Caroni Swamp and Scarlet Ibis

According to Wikipedia, the Caroni Swamp is the second largest mangrove wetland in Trinidad located where the Caroni River meets the Gulf of Paria. The swamp is an estuarine system with extensive mangrove forests, numerous brackish channels, salt lagoons and mudflats. It's not far from Port of Spain and it's a major habitat and viewing area for Trinidad's national bird, the scarlet ibis. It was the next stop on our Trinidad tour after visiting the Hindu temples. I'd made a reservation with Darren at Mandoo Tours because they were noted for smaller, more personalized tours. We were pleased when we showed up and there were only two other passengers. We took a look at the “visitor center”, which like most other public facilities in Trinidad, is quite run-down and decrepit. Old, faded pictures of fauna and flora of the Caroni were on display and that was about it.

The boat dock was as rundown as the visitor center, but the boat and engine seemed in good enough shape. The tide was low and the shore was muddy. Scampering down into the boat was a bit of a challenge, but we managed without mishap and off we went. Darren provided an ongoing introduction to the swamplands and what we might expect to see.

We puttered slowly through the mangrove-lined channels. We'd stop every once in awhile and just drift along noiselessy while our guide pointed out things we would have definitely missed. Like the well-camouflaged Cook's tree boa in an overhanging limb (yikes) … actually two entwined boas … it's mating season. Reptile love!

Blue herons perched warily on the mangrove roots as we slowly motored through the narrow labyrinth of waterways. They'd watch until we were too close for their comfort and then take to flight following the course of the channel.

We looked for caiman, but saw none. Once again, we were confounded when our guide spotted a tropical screech owl, nestled high and deep in the mangroves, sleeping. We quietly observed him, trying not to disturb his daytime rest.

Darren made several bird calls and amazingly received answers from deep in the forest.

We threaded our way through the thick mangroves for over an hour and then the channel opened into a wide expanse of shallow water. A great white egret stood in the midst of it. Tricolor herons worked the mud ashore and a yellow crested night heron kept his distance.

Darren tied the boat to two stakes and we waited. Every morning at dawn, the scarlet ibis fly off to feed in other parts of the swamp. Every evening at dusk, like clockwork, they return to roost on a nearby island of mangroves. Darren explained that it was nesting season and the number of ibis would be less than in January or February. Then, the first of the scarlet ibis appeared in the sky.

We didn't have to wait long before more and more ibis flew past. The setting sun gleamed off their red feathers and they almost seemed to be afire as we cruised by. It's their diet, by the way, high in carotene, that accounts for their color, much like pink flamingos.

Each ibis landed and settled in to its special spot for the night. They chatted with their neighbors and preened. The deep green mangroves were suddenly alive with scarlet ibis dotting the higher branches and white egrets below. From a distance, it looked like a Christmas tree decorated with bright red ornaments.

The sun was setting quickly as we made our way back through the maze of swampland channels. Filtered sun pierced the thick overhead growth. Blue herons swam in front of us, apparently showing us the return route.

I wish we'd stayed longer. I wish we'd come earlier in the season to see more ibis. I wish we'd been closer so I could have taken better photos. I wish we'd seen caiman and maybe even a silky anteater. I wish, I wish, I wish. Sorry … I got carried away. What I meant to say was … what an awesome way to spend the afternoon.

Trinidad's Wild Northeast Coast

When we sailed along Trinidad's east coast last November, we sailed far offshore because of 1) the great number of oil platforms and associated ship traffic and 2) pirate warnings. We saw oil platforms and ships in the distance and luckily no pirates. We had heard, however, that the east coast was more remote and thus less traveled. For our land tour, this appealed to our “off the beaten track” attitude, so we booked in at one of the only resorts in the area for a couple of nights. Well, the hotel sucked, but the northeast area lived up to its wild reputation.

I won't go into too much detail on the Salybia Nature Resort other than to say, we got tired of complaining. Some of this can be chocked up to first world expectations in a third world country, but most of it was sheer negligence. In all fairness, the grounds were lovely and the pool was clean with a waterfall that worked intermittently. Most importantly, there was a swim-up bar which helped us forget how miserable the room was. The room was indeed awful … musty and ill-kept with lots of things broken or non-functioning, paint peeling and stained bathroom fixtures. A very tacky 3D picture of a lion and cub adorned the walls. The staff ranged from okay to marginal to surly. Hospitality was definitely not in their vocabulary. We never figured out why it was considered a “nature” resort because it certainly wasn't. Enough said.

