| WESTERN CARIBBEAN |
On to Panama (September 2008) - Our plan had always been to make our first landfall in Panama at Isla Pinos. However, we planned
to leave the coast of Colombia further southwest leaving from one of the offshore Colombian islands making the trip a mere 80 miles or so
(a short overnighter - leave at dusk to arrive at dawn). Leaving from Baru added another 60 miles to the trip making it roughly a 24 hour
jog. That would put us at Isla Pinos around eight o'clock the following morning.
We expected no wind. Can you say motor sail.
The weather during rainy season down here is really mild. Lots of light and variable wind days. We're over a hundred miles southwest of
the spot off Colombia that Chris Parker calls Wind-Maxima (12N, 75W). You really should take a look at the averages for that area.
We're talking 25-35 knot winds and 12 foot seas most of the time. Anyway, not here. The only potentially dangerous conditions are from
squalls (not convergence squalls, but convective squalls, i.e. thunderstorms). Sometimes you go days without rain, but you always see
lighting in the distance. We've never seen such displays. Even when we first neared the coast of Colombia in late May there were
lightning displays all night long. Very distant, but amazingly persistent. One after another, after another. We were in the middle of rainy
season so we expected rain (and lightning) sometime during our trip. We had yet to experience severe weather in one of these South
American squalls (so far nothing over about 30 knots for brief periods), but the lightning could be problematic.
During the morning we saw no wind over 5 or 6 knots. We had the main and staysail out to stabilize the boat in the small waves (nothing
more than 4 or 5 feet). It was really very comfortable. During the afternoon we actually got 10 knots or so on our beam. We sneaked out
the jib, turned off the engine and managed a respectable 6 knots for several hours. Then once again, no wind.
About 10 that night we saw on radar the first of what turned out to be many squalls. Of course, like all nights, there was the lightning show
all around, albeit in the distance. This one was only thirty miles or so away. But it covered a large area and was right where we wanted to
go. Then more of the buggers popped up. So. For the rest of the trip we played a very slow video game of figuring out which way the
things were moving and then changing course to miss them, sometimes going between the lightning storms less than 2 to 4 miles away. It
was a bit nerve racking, but we were in perfect control the entire time. One particularly large storm was moving very slowly towards Isla
Pinos. After hours of watching the thing we realized that we could just overtake it and get anchored before it hit. About dawn we had
passed it and could see the island in the distance in front of us and lighting in the storm behind us. We find the anchorage, get the anchor
down and about 30 minutes later the squall blew through with thirty knots or so and it rained for several hours. I don't know how one could
do this cruising thing without radar.
Isla Pinos (September 2008) - What a pretty island. What a pretty mainland (a couple of miles away). What cool nights. What a good
anchorage (protected, good holding, ten feet deep). What clear water. What seclusion (there's no one else here). What took us so long.
Isla Pinos is postcard perfect.
We could see the Kuna village in the distance. In the mornings we could see the Kunas leave to go fishing or to tend their crops in the
jungle on the mainland in their dugout canoes (ulus). Occasionally, one would come by and say, hola. The third morning a Kuna comes out
with a receipt for eight dollars (our fee for anchoring at their island). The guy's name is Horatio. He spoke enough English to
communicate fairly well. He said he taught himself by correspondence course from the States. We ask him if we can buy some fish or
lobsters from the fisherman. He says we have to ask the chief. The next day we go to the village to ask the chief. Horatio takes us to the
chief's home. The chief comes out of his thatch-roofed hut with no windows, no doors and no floor and chats with us a few minutes through
our interpreter, Horatio. We have truly taken a step back in time. I'm not going to waste your time going through a Kuna history lesson,
but these people have fought many times over many centuries for their land and way of life. Today, they are essentially a self-governed
people within Panama. Lucky for the few of us who travel here. This land is truly unspoiled.
On the way out of the village, Horatio asks if we have a camera. Our yes reply turned out to be an answer that resulted in much activity
during the next few days. His eyes lit up and began to explain in halting English that he wanted a passport and needed a picture. Horatio
was getting old and apparently the chief had given him permission to travel outside of Panama. Not sure where he could get enough money
for travel, but nevertheless, we made several trips back and forth to the village to get the pictures, get them onto the laptop, print the
pictures, then deliver them. In the process, we ended up taking passport pictures for three different Kunas. We also somehow agreed to
have picture day for kids. The Kuna moms would dress their little ones up and Leta would snap the pictures while they weren't crying, then
back to the boat for picture processing, then back to the village for delivery. We must have made ten trips.
On one of the trips Horatio gives Ellis what looked like a broken plunger from an old Coleman camp stove. He wanted him to try to fix it.
Turned out to be an easy fix if you had the right tools. The Kunas can't afford many tools. Apparently, the word spread and the next day a
Kuna paddles out to our boat with the butt of what must have been a 50 year old single shot shotgun. The stock was falling off which took a
long screw driver to fix. What respectable boat tool chest would not have a long screw driver? It took less than five minutes, most of
which was time digging out the screw driver. The Kuna was really, really happy and said that he was going to the mainland to shoot
wabbits. No telling how long the poor guy's gun was broken. Leta calls me Kuna Helper. Very funny.
Towards the end of the trips, Ellis realizes we are burning lots of gasoline and it could be a month or so before we get to Colon. He asks
Horatio if he can buy gasoline. It appeared to us that three or four Kunas in the village owned outboards. Someone had to have gasoline.
Well. It took about an hour for Ellis and two or three Kunas to dig around in a little shack with several barrels of stuff to find about a half
barrel of gasoline that was not mixed with oil (our outboard is four stroke). Ellis declared the gasoline to be clean enough and bought two
gallons. One of the Kunas stuck a hose in the barrel and sucked gasoline with his mouth to get the siphon going and stuck the other end of
the hose in our spare gasoline can. I told you we had stepped back in time.
After a few days of all this activity and visits to the village, the Kunas went out of their way to paddle or motor by and wave and say hello.
Oh. And after the chief said okay, the fishermen began to stop by and try to sell us some of their catch of the day. We ended up eating the
best lobster and fish we have had in quite some time. Cool stuff.
We also had another visitor a few days into our stay. We had seen plenty of alligators back in Texas and Louisiana and thought they were
big. Of course, we are now in the land of crocodiles. These guys are much, much bigger. One morning while drinking coffee in the
cockpit, a monster comes out from the island and slithers into the water exactly where we had taken Bogey every day to pee. Holy Toledo.
We'll have to remember to look for crocs. Bogey would make the perfect croc-sized snack.
Isla Pinos to Nargana (September 2008) - After a week or so we decided to move northwest along the coast of Panama. The weather
was supposed to be fairly settled for a few days and we needed high sun to go the 60 or 70 miles to our next goal of Nargana in the central
San Blas Islands. The area between Isla Pinos and Nargana is poorly charted and the datum used for the official charts of the area is
wrong. That means our chartplotter has the location of everything wrong. There are many, many coral heads and shoals that can only be
seen with sun overhead, especially since it was rainy season and the water was murky (still clear but not as clear as if it were dry season).
Besides sun, it is imperative to have The Panama Cruising Guide by Eric Bauhaus. The cruising guide has many chartlets and many
waypoints that are correct (well almost). Armed with the sun and Bauhaus' waypoints we should be able to maneuver safely around the
trouble spots.
The first day, we wanted to anchor at Mono Island. It was very close to the route designed by Bauhaus to be free of coral heads. We left
at ten to arrive at the anchorage around two (high sun the entire trip). We get to the island as scheduled and leave the route and motor
very slowly towards the island. Leta is on the bow. All of a sudden the depth goes from 50 feet to nine about the same time as Leta yells
(we have head phones - I may be deaf in one ear now) to go left. We never see less than nine, but had we gone right we could have run
aground and possibly poked a hole in the hull. The coral heads were now clearly visible, we just don't know how shallow they were. Those
heads were not charted, even on Bauhaus' charts. The next day, we hear on the Panama SSB net about a guy south of Isla Pinos that has
hit a rock and has a six foot crack in his hull two feet below the waterline. His bilge pump is keeping up with the water and he has put his
boat in five feet of water so he can't sink very far. Help out here is days, maybe weeks away. If the conditions are not perfect and you
can't see well enough through the water, you stay anchored in this part of the world. And then, you take it slow with someone perched high
at the bow.
After the mishap, we made it into the anchorage which was a perfectly protected mangrove lagoon with plenty of swinging room in 25 feet
of water. There are no other boats. We haven't seen one in days. This is our kind of cruising ground.
The waypoints along the route that Bauhaus charted proved to be right on. The next day we made it though a particularly hazardous area
by zig zagging for hours. We saw plenty of shoals, but the waypoints lead us perfectly around them, none too close for comfort. About two,
we dropped anchor in 35 feet of water very close to a Kuna village on the island of Niadup in the Devil Cays just about the same time as
the sun disappears and a rain storm gets us. As soon as the rain stops a Kuna guy promptly comes out and charges us five bucks for
anchoring there. This village was a slum compared to the village on Isla Pinos, but still no boats.
The next day we leave around ten again for the two hours or so to Nargana. The anchorage is very protected and is large enough to
accommodate quite a few boats (of course there are not many boats out here). Nargana is a relatively large village that has given up the
traditional Kuna ways. As a result, there is a generator running 24/7 that powers the entire community, there are a couple of stores with
basic food supplies and a couple of bars and the chief has no real power.
We wanted to stop in Nargana for several reasons. The first is that the next 25 to 30 miles are full of islands that dreams are made of; all
within an hour or two from each other. The second is that we needed diesel and a few food items. There is also an airstrip on the island
with service to Panama City in case we need it for some reason. We plan to be around the area for several months.
