Travel Tips

Finding a boat to Panama during Christmas is impossible because all of the captains are on vacation. It’s not easy after Christmas because of the glut of backpackers waiting to leave and the north east trade winds that bring high seas and unfavorable sailing conditions. Unfortunately, many captains ignore this last dangerous fact and take unknowing backpackers and their $250 anyway. We have heard many nightmare stories about backpacker sailboats that make these runs from Colombia to Panama and back and “safety first” is down the list a bit. These shuttles tend to be small boats that have only 3 or 4 bunks, but they take up to 8 people (no one said these captains were dumb in math, 250 multiplied by 8 is a bigger number than if multiplied by 2). One of these boats set out into 10 to 14 ft waves with 20 to 25 knots of wind only to limp back into Cartagena the next day with a broken rudder and half the rigging at the bottom of the sea. On another occasion the captain broke the GPS in a fit of rage and needed to call the Coast Guard for assistance. The reputation of some boats is so bad their name is not painted on the haul so the captain can easily change it after a particularly bad incident. So exactly why are we trying to do this? The goal of our journey from Patagonia to Charlottesville is to avoid taking any flights and see the landscape (or seascape for that matter) gradually change from one place to the next. Plus, there is a very good chance of running into problems with the required onward ticket (that we don’t have) out of Panama if we were to fly into the international airport. We made it across the entire South American continent by bus; we were determined to leave it by boat. We long discovered that our hostel in Cartagena was not going to help us find a boat despite being the only backpacker place in town and claiming they were doing everything possible. So we tried to find one on our own by strolling down to Club Nautico, the club house of the public marina in Cartagena, and asking around. Upon walking into Club Nautico and seeing a mature crowd, some with their own sailboat’s name embroidered on their hats and polo shirts, we thought for sure that security would see us as sailor imposters and throw our backpacker butts out the door. Despite feeling very much out of place, no one bothered us and we were able to check the message board for any sailboats leaving Cartagena. There was only one posting from a boat called Blue Sky. So we wrote down the email address and our fortune changed.

We lifted anchor at 10:15am in Cartagena and began the journey for which we had waited several weeks. Breeze and Debbie Filina and their miniature Doberman Pincer, Hobie hosted us on their beautiful 52ft pilot house ketch sailboat. The Filinas’ asked me if I wanted to navigate and of course I took the helm. Keeping the red markers to port and green to starboard, I navigated out into the open seas accompanied by the Colombian Coast Guard and a pod of dolphins. As the skyline of Cartagena faded and the wind knotted my hair, I knew this was going to be an experience to remember. I relinquished the wheel to Capitan Breeze who programmed SIMRAD (autopilot) to take over and raised the sails. Debbie offered to teach me how to play backgammon. After two games I had had enough (I’m not the best strategist plus I was starting to get sea sick). So I lied down until we arrived at Punta Baru off the coast of Colombia four hours later. We had a beer while we waited for Breeze to drop the anchor. Once the anchor was set, Breeze jumped off of the side of the boat (8ft) exclaiming, “Last one in ‘s a rotten egg!” I was next, followed by John. Debbie chose to use the swim platform instead. We swam two laps around the boat (not the best idea after downing a can of beer) then showered and prepared dinner. The night brought high winds that hummed across the deck causing the clothes on the lines to crack like whips but thankfully the white capped sea stayed outside our cozy haven. The moon was waxing.

After breakfast we all put on our snorkeling gear and jumped in the water with rags and brushes to clean the underside of Blue Sky. After several weeks in the harbor of Cartagena slime and tiny barnacles had taken hold of the newly painted hull. The winds were too high to leave so we read, listen to music, and ate. What a rough day!

