Jill Robinson

Writer, Photographer, Adventurer

Bay Islands

A Sucker for the Right Celebrity

By

I blame my years working in performing arts on my lack of excitement about running into celebrities on my travels. I was thrilled to meet some of my heroes, but otherwise, working with famous artists was part of my job. So when I’m somewhere and I’m told that the latest superstar is “just over there, walking this way” I’m not likely to go running after them.

Sure, there are a handful of people that I’d definitely love to meet. I was skeptical when Doug called me from Guanaja last April and asked, “Do you want to have lunch with Jimmy Carter when you’re here?” The former president is definitely on that list. I once considered going to Plains, Georgia, to stay at the B&B he and his wife have—just so I’d have a chance to shoot the breeze with him. But with my luck, he’d be out of town, building a house or monitoring an election.

Carter really did show up on Guanaja, with some fishing buddies, Rosalynn and a bunch of Secret Service agents. Even though a couple of his friends stopped by the dock of the home where we stayed, the former president didn’t—so the jerk chicken we prepared in advance became our dinner. Whenever we saw three boats speeding together inside the reef, we knew he was on one of them. But we didn’t go looking. If we were going to see him, it just had to happen.

And it did. One morning, after we finished breakfast in Mangrove Bight, we walked toward the water. The road was clogged with people. In the inlet were those three boats, and I could see both Carters on the low-profile fly-fishing boat. We joined the crowd, watching them fish, until they took off—likely for a quieter spot. It lasted less than an hour. I may not have had lunch with him, shook his hand, or chatted about the state of the world, but I was happy.

Check out my article for the San Francisco Chronicle Travel section about the Carter visit to Guanaja for more details.

Staring out the Airplane Window

By

Getting a good view out the airplane window is a lot easier the lower the plane flies. Now hang on, I’m not talking accident levels. I’m referring to those wonderful times when I’m in a little airplane and due to the topography and lack of other plane traffic, we don’t have to travel way up in the clouds.

That happens nearly every time I’m flying between Roatán and Guanaja, in a tiny four-seat plane that barely fits the pilot, Doug, me and the luggage. In fact, parked next to the gigantic Continental jet we take on our flights from the United States, the little plane looks like it belongs at an airport for dolls. While it’s always the same route when I travel to Guanaja from Roatán (and the return trip), I’ve seen the reef from above, remote island communities, waterspouts and the most amazing rainbow.

I’m glad I don’t have to participate in the flying process once we take off, because my head is always against the window, taking the journey in through my eyes.

My Favorite Sign on Guanaja

By

I noticed this sign a couple of years ago at Zapata’s Store on the Cay. While it’s not the worst misspelling I’ve seen, it makes me laugh every time I see it. I know they intended for it to say customers and not costumers, but I can’t help imagining a boat full of people in costume pulling up in front of the store.

Of course, the day something like that actually happens, I probably won’t be surprised. Weird things—better than I could make up—happen here. Over the years, I find myself shrugging and saying, “Of course.”

Sampling Beer on Guanaja

By

In Honduras, often the best choice for happy hour is rum or beer. That doesn’t pose a problem for me, since I like both perfectly well. But cerveza drinkers on Guanaja have a few options, so let’s review them:

Salva Vida. Perhaps one of the best-named beers, salva vida means “lifesaver” in Spanish, and if you don’t remember that, you’ll be reminded by the lifesaver image on the brown bottle’s label. It’s a perfectly fine lager, perhaps nothing to write home about, but it’s one of my two favorite beers I find on the island.

Imperial. Another lager, this beer with the eagle label is more available on the mainland (especially in Tegucigalpa) than on Guanaja. But when I find it on the island, I’ll often have one.

Port Royal. For fans of pilsner beers, this is your go-to on Guanaja. It’s named after a town on Roatán that was once the site of Engligh pirate camps. Port Royal and Salva Vida are the most popular cervezas to choose here.

Barena. Akin to Corona, it’s in a clear bottle with a palm tree label and has a light flavor. On the hottest days, this is my first choice.

When a beer is served in the bottle in bars and restaurants, it will have a small napkin wrapped around the neck. If you’re in the islands, use the napkin to wipe off the mouth of the bottle before you take your first drink. Since most bottled beverages come over from the mainland on boats, there will often be a rusty residue on the mouth of the bottle from the bottle cap.

At our friends’ house on Guanaja, there are a few koozies to keep the beers cold. My favorite one, and the one I grab every time, has this printed on its side: “I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted the paychecks.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Main Street, Guanaja

By

The first time I visited Guanaja, I’d read a guidebook before my trip. Guanaja’s main town, Bonacca, is on a cay just a short distance from the main island. The guidebook reference to the town (also known as “the Cay”) as the “Venice of the Caribbean” conjured an image in my mind, and I was eager to see it during my island travels.

It turns out that the nickname referred only to the canals through Bonacca, and not much else. At the time of that first trip, while I enjoyed meeting islanders in local bars and grocery stores on the Cay, I quickly learned to avoid looking in those canals. The seawater sloshed around, thick with garbage—from plastic bottles to Styrofoam. It made me wonder if the person who coined the nickname had done so well before the canals were choked with trash, or if he had come up with it after a long drinking jag.

A few years ago, the canals were cleaned up. Now, I don’t mind getting a glimpse of the water as I walk over the bridges and walkways on the Cay. Sure, there’s the occasional plastic bottle, but nothing like it was before. I can actually see through the water now, rather than a swirling mass of trash.

Nowadays, traveling to the Cay is on my list of necessities. While I can shop for some groceries in Mangrove Bight or Savannah Bight, Bonacca has a more thorough selection. Also, it’s the best place on the island for hardware and building materials. The bank? That’s on the Cay too. Any municipal tasks, like getting permits or paying taxes, have to be done there as well.

That said, I often enjoy walking up and down the main thoroughfare on the Cay. It’s only a pedestrian walkway, and just 7 feet wide. From there, I can tell who’s around, as I pass hardware stores, grocery stores, bars, small restaurants, the bank, the basketball court, an internet café and the bottle depository. There are neither street signs nor addresses. If I’m looking for something, I’ll be given directions based on what it’s next to.

Recently, while I was shopping in Casa Sikaffy, one of Guanaja’s largest grocery stores (that’s smaller than your average 7-Eleven), the lights suddenly went out. First thought: power outage. Nope. The owner’s sister walked up to me and explained, “There’s a funeral, and the body just passed in the street outside, so we turned the lights out for respect.” Yes, the street she was referring to was Main Street, Bonacca. Things are front and center here. Good luck keeping secrets.