If you are worried about scuffing up your pretty boat on the bottom, then don't come. If you have a fancy deep draft boat with an indecent fin keel, you're not welcome.

"That's why the bar is there, it's God's doing. This is river is for common sailors like us, and believe me, we're headed the same way as the ancient Maya, into oblivion. We're making our last stand right here.''

I just nodded my head and decided not explain how we had managed to cross the bar a few days before.

SWEET RIVER

Guatemala's sliver of Caribbean coastline occupies less than one degree of longitude - a mere 50 miles -- squeezed between Honduras and Belize. Yet, along this verdant shore lies one of Central America's nautical treasures, the Rio Dulce, or Sweet River, in Spanish. A deep natural artery that flows roughly 25 miles from Lago Izabal to the sea, the Rio Dulce has become a way point for cruising sailors.

The drunk had it right, the jungle-lined river is a tropical paradise, and a singular experience for sailors in the Caribbean.

But first you have to get there.

A shallow, shifting sand bar guards the mouth of Rio Dulce like a medieval chastity belt. The controlling depth is around 6 feet.

A BIT OF LUCK

It was going to be a challenge to con my sailboat's seven foot keel over the bar. Theoretically, at least, it was possible and we followed all the advice in the guidebooks. Although there isn't much of a tidal range in the southwest corner of the Caribbean, we anchored near the sea buoy and waited until just the right moment -- 45 minutes before high tide. Luck was with us; an afternoon sea breeze kicked up, flooding the bar with tea-colored, alluvial water from the Bahia de Amatique, every inch of depth would help.

Typically, my optimism was unwarranted. Although we carefully steered, a few hundred feet beyond the sea buoy we grinded to a stop. We were stuck, and worse, that hopeful sea breeze had whipped the seas into a chop. The keel pounded up and down on the hard sand bottom.

I hastily called the Port Captain in the port city of Livingston and he dispatched a decrepit old tug to assist us. He pulled and tugged and veered, but we didn't move. Now I was worried. The resourceful skipper had another idea. He came alongside and I passed him one of our halyards, lines that run up the mast to raise sails. He then pulled away from us, heeling our boat over like toy in a bathtub.

We started to float and he increased speed. The most exciting moment was when the skipper released the halyard without slowing down; the boat rocked violently from side to side and swamped the cockpit.

Welcome to Rio Dulce.

The town of Livingston is perched on the western bank of the river and is a port of entry for Guatemala. As soon as the anchor splashed off the bow an entourage of officials arrived. The Immigration officer collected passports, the Customs official examined the ship's registration, the Health Inspector questioned the crew in rapid-fire Spanish and the Police Captain probed around the boat, half-heartedly looking for firearms and contraband. The process takes a while; plan to spend the night.

Livingston was named after a Louisiana lawyer who wrote Guatemala's penal code in 1823. Though the town can only be reached by water or float plane, several thousand people call Livingston home.

The population is a callaloo made up of Mayans, Mestizos, and Garifuna, who are descendants of escaped slaves and the native Carib Indians. Livingston has a few small restaurants, a wild, dirt-floor disco and limited supplies. It's a challenging hike to Los Siete Altares, but well worth it, as seven waterfalls plunge dramatically into the sea.

TIME WARP

A mile upriver you enter the spectacular Rio Dulce Gorge. Sheer limestone cliffs, some rising to 300 feet, blot out the sun, you feel like your sailing in a cave. The river is a time warp. Dugout canoes, little changed from when Mayan mariners ruled the waves a millennium before, hurry downstream. Graffiti on the canyon walls has been traced to the Maya classic period, roughly 1500 years ago.

Beyond the Gorge the terrain levels out and you pass small thatched homes that blend into the jungle. Colorful fabric flaps from clothes lines. The silence on the river is almost eerie. Beyond Rio Lampara, one of the larger tributaries, you can relax in a natural thermal pool along the rocks. Here the river widens into El Golfete, the little gulf.

LAGO IZABAL

We anchored in the lee of a small island and were kept awake by howler monkeys that lived up to their name.

Approaching Lago Izabal, the time warp reverts to the present and you encounter marinas, modern homes and boats of every description. Cruising sailors have discovered Rio Dulce and often spend months at a stretch on the river.

The cost of living is low, life is relaxed and the enchanting Guatemala highlands and majestic Mayan ruins are easily accessed. Indeed, I know several cruisers who have docked their boats on the river and traveled to the highlands to spend a few weeks learning Spanish.

Rio Dulce is also one of the best hurricane holes in the Caribbean -- just one more reward for crossing the bar.