Heading to Hurakabra on the Essequibo

Via an introduction from an old cruising friend (thanks, Jack!), Kit and Gem Nascimento had e-mailed us and invited us to anchor off their Hurakabra (Her-rah-KAH-bra) River Resort and avail ourselves of the amenities … showers, internet, a place to hang out on land and more. We planned to take advantage of their generous offer. We departed the Grass Islands at first light near the end of the rising tide affording us lots of water for the transit back to Bartica and then downriver a few miles. Mist rose off the river and mingled with the smoke of morning cook fires ashore.

By the time we'd wended our way across the river, the sun was up and Bartica was coming alive. We'd met some of the Close family on the American yacht, Daystar, and wished we could spend more time with them, but they were heading out. They're a family of four in their third year of sailing on a 43' Mason ketch with a website cleverly entitled Close Quarters. We hailed on the VHF to say goodbye, chatted for a moment, then signed off.

Another boat was anchored off Bartica as well, but we hadn't seen the name. The radio crackled again, hailing us. One of the miracles of cruising, it was Barry and Sue on Crazy Diamond, cruising friends whom we hadn't seen since New Zealand. They'd just arrived from Brazil and needed to clear in. We made plans to get together at Hurakabra in the coming days. Big world … small world.

There were two routes to Hurakabra shown in the cruising guide. One was about 13 nm and required us to go downriver a few miles, cross the river via a channel, then come back upriver again. The second route was a bit more sketchy. It was only 3 miles from Bartica, but mentioned that the route passed over a shoal area that provided about 7' at mean high. Since we draw 7'2”, we were a bit leery about this route. David mulled it over a bit and using the known offset on the chartplotter, plotted us a different route past Calf Island, then connecting with the deeper, more northern route a bit further downstream. A total distance of 6 nm with much more water under the keel. Though it worked like a charm, the many unknowns and unplotted hazards of this river along with missing navigational aids had us motoring slowly and carefully.

Motoring along the west side of the Essequibo now, we passed houses on stilts ashore with colorful boats moored in front.

The distinctive green roof of Hurakabra came into view and the place looked positively inviting. A long pier extends out into the river with a floating dinghy dock. Tall palms and bamboo are interspersed with tall deciduous trees. We could hear birds singing and someone waved from the shore.

The river really rages during peak tides here. The anchor dug in well and we let out extra scope. After a couple of hours, feeling confident that we were holding, we headed into shore. Mike, the caretaker, greeted us warmly and provided information about Hurakabra as we walked. He took us to the main house for a cool glass of lemonade and a warm welcome from the rest of the staff. The “plantation house” is spacious with shuttered, screened windows and a large overhang covering the veranda which kept us dry from the intermittent rainy season downpours while we did internet.

We plan to spend a few days here. There's a jungle walk to take in the early mornings with Mike as our guide. Kit and Gem, our hosts, live and work in Georgetown, but will arrive for the weekend and we're looking forward to meeting them. Crazy Diamond arrived during the afternoon and we're keen to connect and catch up with them...and we still have some inland touring to plan. Stay tuned. We only have a week more here, but it'll be action-packed.

Find out what others had to say about this beautiful river resort.

Grass Islands and Roosting Parrots

While reading Doyle's Cruising Guide to Guyana, I noted a Noonsite comment about things to do near Bartica … “Some nights must also be spent at Grass Islands, where hundreds of parrots go every night to roost, a sight you will be unlikely to see anywhere else in the world, not to mention the sounds.” We decided to get away from the big city for a night or two and check out the Grass Islands, just a mile or two on the other side of the Essequibo.

We had more than one motive for moving the boat. It gets pretty loud near the Bartica shore at night with music, traffic noise and the comings and goings of small riverboats, fast ferries, and ships on the wharf. We were hoping for a more tranquil setting. We left Bartica in late afternoon and picked our way carefully across the river. The distance isn't far, but with uncharted shoals and rocks, we played it safe and headed there slowly on a rising tide. We saw a least depth of 9.8' (2.8m) during the transit and anchored in the lee of the largest island in about 20' (6m). The setting was quiet and calm, out of the ship channel between the Grass Islands to the west and a few houses and a little river ferry stop on the mainland shore to the east.

As we waited for dusk and the parrot migration, we busied ourselves with little chores … polishing stainless, wiping down the cockpit, general tidying up. As a side note, we've been quite disappointed in the new stainless rigging which seems to show rust much more than any previous rigging we've had. This, in spite of the fact that the highly recommended South African rigger made a point of telling us and emphasizing that he only used top quality European wire and nothing imported from China. I gave David a much needed haircut on the aft deck. At slack tide, we took a refreshing dip in the river.

It was dusky by 5:15 and still no parrots. We thought we'd been misled when we suddenly heard a faraway squawk, then another, then another. Flapping their wings in the awkward, comical way that parrots do, and squawking loudly all the while, they came in pairs, then five pairs, then flocks of 20 and 30 pairs. They came from the south mostly, from upriver where it's less inhabited and more densely forested. The sound volume was incredible … chaotic, frenzied “Honey, I'm home” squawks … a 45 minute concert of disharmony.

