From: John Barbie [jbarbie11@yahoo.com] Sent: Monday, March 01, 2004 11:40 AM To: jbarbie@yahoo.com Subject: El Salvador Well we are making our way south. To be honest I canīt even remember the last time we emailed an update but I can tell you we havenīt found any more Handsome Franks on the ocean waters. We made our way down the Oaxaca's coast, a scorchingly hot place to be in February. Despite not having a depth sounder, a radar, a HAM radio, or even a water purifier, John wants to install air conditioning. Perhaps I can convince him that in the tropics cold beer is air conditioning. ī Our last port in Mexico was the up and coming beach town called Huatulco. It sits on the SW corner of the Tehuantapec gulf which is notorious for gale force winds that sweep over the narrowest part of Mexico from the Caribbean coast. Our stay there was dependent on finding a weather window to cross the gulf. We met the quintessential American drop out while we were there. Talk about drinking away your last dimes. He managed to sell us a chart book that we later discovered had been a hand-me-down from our Danish friends -- always good to see a story come full circle. John decided to sample the local cuisine in Huatulco, Iguana. We found iguana tamales for 50 cents and John bit into the thing only to find a biologistīs dream -- bones, skin, intestine, and brain. Oh John got iguana alright, the whole package. Needless to say we fed the second iguana tamale to the jellyfish that swarmed our boat. We reunited with the Irish and a frenchie friend in Huatulco and decided to make the passage across the Tehuantapec together and as it turns out with an armada of other cruisers. The nights we spent waiting out the gales were typically charged with arguments about Bush and oddly enough, whether 20 hectares was a lot of land. According to the Frenchie, 20 hectares was small in comparison to farms in France. According to the Irish it was a practical country compared to an apartment in Dublin. Go figure. The debate lasted well into the night. When we finally left Huatulco there was no wind. Our second day out and I awoke to John telling me that he was cutting across the gulf despite consistent advice that said keep one foot on the shore. Hmmm. So much for Captainīs orders. Fortunately for John the wind didnīt act up and we motored most of the way. Since we were low on water (always check this before you leave port) and fuel (30 gallons isnīt enough) we abruptly decided to pit stop in Guatemala, 15 miles to our north. In theory the idea was good. In practice it was not. To begin with, I had the most hairy docking experience of my life, short be it. The winds were strong and the marina (if youīd call it that) very narrow and backed by a jetty of rocks. Iīll compare it to skidding an Expedition in neutral into a compact car parking spot on ice. Despite accomplishing the feat on the first try, we were promptly told to relocate to a barge which carbon copied our first docking experience but was also successful. The second blow came when we had to pay our entrance and exit fees to the port captain. We spent as much during three days in Guatemala as we had for the entire month of February. So much for budgets. I guess the fees covered the cost of bringing a drug sniffing dog aboard who was much more interested in sniffing out Spot and his dog food than he was finding non-existent cocaine. We managed to make the most of Guatemala anyway by visiting Antigua, a small heaven on earth. It was well worth the trip to escape the heat in the small colonial town paved with cobblestones and populated by native Guatemalans wearing huipiles. One highlight of Antigua, setting aside the colorful culture and history, was a bagel shop rivaling Noahīs bagels. Even Spot enjoyed the cream cheese. We left Guatemala broke on Saturday heading for El Salvador. Our timing was a little off and we managed to arrive at the bay entrance at night. I adamantly object to arriving anywhere at night especially a bay entrance lined with breakers and shoals that then turns into a 12 mile trek up a mangrove swamp to our destined marina. Most boats request a pilot boat to guide them during the day and wont even consider the entrance at night but we did, without the pilot. Thanks to a half moon, a rising tide, and a little Barbie doll that sits on Johnīs shoulder and gives us good luck, we made it without grounding ourselves or getting lost. We are once again crowned with praise by experienced sailors for our stupidity. Fortunately the destination, Barillas Marina, was well worth the adventure symbolized by their first-round-on-house policy. Weīve never moored in a mangrove swamp inhabited by 4 meter alligators but I can tell you that despite the mosquito's, it is worth it. I did mention that our version of show and tell was a bit off the beaten track, right? On that note, I am glad to report we are all in one piece, our boat is still small according to immigration officials, and we are totally under prepared according to other sailors. So be it. We are still having fun and somehow those darned Irish and that Frenchie managed to find us so no doubt we are in for another night of pointless discussions and backgammon. We hope you are all well. Weīll be on-line for the next couple of days while waiting for my dad to arrive to join us on our next leg to Costa Rica. Our anticipated 3 day journey will be drawn out to 2 weeks if I donīt step in and tell the boys that there is more to life than surfing. Weīll see. Regards, Ruth, John and Spot (still hanging in there) __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Get better spam protection with Yahoo! Mail. http://antispam.yahoo.com/tools