Day 3: The Rosarios

After breakfast and listening to the single side band radio for the weather and the cruiser’s network we motored over to the Rosario Islands, a small archipelago of coral islands located 6 miles off the Colombian coast. The winds had subsided so the crossing was relatively smooth and the water was crystal clear. This area has recently been given national park status so the government no longer recognizes property deeds to the dismay of the owners who have built grand houses on this land. We visited a bird sanctuary on Isla Grande that not only held an extraordinary amount and diversity of tropical birds; it was free (que raro!). We all were particularly fascinated by an Egyptian vulture and its polychromatic head with layers of folded skin. The vulture was equally fascinated with my finger (John) and tried to take it off when I got a little too close to the fence for a photo. Our snorkeling adventure afterward was shortened by the ubiquitous jellyfish so we hopped in the dingy and went to the coast to have a beer. Children were playing there and two small girls were shaking their hips like Sakira (Cara - a motion for which I would have been grounded for weeks if I attempted at that age) and giggling at us gringos.

Just as the sunlight percolates through our hatch the generator rumbles to life to power the coffee machine that provides the crucial sustenance required to open one’s eyes and get a move on. Just before 7:40 the inverter, the wind and solar power system, is shut down to reduce interference because the daily Chris Parker weather show comes on over the single sideband radio delivering much needed guidance to cruisers all over the Caribbean. Breeze takes careful notes. Is the Colombian low coming into the region, what’s the sea state in the central Caribbean that sends weather easterly, is a high pressure system coming across Venezuela? At 8:30 the Panama Net crackles to life on the single sideband. Net controllers with their quirky senses of humor keep the cruising community connected. Vessels check in and give their position and current weather conditions (once again the weather), help is asked and offered, information given and received, and boats have an opportunity to communicate with each other even through relays if the propagation is weak; ‘Good copy on that’, ‘roger that’, ‘standing by on the side’, ‘could I get relay on that?’, ‘thank you for clearing’, “I was over Unger and Unger was over Dun”, ‘any QSTs offered or desired come now’. It’s an entirely different kind of communicating … all together (cue). Usually during this time we are eating breakfast. Hobie, the little miniature Doberman, usually sits at my side eyeing my cornflakes. Hobie, named after the two hulled sailboat despite being a dog and not a cat, weighs less than my bowl of cereal (milk included). Hobie’s hobbies are eating, sleeping, barking, and eating (he’s quite devoted to this later one). Despite these talents he is an eccentric dog with a lot of character; just don’t try to pick him up. Now that breakfast and the net are over the dishes get cleaned, dried, and stowed. Debbie and Cara start making dinner despite the fact that it isn’t even noon (Hobie stares at them from his perch at eye level into the galley and grumbles in his own ‘Hobie’ language). Food prep must always be done to take advantage of smooth waters. Cooking underway in a tight and airless compartment is not only undesirable it may actually cause the evacuation of one’s breakfast. Breeze checks the fluids before starting the engine, and I prepare the lines on deck incase we want to motor sail. Today is a sailing day. Breeze and Debbie have already plugged in the way points in the GPS that will automatically steer us to our next desired location thanks to our friend SIMRAD. They have also marked the hard copy charts just incase the GPS goes down (we’ve already heard one boat sailing blindly because their GPS bit the dust and they had no charts). Breeze pulls up the anchor with Debbie at the helm and I spray the anchor chain with seawater to remove mud and any marine growth. The fishing reels are placed in their holders and line let out to catch the big one. We reached our destination, set the anchor, put down the dingy, put up the awning, and go ashore with Hobie acting as our fog horn with his incessant barking on these clear sunny days. We take beers in coolly cups and drink them in one foot of water on a bed of white sand while Hobie sniffs out the island and buries his treasures. Back on board we grab our snorkeling gear and jump back into the clear green water for an hour’s swim around the reef. After a shower it’s time for another beer while the sun sets. Just as the fiery ball is obscured by clouds the generator is started, dinner is heated in the microwave, and a nice meal is enjoyed with good company and Hobie staring at my plate. After Breeze cleans the dishes it’s my job to dry them. When all the chores are done we check out the star studded sky before reading a little and then falling asleep to the gentle rocking of the boat as cool sea breezes flow down the hatch into our quaint cabin. Mañana es otro día.