A Kuna by the name of Frederico comes out and introduces himself as soon as we get anchored. He said he could get anything we needed.
When I asked about diesel, he said no problem. He would have 40 gallons by that afternoon. In the meantime he wanted to show us the
village. So we get in the dinghy and he meets us at the dinghy dock. Some of the village was clean, some was not. There were four food
stores, only one of which we would buy anything from; the others were too dirty. The cleanest one (it was still pretty dirty) had a basic item
or two and Leta bought a head of cabbage. So much for food items we needed.
We also didn't get any diesel that afternoon. However, early the next morning we got twenty gallons (he couldn't get 40) of relatively clean
diesel. Well, it wasn't very clean but the Baja filter took care of it.
The sun was shining so we left around ten.
The San Blas Islands (September 2008 - October 2008) - The San Blas Islands begin at the Colombian border in the east and end in
the west at Punta San Blas, approximately 120 nautical miles. Isla Pinos and every island we have visited since has been in the San Blas
Islands. Most people consider the San Blas Islands to begin at Nargana on the eastern side and end at Porvenir on the western side.
These islands are further from the mainland and as a result the water is clearer and most are covered in tall palm trees surrounded by
white sand beaches. So we'll stay with convention in our captions.
An hour or so from Nargana was Green Island. The island has no inhabitants and is covered in palm trees surrounded by sand. It's also
surrounded by shoals and coral. We anchored in perfect protection amidst the reefs. We were still fairly close to the mainland so the
water was not perfectly clear, but plenty clear to see the bottom when it was necessary to do so. There were no boats. We had the
anchorage all to ourselves and stayed several days.
After a few days at Green Island we decided to go north a couple of miles to Coco Bandero Cays. Like Green Island, Coco Bandero is
surrounded by reefs and the islands are picture perfect. The only thing we didn't like about Coco Bandero was that the best anchoring spot
was about 45 feet deep. Since we carry 250 feet of chain on our primary anchor, our scope was about five to one. That's perfectly fine with
a big heavy anchor (Big Dog weighs 75 pounds), unless of course you catch a nasty squall with 50 knots or so of wind. In that case, I would
feel much more comfortable with seven to one, especially if the wind comes from a direction opposite from that which you set the anchor.
Oh, one other thing we didn't like about Coco Bandero was the backpacker boats. The San Blas Islands, Cartagena and Isla Linton (west
of the San Blas, close to Colon) are apparently backpaker destinations. Backpackers make their way to Isla Linton and are picked up by
boats that go to the San Blas and on to Cartagena and back. These trips usually last a couple of weeks all for a sum of less than $500.
The boats all have seen better days and are crammed with as many backpackers as will pay the fee. The backpackers as you might expect
are very young and are seeing the world before they go to college or to work. I guess it's a pretty good thing for the kids. Anyway, three
or four of these boats stop at Coco Bandero for a couple days each going to and coming back from Cartagena. The captains have their
favorite anchoring spots and will drop the hook regardless of whether you are there first or not. It just ruins the moment and what could be
a perfect anchorage (well, except maybe for the depth).
We left three days later to check out the Swimming Pool anchorage in the Holandes Cays. The anchorage is another one surrounded by
islands and reefs. The water is perfectly clear (even in rainy season) and is only 10 to 15 feet deep with good holding in white sand. The
closest island is called Barbecue Island in honor of all the cruisers who go ashore and, well, barbecue. The island is really nice and Bogey
had his way with it - I mean every tree, every bush, every piece of driftwood. He loved it. Unfortunately, this is one of the most popular
anchorages in the San Blas and during the season it's reportedly very crowded. There were only a couple of other boats now. As I said
above, we wanted to check out the anchorage, but the main reason to visit the anchorage was to meet one of the backpacker boats. A guy
named Mark has a mooring there (the only one) and stops every couple of weeks. When not transporting backpackers, he lives there. He
will buy anything you want when he stops in Colon every couple of weeks (actually Isla Linton then he drives to Colon) and will sell it to
you with a 30 percent mark up when he gets to the Swimming Pool. Well. We needed diesel and propane. A few days earlier, Todd and
Lynn on Blue Marine told us about old Mark. We then emailed him and when he showed up in the Swimming Pool he had 24 gallons of
diesel and propane for us. We will keep in touch with Mark while in the San Blas. He could extend our time away from civilization
considerably. By the way. Mark does not anchor on top of you in Coco Bandero. He's perfectly happy with his mooring at the Swimming
Pool.
After our business with Mark, we went back to Coco Bandero planning to stay up to a week. It's just so pretty. We had the place to
ourselves for a couple of days.
As reported previously, the water quality of our watermaker had deteriorated significantly. During the last month we had talked to Spectra
several times and had run a few tests to rule out several possible problems. We had concluded that our membrane was the culprit. The
last resort is to clean the thing with chemicals. There is a slight chance that a cleaning will work, but if it doesn't, we'll kill the membrane
completely. Since we needed to be in Colon anyway the first of November, we decided to arrive in mid-October so we could deal with the
watermaker issues. We wanted to be in a marina with access to water, in case the watermaker died after nuking it.
It was the first week in October, so we began paying particular attention to the forecasts between San Blas and Colon. The forecast was
calling for a low pressure system to form during the second week of October bringing with it more and more severe squalls. We decided to
beat the possible low and go a week earlier than planned to Shelter Bay Marina in Colon.
The next day we moved back to the Swimming Pool. The day after that we passed by the anchorages in the East Lemmon Cays on our way
to Chichime, our last anchorage in the San Blas Islands. There are many shoals around the East Lemmons (the depth goes from one
hundred feet to one in less than a boat length) so we had to pay attention. We traversed the area in high sun, so the shoals were easy to
see and we got through unscathed. We built a track with our chartplotter so we could get back through at a later time even if the sun was
not quite right. Of course we have built lots of tracks since Isla Pinos. As we approached Chichime, we built another track through two
shoals at the entrance since our plan was to leave just as the sun was coming up the following day.
The anchorage at Chichime was one of the prettiest in the San Blas, but it's deep like a lot of the anchorages here (45 feet). As we were
circling around the anchorage to make sure we had plenty of swinging room, three Kuna dugouts came out and followed us around until we
had dropped anchor. Two were selling molas and one guy, with his son, had the biggest red fish we had ever seen (must have weighed a
hundred pounds). Leta informs the Kuna women that we would not be buying molas today. One of them almost cried (she's really got that
act down). We also tell the fish guy that the fish was way too big for us. Later an old guy comes out asking for water. Before Chichime we
had not been bothered by the Kunas. They were pests here. We'll come back to Chichime because it's the logical coming and going
anchorage between San Blas and Colon. But next time, we'll at least know what to expect from the Kunas.
To Colon (October 2008) - Next morning, we were anchor up about thirty minutes before the sun was up, just enough light to see the
entrance. With a little light and our track we built the day before, it was easy to get past the shoals. Our plan was to travel a little over 50
miles and anchor at Portabello, only 20 miles from Colon, arriving around three that afternoon.
Well. As usual, things don't always go as planned. The light and variable wind turned out to be from due west (the direction we were going
- nothing new about that) between 12 and 16 knots. That wasn't so bad, but around one o'clock a big ugly rain storm kept getting closer
and closer. Also, the anchorage at Portabello was wide open to the west. Heck. We could get four footers in the anchorage. Not our idea
of fun. So we stopped early at Isla Linton which was much more protected. We get anchored (another 45 feet) just before the rain storm
got there. Not much wind but it rained all night. Isla Linton was very pretty, but the number of boats anchored there surprised us. As
discussed previously, it's also where backpackers congregate to pick up their boat rides. Oh. And we heard lots of Howler monkeys. Leta
says they sound like something out of Jurassic Park. The waves from the west did find their way into the anchorage, but only a half foot or
so. Just enough to make us roll all night since by then there was no wind to keep us pointed into the waves. Not much sleep that night.
The next morning we were moving again right before the sun came up. We had less than 30 miles to cover but we wanted to beat the ever
increasing afternoon thunderstorms. We arrived at the marina about eleven, just as heavy rain started. Leta got the worst of it since she
was on deck handling the lines while I was driving under the bimini. The rain popped up so fast she did not have time to get any foul
weather gear. She was soaked down to her underwear. The rain lasted a couple of hours.
First impressions of Shelter Bay Marina are good. Very well maintained concrete floating docks and very secure. It will be the perfect
place to leave Leta, the dog and the boat while Ellis goes to Dallas the first week in November. It will also b e a good place to sort out our
mechanical issues.
Colon (October 2008) - After three weeks at Shelter Bay Marina we have a few things to report.
The marina is probably the nicest marina we have stayed in since Nanny Cay Marina in the British Virgin Islands. The floating docks are
as good as any we have ever seen. Shelter Bay Marina is located at the inside base of the north breakwater that protects Limon Bay,
essentially the beginning of the Panama Canal on the Atlantic side. Not only is it behind the breakwater, but it has its own little cove with
approach depths at over twenty feet and depths at the slips about the same. So. The marina is very protected and easy to get into and out
of. The facilities are good. There is a large pool, a reasonably sized laundry and a reasonably good restaurant. The haul out facility is
good with a 40 ton lift. The boat yard is large and is very busy. The staff know what they are doing when they haul your boat and do basic
stuff like bottom paint. You can get a local mechanic but other things are tougher to come by, since Panama City is where most of the boat
work talent is concentrated (at least a two hour drive away).
The marina is also located on the grounds of an old abandoned US army base - Fort Sherman (at one time home of the US Army Jungle
Warfare School). There is still an armed entrance gate. There are occasional Panamanian forces training exercises on the grounds, but
not much of anything else. Most of the buildings are now uninhabitable. It's also in the middle of a jungle at least 20 miles from the city of
Colon. To get to Colon, you have to cross the Panama Canal and sometimes have to wait close to an hour for ships to get into the first lock
and the lift bridge to close. It's great for security, but it's not easy to get into town. The marina does have a bus running to town twice
daily, but you have to take a taxi to get anywhere other than the shopping center where the bus stops.
