Rio Dulce River

by Beth Tally

TAKE A RIDE ON THE RIO

click photo

On the eastern sliver of Guatemala that touches the northwest Caribbean in the Bay of Honduras sits the town of Livingston.  A small but bustling community accessible only by boat, it’s not a major port.  That designation rests with Puerto Barrios a little further south. It nonetheless plays a very important role in the lives of cruisers – those wandering gypsies who traverse the waters of the world in their sailboats and motor vessels.

The mouth of the Rio Dulce (Sweet River) flows into the Caribbean at Livingston.  Its deep emerald stream of fresh water rushes head on into the azure and salinity of the sea creating a hybrid basin rife with starfish and sand dollars.  Every summer, hundreds of cruisers check into Guatemala here and make the trek to the hurricane-safe environment the river provides. 

Few things are more stunning than a trip up the river from Livingston.  Within only a few miles of the flat, placid landscape of the Caribbean, walls of limestone 500 feet tall flank the gorge whittled away by the water’s flow over millions of years.  Somehow trees have taken root on the rocky cliffs with first one and then the other reaching higher and higher to gain the light of the sun.  Thick vines plummet in the opposite direction to the water.  On every other tree branch, huge bromeliads spring outward.  White herons dot the deep green veneer as they bob lazily on limbs several stories high.  One gets the impression that the overall architecture could be precarious, that the weight of an over-fed pelican landing on the wrong spot might bring everything crashing down.  It is breathtaking, mystifying and inviting.

Almost imperceptibly against the dramatic backdrop, fishermen quietly huddle in their Cayucos (dugout canoes), many of them tucked under the bottom canopy of overhanging branches.  They lower and raise hand fishing lines connected to something that will float, a piece of Styrofoam or a plastic bottle.  Patiently they wait in the hopes of catching a perch or better yet a Robalo.  There are men in most of the Cayucos, but woman join them and even children huddle in the shallow boats without any fear or hesitation.  They are serious about their work.  Their countenance is overwhelming indigenous, the dark raven hair and warm cocoa skin of the Mayan heritage.  When passed by a cruising boat, they are hesitant to openly gesture or gawk.  But, upon a smile and a wave in their direction, they respond in kind.

Once through the gorge, the rock ledges give way to softer banks and beaches.  The first dwellings appear as mostly small thatch-roofed pillapas on stilts high enough to keep the wooden floors above the river’s rise during the rainy season.  Brightly colored laundry hangs on lines between trees.  Children and animals of all sorts mill around.  Smoke rising out from the back indicates that the woman of the house is busily preparing food for later in the day.  Cayucos resting on the shore are the main means of transportation for going to market, work, school or church.  There are thousands of such homes up every little creek and tributary of the Rio. 

Further up, after the Rio opens into a small lake known as the Golfete and then connects it with the larger Lake Isabel, a whole opposite world appears.  Overtaking the landscape are the elegant vacation complexes of some of Guatemala’s wealthiest families.

Beautifully landscaped yards connect large main houses with smaller guest cottages.  Barrels tied together and floating in the water indicate private swimming areas.  Three-story tall boathouses cover the flying bridges of fishing yachts.  Some estates are known to have a helicopter pad.  A holiday on the Rio finds seadoos and ski boats overwhelming the normal, quiet day-to-day activities of the natives.

It is very interesting to observe these diverse usages of the Rio Dulce.  To the rich, the river is a plaything, a place of enjoyment and recreation for the most modern of toys.  To the poor, the river is their very lifeblood providing subsistence with the tools and techniques used for centuries.  The contrast becomes as extraordinary as the geological difference between the gorges of the river and the flatness of the Caribbean. 

This dichotomy is universal in third world countries where there is basically no middle-class buffer between the haves and have- nots.  But, for all of this disparity, the Rio offers a common hospitality to the annual fleet of cruisers.  It absorbs them into the daily routines of everyone who uses the river.  The name says it all – “Sweet River.”