La Moskitia once again

Point of departure - La Ceiba Airport

If there is anywhere in Honduras that you are going to find birds that have not yet been recorded in this country, or find the elusive ones that an experienced Honduran bird-watcher still has not got on his list, then La Moskitia is the place that you are likely to find them. So that’s just what we were setting off to do. With recently acquired friends Robert Gallardo and his partner Olivia (Robert is the experienced birder who is writing the guide to the birds of Honduras) we were on our way to La Moskitia once again. This time by small plane from La Ceiba to a remote little town of Puerta Lempira on the shores of the vast Laguna de Caratasca, and then the following morning in an even smaller missionary plane to the tiny village of Mocaron. The dusty field that we landed on was in the grasslands of Honduras’ north-east, a strange region where vast swathes of grass suddenly give way to pine woodlands which, in turn, give way to wet forests. 

The crowd of onlookers that rushed to the plane as it rolled to a stop suggested that this place didn’t get a lot of visitors. But in spite of this, there was a “lodge” of sorts and the very friendly owner, Irma Love, ensured that we had a good lunch before we set off on our hike deeper into the forests. 

Point of arrival - Mocaron International airport

Packing to head further inland

Our original plan was to go upriver some way in small outboard-driven canoes carved out of large forest trees, but the water was too shallow and so instead, we pilled all of our gear, together with guide, porters and cook, into the back of a pickup and bounced off across the grasslands to an even smaller village on the edge of a river beyond which vehicle transport was not possible. It was early afternoon by the time we made our first river crossing and set off through the forest. 

The bemused onlookers…. 

One of the porters - not sure what was in the cigarette but he was always happy!

I'm hoping that we don't really need this???

Whilst, in theory, our route was to take us through a biosphere reserve, we were following a well marked trail that clearly had not been established for the purpose of appreciating the biodiversity of the region - at least not in the way that westerners do! At regular intervals we came to small clearings where bananas, maize and beans were being cultivated. The flat grasslands where the villages were located were clearly not suited for growing much - the regular inundation by wet-season rains and low nutrients that accounted for the lack of forest also meant that the region was not good for agriculture. However, where there was forest, there are also nutrients - hence the cropping inside the forest. Because the people couldn’t live in the reserve, they simply walked in to farm it, setting up small structures where they would stay for several days, with pigs and dogs, while they tended their plots.

The first river to be crossed...

After you…...

The intrepid, and slightly damp, Robert Gallardo

Olivia and Alicia, the cook, wading in!

After our 4am start, we were pretty exhausted when we arrived with soggy boots and tired legs at our first camp with just enough light to pitch tents, sneak in a bit of birding and organise some food before collapsing into bed.

Our first night's camp - apart from pigs shit everywhere, it was pretty nice.

More bemused onlookers - white-necked puffbird

King Vulture

Our second day’s hike found us venturing further into the forest - the clearings were being left behind but wooden poles lying across the trail at 3 meter intervals made it pretty obvious that large trees were being rolled out from deep in the forest. The effort that would be required to remove a single tree would be enormous. I suspect that, while its probably illegal, its got to be more sustainable than any of the legal logging that happens throughout the rest of the world. Unfortunately the almost complete lack of sizable wildlife suggested that the rifles that everyone carried were being put to good use. After a bit of confusion about our location, we set up camp by a small stream that had enough water for drinking and bathing. This was going to be our base camp for the next few days so our porters set to work building a pretty sturdy camp. 

Base camp

Another resident of base camp!

The next few days were spent on day hikes, exploring the region from our camp. The flat forested plains gave way to limestone outcrops which looked interesting and inviting but, as soon as you started to climb the ground became very dry, and the forests became quieter, suggesting that a few million years of water leaching through the porous limestone had taken all the nutrients with it, making the area relatively unattractive for all the beasties that build their food chains up from the forest floor. For some reason the only exception were the ticks, and they welcomed us in their thousands - tiny pepper ticks that got into everywhere and left us scratching for days!

Black-eared wood quail - apparently getting a photo of this guy is pretty special

Bicolored Antbird

Forest fashion

…all the essentials

After a few days of exploring it was apparent that this particular part of Mosquitia did not have the wealth of birds that we had expected. We did see the tracks of a jaguar and its cub and we heard a group of peccaries that melted off into the forest before we could sight them, and while I added lots of new birds to my list, it was a bit frustrating for Robert G so eventually we packed camp and made our way back out. 

Return to civilisation

Compared to the Rio Platino (see the earlier post) this area is not likely to become a great drawcard for tourists, although I’m sure botanists would have a field day. But it was a great experience, both to see this place and to have the privilege of birding with Robert, and it was something that had to be done simply to find out what was (or in this case, wasn’t) there, given that it was virtually unvisited by scientists or naturalists. 