The old army base has abandoned roads all through the jungle that are a bit overgrown but still good enough to ride or walk through. Our
bikes found their way out of the dark nether regions of the starboard lazerette and we have been riding basically everyday. We are really
talking jungle here. During the first three weeks we have seen both Howler and Capuchin monkeys. The little critters are everywhere.
Leta even saw a Coati Mundi which looks like a cross between a raccoon and an anteater but is part of the raccoon family. Most people
never get to see jungle creatures up close except in a zoo, so the old Fort Sherman base truly makes for a unique experience.
Now for the negatives.
The city of Colon is dangerous. Everyone warns you not to go anywhere without a taxi or driver to take you directly to the door of your
destination and wait on you. A perfect example of how dangerous the city has become was our trip into Colon to visit Immigration a couple
of days after we arrived. The marina can take care of the Port Captain and Customs but you have to go to Immigration in person. You
also have to hire either an agent or a driver to take you there. We chose one of the drivers recommended by the marina and Teddy spoke
perfect English because he grew up in New Jersey. Anyway. When we get close to the office, Teddy tells us that we are in what the locals
call a red zone and he will take us right to the door. He then was to park the car and meet us in the office (to help translate). We spent a
few minutes in the office and found out that we had to go to across the street to have a couple of pictures taken for our documents and then
to a bank to buy a couple of five dollar stamps. Teddy takes us across the street and while we are doing our business a couple of bicycle
cops talk to Teddy about protection. Yep. Protection. So the cops watch us and the car for a while and we pay them five bucks for the
protection (the escort from the picture place to the car). We then go to the bank and back to the office where the Immigration official also
wants five bucks to process our documents. We hand the "tip" right through the little window. Even the Dominican Republic tried to
make it look official. No one seemed to care in Colon. It also didn't take us too long to realize that part of Teddy's job was to keep us safe
and to lead us through the payola game. We're happy to report that he looks like Mr. T.
Even though the marina has some of the best facilities we have seen, the marina staff has a go &*%$#@ yourself attitude. It's like they
hate their jobs and are tired of catering to the rich (if they only knew) Americans. The attitude is pervasive and rivals that of the "you owe
me something" attitude in the eastern Caribbean islands.
The last negative to report is that Panama City is a two or three hour trip by car - one way. If you want really good stores, especially those
that carry marine parts, you have to go to Panama City. Hiring a driver for the day to take you where you need to go costs $150 to $180
round trip. Ouch.
All things considered we would stay at Shelter Bay again. That's good because Shelter Bay is the only game in town. The Panama Canal
Yacht Club is across the bay adjacent to Colon. If you set foot outside of the entrance gate you will be robbed at gun point - guaranteed.
The marina is also in disrepair because the land the marina occupies is owned by the Port Authority. The Port Authority has given the
marina notice that they will be taking over the space to make room for expanding the port. The marina has about six months left. The only
other option is to anchor in the Flats anchorage where small boats wait to transit the canal. Petty theft is a problem at the Flats and when
the marina is gone there will be absolutely no security at all.
Mechanical Problems (October - November 2008) - We ended up spending about six weeks at Shelter Bay Marina.
After ruling out everything else, we replaced the membrane in the watermaker. The only hard part was getting the watermaker out of its
hiding place under the cockpit in the aft-most bilge. It took a day to get it out, one or two hours to pull the old membrane and replace it
with a new one and a day or so to get it back in. We fired it up and began making water at less than 200 PPM. Fixed.
The next mechanical problem proved to be much more involved and time consuming than we ever imagined. Our Yanmar engine had
begun to overheat at about 2,800 to 2,900 rpm several months before. As time progressed, the engine began overheating at a lower and
lower rpm and had deteriorated to overheating at 2,200 rpm. Our engine is rated at 3,700 rpm and should easily run at 3,200 rpm with no
problems. We had been in contact with Island Packet for some time and had not yet solved the problem.
The first thing we heard was that Yanmar puts some sort of preservative in the freshwater cooling passages of their engines when the
engines leave the factory. Upon installation, the preservative is supposed to be flushed and replaced with coolant. In Island Packet's case,
the coolant that goes into the engines is General Motors Dex-Cool. IP said that some of the engines were not flushed properly and, over
time, the preservative would react with the coolant and form a sludge in the cooling passages. IP said that we should use radiator flush to
flush the fresh water passages a couple of times and replace the old coolant with fresh Dex-Cool. Ellis did that in Cartagena with no effect.
So we and IP knew we would be dealing with a problematic issue once we got to Colon.
The first problem was finding a Yanmar dealer. The closest one was in Panama City, at least three hours away. We talked to the dealer
several times and it was clear they had no interest in sending a mechanic to Colon to solve a mystery overheating problem.
We finally hired a local mechanic recommended by the marina. Andy (507-6739-2306) turned out to be the best mechanic we have ever
seen. Good thing, because we basically tore the engine up looking for the culprit. We started with the raw water cooling system. Ellis had
long ago looked at likely culprits such as thru-hulls and raw water hoses and even replaced the raw water hose that attached to the engine
raw water pump because it had a little crimp. With Andy's help we took a look into the raw water cooling passages in the oil cooler, the
transmission cooler and the heat exchanger. Sounds easy, but to get at those items we had to take off the turbo charger, the exhaust elbow
(which we needed to look at anyway), the fuel injectors and the exhaust manifold. There were no clogs or obstructions anywhere. We then
took the heat exchanger out of its housing and, much to our surprise, there was some sort of gunk that had caked the outside of the cooling
tubes (where coolant is supposed to transfer heat to the raw water inside the tubes). Precisely the kind of stuff Island Packet talked about.
But to make matters worse, we could not get the stuff off. And clearly, the radiator flush didn't work It was also so thick that coolant
could not easily flow through the passages around the tubes. We had definitely found the cause but we needed a new heat exchanger.
Well. Mastry Engines (the Yanmar distributor in the southeast US and most of the Caribbean) sent a heat exchanger. Once we got the
thing, one quick look told us it didn't fit. After much confusion, Mastry decides that Yanmar discontinued making the heat exchanger
bundle and sent us the entire housing (with the bundle inside) which is a one piece design for the exhaust manifold, the coolant tank and the
heat exchanger and is basically the entire top left side of the engine. We finally get the thing installed and the engine is working perfectly.
Oh. As a side note, Andy took the old heat exchanger to an engine block cleaning place and it took a bath in hot acid for a couple of hours.
Now I have a nice clean spare. Also, while dealing with this fiasco we googled Dex-Cool. There are class-action lawsuits (some of which
have been won) against General Motors for precisely the thing that happened to us (clogged cooling passages). Notwithstanding Island
Packet's strong recommendation to use Dex-Cool, we will be draining it, flushing the system and using plain old Prestone "Yellow".
Back to San Blas (November 2008) - We finally left Shelter Bay in mid-November.
Our first guest (Cindy, Ellis' sister) was to arrive in Porvenir on November 20. Going back to the San Blas is generally a beat into seas
and wind, but mid-November is usually before the trade winds and resulting seas get uncomfortably big. We had a two day sail (well, a
motor sail) into light seas and winds, first to Isla Linton (it was still a rolly anchorage), then on to Chichime where we spent a couple of
days before heading to Porvenir. Porvenir was only six or eight miles away, but since Cindy's plane was due in at six thirty in the morning
we went over the night before. Porvenir is a small island with only room for a runway, a small government office (customs, immigration and
Port Captain) and a small hotel (we wouldn't stay there but a hotel nevertheless). The anchorage is not very protected from ocean swells
and even in the very light seas it was uncomfortably rolly. We didn't get much sleep and were up very early to meet the plane. Ellis had
the dinghy down and, since we were right next to the runway, he would wait to go ashore until we saw the plane. By about seven thirty we
began wondering where the plane was. By eight thirty we knew something was not quite right. We used the satellite phone and finally
found someone at the airport in Panama City who spoke English. We then find out the airport in Porvenir was closed, but the plane left
more or less on time and went to Carti (about fifteen miles away), and yes, Cindy was on the plane. We were pondering our next move
about the time a Kuna boat, with Cindy aboard, comes alongside. Of course, Cindy was as surprised as we that she ended up in Carti
instead of Porvenir, but being the ever resourceful one, managed to find a boat and paid the driver ten bucks to take her to Porvenir hoping
to find our boat waiting. I guess the moral of the story is that once you travel outside the larger cities in the rest of the world, it's a
free-for-all.
Cindy stayed nine or ten days and we managed to change her reservation from Porvenir (which was really Carti) to Nargana for her return
flight. Good times were had by all and she managed to make it back to Portland, Oregon relatively unscathed. She did leave us with some
pretty good pictures...
Back to Shelter Bay (November - December 2008) - Once Cindy left we headed back to Colon to replenish our stores for the next
guest (our daughter, Laura). We stayed only long enough to buy groceries and wait for the right weather window.
Back to San Blas (December 2008) - Laura was due at Nargana (we were smart enough to change her reservations from Porvenir
even though it was rumored that the airport was open again) in mid-December to stay through the Christmas holidays. Weather was
getting to be more challenging since the trades were beginning to blow between fifteen and twenty five, and of course it was a beat into the
bigger wind and waves. The forecast called for a couple of days of fifteen knot winds, so we took off. The trip was a bit uncomfortable but
not too bad. Isla Linton was as rolly as ever and we swore that was the last time we would anchor there. We would find someplace else. It
was a good thing we took the two day window, because the day after we arrived at the Swimming Pool (we went all the way from Linton to
the Swimming Pool instead of stopping at Chichime) the wind howled between twenty and thirty for weeks.
