BACK IN BAHÍA
Bahía de Caraquéz, Ecuador, Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Hurricane IKE led to a weeklong delay in our arrival back in Ecuador. Other than that, however, the trip was largely uneventful. The check-in staff at Baltimore-Washington International airport, on the other hand, said that, as a Canadian, I had to have a return ticket to enter Ecuador. No ifs, ands or buts! I had to buy a $462, one-way ticket from Guayaquil to Panamá before I would be permitted to board the plane.

We finally landed at Guayaquil late at night on Friday, 12th September, cleared customs with all of our purchased boat stuff and were given 90-day tourist visas. There are rumours around that Migración in Manta will not grant any more 90-day extensions, but we’ll cross that bridge went we come to it. After a night in one of Ecuador’s typical low-end flophouses (naked 40-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling, ancient toilet fixtures and cold shower; no lift and no place to leave the 300-pounds of luggage in six bags with the concierge; it all had to be humped up two flights of stairs and back down in the morning. Ah,well! We could always hit the Intercontinental Hotel the next time, I suppose.

Did I mention that Ecuadorian Migración made no mention of me, a Canadian, requiring a return ticket before being allowed into this country? Did I mention that? We spend Saturday morning at the COPA Airlines’ city office near the Malecón to get this airline ticket refunded thereby making our credit card solvent once again, and then walking the downtown streets and paying a visit to the iguanas at Park Bolívar.

About one o’clock we packed a cab and headed out to the Terminal Terrestre with our entire luggage crammed into the taxi. It is a basic rule of taxi-usage in Ecuador that the driver will under almost no circumstances whatsoever help you to put your the luggage into or take it out of the car. I therefore stand there expectantly waiting until I win or lose this silent psychological duel. If by some rare chance the driver gets impatient to cadge his next fare and actually gets out of the car to begin unloading, I pitch in and help and give him a small tip (tips are rare with taxi drivers because there are no metres and the fares are always flat rates).

We wait around for ninety minutes until the Reina del Camino (Queen of the Road) ejecutivo-class bus pulls up to the platform on the second floor of the brand new Terminal building. We pull out at 1450, i.e., some twenty minutes late targeted to arrive in Bahía de Caráquez at 2000. We’ll see. This is the first time we have had shotgun seats behind the driver, i.e., where we can watch the road ahead. Passengers are as a rule kept separated from the driver and his helper by a glass wall that is also usually blackout with curtains. Being able to watch the road ahead allows you to read the road-signs so you have a rough idea of where you are. On the other hand, looking forward in an Ecuadorian long-distance bus becomes a mixed blessing when the driver is overtaking long, freight-hauling lorries or disabled country trucks piled high plantains and just barely off the narrow, winding highway. The highway network in this country is quite undeveloped. They are working on it now that the economy is improving somewhat. But so far the only improvements seem to be around the cities where palm-lined, multi-lane roads exist. Bahía is reached after 5½ hours of slow, winding and often rutted and pitted roads. But I have to admit that we do arrive right at 2000 and find a taxi to take us (and our bags) to Hostal Coco Bongo, which is owned and run by our Australian friend, Suzie. You can visit her yourself at www.cocobongohostal.com/ .

Catching up

Since until we locate Washington (“Wacho”) we have no dinghy to get back out to Vilisar; he has had at his place for repainting and fibreglass repairs, we enjoy a good Saturday-nights sleep and a slow start on Sunday. This gives us time to chat with Suzie and get the latest gossip, wander up the river bank to take a look at Vilisar anchored out in the estuary. Because of the bridge-building construction activities, Vilisar was moved in our absence and re-anchored quite a way farther upriver and therefore farther away from the dinghy-docking facility at Puerto Amistad. In fact, we are now closer to the neighbouring village of Leonidas Plaza and need to row about a mile to land. Hmmm! I expect my shoulders will get fit again! But it’s a long way if you have to battle the currents.

