Dinghy or No Dinghy, we were going exploring !!

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With our outboard out of service we had two choices. Use the limited time we'd been given to attempt a morning (or longer) at seeing what the problem was, or, put it all on the back burner and enjoy our surroundings.

What would you have done?

We had our trusty kayaks packed away, so, after morning coffee of course, they got inflated. A hearty breakfast later and we paddled towards land, finding the almost unseen entrance in the mangrove shoreline, and followed the river type stream, called Caño Chiquito, inland.



It was flat calm. There was not a breath of wind to be felt. The silence was silent. The lack of noise, deafening. If not for the rare sighting of some fishermen going by, we could have easily been the only two people left on this majestic place.

It was a perfect morning to be out exploring.

Thinking perhaps we might make a tasty morsel, the hawks (?) circling overhead, watched our every paddle,



and we continued to move along, slowly & quietly, deeper into the mangrove thickets,



the stream getting narrower and



only the colourful birds watching us, keeping us company on our journey.











Some of them hiding,



and there was this one, announcing his displeasure at our presence,



his birdspeak so loud, our ears were ringing long after he got quiet.

We kayaked this way and that, exploring and enjoying the breathtaking mangle of mangrove roots, the silence around us making the whoosh of our quiet oar-strokes the only sound we heard.



In one area the pollen (??) sat on the water like a heavy blanket,



the sharp edges arising as the tides came and went,





When we couldn't go anymore, we turned ourselves around and headed back from whence we came.

Almost back at the mouth of the Cano Chiquito, we took the other channel, this time following the smell of the diesel tour boats as they passed us by, and quickly reached the end.



We disembarked, bringing our kayaks ashore,



and were instantly met by the greeting committee.



The horses didn't mind our presence,



the bovine kept a weary eye on us,



and when we opened our granola bars, the fowl squawingly ran towards us, like we were the Pied Piper of food or something.



We followed the road up for a bit, but with the increasingly darkening skies overhead we opted to head back, paddle back and get home.



Where just before lunch, while massaging our unused to kayaking all that distance biceps, my kayak, with a loud whoosh, deflated.



So now not only were we were dinghy-less, but also one kayak-less, mode of transport.

We patched up the dinghy and waited while the weather misted the afternoon away.

The sun came out just before suppertime, in all its splendour.



Tomorrow is another day... (to be continued)