I don’t know how many times in my life I’ve watched a documentary where an explorer rides up some remote river with local guides to see something or meet someone. And just as many times as I have seen that scene, I have thought “Man, I wish that was me.”
Yesterday, it was.

After Elmer and I arrived in Puerto Lempira, we quickly met with the head of the local association of disabled divers. He told us about a village of divers, called Kalkira that was just a 20 minute boat ride away. Once we arrived at the village, we met some divers (all disabled to some degree themselves) who said they had a boat and could take us to visit some other divers.

The water was a brackish mangrove with birds circling in the air, people fishing and rowing canoes. We had a motorized boat, but just as many boats on the water were small hand-dug canoes with two or three people in them, carting produce or people around. As we moved up and down the waterway we saw kids swimming in the water, women washing clothes by hand on washboards and men fishing for camarones (shrimp) using light weight thrown nets.

The trip wasn’t all about me getting to pretend I am an explorer, though. It was very productive and we met with many different divers—some injured and some not. But a big part of this trip was to meet the divers where they lived and understand those conditions. In many ways, they live as they have for hundreds of years. Their homes are built on stilts to protect their belongings and families from flooding rains and storm surge. They have no electricity and no sewage—only wells to provide fresh water.

Puerto Lempira and Kalkira were both tremendous places to visit and the images will stay with me for a long time. The issues facing the divers living in these remote places, disabled, are difficult and harder still to see. But, at the same time I saw a tremendous spirit among these men. They are doing their best in spite of the challenges.

In the next post, I will address two conveniences of the modern world that have changed the lives of the Moskito Indian—for good and bad..

The day started out early. 4 am. Elmer picked me up at 4:30 to go to the airport for a 6 am flight. I carried on my camera bag and my backpack so they searched my backpack and didn’t allow me to bring my mosquito repellent. No clue why. It is the La Moskitia region…professional courtesy? And I couldn’t have more than 4 AA batteries so they took 2 away. And so it goes.

I was #13 and Elmer was #14 to board. But, there were only 5 people on our plane. Again, no clue. The hour-long flight to Puerto Lempira was uneventful and the land below was mountainous and beautiful although my vision was obscured by the haze and the aging acrylic window. Elmer said he thought it was an old Russian plane.

We landed on the smallest airfield I have ever seen. I have seen some small ones, but this was still surprising–like something from the third world. Oh. Wait. Dirt runway. Shacks for the “terminal”. And soldiers to meet us and check our ids—they wanted to make sure we weren’t drug smugglers. You would think they would check the people leaving, not arriving, but it wasn’t a big deal.

We grabbed a taxi to go to our hotel. Imagine my thoughts at this point. No paved roads. The smallest airport in the world. What is the hotel going to be like? I had pretty much resolved that it was going to be basic before we got here, but my imagination was really spinning. Hot water? I was hoping for that.

As we pulled up I was pleasantly surprised to discover a very nice place. We got to choose between air conditioning all day, or from 6 pm to 6 am, or fans. We chose the middle option, although at 4:30 as I write this, there is no electricity anywhere in the building so had we paid for the extended air conditioning, we wouldn’t have it. The court yard outside the rooms gets a very nice ocean breeze making it a very comfortable place to sit.

One of the more amusing things about the place, the only paved road anywhere in Puerto Lempira is 50 feet of pavement in front of our hotel. That’s it. Nowhere else. Elmer said the owner of the hotel used to be the governor of this state. So, I guess he has connections. He also has his own water treatment/bottling company.

Ironically, hot water in the rooms is the only thing it doesn’t have.

Quick addendum: I have now flown back to La Ceiba. The security at the airport leaving was pretty amusing. There were a couple 20-year-olds with M16s standing around, but not much else. We walked across the landing strip to the “terminal” and hung out. Then boarded the plane and left. No one checked our bags or anything. Well, that is until we got back to La Ceiba. I guess the odds on anyone carrying anything dangerous on board the plane are pretty low, but they wanted to make sure we didn’t bring anything into the city. Very funny. Just sit back, close your eyes and trust they know where they are going..

As soon as I posted the first post for today, I regretted it. It was too general, too simple and really didn’t explain why I was here or what was going on. There is only so much I can cover in a “blog” without it turning into something else, of course, and I plan to write this up for another publication or two when I get home. That said, I think I can add some more detail to explain the “purpose” of this adventure.

Since the mid-1960s, Moskito Indians from the La Moskitia region of Honduras and Nicaragua have been diving for lobster. In the beginning they dived without scuba, freediving, and were very good at it. But, as is somewhat inevitable, they had to go deeper and deeper so they began using scuba. Even then they have had to move deeper and deeper to continue their harvest.

In short, their diving has evolved well beyond any recreational or commercial limit into the extreme—and extremely dangerous. Often, these divers make 8 to 12 divers (or more) a day for 12 days to 100 feet or more. Simply put, that is insane. One of the greatest mysteries of this is why these divers don’t experience more problems than they do.