We pick Laura up at Nargana (no mishaps this time except that the plane gets in at ten thirty instead of its scheduled seven thirty, and
Laura's plane was delayed about four hours in Miami the day before and her driver had a flat tire that morning and didn't pick her up from
her hotel on time), and had a great time during the next few days.
We had one day (yes, one day) when the winds weren't howling. We were anchored in ten feet of water in the Hot Tub (around the corner
from the Swimming Pool in the eastern Holandes Cays) and the current was non-existent for a change. There is not much tidal current in
the San Blas, but strong winds and big waves cause a one or two knot current to find its way through the shallow reef anchorages. We had
been looking for a no current day so we could grease our Max-Prop. It's not a tough job but Ellis needs a shallow, sandy spot (in case he
drops small tools and inserts) and no current (because he needs both hands). We get out our Brownies hooka and get the prop greased in
thirty minutes or so then spend the next few hours cleaning the hull. The Brownies works great. We have the electric version so we don't
have to worry about storing gasoline in the boat. In the past we have tried underwater boat maintenance by snorkeling and holding our
breath. We can't do it. Maybe we are too old. With the Brownies we can stay under as long as we like and we don't have to worry about
finding a dive shop somewhere (I can tell you there is no such thing in the San Blas) to fill tanks.
After we put up the Brownies and got the salt water off everything, including ourselves, Ellis realized that he was missing a small allen
wrench used to unscrew the small plugs where the grease zerc fits. Sure enough, the water was clear enough and the bottom was sandy
enough to spot the thing right behind the boat. It wasn't going anywhere so we decided to wait until the following day to jump in (we were
beat and had just cleaned up). Next morning, Leta says, hey I'll jump in if you wash the dishes. Well, Ellis is not a water hound like Leta
and would just as soon wash dishes instead of jumping in the water for a five second tool retrieval then cleaning the salt water off himself.
So he said fine. Then Leta says. Oh, and one more thing. You have to admit in front of Laura that you are a pussy. You're kidding, right?
Ellis says that he won't say that but Leta insisted. Without thinking the whole thing through (hey it was early) he says, okay, I'm a water
pussy. Bad move. In one brief mental lapse Ellis will forever be known as the Water Pussy.
A few days after Christmas we go back to Nargana and see Laura off. She makes it back to Nashville by midnight. She also left some
good pictures.....
Back to Shelter Bay (December 2008) - While Laura was with us, we decided we were ready to move on. That means we go through
the Panama Canal. That also means we should be able to get up to the Sea of Cortez by next hurricane season. Time's a wasting.
Our first trick is getting back to Colon. As discussed above, the wind had been howling and seas had been ten to twelve feet. Back to
Colon is all downwind but twenty knots and eight foot seas would be more to our liking instead of something higher. As luck would have it,
we got a bit of moderation the day Laura left. We see Laura off at about seven. We had anchor up at seven thirty and had a great
downwind sail to Chichime arriving about noon. We get up early the next morning, leave about six and make it all the way to Shelter Bay
by four thirty, sailing between seven and eight knots the entire way (Ah ha, no more rolly Isla Linton). It's New Year's Eve.
Once we clear the breakwater upon entering Limon Bay we realize that we are done with the Caribbean Sea for the foreseeable future.
With all the beating to windward we have done over the past year it was fitting that our final sail in the Caribbean was a downwind
screamer to close out 2008.
On January 2, we call Stanley the agent and next day the Panama Canal Authority comes to our boat to inspect and measure. We get all
the forms filled out and our date for Canal transit is January the 12th.
We'll report back later.
Reflections on the San Blas Islands (September - December 2008) - We spent more time in the San Blas than we have spent
anywhere. We had planned for family visits for quite some time and what a better place than the San Blas. Ellis' sister and our daughter
saw a week's worth each of beautiful, palm tree covered islands with sandy beaches and probably the clearest water they had ever seen.
They also got to see a bit of the Kuna culture, which indigenous cultures don't exist in many places anymore.
The San Blas Islands are pretty for sure. When we first arrived at Isla Pinos in the eastern San Blas, it was quite the treat. Mountains
and rain forest on the mainland and numerous reefs and islands a short way offshore. Also, no commercialization of any kind (unless you
call Kuna fishermen stopping by in the afternoon to sell their days catch of fish and lobster commercialization). And in Kuna Land you are
safe. No theft to speak of and no pirates.
As we moved slowly west, it became apparent that really good anchorages (palm tree covered islands, sandy beaches, clear water and
shallow spots to drop anchor) are few until we arrived in the western San Blas. Even then the good anchorages were not numerous. If you
don't mind anchoring in fifty feet (fine if the weather is settled) you could add a few more anchorages to the good list. By comparison, the
Exuma Islands in the Bahamas have infinitely more beautiful anchorages. We have yet to see anything to compare.
Also, as we moved west the Kunas began to get on our nerves. The worst is at Chichime where two or three canoes are trying to hang onto
your boat before you anchor. If you don't buy what they are selling, they ask for water, for charging their cell phones (yep, they live in huts
with no running water but have cell phones), they ask for magazines (don't ask me) and if you don't buy or give them something they have
the "pitiful me" act down.
Then there's the Swimming Pool anchorage. The first time we anchored there in September there were only a couple of boats. Really nice.
But in December it starts to get crowed. Very crowded. The Swimming Pool can tightly pack maybe fifteen or twenty boats in the
anchorage. To be really comfortable it should be less than ten. The anchorage is surrounded by several islands and is very protected from
waves and swells by reefs all around. The average anchoring depth is maybe twelve feet in perfectly white, good holding sand. Even
though it was crowded, we were there in December to grease our prop and clean our hull in shallow water. We can tolerate crowded for a
few days.
But crowded is not the only thing you have to deal with. One guy on a sailboat (Runner) has basically taken over the place and claimed the
closest island as his own. He's on the island every morning cleaning up, raking and burning debris (primarily palm tree fronds that have
fallen overnight). He watches every thing that happens on his island. You can't even get to his island without driving right by his boat
which, of course, has about a twenty to one scope out with his anchor clearly marked with buoys so no one else can anchor in the prime
spot. Runner and his wife host a happy hour on his island every Monday and he expects you to attend.
One day the VHF crackles to life. It's Runner. He proceeds to chastise cruisers in the anchorage because apparently one of them took
garbage to his island to burn (that's how you get rid of it out here) and the garbage had bottles and cans. At the end of his tirade he said,
"People, people, people. Bottles and cans don't burn. If you have any questions, get back to Runner". I'm not sure what he did with the
bottles and cans, but you can bet they disappeared from his island. He was also sending a clear message to others not to burn garbage on
his island.
Uh oh. Trouble a brewing. You know what we think of this sort of shenanigans.
The second time we anchored in the Swimming Pool we took Bogey to have his way with Runner's island. Runner was in mid-island raking
away. Leta walks by and he proceeds to tell her that she should participate in the festivities (we didn't attend his happy hour the night
before). Not hello, how are you? My name is Dumber on Runner and we missed you at happy hour last night. Just giving her a hard time.
She makes some excuse to him because he surprised her but regrets not telling him to ^(&%$$ off.
Each day after that, Dumber would give us the stare down when we went by his boat (if he was there) or when we went to the island. I
guess he didn't like us snubbing his happy hour or Bogey having his way with his island.
Anyway. One morning he was maybe fifty feet away doing some serious raking and burning when we arrived with Bogey. He stops what
he is doing and puts his hand on his hip and gives us the stare down. Okay. Enough of that. We don't tolerate idiots very well. Ellis says,
"What the F%(*_)^ are you looking at". He says, "You got a problem with that". Ellis says, " Maybe". By now, we are having a high
school flash back. Leta says, "Staring is rude". He then walks over to us and starts complaining about Bogey. Leta gets pissed (Bogey's
her dog son) and says, "F%&$ you mister" (Leta says that probably three or four times during the course of our conversation). Ellis
says, "Do you own this island"? He says, "What's it to you". Ellis says, "The answer is no and we'll take our dog and ourselves
anywhere we want. You just need to leave us the F%(&* alone". He finally turns around to walk off and says, "It's hard to figure what
makes a man like you tick". Leta almost said that she often wonders that herself (pretty funny) but managed to keep silent. He then goes
back to his raking and burning. Needless to say, we went out of our way over the next few days to have Bogey do as much damage as he
could to Dumber's island and we may have even caused as much of a wake as possible when we went by his boat. You think that was a bit
immature? Maybe.
There are four or five semi-permanent residents in the Swimming Pool. They all treat Dumber and his wife like they are royalty and yield
to their every wish. The behavior of that group is enough to make you hurl. Oh. And they talk on the VHF all day every day. It is as
much airwave pollution as in Georgetown, Bahamas (of course, there are 500 boats in Georgetown and ten in the Swimming Pool). This
same group runs the Panama Connection Net each morning on high frequency radio. It's the most lame connection net we have heard so
far. They just want to hear themselves talk. Their boats are anchored next to each other for Pete's sake.
Having said all of that, we would visit the San Blas again (especially the less traveled eastern part in the slow season). We wouldn't,
however, stay as long as we did. And we might just throw eggs in the middle of the night at Dumber.
Next up. The Panama Canal.
to leave the coast of Colombia further southwest leaving from one of the offshore Colombian islands making the trip a mere 80 miles or so
(a short overnighter - leave at dusk to arrive at dawn). Leaving from Baru added another 60 miles to the trip making it roughly a 24 hour
jog. That would put us at Isla Pinos around eight o'clock the following morning.
We expected no wind. Can you say motor sail.
