The Bay Islands of Honduras give visitors a taste of what the Caribbean was like before development surged: a laid-back paradise with clear turquoise water, lush tropical vegetation and an easy integration into island life with no high-rises, no traffic and no stress.
As more people discover the easygoing vibe these gems located off the north coast of Honduras have to offer, the Bay Islands—Roatán, Utila and Guanaja—face the challenge of growing to accommodate increasing numbers of tourists and expats without losing their natural treasures. In 1998, powerful Hurricane Mitch stalled over Guanaja for three days, killing people, destroying homes and devastating some of the great mangrove forests that serve as buffers from the sea.
Thankfully, the area is recovering, but it needs help. I recently spent 14 days on Guanaja and participated in a small project (just my husband and me) planting more than 3,000 red mangrove seedlings along the northeast coast of the island. On my first trip to Guanaja in 1997, we kayaked through extensive mangrove tunnels in the same spot—now devoid of mangroves since the hurricane.
Of the three main islands, Guanaja is the least settled (with approximately 7,000 residents) and the most pristine. Its ecosystem includes Caribbean pine forests, mangrove swamps and coral reef. The Mesoamerican Barrier Reef System that rings the Bay Islands like a jeweled necklace is second in size only to the Great Barrier Reef and lures divers from around the world.
Walking on water
As the traditional fishing industry has dwindled, the island’s economic base has become increasingly dependent on the growth of reef-based tourism, like its sister islands. Due to this shift in priorities, environmental issues like mangrove deforestation that used to place low on the list of problems to solve have moved to the top.
Mangroves form biologically complex ecosystems. The most plentiful of the mangrove species on Guanaja, the red mangrove (Rhizophora mangle), stands out with its tangled, reddish roots. Called “prop roots,” they make the plant appear to walk on the surface of the water. Living in the intertidal zone, the plants provide nursery grounds for fish, homes for birds, and a food source for crabs and bats. The mangrove forests are beneficial for land and reef as well: They serve as natural breakwaters—a buffer from powerful wave erosion—and their roots keep sediments from washing out to the coral reef.
Despite their importance, mangrove forests between beach and sea are not necessarily beloved by developers and tourists, who want powdery beaches running straight into the aquamarine water. Guanaja’s local government lacks the resources to move forward with long-planned mangrove reforestation projects, and there’s no immediate financial or commercial incentive for islanders to spend time planting mangroves.
Mauricio Notino, Guanaja’s chief environmental officer, has found a solution by advising non-profit organizations and individuals who come to do the work at their own expense. He also plans to provide an environmental education program for the island’s schools.
DIY reforestation
For my recent project, my husband and I began by gathering seedlings from healthy plants elsewhere on Guanaja. The mangrove propagules, or seedlings, look like green beans and are actually embryonic root structures. It was a simple task to pull our island transportation—a 17-foot skiff—up to the mangroves and harvest the seedlings.
Loading the propagules into our kayaks, we headed out to plant them along the areas we’d discussed with Notino. Paddling with a boat full of red mangrove seedlings was a simple way to accomplish the task, and better than walking through sinking mud and bending over time after time.
Ray Powery, who grew up on Guanaja, estimates that he’s planted 100,000 mangrove seedlings in the past year.
“Some of them catch,” he said, “but some don’t. You may have to plant more in the same place. I’ve planted a couple of days a week and it’s hard on my back. But the way you guys do it with the kayaks is easier.”
Planting the mangrove pods was surprisingly easy. We paddled to a spot with sand, silt or mud—then stuck the seedling in so its bottom end was securely fixed and wouldn’t float away. In September, I could see the propagules we’d planted in August already beginning to sprout.
As Powery said, some won’t survive, but seeing the tiny, green leaves emerge from the tops of the pods we planted gives me hope that one day the Guanaja coastline will return to its pre-Hurricane Mitch appearance—with a mix of beautiful sand beaches and elegant, guardian mangrove forests.
Maintaining the balance will save the island’s ecosystem and beauty for future generations of tourists and residents alike.
Want to help? Go for it! Head down to Guanaja and ask Mauricio Notino, the island’s chief environmental officer, how to get involved. You can also get more information at http://www.guanajamangroves.org/. Contact Scott Duncan and make a donation to mangrove reforestation efforts.
All photos by Jill K. Robinson.