Georgetown, Guyana's Capital - Pt. 1

Getting there

Lonely Planet describes Guyana's capital city, Georgetown, as “dirty, expensive and dangerous.” With such an appealing reputation, we felt obligated to visit... if only to compare it to Colon, Panama, currently at the top of our “dirty, dangerous, least-liked” city list. We were up for some adventure and decided to spend a couple of days in Guyana's Big Smoke.

Getting to Georgetown from Hurakabra is usually a challenge, but we lucked out. We left Cups on the hook under the watchful eyes of Mike, the Hurakabra caretaker, and hitched a ride to Georgetown with Kit and Gem.

They have a “fast boat” which ate up the miles downriver pretty quickly … 35 miles at 35mph...jarring a few fillings loose along the way. Kit's boat was being hauled out at the Roeden Rust Marina in less than an hour.

Once the boat was hauled and stowed, we offloaded gear and Gem's “jungle Christmas tree” and made tracks for Georgetown. You have to look hard in this pic for Gem's leafless, needle-less tree that David is tying on the roof of the truck. She plans to paint it white and put fairy lights on it. Scotch pines are pretty rare in Guyana.

Kit and Gem are both native Guyanese and there are no better tourist guides than locals. We passed through Parika, a port town along the Essequibo that we'd seen on our way upriver. Things always look different from the land side versus the sea side. There was a steady commentary from our hosts along the way which added color to the trip. The city and the entire coastal area is land reclaimed from the sea. It is all below sea level and a massive sea wall and canal system, originally constructed by the Dutch, protect the city from the sea. A large part of the national budget is spent maintaining the wall and pumping excess water out of the city and back into the sea.

We crossed over the Demerara Harbour Bridge, an 1.15mi (1851m), floating toll bridge which Kit referred to as a pontoon bridge. It's not high enough for most commercial vessels, and therefore, two of its 61 spans retract to allow larger vessels to pass … causing, of course, major traffic jams since it's the only land connection between the east and west banks of the Demarara River other than ferries.

As we entered Georgetown, we were greeted by a tall Christmas tree wishing us a happy holiday season. With temps in the 90s (30s), it was a shock to remember that it's Christmas time.

We passed several landmarks … City Hall, Stabroek Market, St. George's Cathedral, the High Court with Queen Victoria's statue presiding over the premises … all places we planned to visit during the next couple of days.

We had reserved a room at the Signature Inn … US$50/night with breakfast. Gem had assured us it was a reasonable place to stay. We were surprised to find the bright orange and lime green hotel in the middle of a Queenstown district neighborhood. It was, indeed, most acceptable. Air-conditioning, shower, high-speed internet and clean … we couldn't have asked for much more.

We basked in the cool, took showers, did some internet, found a little Creole restaurant nearby for dinner and cold beers, then returned to the cool and took second showers. Life is good in Georgetown at the moment.

Put on your walking shoes and come exploring Georgetown with us tomorrow.

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A Morning Jungle Walk at Hurakabra

From our anchorage, we can hear the morning chatter of birds and monkeys ashore at Hurakabra. Mike offered to take us on a morning jungle walk and we were only too happy to take advantage of his offer. Along with the Crazy Diamond crew, we clamored ashore at 0630 where Mike, armed with a machete and a shotgun was waiting for us. There might be jaguars!  

We walked through a grove of bamboo, then thick, jungle foliage took over. Mike was very knowledgeable about flora, but had little opportunity to show off his fauna expertise. He pointed out monkey vines and monkey ladders, but we saw nary a monkey (spider monkeys and capuchins inhabit the area).

Some of the vines looked very much like snakes and I worried that the opposite was also true.

Though Hurakabra touts 178 known species of birds on its 22 acres, we saw few. We heard lots of them, but the only ones we saw flitted high above in the canopy, unrecognizable. The high humidity and heavy morning dew made the thick layer of leaves on the path a bit slippery. The trail is well marked and Mike hacked at new growth as he lead the way. Mike assured us not to worry ... just sitting on the veranda, we'd spot lots of birds.

We trekked along and trekked along at a leisurely, enjoyable pace. Despite the lack of fauna, it was pleasant to be out and about so early in the day walking in the rain forest. Brightly colored butterflies fluttered past including several gorgeous, iridescent blue morphos. Barry stopped for moment to look at at a plant and a butterfly (or is it a moth?) landed on his boot. We made him keep perfectly still, so we could photograph it.

Then Ryan, another accompanying guide, spotted a bright red spider. Despite the fact I hate spiders, this spider was particularly beautiful and quite industrious. It's easier to be brave on the end of a telephoto lens.

Mike pointed out an acushi ant hill … huge!

Brightly colored lizards crossed our path, but thankfully, no snakes.

Mountain roses provided bright contrast to the green of the forest.

Mushrooms and fungi, lots of different varieties we didn't recognize, grew profusely in the rich soil and humid conditions.

