Cowboys and Pork Knockers

Visiting Bartica has become an experience in itself. It reminds us of Dawson City in the Yukon Territory or Leadville, Colorado, high in the Rocky Mountains or even Iquitos, Peru on the banks of the Amazon. A kind of 1950s-ish, scoff-law cowboy town … isolated and agrestic. The folks who live here are mostly miners or purveyors of supplies and services for miners.

Miners here are uniquely referred to as “pork knockers”, a term specific to freelance Guyanese gold and diamond miners. According to Wiki, the term “refers to the miners' regular diet of pickled … wild pig that is often eaten at the end of the day. Caribbean author, A. R. F. Webber, suggested that the term may have originated as pork-barrel knocker.” Odd name though it probably aptly describes the rough and tumble folks that live in this colorful, mining town. “Pork-knockers have been responsible for discovering large deposits of gold and diamonds. Many Guyanese stories describe pork-knockers who have made fortunes only to lose them in a tragic or comic fashion. Guyana-born author Jan Carew's 1958 novel, Black Midas, involves a boy leaving his coastal village to become a pork-knocker.”

There is a lawless kind of feel to the place though the police station is right on First Avenue … behind a sturdy fence topped with razor wire. The roads are unmaintained. There's trash everywhere ... on the streets, in the gutters, vacant lots, and along the shore. We brought in a bag of trash to shore for disposal and asked our dinghy valet where to dispose of it. He shrugged and pointed to the shore which was heaped high with rubbish. We asked at the Police Station and it took awhile to determine that the only public trash bin they knew of was on the ferry stelling.

Cars and trucks park haphazardly anywhere there's room and sometimes where there's not. Big olive green mining trucks full of fuel barrels, equipment and supplies take up all of the width of the roads sometimes, forcing other cars to back up out of the way.

The narrow, pot-holed streets are jammed with pedestrians and traffic, but it seems to work. Traffic noise is trumped by loud music blaring from the booths of vendors selling pirated CDs and DVDs. Orderly chaos, maybe?

The bars, most without signs, do a land-office business and seem to be open all the time, dispensing cold beer and spirits in volume. People ... men and women … walk, or sometimes stagger, along the streets swigging beer day and night (not unlike Vegas or New Orleans, I suppose), talking loudly or maybe singing We hear music ashore late into the night. Like hard-working miners everywhere, when there's a bit of a jingle in their pocket and there's time away from the harsh, backbreaking mining routine, it's time to relax and throw a few beers back (and then a few more).

Housing must be at a premium because there's a plethora of weathered old, dilapidated houses throughout the town that should probably be condemned, but appear to be occupied ... laundry hanging on the lines and rain barrels in position to catch fresh water. Speaking of fresh water, there is no potable water available from the town taps and effluent drains into the river. We cannot use the watermaker because we're anchored in fresh water. We've been advised to catch rainwater for drinking or buy bottled water. Our water tanks are still pretty full, but we're in conservation mode.

Despite the trash and the potholes and the inconveniences, there is a definite third world, Old Wild West charm to Bartica that we appreciate. People are friendly on the streets, look you in the eye, smile, and say hello. We stopped by one shop to ask a question and were invited to a Hindu pre-wedding party later that evening. People are rugged and self-sufficient here, living in wild isolation, but their friendliness shows through a rather hard exterior.

In Search of Internet in Guyana

Once again, we are Internet-challenged. Sad to say, we used to survive admirably well without Internet in our early days of cruising. But now that we do a daily blog, it seems a hardship to do without it. Internet access aboard, via digital modem, has been on our agenda since we arrived here in Bartica. Typically, in other countries, we've purchased a dongle/digital modem, a SIM card and a prepaid data package and though there were hiccups, we (read that David) usually succeeded in getting Internet aboard. It's been a struggle here, however, to access the Internet at all. As you'll recall, we visited the Digicel office on our first day ashore. We couldn't purchase a digital modem here in Bartica (maybe in Georgetown...hours away downriver), but if we unlocked our iPad, we could purchase a SIM and a prepaid data package. Not the best solution, but better than nothing. But Carl, the “unlock” guy, wasn't in his office that day or the next, so we needed to find another alternative … an Internet kiosk. Really? We haven't done that in nearly a decade.