The weather during rainy season down here is really mild. Lots of light and variable wind days. We're over a hundred miles southwest of
the spot off Colombia that Chris Parker calls Wind-Maxima (12N, 75W). You really should take a look at the averages for that area.
We're talking 25-35 knot winds and 12 foot seas most of the time. Anyway, not here. The only potentially dangerous conditions are from
squalls (not convergence squalls, but convective squalls, i.e. thunderstorms). Sometimes you go days without rain, but you always see
lighting in the distance. We've never seen such displays. Even when we first neared the coast of Colombia in late May there were
lightning displays all night long. Very distant, but amazingly persistent. One after another, after another. We were in the middle of rainy
season so we expected rain (and lightning) sometime during our trip. We had yet to experience severe weather in one of these South
American squalls (so far nothing over about 30 knots for brief periods), but the lightning could be problematic.
During the morning we saw no wind over 5 or 6 knots. We had the main and staysail out to stabilize the boat in the small waves (nothing
more than 4 or 5 feet). It was really very comfortable. During the afternoon we actually got 10 knots or so on our beam. We sneaked out
the jib, turned off the engine and managed a respectable 6 knots for several hours. Then once again, no wind.
About 10 that night we saw on radar the first of what turned out to be many squalls. Of course, like all nights, there was the lightning show
all around, albeit in the distance. This one was only thirty miles or so away. But it covered a large area and was right where we wanted to
go. Then more of the buggers popped up. So. For the rest of the trip we played a very slow video game of figuring out which way the
things were moving and then changing course to miss them, sometimes going between the lightning storms less than 2 to 4 miles away. It
was a bit nerve racking, but we were in perfect control the entire time. One particularly large storm was moving very slowly towards Isla
Pinos. After hours of watching the thing we realized that we could just overtake it and get anchored before it hit. About dawn we had
passed it and could see the island in the distance in front of us and lighting in the storm behind us. We find the anchorage, get the anchor
down and about 30 minutes later the squall blew through with thirty knots or so and it rained for several hours. I don't know how one could
do this cruising thing without radar.
Isla Pinos (September 2008) - What a pretty island. What a pretty mainland (a couple of miles away). What cool nights. What a good
anchorage (protected, good holding, ten feet deep). What clear water. What seclusion (there's no one else here). What took us so long.
Isla Pinos is postcard perfect.
We could see the Kuna village in the distance. In the mornings we could see the Kunas leave to go fishing or to tend their crops in the
jungle on the mainland in their dugout canoes (ulus). Occasionally, one would come by and say, hola. The third morning a Kuna comes out
with a receipt for eight dollars (our fee for anchoring at their island). The guy's name is Horatio. He spoke enough English to
communicate fairly well. He said he taught himself by correspondence course from the States. We ask him if we can buy some fish or
lobsters from the fisherman. He says we have to ask the chief. The next day we go to the village to ask the chief. Horatio takes us to the
chief's home. The chief comes out of his thatch-roofed hut with no windows, no doors and no floor and chats with us a few minutes through
our interpreter, Horatio. We have truly taken a step back in time. I'm not going to waste your time going through a Kuna history lesson,
but these people have fought many times over many centuries for their land and way of life. Today, they are essentially a self-governed
people within Panama. Lucky for the few of us who travel here. This land is truly unspoiled.
On the way out of the village, Horatio asks if we have a camera. Our yes reply turned out to be an answer that resulted in much activity
during the next few days. His eyes lit up and began to explain in halting English that he wanted a passport and needed a picture. Horatio
was getting old and apparently the chief had given him permission to travel outside of Panama. Not sure where he could get enough money
for travel, but nevertheless, we made several trips back and forth to the village to get the pictures, get them onto the laptop, print the
pictures, then deliver them. In the process, we ended up taking passport pictures for three different Kunas. We also somehow agreed to
have picture day for kids. The Kuna moms would dress their little ones up and Leta would snap the pictures while they weren't crying, then
back to the boat for picture processing, then back to the village for delivery. We must have made ten trips.
On one of the trips Horatio gives Ellis what looked like a broken plunger from an old Coleman camp stove. He wanted him to try to fix it.
Turned out to be an easy fix if you had the right tools. The Kunas can't afford many tools. Apparently, the word spread and the next day a
Kuna paddles out to our boat with the butt of what must have been a 50 year old single shot shotgun. The stock was falling off which took a
long screw driver to fix. What respectable boat tool chest would not have a long screw driver? It took less than five minutes, most of
which was time digging out the screw driver. The Kuna was really, really happy and said that he was going to the mainland to shoot
wabbits. No telling how long the poor guy's gun was broken. Leta calls me Kuna Helper. Very funny.
Towards the end of the trips, Ellis realizes we are burning lots of gasoline and it could be a month or so before we get to Colon. He asks
Horatio if he can buy gasoline. It appeared to us that three or four Kunas in the village owned outboards. Someone had to have gasoline.
Well. It took about an hour for Ellis and two or three Kunas to dig around in a little shack with several barrels of stuff to find about a half
barrel of gasoline that was not mixed with oil (our outboard is four stroke). Ellis declared the gasoline to be clean enough and bought two
gallons. One of the Kunas stuck a hose in the barrel and sucked gasoline with his mouth to get the siphon going and stuck the other end of
the hose in our spare gasoline can. I told you we had stepped back in time.
After a few days of all this activity and visits to the village, the Kunas went out of their way to paddle or motor by and wave and say hello.
Oh. And after the chief said okay, the fishermen began to stop by and try to sell us some of their catch of the day. We ended up eating the
best lobster and fish we have had in quite some time. Cool stuff.
We also had another visitor a few days into our stay. We had seen plenty of alligators back in Texas and Louisiana and thought they were
big. Of course, we are now in the land of crocodiles. These guys are much, much bigger. One morning while drinking coffee in the
cockpit, a monster comes out from the island and slithers into the water exactly where we had taken Bogey every day to pee. Holy Toledo.
We'll have to remember to look for crocs. Bogey would make the perfect croc-sized snack.
Isla Pinos to Nargana (September 2008) - After a week or so we decided to move northwest along the coast of Panama. The weather
was supposed to be fairly settled for a few days and we needed high sun to go the 60 or 70 miles to our next goal of Nargana in the central
San Blas Islands. The area between Isla Pinos and Nargana is poorly charted and the datum used for the official charts of the area is
wrong. That means our chartplotter has the location of everything wrong. There are many, many coral heads and shoals that can only be
seen with sun overhead, especially since it was rainy season and the water was murky (still clear but not as clear as if it were dry season).
Besides sun, it is imperative to have The Panama Cruising Guide by Eric Bauhaus. The cruising guide has many chartlets and many
waypoints that are correct (well almost). Armed with the sun and Bauhaus' waypoints we should be able to maneuver safely around the
trouble spots.
The first day, we wanted to anchor at Mono Island. It was very close to the route designed by Bauhaus to be free of coral heads. We left
at ten to arrive at the anchorage around two (high sun the entire trip). We get to the island as scheduled and leave the route and motor
very slowly towards the island. Leta is on the bow. All of a sudden the depth goes from 50 feet to nine about the same time as Leta yells
(we have head phones - I may be deaf in one ear now) to go left. We never see less than nine, but had we gone right we could have run
aground and possibly poked a hole in the hull. The coral heads were now clearly visible, we just don't know how shallow they were. Those
heads were not charted, even on Bauhaus' charts. The next day, we hear on the Panama SSB net about a guy south of Isla Pinos that has
hit a rock and has a six foot crack in his hull two feet below the waterline. His bilge pump is keeping up with the water and he has put his
boat in five feet of water so he can't sink very far. Help out here is days, maybe weeks away. If the conditions are not perfect and you
can't see well enough through the water, you stay anchored in this part of the world. And then, you take it slow with someone perched high
at the bow.
After the mishap, we made it into the anchorage which was a perfectly protected mangrove lagoon with plenty of swinging room in 25 feet
of water. There are no other boats. We haven't seen one in days. This is our kind of cruising ground.
The waypoints along the route that Bauhaus charted proved to be right on. The next day we made it though a particularly hazardous area
by zig zagging for hours. We saw plenty of shoals, but the waypoints lead us perfectly around them, none too close for comfort. About two,
we dropped anchor in 35 feet of water very close to a Kuna village on the island of Niadup in the Devil Cays just about the same time as
the sun disappears and a rain storm gets us. As soon as the rain stops a Kuna guy promptly comes out and charges us five bucks for
anchoring there. This village was a slum compared to the village on Isla Pinos, but still no boats.
The next day we leave around ten again for the two hours or so to Nargana. The anchorage is very protected and is large enough to
accommodate quite a few boats (of course there are not many boats out here). Nargana is a relatively large village that has given up the
traditional Kuna ways. As a result, there is a generator running 24/7 that powers the entire community, there are a couple of stores with
basic food supplies and a couple of bars and the chief has no real power.
We wanted to stop in Nargana for several reasons. The first is that the next 25 to 30 miles are full of islands that dreams are made of; all
within an hour or two from each other. The second is that we needed diesel and a few food items. There is also an airstrip on the island
with service to Panama City in case we need it for some reason. We plan to be around the area for several months.
A Kuna by the name of Frederico comes out and introduces himself as soon as we get anchored. He said he could get anything we needed.
When I asked about diesel, he said no problem. He would have 40 gallons by that afternoon. In the meantime he wanted to show us the
village. So we get in the dinghy and he meets us at the dinghy dock. Some of the village was clean, some was not. There were four food
stores, only one of which we would buy anything from; the others were too dirty. The cleanest one (it was still pretty dirty) had a basic item
or two and Leta bought a head of cabbage. So much for food items we needed.
