In Search of Maya Sea Traders

CHAPTER 7. A New Dory

89 I n my drowsy state just before 5:30 a.m., I dressed quickly. I was attentive to covering my body to protect myself from the sandflies that waited outside my tent in the early morning calm. I dressed in long pants, long-sleeved shirt, boots, and rain coat, with the draw-string hood snugly wrapped around my head to minimize exposure of my face. Quickly leaving the tent, taking care to completely close its zipper, I ran along the path toward the outhouse. Watching my footing as I walked on the boards suspended over the sea, I pointed the radio antenna in the direction of Punta Gorda to make my morning call there. In 1988 the limited communication I had with Punta Gorda by CB radio when I returned for fieldwork at Wild Cane Cay was a tremendous improvement over my first field season in 1982. In 1982 we had no contact with town once we left the dock by the Texaco station. Unfortunately , communication from Wild Cane Cay to Punta Gorda in 1988 was reliable only at 5:30 a.m., so that’s when I called Leonore Requena — every day. I chatted with her for awhile. Everyone on the island who was still asleep before my radio call was awakened by our conversation . In the tents around me, I knew that my students and volunteers cringed in their sleeping bags. I peered at their tent screens blackened by swarms of sandflies sheltering from the morning wind that was just beginning to pick up. The reception was variable with my handheld CB, but it was best when I talked from the shore facing Punta Gorda. I stood still on the wooden planks, listening for a response and ignoring the swarming sandflies around my face and hands. I waited again for a response, realizing as CHAPTER 7 A NEW DORY 90 w i l d c a n e c a y , 1 9 8 8 – 1 9 9 2 I looked ahead to the person seated at the outhouse in front of me that I wasn’t the first one up that morning. One of the volunteers sat covered by a gray rain poncho on the wooden seat over the sea at the end of the walkway. When I heard Leonore on the radio, my attention was thankfully diverted. She spoke in a careful, straightforward manner, knowing that communication with my CB radios was unlikely during the day and rarely possible at night because of interference from more powerful radios from outside the area. I turned off the radio and ran from the outhouse to the other side of the cay, where a slight breeze was driving away the sandflies. The morning radio calls became more pleasant for me when we raised an antenna on a wooden pole outside my tent. The new antenna allowed me to call from the relative comfort of my tent, without the irritation of thousands of sandflies. Everyone in camp still awoke to what sounded to them as inconsequential conversation — even gossip, but was in fact our only tie to the outside world. Leonore’s husband, Julio, had found a dory in Guatemala for me to purchase . According to Leonore, it was large and reasonably priced, the equivalent of $800 in U.S. funds. The boat had been used to haul vegetables twice a week to Punta Gorda from Puerto Barrios in Guatemala and for fishing. It was mahogany with the sides built up with planks. Dories were scarce. People were buying skiffs made of molded fiberglass. They were often called “Mexican boats” because they were imported from Mexico. By 1988 they were available in Belize City, or “across” in Guatemala, either in Puerto Barrios or Livingston. However, a skiff cost about $6,000, whereas a dory cost much less. The problem was finding one. Before returning to Belize, I had written to Julio in Punta Gorda, asking him to find one for me to buy. Few people were still making dories — especially big ones — in 1988, so I felt pleased with this used one. I also was pleased with the price. I needed a new dory because I had no idea where my old one was. Frank had died, so I had lost both a friend and my boat captain. Until I found the new boat and hired a new dory driver, I had been relying on charters — perhaps an exaggerated use of the term for...