|
Log #41i Manamo
River Exploration
Tyrrel Bay, Cariacou, Grenada Nov. 19, 2006
Hi Folks,
We have made our final departure, for this year, from Grenada, and are working
our way up the islands to arrive in Antigua the first week of December. We will
be back next spring to Grenada to wait out the hurricane season, as it is our
favourite island in the sun. I caught a lovely 12 lb tuna on our way up here
today. Mmm
We heard some unfortunate news about Tyrrel Bay where we are presently anchored.
In the past two weeks there have been two thefts of dinghies and dinghy
outboards. We have Wave Dancer hoisted on the Dinghy Tow to discourage any
would-be thieves.
We both are fine and Veleda is in good condition.
All the best,
Aubrey
Manamo River Exploration
We were initially uncertain as to the security in these regions, and so did not
want to anchor for the night in sight of any villages or habitations. However,
these concerns were dispelled as the days passed by. Each night we would anchor
along the side of the river, lazily swinging upstream or down as the tide moved
us. A few times we anchored at the junction of side tributaries, to explore up
the side streams next day in our dinghies. These excursions were a highlight of
the trip. Several times we motored miles up small streams, beneath overhanging
mangroves and palm trees, then turned off the outboards and drifted back down
with the lazy current, drinking in the quiet grandeur of the dense foliage and
the overhanging trees arched across the stream, the sparkling waters reflecting
the occasional shaft of sunlight able to pierce the canopy overhead.
Periodically the stillness would be disturbed by the shrill call of parrots or
other birds. Sometimes our vision could penetrate through the trees to reveal
100 yards into the dense primaeval jungle, with moss covered boughs and vines
straggling between the trees. They reminded me of early Tarzan movies with
Johnny Wiesmuller swinging through the trees giving his jungle calls.
The muddy root-entangled banks were not inviting and we did not wish to land as
we drifted back downstream. The flies and mosquitoes were not bad, although we
prepared ourselves with insect repellant sprays, and few times with long pants
and long sleeved shirts. Other than birds we didn’t see much animal life, except
for occasional howler monkeys and caymans (similar to small alligators).
Sometimes at night we could hear the loud intimidating deep-throated growls and
howls of the monkeys. At other times the night was so fantastically still that
we could hear the almost inaudible ripple of the slow current washing down the
sides of the boat or whispering past the dinghy tied alongside. No lights were
visible most nights as we were away from any habitations. The stars were
fantastic
On one tributary we went up, we lost Bob on Good Time Charlie. Turning around
(three point turns on a narrow tributary are tricky, not only from the
possibility of grounding, but the hazard of tangling our VHF antenna and our
wind speed instruments in the overhanging tree tops), we found him at the
entrance, his boat tangled up in a rope strung across the tributary opening that
we had somehow managed to miss. We were able to get past him into the larger
river, and manoeuvered around to see if we could help. The rope he was tangled
in was part of a half-submerged boom, a couple of palm logs linked together. We
anchored in the river and launched Wave Dancer to see if we could help. No go.
Bob went in the water to cut his prop free. This was the first (and only) time
any of us entered the muddy river waters. He commented the water was warm and
not salty, but he couldn’t see a thing under water. After 15 minutes or so with
Good Time Charlie drifting into the bank, he got himself free, and anchored
downstream from us, where we stayed for the night. Shortly after, while we had
him aboard for drinks, we saw some movement in the water by the junction; a
couple of caymans were surfacing not far from where Bob had been swimming 15
minutes ago. Good thing they didn’t show up until he was out of the water.
We also saw more water life at this junction, when a couple of river dolphins
swam nearby for a few minutes. They didn’t hang around and did not break the
surface in gallant leaps as sea dolphins do; but it was our first and only
sighting of these mammals.
We went upstream to two lodges, Mis Palofito and Orinoco Delta Lodge. Mis
Palofito was up a side channel, with no other habitation around. The cabins were
on pilings, as were the walkways between the cabins and the main lodge, a few
feet above the muddy tidal banks. Several tame birds were in evidence, among
them a guan, parrots, macaws, and toucans; as well as a baby capibara which they
had raised from infancy. No tourists were in residence at the time, and so we
were unable to take any jungle walk or river trip for bird watching. (Talk about
a busman’s holiday ) The manager, Maria, was quite a friendly lady, and showed
us the wooden mosquito netted cabins, which had electricity, running water,
showers and flush toilets, with pleasant views over the river. Unfortunately we
were at anchor on the opposite bank, and when trying to leave that afternoon, we
grounded three times as we tried to head back towards the main river. We got off
OK each time by my manouevering the dinghy to push the bow around 180 degrees
from the direction of impact. It was soft mud and there was no problem freeing
ourselves from it.
