It's the Rainy Season?

I almost cancelled this trip.  The morning before we were leaving, I woke with stomach churning gasping panic.  What the hell had I done? 

Reading Trip Advisor, the experts kept advising travelers not to visit Roatan before February because October through January was the RAINY season.  From the negativity, I envisioned endless days of pouring rain with mudslides, flooding, bays clouded by mud  runoff -- in other words, being stuck up here on this hill in the middle of a torrential debacle.

Well, I hope I'm not jinxing our trip by whispering this, but no rain so far.  Not a drop.

My partner in crime is thrilled with my selection of destination and lodging.  The man who hated to go to the beach now loves it!

Today we plunked down at a beach restaurant that comped our chairs in exchange for food and drink.  The waiters also keep a close watch on bags and personal items, so Craig walked to the far west end of the beach to snorkel while I floated and swam out front.

I'd also read a lot of gloom and doom about how crowded West Bay beach is on cruise ship days.  We saw the cruise ship pass early this morning from our balcony.  Notice the crowd in front of my lounger? 

I was all by my lonesome for quite awhile in the buoyed swimming area of the beach.

Maybe cruisers go more for activities like this?  (But I don't see anyone on the glass-bottomed boat?)

Wonder if this man in the yellow hat has ever read the book "Curious George?"  I think he and his monkey were hoping for big crowds of cruisers. 

Love this beach art!  Notice no one's shopping?

 

 

And here's an empty water taxi waiting for a fare.

 

Paulo, our beach waiter, did warn us that tomorrow could be quite crowded because there will be three ships in port.   I'll keep you posted when the hoards descend, but for the moment, we're in heaven!

On a funny note, we went shopping at a small grocery yesterday in West End.  I selected a little over $10 worth of items and went to the check stand.  The clerk rang my order and I gave her a $20 U.S. bill.  (U.S. is widely accepted on Roatan and the change is in lempiras.  A lot of the pricing in tourist areas is in U.S. dollars.)  Anyway, the clerk looked at my $20 bill and told me she could not make change for a bill that large.  If I did not have anything smaller, I could not buy groceries there.  I walked out empty handed. 

I told the story to the owners of the house where we're staying and their property manager tonight.  They all howled.  There's a rumor going round the island that all U.S. $20 bills are counterfeit and store owners won't be able to get rid of them.  The joke is I brought ALL $20 bills because that's what was recommended on Trip Advisor. 

Thank God we've found plenty of restaurants to pawn those counterfeit $20's off on.  LOL

No worries man.  Life is good.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like (a Tropical) Christmas!

We're sitting in the outdoor screened living room tonight listening to retro Christmas music drifting up from a party at the owner's house below.  Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, etc...  Christmas in the tropics is really growing on me!

 

Beautiful Christmas bulbs adorn a tropical tree in West End.

Doors are fitted out with Christmas greenery.

Sunday we ran into Santa and his elf at the West Bay Mall.  It seemed slow at first . . . .

 

But Santa was soon overwhelmed when a bus loaded with local children pulled up out front and the festivities began.  Free hotdogs, free cookies, a sit on Santa's lap, and Christmas carols played by a steel drum band!

 

Snowmen seem funny in the tropics.  I'm waiting for a beach snowman (sandman) so I can snap a photo!

One of the beach restaurants even had a roaring fire out front, but I suspect it was to smoke the mosquitos away.  I'm guessing the Christmas tree below is fake, but so is mine at home!

 

 

The local coffee shop in West Bay even has a peppermint mocha frappuccino.  I think I need to try one!  It's time to do some Christmas shopping.  : )

 

 

Operation Bootcamp

Let me just start by saying we're way up high in the trees.  Really, it's a jungle out there!

We awoke this morning to loud screeching.  What is that sound???  After seeing huge red birds in flight, I googled Roatan birds and realized the noise was coming from scarlet macaws.  Huge parrots!

Listen to this and you'll get the idea. 

