Allan Baxter Hyde was born on February 8, 1938, in French Harbour, Roatan, and grew up with his father and grandfather owning sailing schooners. Little Allan spent many hours playing on board these vessels. His Father built a boat in 1945 named the MA
When the Night Hawk sailed, it was so close to Christmas that the families did not want the men to go. Mr. Cleary Jones from Jonesville was one of the passengers. He got up Sunday morning to run a couple of errands, and when he
It is enjoyable to reminisce about when shrimp was king and so much of French Harbour life revolved around the yearly shrimping season. Today, one could come across and old shrimper friend at Eldon’s Supermarket, or drop in on another at his home for a
My grandfather, Captain Lymon M. Scott, was born into a Scottish family with a deep-rooted tradition of building schooners. Hailing from Cayman Brac in the Cayman Islands, his childhood days were spent crafting these seafaring vessels alongside his father, uncles, and brothers. When he took
Imagine being an eleven-year-old boy in 1960, strolling through French Harbour on a blustery weekday afternoon. The noise of “ching chings” in the coconut trees is drowned out by the thunderous sea swells crashing against the reef line.
It is possible that you were in French Harbour lately, walking westward all the way down the paved road that meanders through French Harbour Point. Passing colorful though faded lumber homes and stark cement churches on either side, Gio’s Restaurant to your left on the
Bay Islanders have a deep respect for the sea. They are also aware and wary of sea’s potential dangers. This is so despite, or perhaps because, islanders collectively have spent so much time on the sea.
Bay Islanders are among those folks who pay very close attention to the weather. The subject of what weather was approaching or had already passed through the islands and through Honduras fishing grounds was always a common topic of discussion.
The usual bustle of cars and pedestrians at the French Harbour crossroads has long been a good representation of who inhabits Roatan. The intersection used to be commonly known as “Monkey Apple Gully,” and I believe one can still see the now near-dry stream bed
Mr. Jason is quick to smile and easy to make a funny observation. His eyes have a shiny sparkle of energy, and his head is covered by curly gray hair. For over eight decades he has seen many things and knows practically every rock and