In the main river again we went further up to anchor above Orinoco Delta Lodge,
a larger more expensive resort, but again we were unable to arrange a jungle
walk. However Judy went on a bird watching river trip while Bob and I went up to
explore a side channel on our own, as well as having a dinner ashore at the
lodge. This was our furthest upstream; beyond here travel is restricted by
overhead wires. However we were over 60 miles upstream, and had spent seven days
so far in this isolated, magnificent, primitive, delta area. It was time to head
back, as we did not want to risk running out of fuel, since none would be
available until Pedernales, if there, and we had to cross the Gulf of Paria back
to Chaguaramus, another 60 miles. This was the furthest south we have been so
far (09 22.45N, 062 27.68W).
There were a few villages at this mini delta where Orinoco Delta lodge is
located. The lodge sponsors a small school across the river for the local
children. We made a donation of a couple of dozen notebooks and pens for this
effort. Others coming down here would be encouraged to bring school supplies for
this worthwhile endeavour.
In this fresh but muddy river, we saw more and more water hyacinths, singly, in
small clusters, and in large flotillas, blocking off the entire river at certain
stages of the tide. When Bob and I went up a side river three miles beyond the
lodge it was totally clogged. We then dinghied up the main river into another
side stream to meander and explore a few miles more. Fantastic It was one of
those highs, motoring around each bend wondering what new vistas we would see.
Flocks of green parrots rapidly flapping their wings, scarlet ibis, snow white
egrets, and the occasional toucan were soaring above the palm trees, returning
to their nesting areas for the night. Clouds pink with the sunset could be seen
above the tree line as we drifted back down to the main river.
I planned to motor back to Orinoco Delta Lodge to pick Judy up after her bird
watching trip, but we (Bob and I) had difficulty navigating the river as the
hyacinths were blocking major sections. When I finally got back to Veleda, by
sunset, the river down to the lodge was totally impassable with the rafts of
hyacinths. Fortunately Judy’s river boat brought her to Veleda, plowing and
churning through the green rafts of foliage.
Our passage downstream towards Pedernales was faster, taking us only three days.
We did explore up one smaller river, marked on our chartlet with a dotted line
and a question mark as to whether it would go across to link up to the
Pedernales River. The river seemed OK and we anchored for our second last night
at a junction in this smaller river, planning to follow it next day out to the
Pedernales. In the morning we took the dinghies up it to ascertain if the
passage was feasible. It was only a couple of miles until we emerged into the
larger Pedernales River, and we judged it passable with the yachts. However,
there was one tree fallen across half the stream which would have made getting
around it tricky. I had brought along a machete, and Bob set to work hacking the
offending branch off. We returned to our boats still at anchor at the lower
junction, and set off, Veleda leading.
Judy was up on the side deck watching out for overhanging branches, and guiding
me away from these aerial hazards. We had checked depths with the dinghies and
knew we had 25 to 35 feet of water, so the overhanging trees were our major
concern. We made it with no mishaps; two windy miles of narrow forest fringed
river, a nervous 40 minute passage, and we emerged with great relief, into the
larger Pedernales River.
Rather than heading straight for Pedernales we went a couple of miles up the
Cano Angosto, another large river that emptied into the Pedernales, and anchored
for our last night in the Orinoco Delta. Next day we stayed at anchor until
mid-afternoon, and explored a bit in the dinghies, waiting for the tide to start
ebbing, giving us a valuable assist in motoring the six miles down to Pedernales.
After checking out with the River Police Station we finally departed at 1720 for
an overnight 64 mile passage, to arrive in Chaguaramus during office hours at
Customs and Immigration so we wouldn’t have to pay overtime charges, and with
the ebb tide helping us across the delta shallows. It was a most interesting 10
day excursion.
Next log |