They landed in the treetops, then seemed to delve deep into the foliage. They must have occupied every tree and branch on the island. We wondered if they return to the same reserved roosting branch every night or if it's first come-first served. The sound had intensified and then at 6pm, when the last vestiges of day had disappeared, it was as if the 'lights out' signal was given. We heard a couple of “Good night, John Boys”, and then all went silent. Unfortunately, the light was so dim and we were so far away, the photos taken from Nine of Cups' deck were pretty poor quality. Despite that, can you pick out all four parrots in this picture?

We had our dinner, enjoyed the evening calm and resolved to be up at dawn to see the parrots return to their day jobs. At first light, just about 12 hours after their previous night's return, we heard the first squawks of the early birds heading out. Then the sky was full of squawking parrots and by 5:45am, all was quiet again. Again, too dim for photos, but we certainly enjoyed the entertainment. It was reminiscent of the corellas on Bribie Island on Australia's east coast. The squawking was so loud there that a fellow finally stomped out of his house and began thwacking the trees with his cricket bat in a maniacal way, yelling “Shut up … shut up!”. It worked ...kind of. The corellas, startled by the thwacks, flew off to other trees just down the road.

We stayed another night, snuggling in closer to the nesting island, in hopes of getting better photos, but overcast skies dampened our chances. In the morning, it was pouring which didn't deter our parrot friends in the least. They headed off to work just like mailmen. The rain cleared and we ventured in the dinghy to the far side of the roosting island to see what we could see. Spider lilies bloomed profusely and trees boasted large orange blossoms.

During low water, we could see why these were called the grass islands. We drifted in the dinghy with the tide for awhile, then David paddled through shallow channels lined with tall grass.

The parrots were gone, but a pair of egrets surveyed the muddy low-tide shore for snacks.

At dusk, it was raining again, so no chance of a closer encounter or photos. We did, however, enjoy a repeat of the parrots' discordant sonata.

We have marginal internet capabilities here and haven't purchased a bird book for the Caribbean. Any chance someone can help us to identify this medium-sized, lime green parrot with yellow cheeks and a blue head?

Cowboys and Pork Knockers

Visiting Bartica has become an experience in itself. It reminds us of Dawson City in the Yukon Territory or Leadville, Colorado, high in the Rocky Mountains or even Iquitos, Peru on the banks of the Amazon. A kind of 1950s-ish, scoff-law cowboy town … isolated and agrestic. The folks who live here are mostly miners or purveyors of supplies and services for miners.

Miners here are uniquely referred to as “pork knockers”, a term specific to freelance Guyanese gold and diamond miners. According to Wiki, the term “refers to the miners' regular diet of pickled … wild pig that is often eaten at the end of the day. Caribbean author, A. R. F. Webber, suggested that the term may have originated as pork-barrel knocker.” Odd name though it probably aptly describes the rough and tumble folks that live in this colorful, mining town. “Pork-knockers have been responsible for discovering large deposits of gold and diamonds. Many Guyanese stories describe pork-knockers who have made fortunes only to lose them in a tragic or comic fashion. Guyana-born author Jan Carew's 1958 novel, Black Midas, involves a boy leaving his coastal village to become a pork-knocker.”

There is a lawless kind of feel to the place though the police station is right on First Avenue … behind a sturdy fence topped with razor wire. The roads are unmaintained. There's trash everywhere ... on the streets, in the gutters, vacant lots, and along the shore. We brought in a bag of trash to shore for disposal and asked our dinghy valet where to dispose of it. He shrugged and pointed to the shore which was heaped high with rubbish. We asked at the Police Station and it took awhile to determine that the only public trash bin they knew of was on the ferry stelling.

Cars and trucks park haphazardly anywhere there's room and sometimes where there's not. Big olive green mining trucks full of fuel barrels, equipment and supplies take up all of the width of the roads sometimes, forcing other cars to back up out of the way.

The narrow, pot-holed streets are jammed with pedestrians and traffic, but it seems to work. Traffic noise is trumped by loud music blaring from the booths of vendors selling pirated CDs and DVDs. Orderly chaos, maybe?

The bars, most without signs, do a land-office business and seem to be open all the time, dispensing cold beer and spirits in volume. People ... men and women … walk, or sometimes stagger, along the streets swigging beer day and night (not unlike Vegas or New Orleans, I suppose), talking loudly or maybe singing We hear music ashore late into the night. Like hard-working miners everywhere, when there's a bit of a jingle in their pocket and there's time away from the harsh, backbreaking mining routine, it's time to relax and throw a few beers back (and then a few more).

Housing must be at a premium because there's a plethora of weathered old, dilapidated houses throughout the town that should probably be condemned, but appear to be occupied ... laundry hanging on the lines and rain barrels in position to catch fresh water. Speaking of fresh water, there is no potable water available from the town taps and effluent drains into the river. We cannot use the watermaker because we're anchored in fresh water. We've been advised to catch rainwater for drinking or buy bottled water. Our water tanks are still pretty full, but we're in conservation mode.

Despite the trash and the potholes and the inconveniences, there is a definite third world, Old Wild West charm to Bartica that we appreciate. People are friendly on the streets, look you in the eye, smile, and say hello. We stopped by one shop to ask a question and were invited to a Hindu pre-wedding party later that evening. People are rugged and self-sufficient here, living in wild isolation, but their friendliness shows through a rather hard exterior.