Panama City, Panama (not Florida)

 

Whenever we do a Google search on 'Panama City', it brings up pages relating to the town in Florida. It must be our use of English rather than Spanish.

 

A new watch battery for $3. The eye-piece is mounted in a plastic
soda bottle cap. Gotta love the ingenuity.

We met one local who said that Panama City is like Miami. It does have a similar tropical setting, with tall white buildings and urban hustle and bustle. Unlike it's grittier sister city, Colon, most areas seem completely safe at any time of the day or night. And its Old Town adds a charming European flavor to the mix. Generally, the people are friendly and helpful, unlike a lot of other big cities.

A sloth hanging out at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute

At times, you would think you were in any large U.S. city (even in Miami you hear just as much Spanish), with the ready availability of all kinds of goods. There are some things that work really well. The public transportation system is excellent and cheap. The streets are clean. Construction is booming. People politely  wait in orderly lines for banks and buses (for the most part--although some will take advantage of 'gringos').

Same sloth (the one in the middle)

But there does seem to be a stronger undercurrent of inefficiency and bureaucracy than other places we have visited. Our dealings with Customs and Immigration as cruisers has been confusing, inconsistent, and at times frustrating.  Anyone that has had a bad experience with the DMV in the U.S. knows that bureaucracy and generally crankiness exists everywhere and maybe we have been able to minimize exposure to it in 'normal life'. But it seems that the rules are applied differently depending on which official you get or which port you check into or out of, to the tune of hundreds of dollars per boat. We spent our last day and a half trying to get our exit papers in order for Immigration, because the office we checked into did not use the proper stamp. Instead of being able to just get the stamp, we had to redo all the paperwork, pay extra fees, and wait around for over 3 hours.

 Our anchorage had a lot of roll from ferries and other working boats speeding through but there was a convenient dinghy dock nearby that could handle the big Pacific tides. It will be nice to get away from the rockiness. We have decided to forego a trip to Peru because of the amount of time we have available and because February is the height of rainy season. Although we might have had Machu Picchu to ourselves, it probably wouldn't be worth it to drag the boys through the cold rain. Instead we will spend some more time in Ecuador and the Galapagos.

The Biomuseo was a big hit with Mark and Conrad. Photo
courtesy of Fabien, a line handler on Ad Hoc, the sailboat
that came through the canal with us.

Going to the flipside

 

We made it across the Panama Canal with no damage to the boat or crew. In some ways, it is a relatively straightforward process, but things do occasionally go wrong so it's a relief to be finished. We are very glad that we had experienced sailors as line handlers. Originally, we were planning to have as line handlers a non-sailing Brazilian family (a father, mother, and their 19-year old daughter), but they backed out. Instead we had our friend Mark from Amelie V, along with Huzar and Patricia from Indra, a boat we met while anchored in The Flats. Having sailors was invaluable because there was enough going on without having to explain how cleats work or how lines should be led, much less worrying about someone who isn't used to walking around on a boat.

 

We picked up our advisor Ricardo and his trainee Victor the afternoon of the first day. We were originally given a transit time of 4 p.m., which was then changed to 3:30. Ricardo and Victor eventually arrived around 4. We then had to motor around the entrance to the canal while we waited for a couple of big ships to come out (like when they switch over the express lanes on a highway). We learned that the only constant during the transit process is changes to plans.

 

We were originally supposed to nest with a 60-foot motor yacht on one side and a monohull on the other side. Nesting is where several smaller boats raft up next to each other in the locks. But then we were told that wasn't happening-- the motor yacht didn't want to nest with us. However, they were apparently told that they had to because there weren't enough ACP Linehandlers (the guys that send lines down from the sides of the locks). So we rafted up but rather than staying nested together through all three Gatun locks, we separated and re-rafted through each one. The first rafting was a bit exciting as we figured out the best way to tie up to the motor yacht but by the second and third locks, we had it down.

