April 16, 2007
Postscript
August 24, 2006
Tips
August 10, 2006
Differences
July 27, 2006
Easy to Please
July 13, 2006
Silence is Golden
June 29
Lots of Locks
June 15, 2006
Cross-Vesselers
June 1, 2006
Remembering
May 19, 2006
The Perfect Boat
May 4, 2006
In the Eye of the Beholder
April 20, 2006
Making Mistakes
April 6, 2006
Doris Does George Town
March 23, 2006
Getting Organized
March 9, 2006
Bridge Over troubled Waters
February 23, 2006
Birthdays on Board
February 9, 2006
Wild Horses & Wooden Ships
January 26, 2006
Packaging Paradise
January 12, 2006
Bored Games
Click
here for 2005, 2004, 2003, 2002 & 2001 Logs
|
|
Hootenanny at Hole in the Wall
January 27, 2005

Bob's Hole In The Wall bar is one of Jonesville's major attractions
"Little Gidding! Here's Victoria. I can't believe you guys are
back. And just in time -- we're having a hootenanny next week!"
The voice on the radio belonged to our old cruising friend Dave Waltz
on "Victoria", whom we hadn't seen in seven years. We were approaching
our landfall in the Bay Islands of Honduras and had just checked in with
the northwestern Caribbean SSB radio net. Dave and his partner Donna are
two of the volunteer net controllers. A lot of cruisers in this part of
the world tune in the net each morning just to hear Dave's detailed weather
reports; he also maintains a very informative web site for cruisers at
www.nwcaribbean.net.
"Uh, sure, sounds great, Dave," David replied. "Why don't
we call you back after we get settled?" David's lack of enthusiasm
had nothing to do with a lack of interest in Dave and Donna or a lack
of interest in hootenannies for that matter. It had more to do with a
lack of sleep and the fact that we had been drifting along the south coast
of Roatan Island since midnight, waiting for daylight before entering
the pass into French Harbour. Just after Eileen had started the engine
to make our final approach, the alternator belt had shredded itself for
no particular reason. David had replaced the belt and was now trying to
locate a non-existent reef marker. He hung up the radio mic and picked
up the binoculars. "I don't see the green buoy that's supposed to
mark the outer end of the channel, but I see a red buoy. I guess they've
switched things around since we were last here. Either that or that buoy
is attached to a fish trap and we're about to go up on the reef."
We left the buoy to starboard and didn't go up on the reef. We followed
the channel northward towards shore; after a quarter of a mile we passed
a rusty iron stake which we hoped marked the inner end of the channel,
and took a sharp right into the anchorage behind Big and Little French
cays. "Hey, we didn't run aground and no one died," David said.
"I guess we can consider that passage to be a success."
Eileen has higher standards. "I'd feel more positive if I had an
article or two of clothing that weren't soaked in salt water," she
said.
Eileen has this thing about salt water. She figures it belongs on the
outside of the boat. She doesn't mind getting wet as long as she chooses
the time and place for her immersion, like when she's wearing a bathing
suit and diving off the side of the boat at anchor. She prefers not to
get immersed when she's huddled in the cockpit at night wearing her last
pair of dry sweat pants. Unfortunately, in the four days it took us to
sail from Cuba to Roatan, there were a few rude waves that didn't respect
Eileen's wishes.