We also didn't get any diesel that afternoon. However, early the next morning we got twenty gallons (he couldn't get 40) of relatively clean
diesel. Well, it wasn't very clean but the Baja filter took care of it.
The sun was shining so we left around ten.
The San Blas Islands (September 2008 - October 2008) - The San Blas Islands begin at the Colombian border in the east and end in
the west at Punta San Blas, approximately 120 nautical miles. Isla Pinos and every island we have visited since has been in the San Blas
Islands. Most people consider the San Blas Islands to begin at Nargana on the eastern side and end at Porvenir on the western side.
These islands are further from the mainland and as a result the water is clearer and most are covered in tall palm trees surrounded by
white sand beaches. So we'll stay with convention in our captions.
An hour or so from Nargana was Green Island. The island has no inhabitants and is covered in palm trees surrounded by sand. It's also
surrounded by shoals and coral. We anchored in perfect protection amidst the reefs. We were still fairly close to the mainland so the
water was not perfectly clear, but plenty clear to see the bottom when it was necessary to do so. There were no boats. We had the
anchorage all to ourselves and stayed several days.
After a few days at Green Island we decided to go north a couple of miles to Coco Bandero Cays. Like Green Island, Coco Bandero is
surrounded by reefs and the islands are picture perfect. The only thing we didn't like about Coco Bandero was that the best anchoring spot
was about 45 feet deep. Since we carry 250 feet of chain on our primary anchor, our scope was about five to one. That's perfectly fine with
a big heavy anchor (Big Dog weighs 75 pounds), unless of course you catch a nasty squall with 50 knots or so of wind. In that case, I would
feel much more comfortable with seven to one, especially if the wind comes from a direction opposite from that which you set the anchor.
Oh, one other thing we didn't like about Coco Bandero was the backpacker boats. The San Blas Islands, Cartagena and Isla Linton (west
of the San Blas, close to Colon) are apparently backpaker destinations. Backpackers make their way to Isla Linton and are picked up by
boats that go to the San Blas and on to Cartagena and back. These trips usually last a couple of weeks all for a sum of less than $500.
The boats all have seen better days and are crammed with as many backpackers as will pay the fee. The backpackers as you might expect
are very young and are seeing the world before they go to college or to work. I guess it's a pretty good thing for the kids. Anyway, three
or four of these boats stop at Coco Bandero for a couple days each going to and coming back from Cartagena. The captains have their
favorite anchoring spots and will drop the hook regardless of whether you are there first or not. It just ruins the moment and what could be
a perfect anchorage (well, except maybe for the depth).
We left three days later to check out the Swimming Pool anchorage in the Holandes Cays. The anchorage is another one surrounded by
islands and reefs. The water is perfectly clear (even in rainy season) and is only 10 to 15 feet deep with good holding in white sand. The
closest island is called Barbecue Island in honor of all the cruisers who go ashore and, well, barbecue. The island is really nice and Bogey
had his way with it - I mean every tree, every bush, every piece of driftwood. He loved it. Unfortunately, this is one of the most popular
anchorages in the San Blas and during the season it's reportedly very crowded. There were only a couple of other boats now. As I said
above, we wanted to check out the anchorage, but the main reason to visit the anchorage was to meet one of the backpacker boats. A guy
named Mark has a mooring there (the only one) and stops every couple of weeks. When not transporting backpackers, he lives there. He
will buy anything you want when he stops in Colon every couple of weeks (actually Isla Linton then he drives to Colon) and will sell it to
you with a 30 percent mark up when he gets to the Swimming Pool. Well. We needed diesel and propane. A few days earlier, Todd and
Lynn on Blue Marine told us about old Mark. We then emailed him and when he showed up in the Swimming Pool he had 24 gallons of
diesel and propane for us. We will keep in touch with Mark while in the San Blas. He could extend our time away from civilization
considerably. By the way. Mark does not anchor on top of you in Coco Bandero. He's perfectly happy with his mooring at the Swimming
Pool.
After our business with Mark, we went back to Coco Bandero planning to stay up to a week. It's just so pretty. We had the place to
ourselves for a couple of days.
As reported previously, the water quality of our watermaker had deteriorated significantly. During the last month we had talked to Spectra
several times and had run a few tests to rule out several possible problems. We had concluded that our membrane was the culprit. The
last resort is to clean the thing with chemicals. There is a slight chance that a cleaning will work, but if it doesn't, we'll kill the membrane
completely. Since we needed to be in Colon anyway the first of November, we decided to arrive in mid-October so we could deal with the
watermaker issues. We wanted to be in a marina with access to water, in case the watermaker died after nuking it.
It was the first week in October, so we began paying particular attention to the forecasts between San Blas and Colon. The forecast was
calling for a low pressure system to form during the second week of October bringing with it more and more severe squalls. We decided to
beat the possible low and go a week earlier than planned to Shelter Bay Marina in Colon.
The next day we moved back to the Swimming Pool. The day after that we passed by the anchorages in the East Lemmon Cays on our way
to Chichime, our last anchorage in the San Blas Islands. There are many shoals around the East Lemmons (the depth goes from one
hundred feet to one in less than a boat length) so we had to pay attention. We traversed the area in high sun, so the shoals were easy to
see and we got through unscathed. We built a track with our chartplotter so we could get back through at a later time even if the sun was
not quite right. Of course we have built lots of tracks since Isla Pinos. As we approached Chichime, we built another track through two
shoals at the entrance since our plan was to leave just as the sun was coming up the following day.
The anchorage at Chichime was one of the prettiest in the San Blas, but it's deep like a lot of the anchorages here (45 feet). As we were
circling around the anchorage to make sure we had plenty of swinging room, three Kuna dugouts came out and followed us around until we
had dropped anchor. Two were selling molas and one guy, with his son, had the biggest red fish we had ever seen (must have weighed a
hundred pounds). Leta informs the Kuna women that we would not be buying molas today. One of them almost cried (she's really got that
act down). We also tell the fish guy that the fish was way too big for us. Later an old guy comes out asking for water. Before Chichime we
had not been bothered by the Kunas. They were pests here. We'll come back to Chichime because it's the logical coming and going
anchorage between San Blas and Colon. But next time, we'll at least know what to expect from the Kunas.
To Colon (October 2008) - Next morning, we were anchor up about thirty minutes before the sun was up, just enough light to see the
entrance. With a little light and our track we built the day before, it was easy to get past the shoals. Our plan was to travel a little over 50
miles and anchor at Portabello, only 20 miles from Colon, arriving around three that afternoon.
Well. As usual, things don't always go as planned. The light and variable wind turned out to be from due west (the direction we were going
- nothing new about that) between 12 and 16 knots. That wasn't so bad, but around one o'clock a big ugly rain storm kept getting closer
and closer. Also, the anchorage at Portabello was wide open to the west. Heck. We could get four footers in the anchorage. Not our idea
of fun. So we stopped early at Isla Linton which was much more protected. We get anchored (another 45 feet) just before the rain storm
got there. Not much wind but it rained all night. Isla Linton was very pretty, but the number of boats anchored there surprised us. As
discussed previously, it's also where backpackers congregate to pick up their boat rides. Oh. And we heard lots of Howler monkeys. Leta
says they sound like something out of Jurassic Park. The waves from the west did find their way into the anchorage, but only a half foot or
so. Just enough to make us roll all night since by then there was no wind to keep us pointed into the waves. Not much sleep that night.
The next morning we were moving again right before the sun came up. We had less than 30 miles to cover but we wanted to beat the ever
increasing afternoon thunderstorms. We arrived at the marina about eleven, just as heavy rain started. Leta got the worst of it since she
was on deck handling the lines while I was driving under the bimini. The rain popped up so fast she did not have time to get any foul
weather gear. She was soaked down to her underwear. The rain lasted a couple of hours.
First impressions of Shelter Bay Marina are good. Very well maintained concrete floating docks and very secure. It will be the perfect
place to leave Leta, the dog and the boat while Ellis goes to Dallas the first week in November. It will also b e a good place to sort out our
mechanical issues.
Colon (October 2008) - After three weeks at Shelter Bay Marina we have a few things to report.
The marina is probably the nicest marina we have stayed in since Nanny Cay Marina in the British Virgin Islands. The floating docks are
as good as any we have ever seen. Shelter Bay Marina is located at the inside base of the north breakwater that protects Limon Bay,
essentially the beginning of the Panama Canal on the Atlantic side. Not only is it behind the breakwater, but it has its own little cove with
approach depths at over twenty feet and depths at the slips about the same. So. The marina is very protected and easy to get into and out
of. The facilities are good. There is a large pool, a reasonably sized laundry and a reasonably good restaurant. The haul out facility is
good with a 40 ton lift. The boat yard is large and is very busy. The staff know what they are doing when they haul your boat and do basic
stuff like bottom paint. You can get a local mechanic but other things are tougher to come by, since Panama City is where most of the boat
work talent is concentrated (at least a two hour drive away).
The marina is also located on the grounds of an old abandoned US army base - Fort Sherman (at one time home of the US Army Jungle
Warfare School). There is still an armed entrance gate. There are occasional Panamanian forces training exercises on the grounds, but
not much of anything else. Most of the buildings are now uninhabitable. It's also in the middle of a jungle at least 20 miles from the city of
Colon. To get to Colon, you have to cross the Panama Canal and sometimes have to wait close to an hour for ships to get into the first lock
and the lift bridge to close. It's great for security, but it's not easy to get into town. The marina does have a bus running to town twice
daily, but you have to take a taxi to get anywhere other than the shopping center where the bus stops.
The old army base has abandoned roads all through the jungle that are a bit overgrown but still good enough to ride or walk through. Our
bikes found their way out of the dark nether regions of the starboard lazerette and we have been riding basically everyday. We are really
talking jungle here. During the first three weeks we have seen both Howler and Capuchin monkeys. The little critters are everywhere.
