Will and his uncle will drive us the 3.5hrs to Rio Dulce in 2 minibuses and it is noticeable that we divide naturally into ‘couples’ and ‘singles’. We decide to get the party started with a few beers and games to while away the hours as we drive through the beautiful Guatemalan countryside. The volcanic mountains are impressive and the fields as green and lush as any at home. Horses and cows are left to graze at the side of the road and we are grateful for the skill of our driver dodging oncoming traffic as we wind our way through the mountains and valleys.
By lunchtime we have arrived at Rio Dulce and there’s just time for a quick bite to eat before the hotel lancha will pick us up. We trundle along the narrow boardwalk to wait as a dark cloud looms in the distance. Ernie looks up and decides there is little time to be wasted before the storm hits, so he heads off up the road to the main water taxi terminal with us scurrying behind. 50m from the covered area the heavens open and by the time I reach it I am completely drenched. We are treated to a half hour lightening and torrential rain show, with the local children taking the opportunity to dive from the river bank into the choppy waters, before the skies clear and we can board our launch to the hotel.
Ernie has already forewarned us that all the single ladies will have to share accommodation at this hotel and so we are ready for the rustic wooden shack on stilts by the water’s edge that greets us on arrival at Hotel Tortugal. Encumbered with our backpacks we follow the manager down the narrow boardwalk, past all the luxurious yachts and motor boats, famously moored here to avoid the Caribbean tropical storm season and dodging overhead mangrove branches to what seems like the end of the world. As he opens the door to our cabin on stilts we squeal in delight. Our ‘cabin’ has 5 bedrooms on 2 floors and 2 bathrooms. It sits on stilts, shaded by mangroves with no external walls, only mosquito netting between us and the jungle or river. There is a large lounge area and an external dining area. Beyond it, the boardwalk leads to a private sundeck overlooking the river. It’s love at first sight.
Next morning, the sun blinking through the leaves wakes me up to my view of the river. Today we are to take a motor launch down river to the town of Livingston, a Garifuna town unconnected by road from the rest of the country. It’s a long journey across the lake and down river but along the way we spot indigenous shanty homes on stilts alongside luxurious residences (American tourists or maybe local drug barons?), with dugout canoes alongside luxury yachts and motor launches. On the way, we pull over into a small jetty where we can go and see community handicrafts being made. Lots of coconut shell earrings but some interesting embroidered blouses and traditionally woven bags. Further along, there is a wide gorge with local fishermen in their dugout canoes fishing in the shade of the towering cliffs
Livingston itself, turns out to be somewhat of a disappointment. Lots of tourist shops selling locally produced handicrafts and their Chinese imitations, often side by side in the same shop. We stop at a stall to purchase a sample of the local moonshine, known as garifiti (or graffiti to me). Famous for its medicinal properties, combining local rum and a selection of herbs and spices, this liquor is said to cure all ills and either make you laugh hysterically or sob inconsolably. We decide to defer our initiation until later in the day.
The wait at the restaurant is worth it for the delicious seafood soup which is a meal to last the whole day filled with fresh local prawns, a whole crab and other local fish. Then it’s back in the boat for the return journey to our luxury residence. On the way back, we stop off at the Aguas Calientes or Hot Springs. No big touristic, commercial venture here. Just low underwater, wall of rocks, separating a 10m pool from the rest of the river with some old wooden steps in and out from the jetty. A bar at the end means we can enjoy some liquid refreshment whilst partaking of the waters. Gingerly , I slide down the slippery steps into the water. Ouch. It’s scalding hot. I swirl the water mixing the scalding hot with the not quite so hot. There is no ‘cool’ tap here. The faint whiff of sulphur hangs in the air and we sip our beers as the fish provide a free pedicure, occasionally nipping or ankles by mistake. It’s very relaxing and it seems far too soon we are back in our boat home. By the time we are back, plans for a night out on the town in Rio Dulce, have been modified to a Girls Night In. No-one wants to leave the next day.
By lunchtime we have arrived at Rio Dulce and there’s just time for a quick bite to eat before the hotel lancha will pick us up. We trundle along the narrow boardwalk to wait as a dark cloud looms in the distance. Ernie looks up and decides there is little time to be wasted before the storm hits, so he heads off up the road to the main water taxi terminal with us scurrying behind. 50m from the covered area the heavens open and by the time I reach it I am completely drenched. We are treated to a half hour lightening and torrential rain show, with the local children taking the opportunity to dive from the river bank into the choppy waters, before the skies clear and we can board our launch to the hotel.
Ernie has already forewarned us that all the single ladies will have to share accommodation at this hotel and so we are ready for the rustic wooden shack on stilts by the water’s edge that greets us on arrival at Hotel Tortugal. Encumbered with our backpacks we follow the manager down the narrow boardwalk, past all the luxurious yachts and motor boats, famously moored here to avoid the Caribbean tropical storm season and dodging overhead mangrove branches to what seems like the end of the world. As he opens the door to our cabin on stilts we squeal in delight. Our ‘cabin’ has 5 bedrooms on 2 floors and 2 bathrooms. It sits on stilts, shaded by mangroves with no external walls, only mosquito netting between us and the jungle or river. There is a large lounge area and an external dining area. Beyond it, the boardwalk leads to a private sundeck overlooking the river. It’s love at first sight.
Next morning, the sun blinking through the leaves wakes me up to my view of the river. Today we are to take a motor launch down river to the town of Livingston, a Garifuna town unconnected by road from the rest of the country. It’s a long journey across the lake and down river but along the way we spot indigenous shanty homes on stilts alongside luxurious residences (American tourists or maybe local drug barons?), with dugout canoes alongside luxury yachts and motor launches. On the way, we pull over into a small jetty where we can go and see community handicrafts being made. Lots of coconut shell earrings but some interesting embroidered blouses and traditionally woven bags. Further along, there is a wide gorge with local fishermen in their dugout canoes fishing in the shade of the towering cliffs
Livingston itself, turns out to be somewhat of a disappointment. Lots of tourist shops selling locally produced handicrafts and their Chinese imitations, often side by side in the same shop. We stop at a stall to purchase a sample of the local moonshine, known as garifiti (or graffiti to me). Famous for its medicinal properties, combining local rum and a selection of herbs and spices, this liquor is said to cure all ills and either make you laugh hysterically or sob inconsolably. We decide to defer our initiation until later in the day.
The wait at the restaurant is worth it for the delicious seafood soup which is a meal to last the whole day filled with fresh local prawns, a whole crab and other local fish. Then it’s back in the boat for the return journey to our luxury residence. On the way back, we stop off at the Aguas Calientes or Hot Springs. No big touristic, commercial venture here. Just low underwater, wall of rocks, separating a 10m pool from the rest of the river with some old wooden steps in and out from the jetty. A bar at the end means we can enjoy some liquid refreshment whilst partaking of the waters. Gingerly , I slide down the slippery steps into the water. Ouch. It’s scalding hot. I swirl the water mixing the scalding hot with the not quite so hot. There is no ‘cool’ tap here. The faint whiff of sulphur hangs in the air and we sip our beers as the fish provide a free pedicure, occasionally nipping or ankles by mistake. It’s very relaxing and it seems far too soon we are back in our boat home. By the time we are back, plans for a night out on the town in Rio Dulce, have been modified to a Girls Night In. No-one wants to leave the next day.
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