We celebrated Thanksgiving on the dock at Red Frog with some 40 other cruisers with smoked turkeys and pot luck side dishes. Only about a third of the cruisers here are Americans, but the several other nationalities had no trouble participating in this distinctly American holiday. On Friday AM we dropped the lines and sailed leisurely towards Crawl Cay for our departure anchorage. Saturday AM we would get an early start for the 36 hour trip to our next anchorage so we were looking for calm waters and a restful night and the aqua blue waters in the lee of Crawl Cay (9°14.600'N/82°8.400'W) were perfect.
Overcast and grey greeted us at dawn, but we were anxious to sail so we ignored the less than perfect conditions and motored out into the sea. By 10 AM we were being seriously bounced and rolled and looking at black clouds ahead. Torrential rains hit and made visibility non existent so we decided to head for a charted, sparsely inhabited island for a little respite from the wind waves and water. Even in the lee Isla Veraguas (9°5.754'N/81°34.446'W) was rolling heavily, and after only a short nap we opted to continue on despite the rain. We upped anchor at 4 PM and again headed out for the inevitable all night sail. The following dawn found us approaching Colon, but much of the trip was with the sails down in heavy, rolling seas. We continued on another 40 miles to a calm anchorage at Buenaventura (9°32.021'N/79°40.517'W) arriving some 33 hours after leaving Crawl Cay, and again acknowledged that over night trips are just not our cup of tea. We slept well however in the lee of a massive hillside that blocked all wind and seas.
More rain in the morning, lots more rain, so we scuttled plans to sail the final 50 miles to San Blas in one leg and instead made a late afternoon jump to Isla Linton (9° 36.795'N/79°35.084'W) (about 12 miles) and another familiar anchorage. Remember we had gotten this far last year before our wire rigging parted and sent us scurrying back to Shelter Bay so we already knew of a couple of safe spots to stop. Linton was notable this time around for the screaming of the howler monkeys at dusk (sounding very much like the fiercest of dragons in the woods) and for the swarm of bats that attacked the bunch of ripening bananas that we had hung from the solar arch. Starting shortly after dark and continuing until early AM these large bats kept dive bombing the bananas and then swooping through the cockpit. We could do little but sit and watch since I did not want to spend time untying the bananas and moving them with so many bats around. I really didn’t want to upset them.
Overcast again in the morning so we selected another anchorage to aim for and headed out once more. We still had wind on the nose, rain squalls, and rolling seas and once more we chose to stop in the early afternoon. We found a peaceful anchorage inside some reefs in just 6 feet of water at Escribanos (9°33.068'N/79°9.386'W). The particular feature of this anchorage was the remoteness. We were the only boat in the area, we were tucked into a large mangrove lagoon behind the reefs, and there were absolutely NO LIGHTS visible in any direction. On a moonless night it was as dark as anything I have ever seen. Even the water under the boat was invisible. Eerie.
Finally, on the 5th day of our two day trip we reached the San Blas and the island of Porvenir (No more Lat/Lons in this blog because Google does not have very good resolution for this area) where we would check in with the local Port Captain and the Kuna Yala comarca. The native Kuna Indians “own” the islands as an independent comarca (think state) of Panama. Three tribal chiefs control the islands, and it is with their permission that we can anchor here. When we arrived we paid the first chief $24 to be able to anchor near his islands. Porvenir itself has an airstrip with a short (very short) runway built by the Americans in World War II , and there is another small airstrip further east, but the San Blas area has only a single four wheel drive road for land access. The road crosses a river (sans bridge) along the way and it is frequently closed making this a difficult place to reach except by boat. The runway at Porvenir is about twice as wide as my driveway and not nearly as smooth so I can imagine what the road must look like. The rudimentary runway with palm trees on each side coupled with the reefs all around the island make this look like the kind of place John Wayne would have been stationed in the Pacific. While we were wandering across the runway, casually taking pictures, we were told to look up… oops! Plane landing, time to move.
Our first San Blas anchorage was the Chichime Cays, two small islands set among the reefs which block the ocean swells from the North. The water was a pretty aqua blue even in the overcast afternoon skies, but the eeriest part was sitting in 15 to 20 knot winds with almost no waves because of the reefs. It was a very secure feeling. The two small islands are used as seasonal homes (fishing camps) for several Kuna families. No running water, no electricity, no shelter other than the palm leaves that made up the roofs of the huts. The Kuna fish in dugout canoes with nets and lines, and we saw at least one canoe with an infant and two pre-teens paddling between the islands. The Kuna are a truly water oriented culture. Several days after we left Chichime we heard that a sailboat had been blown onto the reef here (we have had some hellacious weather in the past week) and had to be abandoned.
We spent 3 days at Chichime walking the islands, snorkeling, and generally watching the rain squalls blow through the area. Andrea got a chance to buy a “mola” from a Kuna selling (from his canoe) the intricately embroidered cloth that makes up a part of the traditional costume that all of the women wear. Among the Kuna the women run the families, have the largest voice in the community decisions, and still dress in the traditional garb with molas, dresses and fully beaded leggings. The men seem content in T-shirts and shorts which are most appropriate for the single industry here… fishing.
The past week has had but two sunny days and there are some bad weather forecasts for the coming week. We will move on to other islands and hope that the weather clears soon. Did I mention that rainy season in Panama ends in November? Hah! The next blog tells all.
Tom and Andrea