Leta even saw a Coati Mundi which looks like a cross between a raccoon and an anteater but is part of the raccoon family. Most people
never get to see jungle creatures up close except in a zoo, so the old Fort Sherman base truly makes for a unique experience.
Now for the negatives.
The city of Colon is dangerous. Everyone warns you not to go anywhere without a taxi or driver to take you directly to the door of your
destination and wait on you. A perfect example of how dangerous the city has become was our trip into Colon to visit Immigration a couple
of days after we arrived. The marina can take care of the Port Captain and Customs but you have to go to Immigration in person. You
also have to hire either an agent or a driver to take you there. We chose one of the drivers recommended by the marina and Teddy spoke
perfect English because he grew up in New Jersey. Anyway. When we get close to the office, Teddy tells us that we are in what the locals
call a red zone and he will take us right to the door. He then was to park the car and meet us in the office (to help translate). We spent a
few minutes in the office and found out that we had to go to across the street to have a couple of pictures taken for our documents and then
to a bank to buy a couple of five dollar stamps. Teddy takes us across the street and while we are doing our business a couple of bicycle
cops talk to Teddy about protection. Yep. Protection. So the cops watch us and the car for a while and we pay them five bucks for the
protection (the escort from the picture place to the car). We then go to the bank and back to the office where the Immigration official also
wants five bucks to process our documents. We hand the "tip" right through the little window. Even the Dominican Republic tried to
make it look official. No one seemed to care in Colon. It also didn't take us too long to realize that part of Teddy's job was to keep us safe
and to lead us through the payola game. We're happy to report that he looks like Mr. T.
Even though the marina has some of the best facilities we have seen, the marina staff has a go &*%$#@ yourself attitude. It's like they
hate their jobs and are tired of catering to the rich (if they only knew) Americans. The attitude is pervasive and rivals that of the "you owe
me something" attitude in the eastern Caribbean islands.
The last negative to report is that Panama City is a two or three hour trip by car - one way. If you want really good stores, especially those
that carry marine parts, you have to go to Panama City. Hiring a driver for the day to take you where you need to go costs $150 to $180
round trip. Ouch.
All things considered we would stay at Shelter Bay again. That's good because Shelter Bay is the only game in town. The Panama Canal
Yacht Club is across the bay adjacent to Colon. If you set foot outside of the entrance gate you will be robbed at gun point - guaranteed.
The marina is also in disrepair because the land the marina occupies is owned by the Port Authority. The Port Authority has given the
marina notice that they will be taking over the space to make room for expanding the port. The marina has about six months left. The only
other option is to anchor in the Flats anchorage where small boats wait to transit the canal. Petty theft is a problem at the Flats and when
the marina is gone there will be absolutely no security at all.
Mechanical Problems (October - November 2008) - We ended up spending about six weeks at Shelter Bay Marina.
After ruling out everything else, we replaced the membrane in the watermaker. The only hard part was getting the watermaker out of its
hiding place under the cockpit in the aft-most bilge. It took a day to get it out, one or two hours to pull the old membrane and replace it
with a new one and a day or so to get it back in. We fired it up and began making water at less than 200 PPM. Fixed.
The next mechanical problem proved to be much more involved and time consuming than we ever imagined. Our Yanmar engine had
begun to overheat at about 2,800 to 2,900 rpm several months before. As time progressed, the engine began overheating at a lower and
lower rpm and had deteriorated to overheating at 2,200 rpm. Our engine is rated at 3,700 rpm and should easily run at 3,200 rpm with no
problems. We had been in contact with Island Packet for some time and had not yet solved the problem.
The first thing we heard was that Yanmar puts some sort of preservative in the freshwater cooling passages of their engines when the
engines leave the factory. Upon installation, the preservative is supposed to be flushed and replaced with coolant. In Island Packet's case,
the coolant that goes into the engines is General Motors Dex-Cool. IP said that some of the engines were not flushed properly and, over
time, the preservative would react with the coolant and form a sludge in the cooling passages. IP said that we should use radiator flush to
flush the fresh water passages a couple of times and replace the old coolant with fresh Dex-Cool. Ellis did that in Cartagena with no effect.
So we and IP knew we would be dealing with a problematic issue once we got to Colon.
The first problem was finding a Yanmar dealer. The closest one was in Panama City, at least three hours away. We talked to the dealer
several times and it was clear they had no interest in sending a mechanic to Colon to solve a mystery overheating problem.
We finally hired a local mechanic recommended by the marina. Andy (507-6739-2306) turned out to be the best mechanic we have ever
seen. Good thing, because we basically tore the engine up looking for the culprit. We started with the raw water cooling system. Ellis had
long ago looked at likely culprits such as thru-hulls and raw water hoses and even replaced the raw water hose that attached to the engine
raw water pump because it had a little crimp. With Andy's help we took a look into the raw water cooling passages in the oil cooler, the
transmission cooler and the heat exchanger. Sounds easy, but to get at those items we had to take off the turbo charger, the exhaust elbow
(which we needed to look at anyway), the fuel injectors and the exhaust manifold. There were no clogs or obstructions anywhere. We then
took the heat exchanger out of its housing and, much to our surprise, there was some sort of gunk that had caked the outside of the cooling
tubes (where coolant is supposed to transfer heat to the raw water inside the tubes). Precisely the kind of stuff Island Packet talked about.
But to make matters worse, we could not get the stuff off. And clearly, the radiator flush didn't work It was also so thick that coolant
could not easily flow through the passages around the tubes. We had definitely found the cause but we needed a new heat exchanger.
Well. Mastry Engines (the Yanmar distributor in the southeast US and most of the Caribbean) sent a heat exchanger. Once we got the
thing, one quick look told us it didn't fit. After much confusion, Mastry decides that Yanmar discontinued making the heat exchanger
bundle and sent us the entire housing (with the bundle inside) which is a one piece design for the exhaust manifold, the coolant tank and the
heat exchanger and is basically the entire top left side of the engine. We finally get the thing installed and the engine is working perfectly.
Oh. As a side note, Andy took the old heat exchanger to an engine block cleaning place and it took a bath in hot acid for a couple of hours.
Now I have a nice clean spare. Also, while dealing with this fiasco we googled Dex-Cool. There are class-action lawsuits (some of which
have been won) against General Motors for precisely the thing that happened to us (clogged cooling passages). Notwithstanding Island
Packet's strong recommendation to use Dex-Cool, we will be draining it, flushing the system and using plain old Prestone "Yellow".
Back to San Blas (November 2008) - We finally left Shelter Bay in mid-November.
Our first guest (Cindy, Ellis' sister) was to arrive in Porvenir on November 20. Going back to the San Blas is generally a beat into seas
and wind, but mid-November is usually before the trade winds and resulting seas get uncomfortably big. We had a two day sail (well, a
motor sail) into light seas and winds, first to Isla Linton (it was still a rolly anchorage), then on to Chichime where we spent a couple of
days before heading to Porvenir. Porvenir was only six or eight miles away, but since Cindy's plane was due in at six thirty in the morning
we went over the night before. Porvenir is a small island with only room for a runway, a small government office (customs, immigration and
Port Captain) and a small hotel (we wouldn't stay there but a hotel nevertheless). The anchorage is not very protected from ocean swells
and even in the very light seas it was uncomfortably rolly. We didn't get much sleep and were up very early to meet the plane. Ellis had
the dinghy down and, since we were right next to the runway, he would wait to go ashore until we saw the plane. By about seven thirty we
began wondering where the plane was. By eight thirty we knew something was not quite right. We used the satellite phone and finally
found someone at the airport in Panama City who spoke English. We then find out the airport in Porvenir was closed, but the plane left
more or less on time and went to Carti (about fifteen miles away), and yes, Cindy was on the plane. We were pondering our next move
about the time a Kuna boat, with Cindy aboard, comes alongside. Of course, Cindy was as surprised as we that she ended up in Carti
instead of Porvenir, but being the ever resourceful one, managed to find a boat and paid the driver ten bucks to take her to Porvenir hoping
to find our boat waiting. I guess the moral of the story is that once you travel outside the larger cities in the rest of the world, it's a
free-for-all.
Cindy stayed nine or ten days and we managed to change her reservation from Porvenir (which was really Carti) to Nargana for her return
flight. Good times were had by all and she managed to make it back to Portland, Oregon relatively unscathed. She did leave us with some
pretty good pictures...
Back to Shelter Bay (November - December 2008) - Once Cindy left we headed back to Colon to replenish our stores for the next
guest (our daughter, Laura). We stayed only long enough to buy groceries and wait for the right weather window.
Back to San Blas (December 2008) - Laura was due at Nargana (we were smart enough to change her reservations from Porvenir
even though it was rumored that the airport was open again) in mid-December to stay through the Christmas holidays. Weather was
getting to be more challenging since the trades were beginning to blow between fifteen and twenty five, and of course it was a beat into the
bigger wind and waves. The forecast called for a couple of days of fifteen knot winds, so we took off. The trip was a bit uncomfortable but
not too bad. Isla Linton was as rolly as ever and we swore that was the last time we would anchor there. We would find someplace else. It
was a good thing we took the two day window, because the day after we arrived at the Swimming Pool (we went all the way from Linton to
the Swimming Pool instead of stopping at Chichime) the wind howled between twenty and thirty for weeks.
We pick Laura up at Nargana (no mishaps this time except that the plane gets in at ten thirty instead of its scheduled seven thirty, and
Laura's plane was delayed about four hours in Miami the day before and her driver had a flat tire that morning and didn't pick her up from
her hotel on time), and had a great time during the next few days.