It was the beginning of the leatherback turtle egg-laying season on this coast. Only night visits to the beach with permits and guides are allowed. We tried unsuccessfully to make reservations while at our hotel. We drove to the nearby Matura Beach to see what we could see ... which turned out to be absolutely nothing. The tourism infrastructure on this side of the island is minimal. Phone numbers and contact information are out of date and we were at a loss as to how to arrange for the tour and permit.

The coast in this area is rocky with big Atlantic swells crashing on the craggy shore. We drove up to Toco on the extreme northeast tip of the island to take a look at the Galera Point Lighthouse. Built in 1897, the actual lighthouse, surrounded by a small park and picnic area , was not accessible to tourists, but we'd seen it do its job when we passed by sea last autumn.

A couple of local cops were on the scene and we chatted with them amicably. They proudly pointed out that this was the point where the Atlantic Ocean met the Caribbean Sea.

They recommended the nearby Toco Beach for a dip. We beachcombed for awhile, collecting sea glass and interesting colored stones, but no shells were found.

We made our way further east along the rough route to Gran Riviere which is considered a key turtle-watching spot. Once again, narrow roads, potholes and fast drivers made for an interesting ride. We crossed several single vehicle, plank bridges and held our collective breaths as the planks strained and creaked under our weight.

Once in Gran Riviere, we found the permit office closed with no contact information available. A long trip for nothing. We asked around, but the few people we saw were unable to offer any information. We offset our disappointment with a cold beer and a light lunch at the small, but pleasant, Acajou Restaurant.

Once again, we retraced our route and ended up back at the hotel. Though the room was the pits, the pool was lovely. Previously it was crowded with daytrippers, not a lounge nor beach chair to be found. Today, however, it was nearly empty and we lounged and cooled off and swam up to the bar for pina coladas. Yum! We played cards and hung out till dinner. Dinner was ordinary with entertainment by Sir Natra, a Frank Sinatra lounge singer. I Did It My Way ... with a calypso flair.

The clock was ticking. We needed to head back to the west coast, regretfully without having seen the leatherbacks. Maybe next time. We're off to see the scarlet ibis of the Caroni Swamp tomorrow. Come on along.

More Asa Wright & Then to the East Coast

We woke early to the distinctive call of oropendolas. Their nests, suspended from a tree just outside our door, hung precariously and swung gently in the morning breeze. Lizards crossed our path as we made our way down to the main lodge just after dawn. Bird song filled the air. Flowers bloomed profusely and the scent was a sweet morning wake-me-up.

We were looking forward to our morning cuppa and an early morning feathered-friend extravaganza. We were not disappointed on either count. Oh, my … I wish I could put into words the thrill of seeing so many beautiful birds flitting about so closely. We could hear the high-pitched squeak of the hummingbirds and feel the whir of their wings as they dove into the nectar feeders for breakfast. I want to reiterate here that we were never serious bird-watchers in the past. It's only since we've lived aboard the boat that we've developed an interest. Being this close to them, brings out the twitcher in everyone.

We observed for more than our hour, alternating a sip of tea and a click of the camera, until the breakfast gong chimed. We likened the gong to a Pavlovian response as all the twitchers filed obediently into breakfast (perhaps some were salivating, we didn't notice). The talk at the communal tables was all bird talk until they learned we'd just sailed around the world … and then they were interested in birds we'd seen during our travels.

We were invited for a guided morning walk on the Discovery Trail. There were just the three of us and Natalie was a knowledgeable, pleasant guide. She pointed out flora as well as fauna. It was hot and tropical rain forest steamy. Cicadas buzzed. We spotted several birds and heard the extremely loud and vocal bellbird long before we saw him. He did, indeed, sound like a bell.

There were several huge anthills in our travels … leaf cutter ants. We watched them for a bit as they did their thing. Industrious little fellows, Natalie told us this hill served just one queen, was estimated to be 12 years old and went 30 feet deep.

We spotted a hummingbird nest with mama snuggled tightly into place. A wonder she fit!

Then the tour was over, it was time to check out and we reluctantly left Asa Wright. We retraced our serpentine route down the hillside and back to Eastern Main Road. The road narrowed and became rougher the further east we traveled. David swerved back and forth avoiding major potholes. In some cases, the road disappeared altogether with old, small signs warning about “landslip areas”. We finally left the steamy inland and reached Trinidad's rocky east coast.

We stopped en route when we saw a “Shark Oil and Honey” shack. Quite the combo and we were curious! Lin negotiated a local honey purchase. We passed on the shark oil and drove on.

We finally arrived at Salybia Nature Resort, our big splurge for two nights. From the outside, it appeared to be heavenly … but looks can be deceiving.