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| Rosemary Cakebread and guide James Adams
on the early-bird birdwatching hike. (Sarah Martone) |
By STEPHEN KINZER
Published: January 18, 2021
SURROUNDED by dense foliage in the tropical forest of Central
America, I learned something that sounds unlikely: hiking in
the pouring rain has its rewards. My two companions and I were
climbing through thin clouds and admiring bright-red butterflies
flitting in the mist when the downpour began.
We briefly considered retreating, but why? We would be soaked
anyway.
Instead, we pressed ahead for another hour. The rain cooled
what would otherwise have been a stiflingly hot afternoon, and
we returned drenched but invigorated. What made this hike so
extraordinary was not just the cleansing rain or the dazzlingly
lush forest through which we walked. It was the fact that at
the end of our hike, as the sky cleared, we were able to swim
in a pool under the rising moon, retire for naps and hot showers
in a comfortable cabin, and then convene for dinner on the veranda,
followed by Cuban cigars, single-malt scotch and hot chocolate
made on the premises from local cocoa beans. Despite decades
of reckless development, there is still a fair amount of unspoiled
land in Central America, some of it teeming with spectacular
plant and animal life. Dozens of resorts have sprung up in these
areas, but relatively few provide both high-quality accommodations
and close proximity to pristine nature. The one I visited last
March, the Lodge at Pico Bonito near the Caribbean coast of
Honduras, is among them.
Opened in 2000, the lodge consists of 21 cabins nestled at the
foot of Pico Bonito, an 8,000-foot mountain that, according
to the manager of the lodge, Kent Forte, has only been climbed
about a dozen times. Mr. Forte is one of those who has made
the climb (it took his group eight days in 1992). The lodge's
200-acre property adjoins the 415-square-mile Pico Bonito National
Park, the largest in Honduras (and about the same size as Rocky
Mountain National Park), which embraces a thriving tropical
environment. A biologist and former Peace Corps volunteer, Mr.
Forte often leads guests on early-morning bird walks along the
trails that wind uphill from the lodge.
Hikes along these trails can take from half an hour to a whole
day, either alone or with a guide. On mine, which took several
hours and was unguided, I saw a coati, a porcupine, an opossum
and a raccoon, along with various birds, butterflies, lizards
and tortoises, as well as a phantasmagoria of orchids and other
flowers. Others have seen tapir, peccary and even jaguars. Like
most travelers to this coast, I landed at San Pedro Sula, the
commercial capital of Honduras, in the northwest corner of the
country. I had declined Mr. Forte's offer to have us picked
up there for the 125-mile, two-and-a-half-hour ride to the lodge,
and instead rented a car. The road out of town is lined by maquiladoras,
modern-looking factories where clothing and other products are
processed and assembled for foreign markets. Later, it passes
banana and pineapple plantations, a legacy of the American-owned
Standard Fruit Company, which has been a powerful force here
for generations.
It reaches the Caribbean at Tela, where we stopped for a first
meal of seafood at Cesar Mariscos, a locally famous hotel and
restaurant that is directly on the beach. We started with three
of the explosively flavorful fruit juices that are a Central
American delicacy, in this case pineapple, watermelon and cantaloupe.
The fish was as fresh and flavorful as we expected, but the
waiter seemed puzzled when I asked what kind it was. "It's
the good kind, very fresh," he told me. And so it was.
The cabins at Pico Bonito are clean and modern, with locally
designed wood and rattan furniture and no plastic in sight.
Bathrooms are decorated with hand-painted Mexican tiles, and
comfortable porches with hammocks are well suited for private
meals.
That first night, however, we chose to dine in the lodge's stylish
restaurant, which overlooks the swimming pool and a meadow where
iguanas frolic at dusk. After two days of hiking the trails
above the lodge, made memorable by that afternoon cloudburst,
we ventured farther afield, to the Cuero y Salado Wildlife Refuge,
where two rivers converge to form a dense mangrove swamp on
the Caribbean coast about 15 miles northwest of La Ceiba. From
the lodge, we drove along the highway for a while, then turned
onto a winding road, and finally boarded a narrow-gauge train
for a jostling ride
over tracks built nearly a century ago by banana planters.
The open train took us through rich fruit plantations and past
clusters of homes, some handsome and others very poor. Once
in the reserve, we made our way to a modest dock near a settlement
that Standard Fruit built for its American overseers and still
uses as a retreat for managers. There, we stepped into a small
skiff with our guides, a local boatman and a young environmental
scientist from California who was studying tropical wildlife.