Dr. Elmer Mejia has been treating these divers for nearly 20 years, starting out as a hyperbaric technician, then a nurse and now as a physician. Today I showed him a video produced about 15 years ago in Roatan. He is in it. He remembered the people and the situation. Dr. Mejia does his best to treat these divers and restore their health and function. Sometimes he is successful, other times less so. But, he has dedicated his life to serving this community and trying to make a difference.

These extreme diving exposures often lead to severe paralysis and sometimes death. Today, Dr. Mejia treated a diver who had come to the chamber paralyzed from the top of his abdomen down. He can now walk again, but he is unable to urinate on his own. He has to wear a catheter. On the boat before he ever made it to the chamber, this man had to insert his own catheter—he used kitchen grease as the lubricant. Dr. Mejia is continuing to treat him and work with him to restore him to normal function. He is fighting the residual affects of the diving injury along with a serious urinary tract infection at the same time. We can only hope for the best. If he returns to his home in La Moskitia, he’ll probably only live a couple more years. Continuing to use a catheter, finding sterile materials and such, is nearly impossible.

So, that ultimately is the purpose for this adventure. We are going to travel to Puerto Lempira to visit with some of Dr. Mejia’s former patients and see where they live. I want to understand their quality of life. It’s important we all understand the price these men are paying to harvest lobster for American dinner tables and “all-you-can-eat” buffets. As Divers Alert Network, my employer, evolves we are looking for ways to use our expertise in diving medicine to help underserved populations like this one..

The last time I visited Honduras was back in February (If you’re curious about my first impression of Honduras check out the February posts). I’m not sure if I’m just more familiar with things this time around, but things seem a bit calmer this time around.

There is a certain civility to the roads here that I’m not sure I noticed before. While there is a fair bit of honking of horns and such right outside my window, I also noticed today drivers almost anticipating that they were going to get cut off and so they stopped or slowed (driving defensively?) to allow other drivers to pull out into traffic.

The last time I visited, as we drove across the country to and from the airport, we were stopped at a number of police checkpoints. Coming in yesterday, there were none out on the roads. Now, it was Sunday and it was hot and the sun was bright. It is entirely possible that the police just didn’t feel like setting up the checkpoints, but I don’t think so.

A few months ago, the country was still a bit on edge from the transition in their government. Now, it seems as if people are used to the new normal and living their lives. We even saw a protest that blocked the road for around 20 minutes last time, but there was no sign of anything like that yesterday. On the road from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba, we have to pass over some small mountain. Every few hundred yards (it seemed like) there were mountain streams with people cooling off and passing their Sunday afternoons in the water.

One thing Elmer, Alex and I discussed on the drive was the economic situation in the US and its influence here. Elmer explained that “when the US gets a cough, Honduras gets pneumonia.” They are very dependent on us for their own economic viability. So, he was happy to hear that things seemed to be improving in the US. I did notice some new construction here in town today, too. And not as many young men hanging out in the park in the afternoon. Those seem to be good signs for Honduras.

Very early in the morning Elmer and in the morning are going to get on a small commuter plane and fly out to Puerto Lempira, Honduras. (If you have Google Earth, check it out) That is the real purpose of this trip. In February, I learned about the Moskito Indians and the toll harvesting lobster by hand takes on their bodies. This trip, we are going to visit the “capital” of La Moskitia and see things first hand. There is a place there where impaired divers are given physical rehabilitation. Even so, most of them only last a few years because of their injuries. It should be quite an experience.

Before I left home, Elmer told me to bring good boots, long pants and long-sleeved shirts. So, it’s off to the jungle we go. If I can connect from La Moskitia I will post from there. No clue at the moment, but to be honest I am doubtful I’ll have any access at all. Stay tuned for more…pics will follow soon..

Sunday morning I head back to the airport and from there back to Honduras. While my last two international trips were about the completion of a project, exhibiting a collection of photographs, Honduras represents the beginning of a new one—and a new adventure.

After making sure everything is in order on Monday after my arrival, on Tuesday Dr. Elmer Mejia and I are traveling by airplane (there are no roads to get there) to Puerto Lempira in the La Moskitia region of Honduras to visit with lobster divers. Reportedly, there are around 9,000 Moskito Indians in the region who dive regularly harvesting lobster. About half of them have some neurological condition, including severe paralysis, that was caused by the extreme exposures and dive conditions these divers experience. They often dive well beyond any recommended dive table in the hunt for lobsters, sacrificing their bodies, so Americans can have all-you-can-eat lobster.

The problem is these divers don’t see any other way to make a living. If they try to dive more safely—as people have tried to teach them before—they can’t collect as many lobsters and feed their families. If they don’t dive, there really aren’t many opportunities for them to earn a living at all. That is, none without helping to run drugs across Honduras heading north to the American market. So, in short, it comes down to feeding one American appetite or another to make a living and probably die trying.

Dr. Mejia and I are going to visit these divers, many of them his former patients, in their villages. I hope to learn more from them about their diving circumstances, the conditions they work in, and understand their lives at home.

Not sure how much access I will have to the internet. I will be able to connect in La Ceiba, but I’m doubtful about the time I’m in Puerto Lempira. Never know until I get there.

And away we go!.