The three of us (Keri, Trudi and myself) were less than convinced of the ability of the boat and Eric to safely deliver us to Utila. Eric had stuck the pipe together with a bit of epoxy and claimed that it now worked - however - luckily for him - he still made for the safe waters of an anchorage at Puerto Cortes.
Eric, Margot and Mango (pronounced Mongo - a la francais) the dog set off in the tender for port to get some extra food.
We held a council of war.
T was not going another fathom on that boat. Keri wasn't keen either. I'd have taken my chances - but I guess that would have been daft. When Eric returned, we told him that I'd always wanted to visit Puerto Cortes (keeping a straight face should have been quite hard - given the sight of the busiest container port in Central America strewn before us, however necessity is a great aid in controlling facial expressions).
After a bit of grumbling and ensuring that we didn't want our money back - he agreed to let us off in the morning.
After a sleepless night (Eric disappeared into town after smoking a joint or two and did not reappear until 8am - I was convinced we were about to be attacked by pirates) we got off the boat and made landfall in the miniature boat that Eric carried with him as a tender.
T survived the three minute journey by talking to Mango.
After polite farewells at the Immigration office - we got in a taxi to San Pedro Sula and beat the hell out of dodge.
We learned many lessons on the Kir. One day we may have recovered enough to document them.
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