Lost, Cayos Cochinos, Honduras

May 25 - May 27, 2008
Honduras: A Tiny Island in the Cayos Cochinos, Roatan Bay Island

After the madness of the La Ceiba Festival, a visit to the Cayos Cochinos Islands off the coast of Honduras was the perfect answer... click to see the satellite map. Leaving early in the morning with only a couple hours of sleep, we caught a chicken bus to a Garifuna village where we were to meet someone with a boat that would take us to the small secluded islands. The boat wasn't exactly as I had expected, and safety standards certainly weren't part of the Garifuna vocabulary. Somehow the small wooden boat managed to stay afloat with all our gear as we motored (term used loosely) through the bayou and out into the waves of the Caribbean without a life-preserver in sight. We bobbed and splashed slowly through the salty air until barely visible palm trees began to appear on the horizon, eventually revealing the low-lying white sand beaches they were perched upon.

Our little piece of paradise was simply a spit of sand, several palm trees, and a spattering of cabins that could be walked around in mere minutes while still taking time to enjoy the views. The island was free of annoying sand flies, and more importantly free of annoying tourists. There was nothing to do except for read a book, lay in the white sands of the shallow blue waters, watch as swarms of fish sped by in chaotic patterns both in and out of the water, or simply watch the sunset cascade across the thunderclouds hanging over the mainland.

I caught myself wondering if I were living in an episode of Lost... I got the feeling that strange things might happen on this tiny piece of paradise. This island was promised to be free of electricity, but recently the locals had installed a solar panel to charge some car batteries that were used for powering a few lightbulbs, and they also recently acquired a small generator which was used to run the only television on the island that sadly entranced the whole younger generation. One evening, in exchange for a bottle of rum and a few Lempira, some of the locals came over with their hand drums and began to dance punta-style. As one bottle of rum quickly turned into two, there was a relatively sudden change in the vibe... A fist-flying skirmish opened up between a few of the locals, and eventually a machete was produced as the drunk perpetrator fiercely slashed and scrambled around merely a few feet from me. My episode of Lost was being revealed, so I sat back and (relatively) calmly watched the show... I spent the rest of the evening by the dark shoreline watching the waves crash into the night sand in bioluminescent flashes while the unpolluted constellations slowly carved curves across the sky.

Departing the island at 4 the next morning, we boarded the same patchwork wooden boat and watched as the sunrise slowly opened up the darkness into a spectacular display along the clouded horizon. Approaching the mainland Garifuna village, the water was too low to motor in, so we had to wade through the bayou and mud with our packs high on our shoulders. After another chicken bus to La Ceiba, I boarded a ferry to the more expensive and touristed Roatan Island, famous for its diving. I spent an afternoon snorkling from the beach outside my hotel and jogging along the shoreline to the much more expensive area on the island.

On my first and only evening on the island, I finally had a face-to-face realization of the popular Central American reference Gringo. As I sat at the beach bar evesdropping into conversations and generally just watching people, I was stunned by the incredibly immature and pathetic pickup lines that were being used on the few attractive women hanging around. I slowly realized that the island had been bombarded by the american navy on shore leave, with their prostitutes not far behind. The island became a haven for drunk, ignorant, and immature sex-starved boys, having spent too much time solely in the company of other men... The term Gringo, as explained to me, is reserved strictly for americans (although generally applied to most white people), and originated from the military occupations by the americans... the term began as Green Go (as in green uniforms, go out of here) and morphed into the common term Gringo. If you want to spoil a beautiful place, invite the military boys!

I wasn´t going to spend two evenings in such disrupting company, so I decided to leave on the next boat. It was unfortunate because I wasn't able to arrange a morning dive that allowed me to catch the once-a-day ferry back to the mainland. I settled for a relaxing morning walk and read my book on the beach before stopping over in La Ceiba and then returning to Guatemala City.

Cayos Cuchinos, Honduras. The tiny wooden boats that took us from the mainland.


Cayos Cuchinos, Honduras. Fishing boats and the small grass huts where the few locals live. This single photo shows about a quarter of the whole island!!!


Cayos Cuchinos, Honduras.


Cayos Cuchinos, Honduras.


Cayos Cuchinos, Honduras.


Roatan, Bay Islands, Honduras.