The clothespin tripped, crashing against the surfboard; the high-tech alarm system officially sounded. Boom boom boom went Debbie’s foot slamming on the deck; the code had been given. Arriving on deck we saw the starboard fishing real bent into a ‘U’ and realized that we had snagged a fish! Whew whoo, I just changed that lure an hour ago! We slowed down. Breeze took the reel from Debbie and started hauling in our prize as I videoed the drama. Breeze fought with the fish for about 5 minutes and finally pulled the fish up next to the boat when we realized that we had no where to put it. The conveniently located fish cooler next to the fishing reel holders was inconveniently full of random stuff accumulated when one doesn’t catch anything for awhile. So after dumping out the contents of the gigantic cooler onto the deck we dropped was must have been a 2 _ foot fish right into the box. We grabbed the fishing field guide and eventually all came to the agreement that it was a Cravelle Jack. With the Jack in the box we were finally content that there would be a fresh seafood meal tonight with plenty to go around as the fish weighed in at 10.5 lbs; a definite keeper. Even Hobie was licking his chops.

We visited a school on Isla Fuerte to drop off packages of crayons the Filinas’ bought for the children. John and I spoke at length with the principal as the Filinas’ distributed the goods and used the island’s only internet source. The school serves primary and secondary levels with up to 300 students and only 20 teachers. The secondary students go in the morning and primary students in the afternoon. In the afternoon, the secondary students go into the field to learn agricultural and technical skills. Only a very small percentage goes on to university as it is too expensive and far away. I asked the principal at what age do the girls start a family. She blushed and laughed, avoiding my question. I guessed 15. She laughed again and said (in Spanish), “No, that’s old!” She then answered my question, “12”. Incredible.

Day 11: Da Bears!

Despite being assured that a nearby island was playing the Superbowl, we ended up listening to it on the Armed Forces Radio over some stale peanuts and cold beer.

Day 12: Big Fish

We were greeted by 2 men with an ulu (dugout canoe) full of fish. One fish in particular caught our eye, an enormous (over 30lb) grouper. We were only going to take a photo of it and send them on their way but when the man offered the entire fish for $15, we took a second look. We asked for the back half for $8. It was a deal we couldn’t pass up. So one of the men joined us on our boat and tried to cut the fish with our dull knives. It took a long time for him to hack that thing in half but once he did he put it in a bucket, took the other half and the $8, and rowed away. We weighed our half after they left and it tipped the scales at 16lbs! Needless to say, dinner was delicious.

We really enjoyed our time on Isla Tigre. Its people, dressed in the traditional Kuna garb, were very colorful. We paraded down the main (dirt) road and waved to the Kunas who held beautifully stitched molas and beaded jewelry outside of their thatched huts. The children (and some adults) swarmed us once Debbie and Breeze brought out the candies. The women don’t like to be photographed but the children don’t seem to care. We registered with the Kunas, paying a fee to be on their islands, and stocked up on the available items. We watched a group of kids playing volleyball, ate lunch, and spoke with some Kunas before heading back to the boat.

Day 16: Fill’er up, Cara

We spent several hours filling up the water tanks, washing the boat, and doing laundry. We hired Javier, a 12 year old boy, to stomp and mix the clothes in the cooler box with his feet and his friend to transport the softened and rinsed clothes to me to wring and hang. It was quite the operation.

Today has been the best day! We started with a big breakfast of a fried egg over rice and toasted homemade almond bread (that I made) while we listened to the net. I read a little during some down time (I highly recommend the book titled: Gonzales and Daughter Trucking Co.) then we headed to Dog Island, a site of a 1950’s shipwreck. The captain beached the cargo ship to salvage his cargo (mostly rum) after discovering he was slowly sinking. The rusted, coral covered ship is in shallow water and we snorkeled around it to find an amazing array of colorful fish that call the ship their home. We also saw 6 squid swimming below. I had never seen a live squid before and was completely in awe of the crazy-looking fish. John dove down to get a closer look sparking a ripple of color through the sea creature as it propelled away. Later in the afternoon, Breeze, John and I went to snorkel the nearby coral reef. The sun was shining brightly illuminating the thousands of tropical fish and multicolored coral that rested just feet below. It was so peaceful under the water as we glided over the coral and the fish schooled below. John spotted an extra large puffer fish and pointed it out to the rest of us. We also saw a trumpet fish with a long pointed nose. We snorkeled until we tired then climbed back in the dingy. After dinner, John played the guitar and we made up lyrics about Hobie to the tunes.