We didn’t stay in Livingston for long. After a few hours of formalities, food and exploring the small town, we started motoring up the Rio.
We took our time, trundling along. It really is something to behold. Once you pass Livingston the river funnels into a spectacular canyon with thick tropical forest blanketing sheer rock face, straight down into the water. It’s peaceful, no noise except for the bird song, monkey calls, bugs humming and the occasional launcha, outboard motor, zipping past you.
Photos and video cannot do this experience justice. I have googled the crap out of it since and nothing I have found captures it properly.
If you look carefully you can find traditional houses built from wood and palm leaves, tucked in between the overhanging forest. It is not uncommon to see a canoe, dugout of a tree trunk, filled with women dressed in traditional Mayan costume, paddling to the next house or across the river to visit friends.
The further up the river you go the more “developed” the banks become as the casas grow larger and more extravagant, some incorporating brick and clay tiles into their designs, eventually adding covered parking areas alongside private jetties for their shiny power boats, worths tens of thousands of USD.
We prefered the more modest casas with their beautiful asymmetrical woodwork and brightly coloured touches here and there.
entering the Rio, just after Livingston
Rufus taking a photo of me taking a photo of him
trying in vain to capture the beauty of the forest cliffs
local fisherman on the bow enjoying the peaceful view