In the late afternoon, we moved The Red Thread to the anchorage off Pueblo, the same spot where we’d spent our first night after sailing from Costa Rica. The water in the bay was warm and inviting, as we freshened up with a back-of-the-boat bath. After our new friends sped off to continue fishing, we tackled a few projects (including finally hoisting our El Salvadoran courtesy flag) and then hurried to make ourselves more presentable. The fruit of our conversation was an invitation to meet for pupusas in Pueblo at dusk. One of the women, Joanna, speaks English fluently, enabling us to share dialogue more complex than would have been possible had we been limited to our feeble but evolving Spanish skills.
New friends?ĭuring the next 30 minutes, we shared laughter and tidbits of information about ourselves with one another. We saw the faces of two pretty women aboard the boats, a first for us, as usually only men are seen fishing. The young fishermen pulled alongside The Red Thread, greeting our sweaty smiles with their own. Our anchor set immediately, and we began contemplating a bath, while we soaked in the sun.įrom two lanchas (i.e., open-top fishing boats called pangas in Mexico) near the shore, enthusiastic waves erupted. The winds abated as soon as we nestled into the bay and dropped our hook in 20 feet of water. Rocky arms encircle a long, volcanic beach, empty save a few modest huts. Even though we had just a few miles to go, we tucked into Meanguera’s southern bay to seek refuge for a few hours until conditions became more favorable.
The northeasterly winds were perking up for their morning blow, and the tides were beginning to ebb strongly we were waging an increasingly slow battle against both. It was early the morning of March 25th, and we were en route to Isla Meanguera from the Tamarindo estuary.
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