Working hard against the current

A bit of grassland birding

They are a friendly lot here in Honduras!

Olivia ready to go home

The runway???

The beginning of the burning season

So now the question is - what might be in the other parts of this vast little-explored wilderness - clearly it varies hugely from region to region. Maybe we might just have to find out - and there is still the elusive Harpy Eagle to find! 

And huge thanks to Robert and Olivia for inviting me along!!

Back to work? - in Honduras

I thought this was meant to be a holiday…..

But now I find myself in workshops with sheets of paper, sticky labels and white-boards.  But I guess it’s not really “work”. Firstly, I’m not getting paid! And it is fun! After several visits to some of the local communities on Santa Barbara Mountain we have all got excited about further developing an environmental / ecotourism project on the slopes of Montaña de Santa Barbara. The people here recognize that their current activities - coffee and subsistence agriculture - are a threat to the cloud forest as the poor economy encourages ongoing clearing - if coffee prices are low, you need to clear more forest just to keep up. If coffee prices are high, you need to clear more forest to capitalize on the opportunity because you don’t know when they will fall again. Consequently, many of the people here are keen to break the reliance on coffee and derive alternative revenue from other enterprises that don’t require continuing forest clearing. 

To find a community that has already come to this realization is important - often it takes years to convince local people that there is even an issue that needs considering, let alone addressing. And the area is beautiful, with two spectacular national parks (Cierro Meambar Azul, and Santa Barbara) on either side of the stunning Lago Yojoa. Probably much of this realisation has come from the work of a couple of impressive Peace Corps volunteers, Alicia and Alex who have previously done great work with the community. With a ready supply of tourists in the nearby D&D Brewery / Hotel, most of whom rarely get off the Lonely Planet gringo trail, we have all of the ingredients for a potential project.

So...after a couple of visits to the mountain, I’ve decided to get involved and commit a bit of time here, to at least test whether we can offer an adventure that will get tourists out into the community.  After a bunch of workshops across three villages, we developed a vision for what they wanted the area to be like 5-10 years down the track and scoped the opportunities for bringing people here.  But that of course meant that I needed to get out and check out the opportunities for myself - so what follows is the makings of our offer - mountains, forests, caves and birds, which, combined with super-friendly people, some cultural activities based around seemingly idyllic local agricultural lifestyles, forest foods and medicines and history, will hopefully bring people (and their money). The challenge is to design a project where tourism doesn’t destroy the very values that attract tourists in the first place (the history of tourism world-wide) and where the locals retain control, rather than a couple of foreigners, or one or two families, capturing all of the benefits. 

If you’re looking for something a bit different for your next vacation. put this on your list!

Setting off to explore the region…no shortage of enthusiastic guides.

Washing the coffee beans

Coffee break

Cutting a trail to the cave entrance

The old guy has lived near here all of his life and never been inside!

We're going to need a ladder to get down here - some steps cut into a tree trunk should do the job.

At least we have light...

Phoenix rising??

The gang

The local shaman...

…with a collection of artifacts.

From caves to mountain vistas…..

Yet more mountains to climb

…some a bit of a scramble

but worth the climb

A random cool bird - wine throated hummingbird

…and a couple of good mates

I guess if this is work…. then I can cope!

La Moskitia - rafting the Rio Plátano

We were told to wear rubber boots. It was a good idea. Unfortunately, they don’t really make them high enough! As we slush along the trail the sucking mud entraps our feet. As you push down on one foot in an attempt to free the other one that is stuck, it too disappears in the gloop and a helping hand from your companions is the only way to get free. Before long, there is nearly as much mud inside my boots as outside. 

Cowboy country near Olacho

Trying to avoid the mud

It’s day one of our expedition into La Moskitia, the most remote and extensive wilderness in Central America - the so-called Amazon of Central America - a land where few tourists venture and local tribes still maintain traditional lifestyles, culture and languages. There are no roads and the only way to travel is by foot or boat - and boats are only possible on the vast lagoons by the Caribbean coast and the lower reaches of the rivers that cascade from the interior ranges. To explore the interior, it is necessary to enter through the cowboy country around Olancho, hike for a day (through mud with rafts and all of your gear for 10 days) to the headwaters of the Rio Plátano and then raft downwards for over a week until you emerge at the coast. 

The paradox of the muddy trails is that, while they are difficult to hike, this is because of the horses and mules that are lugging in our rafts and other gear for our 10 day trek. The bad thing is also a good thing, so best not to complain! After half a day of walking through partially cleared cattle country, we reach the border of the Rio Plátano Biosphere Reserve and are immediately swallowed up by the luxuriant forest. It’s an exhilarating hike in spite of the mud and by the end of the day we arrive tired but satisfied at our first camp at the headwaters of the Rio Plátano. “We” are a group of 8 - two Brits, Michelle and Gavin, a Belgian girl, Katinka (who we renamed Cotinga - the birders among you will understand), myself and my birding mate William, who has been my almost constant companion for the past couple of months - and who was responsible for making this trip happen, and our guides and raft masters, Mino, Umberto and Mino’s young son Alec.