We walked for two hours, then retraced our steps in an hour, covering about 10km (6 miles) total … not a bad morning walk. On our return to Cups, it appeared there's also a bit of jungle going on aboard … beyond the errant frog that David found in the saloon and the bat that whizzed through a couple of weeks ago. The welcome swallows (aka white-winged swallows) have overstayed their welcome and become a nuisance. They flit and dart around over the aft deck regularly now and sometimes through the cockpit. They're always on the bow or the lifelines or sunning themselves on the solar panels leaving a tiny trail of bird poop in their wake.

They're cute, delightful little creatures, but they've become a bit too cheeky. I watched one land on the solar panels the other day with a twig in its mouth. Oh-oh …

David suggested checking the end of the boom and sure enough, there was the start of a nest. I removed the detritus … twigs and leave parts ... and we stuffed a rag into the end of the boom. After having egrets, bats, and frogs aboard, we've determined that visiting is one thing...moving in is quite another.

We'll keep that in mind when we visit with our relatives in the States!

Grass Islands and Roosting Parrots

While reading Doyle's Cruising Guide to Guyana, I noted a Noonsite comment about things to do near Bartica … “Some nights must also be spent at Grass Islands, where hundreds of parrots go every night to roost, a sight you will be unlikely to see anywhere else in the world, not to mention the sounds.” We decided to get away from the big city for a night or two and check out the Grass Islands, just a mile or two on the other side of the Essequibo.

We had more than one motive for moving the boat. It gets pretty loud near the Bartica shore at night with music, traffic noise and the comings and goings of small riverboats, fast ferries, and ships on the wharf. We were hoping for a more tranquil setting. We left Bartica in late afternoon and picked our way carefully across the river. The distance isn't far, but with uncharted shoals and rocks, we played it safe and headed there slowly on a rising tide. We saw a least depth of 9.8' (2.8m) during the transit and anchored in the lee of the largest island in about 20' (6m). The setting was quiet and calm, out of the ship channel between the Grass Islands to the west and a few houses and a little river ferry stop on the mainland shore to the east.

As we waited for dusk and the parrot migration, we busied ourselves with little chores … polishing stainless, wiping down the cockpit, general tidying up. As a side note, we've been quite disappointed in the new stainless rigging which seems to show rust much more than any previous rigging we've had. This, in spite of the fact that the highly recommended South African rigger made a point of telling us and emphasizing that he only used top quality European wire and nothing imported from China. I gave David a much needed haircut on the aft deck. At slack tide, we took a refreshing dip in the river.

It was dusky by 5:15 and still no parrots. We thought we'd been misled when we suddenly heard a faraway squawk, then another, then another. Flapping their wings in the awkward, comical way that parrots do, and squawking loudly all the while, they came in pairs, then five pairs, then flocks of 20 and 30 pairs. They came from the south mostly, from upriver where it's less inhabited and more densely forested. The sound volume was incredible … chaotic, frenzied “Honey, I'm home” squawks … a 45 minute concert of disharmony.

They landed in the treetops, then seemed to delve deep into the foliage. They must have occupied every tree and branch on the island. We wondered if they return to the same reserved roosting branch every night or if it's first come-first served. The sound had intensified and then at 6pm, when the last vestiges of day had disappeared, it was as if the 'lights out' signal was given. We heard a couple of “Good night, John Boys”, and then all went silent. Unfortunately, the light was so dim and we were so far away, the photos taken from Nine of Cups' deck were pretty poor quality. Despite that, can you pick out all four parrots in this picture?

We had our dinner, enjoyed the evening calm and resolved to be up at dawn to see the parrots return to their day jobs. At first light, just about 12 hours after their previous night's return, we heard the first squawks of the early birds heading out. Then the sky was full of squawking parrots and by 5:45am, all was quiet again. Again, too dim for photos, but we certainly enjoyed the entertainment. It was reminiscent of the corellas on Bribie Island on Australia's east coast. The squawking was so loud there that a fellow finally stomped out of his house and began thwacking the trees with his cricket bat in a maniacal way, yelling “Shut up … shut up!”. It worked ...kind of. The corellas, startled by the thwacks, flew off to other trees just down the road.

We stayed another night, snuggling in closer to the nesting island, in hopes of getting better photos, but overcast skies dampened our chances. In the morning, it was pouring which didn't deter our parrot friends in the least. They headed off to work just like mailmen. The rain cleared and we ventured in the dinghy to the far side of the roosting island to see what we could see. Spider lilies bloomed profusely and trees boasted large orange blossoms.

During low water, we could see why these were called the grass islands. We drifted in the dinghy with the tide for awhile, then David paddled through shallow channels lined with tall grass.

The parrots were gone, but a pair of egrets surveyed the muddy low-tide shore for snacks.

At dusk, it was raining again, so no chance of a closer encounter or photos. We did, however, enjoy a repeat of the parrots' discordant sonata.

We have marginal internet capabilities here and haven't purchased a bird book for the Caribbean. Any chance someone can help us to identify this medium-sized, lime green parrot with yellow cheeks and a blue head?