Abogado the parrot surveys the bar scene from his perch
Even with a fortuitously timed rain shower, it took a while to get the
boat, our clothes, and ourselves cleaned up and desalted. We didn't get
back to Dave until the morning after our arrival. "Donna and I have
a house overlooking Calabash Bight now," he told us over the radio.
"A bunch of us are getting together to play music next weekend at
the Hole In The Wall bar in Jonesville. It's about midway between French
Harbour and Calabash; why don't you meet us there?"
Somehow it seemed appropriate that we should celebrate our reunion with
some music making. We met Dave and Donna on our first visit to the Bay
Islands in the winter of 1997. Dave plays a mean banjo and harmonica;
Donna plays the guitar and has a wonderful soprano voice. Eileen remembers
strumming along with them in a string of anchorages from Roatan to the
Rio Dulce in Guatemala. After the 1997 hurricane season, "Little
Gidding" headed north; "Victoria" headed back to the Bay
Islands, where Dave and Donna have been based ever since.
Last Saturday we took the boat to Bodden Bight, where Jonesville is located.
The community is typical of the settlements that line the coasts of Guanaja,
Roatan and Utila, the principal islands in the Bay of Honduras. The houses
are built over the water on pilings. Access within the community and transportation
to neighbouring settlements is primarily by boat. We anchored near the
head of the bay, a few hundred yards from the venerable Hole In The Wall
bar; it was mid-afternoon. As we dinghied up to the dock that was next
to the bar, we noticed a hand-painted sign pointing down into the water:
"Jim Dandy Memorial Underwater Park".
A large red and blue parrot was guarding the entrance to the bar and
squawked loudly as we climbed the stairs. The bar was basically a covered
deck on stilts above the water. There was a cramped counter and six or
eight tables around which a couple of dozen people sat. We ducked the
parrot and were greeted by a big man with a white beard who identified
himself as Bob. We had heard of Bob. He owns the Hole In The Wall and
enjoys legendary status among serious bar patrons throughout the northwestern
Caribbean. "What's your parrot called?" David asked.
"Abogado," Bob said. Abogado is Spanish for lawyer.
"That's an odd name," David said.
Bob shrugged. "He named himself. When we first got him, everything
he said sounded like 'abogado', so we figured we might as well call him
that."
"Who is Jim Dandy?" David continued, pointing at the sign on
the dock.
"Jim Dandy is the 38 foot trimaran that I lived on for twelve years.
Sailed her from California to here in 1990. I built this place around
eight years ago and kept the boat at the dock. One day, another boat came
alongside and hit her and she slowly began to take on water. Eventually,
she sunk." Another shrug. "Now she's a reef."

Todd ("Snow Day"), Eileen ("Little Gidding") and David ("Expectations") provide guitar back up for Donna ("Victoria") on vocals
Just as we were learning Bob's story, Dave and Donna arrived with a bunch
of music equipment. This was the signal for various people to put down
their drinks and get out instruments. There was a flurry of introductions
before everyone got down to the serious business of having fun. Todd and
Susan had taken the ferry over from La Ceiba on the mainland. Their boat
"Snow Day" was in the shipyard there undergoing some upgrades.
Todd used to play lead guitar in a number of bands in the States. Susan
had a pair of bongos. David (another David) on "Expectations"
had come across with Todd and Susan, bringing another guitar. Alex was
a cruiser who had recently bought a place in Calabash. He used to be a
professional bass player. Dave had his banjo and five or six harmonicas.
Donna and Eileen pulled out their guitars.
For the next six hours, the Hole In The Wall reverberated with tunes
ranging from old pop to blues to country to folk. There were original
solos and singalongs, instrumentals and vocal harmonies. Nobody seemed
to mind if some notes were missed or a word or two forgotten. The bongos
got passed around. The audience clapped rhythm. David demonstrated how
to do the Anchoring Dance. Abogado squawked. The bar mutt yelped.
It was a thirsty crowd. At roughly a buck a beer, David felt he should
thoroughly research what Honduran breweries were capable of producing.
As it got dark, food appeared. Laura on "Soularity" had organized
a potluck dinner. She produced a seemingly endless stream of pizzas from
the small kitchen behind the counter. David uncovered the quiche he had
made. Several salads and desserts materialized.

Behind the counter, Melissa serves drinks and Laura ("Soularity") prepares pizza
Around nine o'clock the musicians began to fade. Pizza production slowed
to a halt since everyone was stuffed. Dave took the mic and announced
that Bob had decided all the drinks were on the house. Everyone cheered.
Free food and grog, lively music, good friends. Life doesn't get much
better. So what if the price of admission is a salty seven hundred mile
ride?
Cheers,
David & Eileen
|