For all of the big money that the cruise industry brings to these places, not much of it sticks to Roatan. There may be a few absentee fat cats that own concessions but the rest of them are dirt poor. Trying to take it all in from the windows of our speeding taxi, we see snapshots of people and social interaction. It’s fun to guess what they are doing and what their status might be. After a dizzying journey along semi treacherous mountain lanes without guard railings, I am reminded of the crowded hot sweaty 3rd world bus with chickens in cages ala Romancing the Stone. We arrive a private beach owned by the line. It has been groomed to match the pristine white, virginal, fine, sand pictured in the brochure leaflet. It’s all good however, and we use our swim fins masks and snorkel to delight in the shallow coral reefs. By the time we re-group on our floating hotel we all have a well earned appetite and stories to tell during dining. Afterwards we listen to Karaoke in the observation lounge and watch the danceband entertainment at the pool deck disco. We retire by midnight. It is midpoint in our grand voyage.

Our shore excursion was most excellent. The secret is to choose the most advanced activity (denoted in the brochure by demanding physical exertion symbology) otherwise you are summarily lumped with the other thousands of shipmates to wander about the expensive shops to do the tourist thing. We were delivered from this by van to a secluded spot on a southern beach where our Sea Kayaks were waiting. We paddled these two man craft in stiff breeze and chop along mangrove shoreline in crystalline turquoise hued water. Our guide host, Jay, gave us an ecology narration at resting points enroute. A huge termites nest in an old weathered tree stump, algae feasting jellyfish and the highly adapted island builder, the Mangrove tree were topics. After an upwind leg and then a cross wind struggle, we arrived at a docking platform 1/2 mile off. In 8 feet of water we enjoyed a refreshing swim before making the easy downwind leg. S’man and I tried to surf the short swell but the bow would swing away. Foiled. With only a couple of blisters ( benign ), we beached our small craft in favor of the much larger, which would take us westward. Next adventure? Honduras!

We’ve settled into a sense of routine, if you can call gourmet meals morning noon and night, that. This morning, after a nine laps around the promendade and watching the sunrise, we filled up on Eggs Florentine, English Bangers, and cheese filled Blintz(s). After a day and night of laid back sailing and seeing nothing but flat sea and the occasional ship passing in the night, it feels wierd to be thrilled by seeing small fishing boat objects and sight — Land Ho! We’ve maneuvered close ashore, raied the black shape and dropped anchors. The ship maneuvers and backs slightly to allow them to bite whilst empty local water taxis circle in anticipated frenzy. Abaft abeam is P&O line’s Oceana and to starboard is the MS/Explorer of Seas. Time to goop up with sunscreen. Hello and welcome to Georgetown!

We sailed in the late sun. Ther pier by now was empty. I expected well wishers but it was explained to me that’s only in the movies. Guests on NCL sister ship Dawn provided cheer with waving arms and whistles. In unison they shouted Bon’Voyage. There was a dueling banjoes as the two ships signaled one-on-one with their massive bass horns. Our vantage point offered plenty of wind in our faces and a view of the receding city skyline and setting sun. We had a surreal moment as a motorized hang glider (On floats no less) caught us up and nearly matched our lazy speed closehauled before peeling off. I sang the chorus of ‘those magnificent men in their flying machines’. We adjourned to the afterdeck to enjoy the fading splendor. I’m happy to report that everyone in our entourage has sea legs. No one is barking for Neptune. I did awaken during the night to the sound of a stiff breeze moaning and the ship had begun a rolling motion. I felt badly for those in the most forward cabins. The rolling is slightly less pronounced but replaced with a most unpleasant pitching moment. I’d be selling Buicks up there. The moon is visible from our stateroom balcony and it emerges from behind low clouds to reflect on the water’s surface. This is the life!

The critter was constructed from a Palm Tree frond by a street artist. There were many vendors visiting our dinner table last night hawking flowers, and objects de`art. A strolling guitar gaucho wanted to play us a song — I suggested Guadalahara (a tough one for a one-man band) but he said that one would cost (5) $bucks$. No sale. We walked Collins Ave. and the South Beach. Palms were backlit by dark sky and a gorgeous moon. The sidewalk was walled with outdoor restaurants. Barkers hustled their menus and musical instruments played a latin beat. Most dining is celebrated in the fresh air outdoors and for good reason.

Our travels have been a breeze with ‘nary a wait line anywhere. Our Portuguese/English speaking limousine driver met our flight with a printed hand held sign and escorted us to our intermediate launch pad, the Sonesta, in Cocoanut Grove. This is our jump point and rendezvous. There was just enough light left when we checked in to visit the Dinner Key Marina across the street. I got a short jog during the late sunset. Some yachts have christmas spirit with colorful lights running up the forestay to the mast head and down the backstay. An old friend will meet us shortly for dinner chow and a stroll here in the district. South Florida. What a contrast this is. Tomorrow our ship will come in!