After watching macaws in flight and eating breakfast, it was time to explore.  We applied deet to our legs and strapped on our walking sandals.  The gorgeous seaview from our outdoor screened living room comes with a price.  The hike out of here isn't for sissies. 

Evidently, the Sheriff lives right below us.  We heard him arguing with the macaws this morning. Fortunately, we haven't had the pleasure of his acquaintance yet, but he's evidently legendary.

Once we climbed down the steep hill below us and up and down another one, we reached the beach and turned to the left. I figured it'd be an easy stroll along the shore to West Bay after that.  Uh -- not quite.

Craig took the lead.  I wanted to make sure it was structurally solid.

 

 

 At least the view up top was pretty.  (Our casa for the month is up on that hill.)

 

 

The walk to West Bay beach was fairly uneventful after that climb. 

 

 

We walked along the waterfront until we reached Beachers.

 

There we plopped down at a table and ordered a fried whole red snapper and two rum punches.  The downstairs neighbors were strolling by and stopped to join us for awhile.

No frozen basa here!  This fish was seriously delicious!

 

We finally left the bar and walked to the end of the beach to scout out the snorkeling.  

 

 

 

Then it was time to repeat the grueling walk home.  Back down the beach, over the bridge, and back up that damn hill. 

 

Craig's already talking about renting a car.  LOL

 

 

 

Roa Where?

If only I had a ten dollar bill for every person who's asked me where Roatan is, my vacation would be free!  One friend confused Roatan with Rarotonga in the South Pacific.  Another wanted to know if we were driving there.  The flight attendant giving gate connections as the plane descended into DFW was completely flummoxed when I said Roatan.  She'd never heard of it. 

All I can say is let's keep it that way!  This place is so chill and laidback!

I snapped this photo of the navigation seatback screen on the trip down to clarify the location for my confused friends.

 

A cute little taxi driver named Sonia picked us up at the airport in a tiny squeaky taxi, swung by the grocery store, and dropped us at our rental chattering all the way in pidgin style English.  We both understood about 1/10 of it, and she understood less of our English.  She took the local color route.  It killed me to drive past all those clotheslines without stopping to snap photos. 

 

After unpacking a bit, we mulled whether to go out for dinner or merely collapse since we awoke at 3:30 a.m to make our 6:00 a.m. flight.  Overwhelmed with curiosity, we decided to trudge down the steep hill and flag down a water taxi for a ride to West End.



This water taxi captain with a panga full of snorkelers waved at us, we waved back, and after a beautiful ride, we soon pulled up to a dock in West End and paid him our $6.00 fare.

We decided to eat some local fare at Creole Rotiserrie Chicken.  After gobbling our first meal on Roatan, we wandered the one street in West End before flagging down a land taxi driver for a ride up the dark steep hills to home. 

 The Creole Rotisserie Chicken joint.  Good eats!

 

 

A half chicken, two sides, and a bottle of Port Royal beer.  Craig's in heaven.

 

Busy Saturday night at last light in West End, Roatan.

 

A little tropical Christmas cheer!

 

 

The town library.

 

 

These crabs must love pollo because this guy and all his relatives were gathered right below the steps to the restaurant.

 

 

Ahhhhhhh.  Another crowded spot.  Muy tranquilo!

 

 

 

Stay tuned!  We'll be here for awhile!

 

 

 

Homeward Bound

Now that we've settled into the slow pace of small town life and experienced the beautiful colors of fall and the first snow of the season here in the deep piney woods, we're headed down the mountain to the airport in Reno this morning.  

Adios Northern California!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wild

I said I wouldn't update the blog until we landed in Roatan, but the location we're in now is fairly spectacular. 

No, we're not in Mexico.  We're 1,418 miles north!  I need to check Cheryl Strayed's book Wild again to see what happened in this area of her hike on the Pacific Crest Trail.

We parked at a trailhead for the Pacific Crest Trail and strayed into the wild to the main attraction, Burney Falls.  I love the benches scattered along the steep up and down loop path.  Each features a famous quote.  This one's particularly appropriate.