We found two places offering Internet … one was locked up tight; the other was just opening at 10:15. Internet was G$500/hour … fair enough. David had his iPad and, with a little help from our kiosk friend, was able to get on line immediately. I had a USB memory stick with me loaded with pics and blog posts for Gentry and I planned to use the kiosk's computer. I had problems getting on-line. First, the keyboard letters were missing entirely. Second, all the screen commands were in Portuguese … I forgot to mention, it was a Brazilian Internet place.

I finally accessed Yahoo only to be blocked from the account. “It appears you have not accessed your account from this computer before. For security reasons, we'll send you a code to verify your identity.” They offered to send it to my Yahoo mail (which I couldn't access) or our SailMail email address. Well, we weren't on the boat and I didn't have my computer, so SailMail was out of the question. Luckily, David was already on line, so we opted to have the code sent to the Yahoo address.

We waited and waited. Internet was painfully slow, but not this slow. I asked for the code to be resent. It popped up on the iPad screen a few minutes later. Unfortunately, the message “Downloading this message is taking longer than usual” also appeared. We waited and waited some more. Finally, the Yahoo code appeared … just about the same time that the electricity went out. “Black-out”, murmured our Internet guy. “How long?” we queried. A shrug of the shoulders indicated anywhere between 10 minutes and 10 hours. He told us to return in 30 minutes.

We checked out the flea market alley and a few other shops … Christmas decorations were on sale … and dutifully returned to the Internet shop in 30 minutes. Still no power. We had lunch and returned in another hour … still no power. We picked up some Demarara sugar from the grocery store and returned an hour after that to find the shop closed. A neighboring vendor indicated 6pm was the ETA for power resumption. We gave up and headed back to the boat.

En route, David noted that the generators for the power station, right on the main street, were housed in a semi-trailer in front of the Bartica Power & Light Company. A service truck was parked in front of the trailer.

Looking up at the bird's nest of wires surrounding each utility pole along the street, we could begin to understand the power issues in Bartica.

And then it was Sunday … everything was closed. On Monday morning, bright and early, we headed back into town. We found Keevan who handled our iPad unlocking problem. We waited out a torrential downpour then headed to Digicel to purchase a SIM card and 1GB of prepaid data for a whopping G$5000. Ouch!

Looking at the Digicel coverage map in Guyana tells the story of where the population centers are … and aren't.

While David waited for the Digicel service to be activated (anywhere between 10 minutes and 2 hours, we were told), I headed back over to the Internet kiosk. We had never paid the fellow for our previous visit (though we'd accomplished nothing) and I was anxious to send blogs and photos to Gentry. This time we lugged my laptop ashore and I could get into Yahoo without delay. The Internet was slow, but at least I got through. Hallelujah! Just as I was finishing up, David arrived with a smile on his face and working Internet on his iPad.

Do we sound disgruntled and frustrated? Well, we were a bit frustrated, but honestly, the rustic, vibrant feel of Bartica has been enough to overcome the Internet malaise. Life is good, especially now that we're in touch with the world once again.

Welcome to Bartica

Bartica, (pronounced BAHR-ti-kah), a small port town of ~15,000+ people, is located on the Essequibo River, at the confluence of the Cuyuni and Marzaruni Rivers, about 50 miles upriver from the Atlantic. It's called the “Gateway to the Interior” as it's the key jumping off spot for freelance miners, known as pork knockers, that scour the alluvial fields of Guyana's interior for gold and diamonds. More about pork knockers later.

We arrived just before Noon, launched the dinghy, and after feeling comfortable with our anchorage and holding, headed into town to check-in. We dinghied up and down the wharf to determine a place to tie up. No place was immediately evident. At the fast ferry dock, we asked and were pointed upriver to a raft of boats tied aft and stern not far away.