I’ve settled in at my hotel/apartment. The sun streaming in, the pigeons, and the steam heat going tick tick tick woke me about 0730 this AM.

I went out last night because it was “only” in the 30’s and it seemed like a good time to supply the kitchenette with some breakfast fixin’s. I found a market that was open and was able to choose some ‘sept cereales pain aux’, ‘jus D`Orange avec pulpe’, and ‘2% lait partiellement e`creme’ and how do you say:::
S h r e d d e d W h e a t.

What an anchor it is for this country to be dual. I mean, we had to carry an extra flight attendant last night just so that they could get the briefings done. The simplest of tasks takes twice as long. When we stopped short of the gate briefly. The captain had to PA to remain seated with your seatbelts, once and then again. Although, if you were trying get current with your French or English you could get up to speed here pronto.

Invention: Safety Conk-Out
Purpose: thwart car jacking

Background: Now a-days when the thief wants to heist your car, rather than defeat the myriad of anti-theft car alarms with electronic keys, he waits until you have it mobile (turn-key) and at a stop light intersection pops the driver’s door open and yanks you out. Away he goes — unless you have my invention. The Safety Conk-Out would purposely disable the vehicle should a door open while the engine was running and transmission in-gear. You’ve seen the perps trying to evade the police chase in their stolen vehicle? (Cops – Fox TV network) When they realize that best escape is to try and bail and the foot pursuit phase begins. They drive along with the door half open looking for the best opportunity sometimes to jump out only to abort and climb back in and speed away. Many times when the crook exits and keeps on going he leaves the vehicle in drive and it idles away to wreck or cause property damage. Safety Conk-Out will foil this nonsense.

Actualization: Low cost. All new cars have computers. Many new cars have door ajar warning lights already. This invention could be implemented as a software upgrade with very little hardware modification. The logic would re-set itself after a given length of time say 10 minutes. Opening the door with the shift in Park would not trigger Safety Conk-Out.

The freezing rain ended just before daybreak yesterday but by then the power was already out. We suffered through the ice storm bundled layers deep in thermals, sweats,mufflers, and mitten caps. The trees bent, strained under the oppressive weight from ice accumulation. Many of them packed it in with a loud echoing report. And we’d cringe after hearing the snap-crack-pop hoping that our house was out of harms way. After 12 hours without TV, PC, reading light, heat or hot food the electricity was restored. Jubilation and group hugs followed.

This sunny morning is the big thaw and it’s a beautiful thing — with frozen bits releasing and cascading from the higher branches. The reflective crystals shimmer and sparkle as they dash on the ground. They are relieved of their burden and we are happy to escape the big freeze — a nice little reminder of what we have and what we so easily take for granted. What a show!

The heat is on but it’s blowing cold. That is why I’m in the crawl space below. I’m cross legged in front of the errant furnace. The pilot light is out the burners are dark. I view my immediate cool damp shadowed surroundings and observe mouse droppings on top of the unit case. Hmmmm, must be a warm spot where they like to hang out. I wonder if they are off in the black at safe distance tiny little eyes watching silently as I ponder the problem. I stike a match for a re-light and the pilot begins to hiss it’s usual burn pattern but refuses to stay lit. By process of elimination I narrow the fault(s) down to two. The entire burner assembly must come out so that I can repair the thermocouple and or R & R the valve assembly to which it transmits.

The thermocouple is a fail safe device that monitors the pilot 24 and 7. Should the pilot fail it would be unsat for the main gas valve to open even though commanded to do so by the thermostat. Obviously closed spaces would begin to fill with the poisonous explosive mixture. The part of the thermocouple which actually senses the flame is really technically called a thermocouple junction. It is two dissimilar metal wires which are fused (or welded) together at the end where they are (enclosed and protected by an outer metal case) immersed in the hottest part of the pilot flame. When heated, the thermocouple junction actually produces D.C. voltage from the energy of the flame similar to the way a solar panel cell produces electricity from the energy of light. The output of a thermocouple is a very minute voltage (30 millivolts) but it is sufficient to operate a very small electro-magnet latching switch on the main valve.

It is this latch that is safely defaulting to OFF. This hardware is contained and sealed. This prevents anyone (mice included) from messing with or trying to defeat the mechanism. I will replace this unit as well as the thermocouple — the end of which has been exposed to burning flame for the last 10 years or so. This last inch of tube may in fact be the culprit. I’m not sure how the heat transferring qualities of the copper have been transformed over the length of usage. That would be an easy fix indeed. Simply nip the dead ending and feed through a fresh length. But, as it turns out, a new component is only $5 and change. Gimme two! (one extra for the next time)

Mission completed I exit the dark confines. Your heat is restored, stay warm meeces!