The next morning found us taking instructions on rafting - it was clear that there were not going to be any passengers on this trip. Tales of accidents and occasional deaths on the river (with other operators who no-longer run the river) ensured that we were all paying attention. So, very excited and a little anxious we took our positions and headed off down-stream responding to the shouted calls of “right-back! / forward! / left back! / back paddle!” as we plunged through the rapids. It didn’t help that both William and I are a bit dyslexic but eventually we figured out which of us was on the right and which on the left of the raft. 

Encouraging to see that the guides seem to agree on the route to take!

Now, having been warned of the various tricky situations that we might find ourselves in and instructed on how to extricate ourselves from them, I found myself in a situation that hadn’t been anticipated. As we swept around the outer curve of a bend in the river we passed under overhanging branches and vines and all ducked our heads as they brushed over us until suddenly I felt something take hold of my helmet and attempt to wrench me out of the raft. It happens that the helmets that we were wearing had a small indentation over the ears and a vine managed to snag itself in this gap and it wasn’t going to let go. My foot was anchored in a strap at the front of the boat - designed to stop me being thrown out - and it quickly became apparent that one of three things had to break - the vine (which was making it clear that it wasn’t going to yield), my ankle (not a good option) or my neck (an even less attractive one), so I took the only course available, released my foot and disappeared over the edge of the raft! Fortunately we were not in rapids at the time and so I was able to unhook the vine and in no time at all I had scrambled back on board back on board. It was a timely reminder though that this was not just a pleasure cruise.

What followed was an amazing 9 days of rafting including a couple of rest days with hikes off into the surrounding jungle to explore the forests and limestone caves. In one cave were the ancient remains of a shaman’s camp with the broken remnants of 3-legged stone tables and grinding stones apparently for making potions. 

On a few occasions, Mino considered the rapids to be too tricky to tackle so we unloaded and portaged some of the gear while the rafts were pulled through on ropes from the bank until Mino and Umberto could take them through the last hairy bits before we all climbed back on board. 

Scrambling through one of the three portages.

Tired but happy campers

Yeh! Some sunshine after a few damp days

Tapir - just emerged from a swim in the river. Saw another mother with baby as well.

Eventually we emerged on the flatter lowlands and the river calmed as we approached the fabled  Mosquito Coast. After 7 days of not seeing another soul (although there was evidence of poachers camps) we started to encounter communities along the river and later, dramatic signs of extensive forest clearing right up to the river banks along with massive erosion (it appears that this may be happening in the core of the biosphere), as cattle men (some say drug lords laundering their money through cows!) are moving into the area. Apparently this is a major route for drugs through central america and some of the characters that we passed on one boat (big cowboy hats, reflective sunglasses and guns on belts or in hand) were clearly not local indigenas.  Taking their photo was probably not a smart move!

The locals...

A muddy laundry,,,

….somehow produces clean clothes!

Definitely not a local … and no missionary either, I suspect!

At Las Marías we traded our rafts for a motorised dug-out canoe which took us to the coast at the Garífiuna village of Baltimore. The Garífunas descend from slaves from the  Caribbean who the Brits dumped on an island off Honduras after a slave rebellion on the island of St Vincent, as well as from other immigrants of African ancestry that came to work on the banana plantations.  We arrived just on dark and were up again at 3.30 a.m. to take a “collectivo” or motor boat across the coastal lagoons and canals until we then loaded all our gear into a 4x4 pickup. Together with a fleet of others, we roared off down the very narrow stretch of beach at an alarming speed, attempting to miss the waves as they broke on the sand but sometimes disappearing in a spray of salt water as the waves caught us out. I don’t know how we avoided flipping the vehicle as our driver passed the other two trucks that had got away before us but soon we discovered why the rush - at three locations, rivers emerged to the sea and the only way to get across was on one-car-at-a-time barges (bits of timber strapped on large plastic drums) pulled across by a couple of guys with a rope. Clearly our driver was determined to be first to the crossing to avoid the subsequent queue. After travelling along dirt roads for a couple of hours, and staring down a group of police who weren’t going to let us pass without a bribe, we then completed our diverse range of travel modes by taking the last leg back to base in La Ceiba, and to the end of an amazing journey, in a very comfortable air-conditioned coach. 

If you find your way here - go visit, and I’d strongly recommend that you go with La Moskitia Ecoaventuras in La Ceiba.