Burney Creek is actually a dry bed leading into this area and the falls are fed by underground springs.  What a spectacular sight!

We loved the journey so much, we returned the next day with my brother, sister-in-law, and niece.  For the sound effects, click the video below.

 

 

 

Thoughts of Yelapa

When I heard Friday that the mega bitch Hurricane Patricia would be making landfall somewhere between Manzanilla and Puerta Vallarta, Mexico, my mind immediately focused on Yelapa, a magical little village with cobblestone paths and no roads (no cars) we visited back in December 2010.

How could locals survive a Category 5 when many live in the proverbial palapas in Yelapa so exposed to the elements?  I did a quick search and read many people had been evacuated by boats early Friday morning.  By early Saturday, I read on Facebook the village had dodged the big bullet with virtually no wind.  Just rough seas.  The hurricane made landfall to the southwest and then dissipated in the mountains.  Note -- while Puerta Vallarta and Yelapa escaped the fury, villages on the coast southwest of Yelapa did suffer extensive damage.

I'm not sure when we'll return to Yelapa, but it's a destination I consider to be one of our most memorable vacations.  Despite the fact that the village has been partially populated by Americans, Canadians, and other foreigners for many years, the rusticity and inaccessibility have kept the village more unique than other popular tourist locations. 

We boarded a small water taxi in a fishing village south of Vallarta for the rough 45 minute thrill ride to Yelapa.  People who know me were amazed because I avoid boats due to motion sickness. 

You do what ya gotta do to get to the destination! At the end of the ride, we cruised into this small exotic bay where the mountains and tropical jungle meet the sea. 

 

Two men who spoke no English grabbed our bags at the pier as the boat tenders lifted me under the armpits and pulled me up onto the concrete dock.  I repeated the name of the casa where we were renting several times and the two men took off in a rush up a dirt path with us in close pursuit.  In the center of the village, the men checked with the only man in sight sitting on a bench in front of a little tienda to ascertain they knew the location of the house.  The rental was about half a small town block from the town pier and our new friends dropped the bags inside the door and quickly departed with their tip. We discovered the next morning after a cold shower that they were not the guys sent by the property manager who were supposed to give us the keys to the house, light the propane water heater on the roof, and receive the $20 US tip.  LOL  No wonder those guys ran out the door with shocked gratitude on their faces!

Arrival bench at the pier.

 

Huichol Native Mexicans.  They were often in the village selling their fabulous beadwork. 

Craig standing on the town bridge.  Yelapa has no roads -- just cobblestone paths.  A visitor hears no trucks or cars in the village -- just the clip clop of little ponies like the one below.  When we were there, we did see a four wheeler several times on the path up river from the village, but ponies were the main mode of transportation and hauling.

This pony waited for his owner outside the village hardware store.  Looks like she's carrying some plumbing wares.

The town church.

Despite the small size of the village, it was easy to get lost.  A small boy with no ulterior motives quickly became our guide and would appear out of nowhere and ask where we were headed.  Then he'd run ahead on the path to show us the way.

Most evenings when the sun set, quiet descended on Yelapa.  Boat traffic stops at dusk, and the few people walking the paths use flashlights or headlamps to find their way.

Vendors use clotheslines along the main village paths to sell their wares to visitors.

Yelapa's a great nature/hiking destination.  Above, vultures swarm the rocks along the bay path. 

 

 

Lily pads on a pond up river.

 

 

View from our open air living room along the main village path.  I'll admit to sleeping with one eye open the entire five nights.  With no glass windows, anything could crawl in.  If we ever return, I'll stay in a rental with the luxury of windows. 

 

I'm so glad this area was spared from this mega hurricane.  There's a magic to Yelapa I hope is preserved forever!

I'll be posting infrequently until our next tropical trip in mid-December.  I'm hoping the apartment we've rented in Roatan will have a great internet connection so I can keep in touch and post photos.  See ya when I see ya!