, and the triviality of material possessions…
Maybe it’s time to visit us here at home? Think about it; L.A. is the best place to be if you need a break from mass transit. Right? We can go to Hoggly Woggly’s Tyler Texas BB-Q if you want. We miss and love you!
xoxox (pats to the kitties too), Jen