We nudged our way between the nestled boats up to a ramshackle hut with a wooden loading ramp that was missing about every other plank. A young black fellow grabbed our painter as we gingerly climbed out of the dinghy and made our way up the steep, rickety ramp, over a cement embankment and onto land. He would tie up the boat and we'd pay him later. Good, since we didn't have any Guyanese currency yet. The narrow muddy trail along the shore led to an alley which finally dumped us out on the main street, First Avenue. We made a mental note for our return that the little alley was next to a Digicel Top-Up sign.

Our first stop was Immigration on First Avenue. It may be a small town, but it seemed everyone was out and about either walking or driving. We arrived just after lunchtime (Noon-1pm) at the Immigration office, but no one was around. We waited a half hour and finally checked in with the police next door. They promised to give the guy a call. He showed up about 10 minutes later, apologetic, and after completing our entry forms and showing him our paperwork, he stamped our passports and directed us to an ATM in order to be able to pay our Customs' fees

We found the Scotia Bank on Second Avenue without much trouble and withdrew G$30,000 from the 24/7 ATM . It's an affiliate bank of Bank of America … no withdrawal fees involved. (Hooray!) Seemed like a lot of money (~US$150) and it was dispensed in all crisp G$5,000 notes. There's always a sigh of relief when our ATM card works in a new country. We headed immediately to Customs back on First Avenue across from Immigration. The office was located down an alley with no signs, next to Church's Chicken and up a steep cement staircase. We completed more forms and paid our G$2,500 incoming fees. We were legal in Guyana. The whole process took about 90 minutes … most of it spent waiting.

It was mid-afternoon now, hot and steamy. David had read that Digicel offered prepaid data packages here in Guyana and throughout the Caribbean and they had an office in Bartica. We found it at the other end of First Avenue and waited our turn in line. No complaints … the shop was air-conditioned. After much discussion, it was determined that Digicel did not sell dongles/digital modems for the computer … at least not in Bartica. If we could get our iPad unlocked, they could sell us a SIM card and we could then buy a prepaid data package. Though this wouldn't be optimal for transferring blogs and pics, it was doable and better than nothing. We went in search of the “unlock” guy, but his “office” was closed on a Friday afternoon.

We decided to check out the Central Market, a couple supermarkets and generally get the lay of the land. The Central Market was pretty much done for the day...early morning is best, so we'd return another day. There were several small supermarkets with basic supplies. We noticed lots of American products … Bush's beans, Heinz ketchup, Kellogg's Frosted Flakes. Brazilian products were plentiful as well. The prices were horrendous, but considering where we were, probably reasonable just for the effort of getting the products here. Demerara sugar, produced locally, was a bargain, however, at G$240. Rice and beans seemed plentiful and were sold in quantities from huge 25kg (55#) sacks down to individually packaged small plastic bags.

Mike and Tessa's General Store on First Avenue has been around quite awhile. We poked our heads in … five cans of this and four cans of that on the shelves. They sold lots of bulk products like flour, rice and beans. They still weighed everything on an old-fashioned balance scale. Rubber boots hung from the ceiling and we imagined during the rainy season, they'd be in high demand.

There were bars and drinking establishments on every corner and several in between. We saw cases of the local Banks Beer being unloaded. Some men staggered along the streets and we figured they'd begun their drinking early.

The Morocco offered three beers for G$1000. Three beers for a thousand dollars … even for Guinness that seemed high until we did the math … ~US$1.50 each.

It was late afternoon when we tried to find our way back to the dinghy dock. It seems that our landmark, a Digicel Top-Up Sign, was one of many along First Avenue. We finally managed to find the right alley and retrace our steps to retrieve the dink. Heading over the cement embankment and down the steep, now slippery, every-other-plank-missing ramp was a bit awkward, but we managed. Our dinghy parking valet brought the dinghy back to the edge of the ramp. We paid our G$500 fee and nudged our way back out of the parking lot and back to Cups. Enough exploring for one day. Time for dinner, a cold beer and a movie. Tomorrow's another day and we're looking forward to it.