Initiation


Guatemalan jungle!
Every Caribbean cruiser worth their salt knows that Rio Dulce (or Sweet River), Guatemala is the place to be in the off-season. Whether you’re stopping in for repairs, need to leave the boat and fly overseas, or just want to experience the beauties of Guatemala, the Rio is the perfect break from cruising. By the time Jasamine reached Livingstone, the town at the mouth of Rio Dulce, I had been looking forward to going upriver into some quiet waters for a few months. For years, I had heard stories from my parents of the deep, flowing river that cut its way through lush rainforest, breath-taking mountains, and narrow canyon passes. As a Florida girl, all this talk of land on any other incline than flat made me super excited! I was ready to be in amongst the lush green mountains!

But getting into the Rio was another matter entirely. There we were, eight o’clock in the morning, two miles out from Livingstone, the gateway to Rio Dulce close at hand, my hopes rising…. Only for them to be dashed when our eight-foot deep keel met the six-foot mud bottom. Darn you. Nevertheless, Dad’s determined and fateful words were: “Let’s give it a go, we might push our way through the mud!” After several hours of inching slowly forward, a nightmare came onto the screen of our Garmin depth-sounder: A Four. *Cue dramatic music.* We had approximately four feet under the waterline, were facing a falling tide, and a strong cold front with high winds was expected to blow in that afternoon. Needless to say, as a boater, this is when you go cry. We were high and dry, and all we could do was wait for the next high tide.

Above: So near but so far;
stuck offshore of Livingstone.

Below: A plastic bottle and a stick
with a rag passes for a marker!
As night came on, the situation only got worse. In the ten hours we had been aground, the tranquil bay had been whipped into a frenzy by the cold front. I came up on deck to find the wind howling, waves crashing over the decks, and Jasamine heeled over, slowly scudding her way towards the rocks on the unlit shoreline. We had no control of the rudder and not enough horsepower to break free of the mud. We spent the next hours trying whatever we could, but it wasn’t looking very hopeful.

In Livingstone; a fishing boat
similar to the one that towed us.
Then, all of a sudden, out of the blue, a Guatemalan fishing motorboat came as near alongside Jasamine as they could, their boat rolling from scupper to scupper in the waves! They yelled out in Spanish that they wanted to tow us in. We didn’t think it would help much, as we had tried to break free with another boat much earlier in the day. But they pointed to the rocks and insisted we had no other choice and were in peril. Dad and I went up on the bow, hanging on tightly so not to get pitched overboard as the storm raged around us. With rough seas and a heavy load (such as Jasamine), one misplaced rope could mean amputation..or death, not to mention destruction for the boat. But with a little confusion, some sheer terror, and a lot of prayer, Dad and I managed to get lines untangled and hitched to the fishing boat with no major losses. Then we hurried back to the cockpit to wait with baited breath. Miraculously, after about an hour of maneuvering, Jasamine started to move in the right direction! I have never been so incredibly happy to see trees on the shoreline creep past! Within another hour, the two fishermen had Jasamine in the harbor area and pointed out a good anchorage spot. We gratefully payed them for their services and they were on their way without another word. 

Jasamine finally in the
tranquil Rio Dulce!
As I let the anchor out, I was absolutely flooded with gratitude and relief. Although we were merely a passing acquaintance to them, to us they were the difference between utter ruin and a wonderful voyage; never have I ever felt so grateful to two strangers. Back in the cockpit, I sat down with Dad and glanced at the clock. It was now midnight. We had been floundering offshore for sixteen hours. As I began to relax, the stress I had pushed aside began to well up: we had been so close to danger! I couldn’t help feel overwhelmed, and as I looked at Dad I knew he felt it too. Then he looked over at me and said, very seriously, that he could not have ever done it without me and that I had done very well.  The alarming thing is, I believed him and I knew he meant it. For the first time, the sobering comprehension of the responsibility of having people’s lives relying on my actions sunk in. In that moment, I realized that during those sixteen hours I had changed from a boat kid to competent crew. For me, the mouth of the Rio Dulce will forever be a site of initiation, and the entrance into Guatemala marks a new chapter in my book of adventures. All I can say is, thank God initiation only comes once, right? 

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