Yesterday was a day on the river. No bumpy roads. We started up river to see tortillas being made in the next village. On the way, we got waylaid. Actually, as photographers, we always get waylaid, whether by van or boat. It’s something we’re always joking about, as we say we’ll be in a certain location for, let’s say, two hours, and it stretches to three or four. Nothing’s new! We’re photographers, after all.

When we came in by boat last week to the Lodge, we saw several large iguana, many orange in color with wonderful combs along their backs. They love tender shoots, but often, those branches don’t support them, so they go PLOP into the river, swim ashore, and scuttle back up. We were hoping that our participants would get to see some of these magnificent creatures.

Alex, the owner of the boat and our guide for the day, pointed out a magnificent one that was very cooperative when the boat came in close. What you cannot see is his beautiful long, striped tail.

We continued up river a short distance and photographed the dugout canoes, called cayucs here, carved out of a single log. Some were down by the river, while other, larger, painted ones, had been pulled up under a thatched open shed.

As we walked into the village, pigs and piglets crossed our paths, chickens pecked at goodies in the ground, and people looked at us, some waving or nodding hello, while others retreated back to the safety of their houses.

Our hostess took us through the whole tortilla-making process, starting with separating the good ears from the bad (the latter going to the animals).

She then rubbed the dried corn off the cob into a bowl, washed and soaked it, put it through what I would call a meat grinder twice, added some other ingredients, kneaded it, then took small portions the size of a golf ball and flattened them out to cook on the stove.

When she flipped the tortillas, they puffed up, so they looked more like pita pockets. Everyone had a chance to participate every step of the way, so when we sat down to eat them with a tomato salsa and hard-boiled eggs, it was not only delicious, but very satisfactory knowing we had taken part.

Back at the Lodge, we had lunch, some of us opting for just fresh fruit, as the tortilla was filling. We gathered our sunblock and hats, and piled back into the boat to head down to the coast to visit Alex’s Uncle Ben who actually lives just across the water in Guatemala but comes to the mouth of the river to fish in the dry season.

We watched Ben and Alex put the seines into his boat, then got a tour of his simple but charming place. His sense of whimsy was wonderful. He recycled old soda bottles by turning them into flowers or birds whose feathers came, I suspect, from the large tom turkey who wandered around.

After fresh coconut milk, we took off in the two boats to watch Ben cast his seines into the shallow waters along the edge of the mangroves.

After Ben set two lines, we headed back, his boat silhouetted against the late-afternoon sparkling of the water.

It was getting toward five o’clock, and given our habit of getting waylaid, we needed to leave to get back before dark. Running a boat along the river at night is potentially dangerous because of occasional logs in the water.

Untrue to form, we actually headed back ahead of schedule. It was lovely and quiet. We tried not to make too many stops. There was a scene I had in mind, and every time I saw light coming across the water, I watched carefully to see what it would bring.

There it was! I quickly stood up and grabbed this shot as the boat sped up river.

As the sun eased itself down toward the horizon, we saw wonderful reflections, magnificent clouds, and silhouettes of Cotton Trees and other plants. Alex was great, as each time he saw the cameras come up, he slowed down.

Just before the sun dipped behind the trees, we saw these two cayucas along the edge of the river. It was a scene I had wanted to photograph, and these were perfect.

Perhaps tomorrow …

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