The boatman spoke no English, but when he called into the darkness
behind the towering mangroves, animals would answer. He also
spotted birds, bats and other creatures that we could barely
discern in the vines and branches. Even his powers, however,
were not enough to conjure one of the manatees that live in
this swamp. They like to float below the surface, and are rarely
seen. We returned late in the afternoon, and that night visited
La Ceiba, the banana port that is a short drive along the coastal
highway from Pico Bonito. La Ceiba, a city of about 120,000,
has a Caribbean feel, with a laid-back atmosphere and sandy-floored
bars, restaurants and night clubs. It is far from modern, but
has a distinct charm, with faded wooden houses lining streets
along the shore. Like many ports, La Ceiba also has a saloon
to which everyone seems to gravitate sooner or later: Expatriates
Bar and Grill. The menu is both Honduran and American, and the
clientele is also mixed, mostly Honduran but spiced with enough
expatriates to justify the name.
We met one local celebrity, Tony Stone, who runs the Adelante
Foundation, a microcredit agency financed mainly by Americans
that is pulling hundreds of local families out of poverty. The
appeal of this region is cultural as well as environmental,
and I wanted to make some contact with its remarkable Garífuna
people. Most of the Garífuna live in about 60 villages
along the Caribbean coast of Honduras; others live in southern
Belize, and there is a community of them in the Bronx. Estimates
of their total number ranging from 100,000 to 450,000. They
are descended from Africans who escaped from slave ships in
the 17th century, and some are said to practice customs and
hold religious beliefs rooted in Africa. In one of the principal
Garífuna towns, Sambo Creek, east of La Ceiba, I found
a tasty piece of evidence to support those reports. It was the
fish soup at La Champa Kabasa, a seafood restaurant that is
among the best on this coast. I was gazing out over the sea
and imagining the Garífuna odyssey when a waitress brought
me the soup, its combination of spices tasting distinctly West
African. People I talked to in Sambo Creek told me that the
main source of income there is remittances from relatives in
the Bronx, and that given the low cost of living and easy availability
of fruit and seafood, they saw no reason to work too hard.
With a bit of paint and lumber, Sambo Creek could be turned
into a lovely looking tourist destination, but the residents
seem happy as they are and show no intense desire to remake
their town for foreigners. The next day, we took a white-water
rafting trip on the nearby Río Cangrejal, which I would
like to try again in winter, when the river is wilder. But with
only five days at Pico Bonito, we didn't make it to Roatán
or any of the other nearby Bay Islands, which draw anglers,
divers and beach lovers. Nor did we have time for Copán,
the famous Maya ruin. On our last day at the lodge, we visited
a butterfly reserve and a serpent center on the grounds, hiked
to a craggy pool where we could swim under a waterfall, then
celebrated with a last dinner at Expatriates. Our last stop
was the lodge's bar, for a farewell round of hot chocolate.
Rich and grainy, less sweet and milky than the commercial kind,
it is one of the delights of this unspoiled corner of Central
America.
How to Get There
There are daily flights to San Pedro Sula on Continental, (800)
231-0856,
www.continental.com
(from Houston); and on American, (800) 433-7300,
www.aa.com (Miami). Taca, (800) 535-8780,
www.taca.com,
flies there daily from Miami and New Orleans, and four times
a week from New York. Major car rental companies have offices
at the airport. The road to Pico Bonito is good but but given
the habits of Honduran drivers, it is best used during daylight
hours. The ideal time to visit is between December and March,
and the June-to-September period is also quite pleasant. The
rainy season is roughly from October to early December.
Where to Stay
The Lodge at Pico Bonito charges $155 to $225 a night for a
cabin for two. Meal plans and organized trips are extra: hikes,
$25 a person; the boat tour to Cuero y Salado Wildlife Refuge
with lunch, $65; and the whitewater trip with lunch $75; taxes
are also extra. Excursions to the Bay Islands and the ruins
at Copán can be arranged. Reservations and information
are available at www.picobonito.com,
or by calling (888) 428-0221 in the United States and Canada,
or (312) 345-3288 elsewhere.
Where to Eat
Along the road, one can have a fine lunch in Tela at Cesar Mariscos,
facing the beach on the Calle Peatonal Playera and Avenida Uruguay,
(504) 448-1934.
Very fresh seafood is the specialty, and meals cost $9 to $20
a person, at 18.5 lempiras to the dollar.
In La Ceiba, Expatriates Bar and Grill, at Calle 12, Barrio
El Iman, serves pizza and burgers, grilled chicken, pork chops
and fish. Meals are about $12 a person.
In Sambo Creek, La Champa Kabasa, Calle Principal and Avenida
Playa, (504) 440-3355, serves great seafood in a relaxed ambience,
with warm breezes blowing off the beach below.
A meal costs $10 to $20, including (as at all these restaurants)
local beer.
STEPHEN KINZER is a cultural correspondent for The Times, based
in Chicago.