Who says that nothing ever happens in Bahía? All the other personal gossip pales by comparison to the story that Suzie told us. We were struck silent by this story. Across the river in San Vincente and therefore, I suppose, not technically part of Bahía de Caráquez itself, two men robbed and shot dead a local shopkeeper who was on the way to the bank with a sum of money. The bandits took off but were overtaken by locals who were so incensed that they tied the two men, one of them for certain a Columbian, behind a moto-taxi or- taxis (a three-wheeled motor-cycle used as local taxis) and dragged them back to the main square. There, dead or alive, they were doused with kerosene and set ablaze. Anyone who tried to stop this lynching was threatened with similar consequences. The two bodies were burned beyond identification. The police decided not to intervene. Who says nothing ever happens in Bahia?

Last year there were labour disputes between the Pedi cab operators and the newly introduced moto-taxis, the latter taking business away from the former. Nerves wore thin and there were pitched battles in the street. Riot police were called in from nearby Manta to suppress the violence. Dressed in brand-new-looking blue combat clothing and riding in German or Brazilian-built armoured vehicles, they were a presence around town for a few weeks. During one of the confrontations with police, a triciclero was shot dead. In retribution, rioters burned the Municipio (town hall) with all its documentation and files. Again this took place in San Vincente so maybe those guys have a lower blood-boiling temperature. But still, who says nothing ever happens in Bahía?

Trouble in paradise

There has been a lot of gossip about Puerto Amistad in the online chat groups, about various turf battles that have plagued this otherwise peaceful little spot (did I say peaceful? Viz above.) Some people have been declared person non grata at Puerto Amistad and there are various resentments floating around. At one point only a year or so ago, you could easily enter Bahía by boat, check in with the Port Captain and anchor anywhere you liked. Last year the Admirante de Costa (Admiral of the Coast, however, decided to enforce an old rule that all foreign-flagged ships need to have an agent to enter or leave each and every Ecuadorian harbour. This rule had in the past been ignored for yachts and why it should suddenly become a prerequisite is a puzzle since the wording of the law specifically applies to commercial vessels. An agent was costing yachties between $150 and $200 for a round trip into and out of a harbour so cruising from one harbour to another became prohibitively expensive. Other rules suddenly applied to cruisers cut them off from replenishing fuel when they arrived in Ecuador. After a lot of hassle, the marina operators were finally authorised/permitted to act as agents to clear foreign yachts in and out.



The agent in Bahía de Caráquez was/is Tripp Martin, owner/operator of Puerto Amistad. At first he cleared everybody in or out including those who were either headed up the river to Sayananda, a small, cheaper and rather remote anchorage several miles out of town, or to the local Club de Yate. This was a reasonable attitude since Sayananda’s days as an anchorage are in any case limited: once the new bridge is completed next year cruising sailboats will not be able to pass under it (strangely, the bridge is being constructed with no swing or lift element, so the whole upper estuary will be cut off from any future marine-related economic development). The Club de Yate is a local joke since they have no sailing members and the club is used basically as an events place. The disco din there on the weekends is loud enough to lift the paint from your hull if you are anchored or docked anywhere near.

At some point however, Puerto Amistad decided no longer to clear in boaters who were not planning to stay at the marina. And then suddenly the Port Captain ruled that boats would no longer be allowed to travel up to Sayananda at all. This caused a hue and cry by cruisers who had arrived in Bahia with reservations at Sayananda and the online cruiser chat groups got to be pretty hot reading for a while. Frustrations led to angry charges and counter-charges, name-calling, even to bannings from Puerto Amistad and a cooling of relationships and bad vibes all round. Too bad! Not as bad as a lynching of course, but again, who says nothing ever happens in Bahía?

Back on board

The good news is that we are finally back on board. Everything is pretty grungy after so many months and, tired after the long trip back and months of lethargy, we were initially depressed at the work ahead of us. But, we pitched in, started cleaning and then moving our 300 pounds of baggage aboard. Bilge water had risen to just under the cabin sole and the batteries, for some strange reasons, were totally dead. We fetched Wacho, who took the starting battery ashore to be given a quick charge. Then we ran the engine for four or five hours to charge the house batteries. By the next morning however, the house batteries had discharged again, so I guess we are going to have to buy new ones. Add these costs to the new mattresses we want, the ever-more-expensive paint we will need next month to go on the grid for bottom painting. But, are we downhearted? Never!

Wow! A lynching! Can't get over it.