We had one day (yes, one day) when the winds weren't howling. We were anchored in ten feet of water in the Hot Tub (around the corner
from the Swimming Pool in the eastern Holandes Cays) and the current was non-existent for a change. There is not much tidal current in
the San Blas, but strong winds and big waves cause a one or two knot current to find its way through the shallow reef anchorages. We had
been looking for a no current day so we could grease our Max-Prop. It's not a tough job but Ellis needs a shallow, sandy spot (in case he
drops small tools and inserts) and no current (because he needs both hands). We get out our Brownies hooka and get the prop greased in
thirty minutes or so then spend the next few hours cleaning the hull. The Brownies works great. We have the electric version so we don't
have to worry about storing gasoline in the boat. In the past we have tried underwater boat maintenance by snorkeling and holding our
breath. We can't do it. Maybe we are too old. With the Brownies we can stay under as long as we like and we don't have to worry about
finding a dive shop somewhere (I can tell you there is no such thing in the San Blas) to fill tanks.
After we put up the Brownies and got the salt water off everything, including ourselves, Ellis realized that he was missing a small allen
wrench used to unscrew the small plugs where the grease zerc fits. Sure enough, the water was clear enough and the bottom was sandy
enough to spot the thing right behind the boat. It wasn't going anywhere so we decided to wait until the following day to jump in (we were
beat and had just cleaned up). Next morning, Leta says, hey I'll jump in if you wash the dishes. Well, Ellis is not a water hound like Leta
and would just as soon wash dishes instead of jumping in the water for a five second tool retrieval then cleaning the salt water off himself.
So he said fine. Then Leta says. Oh, and one more thing. You have to admit in front of Laura that you are a pussy. You're kidding, right?
Ellis says that he won't say that but Leta insisted. Without thinking the whole thing through (hey it was early) he says, okay, I'm a water
pussy. Bad move. In one brief mental lapse Ellis will forever be known as the Water Pussy.
A few days after Christmas we go back to Nargana and see Laura off. She makes it back to Nashville by midnight. She also left some
good pictures.....
Back to Shelter Bay (December 2008) - While Laura was with us, we decided we were ready to move on. That means we go through
the Panama Canal. That also means we should be able to get up to the Sea of Cortez by next hurricane season. Time's a wasting.
Our first trick is getting back to Colon. As discussed above, the wind had been howling and seas had been ten to twelve feet. Back to
Colon is all downwind but twenty knots and eight foot seas would be more to our liking instead of something higher. As luck would have it,
we got a bit of moderation the day Laura left. We see Laura off at about seven. We had anchor up at seven thirty and had a great
downwind sail to Chichime arriving about noon. We get up early the next morning, leave about six and make it all the way to Shelter Bay
by four thirty, sailing between seven and eight knots the entire way (Ah ha, no more rolly Isla Linton). It's New Year's Eve.
Once we clear the breakwater upon entering Limon Bay we realize that we are done with the Caribbean Sea for the foreseeable future.
With all the beating to windward we have done over the past year it was fitting that our final sail in the Caribbean was a downwind
screamer to close out 2008.
On January 2, we call Stanley the agent and next day the Panama Canal Authority comes to our boat to inspect and measure. We get all
the forms filled out and our date for Canal transit is January the 12th.
We'll report back later.
Reflections on the San Blas Islands (September - December 2008) - We spent more time in the San Blas than we have spent
anywhere. We had planned for family visits for quite some time and what a better place than the San Blas. Ellis' sister and our daughter
saw a week's worth each of beautiful, palm tree covered islands with sandy beaches and probably the clearest water they had ever seen.
They also got to see a bit of the Kuna culture, which indigenous cultures don't exist in many places anymore.
The San Blas Islands are pretty for sure. When we first arrived at Isla Pinos in the eastern San Blas, it was quite the treat. Mountains
and rain forest on the mainland and numerous reefs and islands a short way offshore. Also, no commercialization of any kind (unless you
call Kuna fishermen stopping by in the afternoon to sell their days catch of fish and lobster commercialization). And in Kuna Land you are
safe. No theft to speak of and no pirates.
As we moved slowly west, it became apparent that really good anchorages (palm tree covered islands, sandy beaches, clear water and
shallow spots to drop anchor) are few until we arrived in the western San Blas. Even then the good anchorages were not numerous. If you
don't mind anchoring in fifty feet (fine if the weather is settled) you could add a few more anchorages to the good list. By comparison, the
Exuma Islands in the Bahamas have infinitely more beautiful anchorages. We have yet to see anything to compare.
Also, as we moved west the Kunas began to get on our nerves. The worst is at Chichime where two or three canoes are trying to hang onto
your boat before you anchor. If you don't buy what they are selling, they ask for water, for charging their cell phones (yep, they live in huts
with no running water but have cell phones), they ask for magazines (don't ask me) and if you don't buy or give them something they have
the "pitiful me" act down.
Then there's the Swimming Pool anchorage. The first time we anchored there in September there were only a couple of boats. Really nice.
But in December it starts to get crowed. Very crowded. The Swimming Pool can tightly pack maybe fifteen or twenty boats in the
anchorage. To be really comfortable it should be less than ten. The anchorage is surrounded by several islands and is very protected from
waves and swells by reefs all around. The average anchoring depth is maybe twelve feet in perfectly white, good holding sand. Even
though it was crowded, we were there in December to grease our prop and clean our hull in shallow water. We can tolerate crowded for a
few days.
But crowded is not the only thing you have to deal with. One guy on a sailboat (Runner) has basically taken over the place and claimed the
closest island as his own. He's on the island every morning cleaning up, raking and burning debris (primarily palm tree fronds that have
fallen overnight). He watches every thing that happens on his island. You can't even get to his island without driving right by his boat
which, of course, has about a twenty to one scope out with his anchor clearly marked with buoys so no one else can anchor in the prime
spot. Runner and his wife host a happy hour on his island every Monday and he expects you to attend.
One day the VHF crackles to life. It's Runner. He proceeds to chastise cruisers in the anchorage because apparently one of them took
garbage to his island to burn (that's how you get rid of it out here) and the garbage had bottles and cans. At the end of his tirade he said,
"People, people, people. Bottles and cans don't burn. If you have any questions, get back to Runner". I'm not sure what he did with the
bottles and cans, but you can bet they disappeared from his island. He was also sending a clear message to others not to burn garbage on
his island.
Uh oh. Trouble a brewing. You know what we think of this sort of shenanigans.
The second time we anchored in the Swimming Pool we took Bogey to have his way with Runner's island. Runner was in mid-island raking
away. Leta walks by and he proceeds to tell her that she should participate in the festivities (we didn't attend his happy hour the night
before). Not hello, how are you? My name is Dumber on Runner and we missed you at happy hour last night. Just giving her a hard time.
She makes some excuse to him because he surprised her but regrets not telling him to ^(&%$$ off.
Each day after that, Dumber would give us the stare down when we went by his boat (if he was there) or when we went to the island. I
guess he didn't like us snubbing his happy hour or Bogey having his way with his island.
Anyway. One morning he was maybe fifty feet away doing some serious raking and burning when we arrived with Bogey. He stops what
he is doing and puts his hand on his hip and gives us the stare down. Okay. Enough of that. We don't tolerate idiots very well. Ellis says,
"What the F%(*_)^ are you looking at". He says, "You got a problem with that". Ellis says, " Maybe". By now, we are having a high
school flash back. Leta says, "Staring is rude". He then walks over to us and starts complaining about Bogey. Leta gets pissed (Bogey's
her dog son) and says, "F%&$ you mister" (Leta says that probably three or four times during the course of our conversation). Ellis
says, "Do you own this island"? He says, "What's it to you". Ellis says, "The answer is no and we'll take our dog and ourselves
anywhere we want. You just need to leave us the F%(&* alone". He finally turns around to walk off and says, "It's hard to figure what
makes a man like you tick". Leta almost said that she often wonders that herself (pretty funny) but managed to keep silent. He then goes
back to his raking and burning. Needless to say, we went out of our way over the next few days to have Bogey do as much damage as he
could to Dumber's island and we may have even caused as much of a wake as possible when we went by his boat. You think that was a bit
immature? Maybe.
There are four or five semi-permanent residents in the Swimming Pool. They all treat Dumber and his wife like they are royalty and yield
to their every wish. The behavior of that group is enough to make you hurl. Oh. And they talk on the VHF all day every day. It is as
much airwave pollution as in Georgetown, Bahamas (of course, there are 500 boats in Georgetown and ten in the Swimming Pool). This
same group runs the Panama Connection Net each morning on high frequency radio. It's the most lame connection net we have heard so
far. They just want to hear themselves talk. Their boats are anchored next to each other for Pete's sake.
Having said all of that, we would visit the San Blas again (especially the less traveled eastern part in the slow season). We wouldn't,
however, stay as long as we did. And we might just throw eggs in the middle of the night at Dumber.
Next up. The Panama Canal.
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
| Island and mainland scenes from the anchorage |
| Kuna village |
| Kuna kids (and one mom) |
| Scenes from Green Island |
| Coco Bandero |
| Chichime was very pretty! |
| Find the monkey!!!! |
| Scenes from Shelter Bay Marina |
| Monkeys are everywhere !!!! |
| Jungle scenes from old Fort Sherman. The building is a Army Battery taken over by the jungle. |
| Entrance to Limon Bay and the Panama Canal |
| Dangerous city of Colon |
| Looking north over the breakwater |
| Carti - Cindy's first look at a Kuna island |
| Kuna bar??? |
| Chichime huts |
| Island shots |
| Cindy taking it easy |
| Great dolphin shot |
| Kuna sailing |
| Our baby posing |
| Island at entrance of the swimming pool |
| Salardup island - pretty! |
| Laura's airport lounge |
| Nargana Phone booths |
| Bogey resting after he lost a toenail playing ball |