 

The first three sets of locks (the Gatun locks) raises you 84 feet, from sea level to the height of Lake Gatun. Instead of digging through land the entire way across Panama, the canal builders built a dam to flood the area in between the two sets of locks. As the Caribbean sea water mixes with the fresh water from Lake Gatun, it creates some fairly brisk current that had the boats buffeting around quite a bit. All of us, including Mark and Conrad, got a big kick out of seeing the locks close and open and watching the water level rise. As we left the last set of locks, we had to watch out in case the cargo ship in front of us used its engines to move forward because the backwash could create a significant current.

After transiting the Lake Gatun locks, we arrived in Lake Gatun at around 8 p.m. A pilot boat picked up our advisor and trainee and we had dinner. We fell asleep to the sounds of the railway and the new lock construction.

 

We were told to be ready to go at 6 a.m. the following morning so we dutifully set the alarm for 6 (we were pretty sure it wouldn't be a 6 a.m. start). The monohull's advisor arrived around 7 a.m. but ours didn't arrive until 8:30. We pushed the engine relatively hard over the almost 30 miles across Lake Gatun to catch up to the other monohull only to be told when we were almost there that we would have to wait a couple hours for another boat. Then we were told we wouldn't have to wait, so we rafted up with the monohull. The wait/don't wait scenario continued to repeat as we went through the locks. Since each downward lock cycle uses 26,700,000 gallons of freshwater, the canal authority wants to make sure that there is a big ship in the mix whenever possible. However, we were able to go through with just the monohull. We stayed nested together for all three locks, with our boat providing the power for both sailboats. The ACP Linehandlers throw lines with monkey's fist knots surrounding a piece of lead, which our line handlers attached to our dock lines. They are really good at hurling those monkey's fists. The ACP Linehandlers then use the dock lines to walk our boats into position within the lock chamber.

When we finally glimpsed the Pacific Ocean through the last set of locks, I felt excitement and relief. The Pacific Ocean may look a lot like the Atlantic Ocean, but for me it represents new paths we can take. Matt headed back to Colon to pick up some packages we were having shipped from the States and to help Amelie IV with their transit. We'll spend some time in Panama City and Las Perlas before heading to Ecuador.

Preparing to cross the Panama Canal

Anchored in the Rio Chagres

After leaving Portobelo, we headed to Colon to prepare for our Panama Canal transit. When we used to go through the locks that separated Lake Michigan from the Chicago River, we just pretty much just went through when they opened up. There's quite a bit more involved with the Panama Canal.

 

We committed our first faux pas by entering the harbor without calling Cristobol Signal Station, whose job it is to direct traffic through and around the canal. The first question we were asked is, "Are you sailing?" Um, well, we were just in the process of turning on our engines and taking down our sails. "Yeah, use your engines. Then go to the stern of the vessel approaching." As they were referring to a humongous container ship that could pulverize us without even slowing down, we readily agreed.

 

For a small private vessel going through the Panama Canal, there are several crucial steps. Although many cruising boats do it themselves, we decided to use an agent to help guide us through the process. Our agent did the paperwork, arranged for us to be measured, organized fenders and lines, and set up our transit date. When you use an agent, you also don't have to pay the $800 refundable deposit. You have to have an advisor that works for the canal, who comes with you through the locks. You also need 4 line handlers besides the captain (so for us, 3 other people). Going from Colon to Panama City takes 2 days, so you have line handlers staying overnight on your boat. We have 3 other cruisers who want to experience the canal before going through, including our friend Mark from Amelie IV.

 

We waited in "The Flats", which is an anchorage area near the Colon side of the canal, for five days without being able to get off the boat. It took longer than we expected to get measured, buy fuel, and for the weather to cooperate.

 

We finally got to go to the Rio Chagres, which is the river that was dammed to make part of the Canal. It cuts through dense jungle filled with howler monkeys, birds, frogs and butterflies. There are crocodiles, sloths, and jaguars. We hiked through one section with Marie-Claude, Megan and Matthew from Amelie IV, almost bushwhacking our way through. Afterwards, Mark and Conrad had a great time running through tunnels at the San Lorenzo Fort with their friends from Kazaio and some kids from Colon. On another day, we took the dinghy up river to see the dam.

After a visit to the marina to pick up our fenders and lines, finish our provisioning, do some laundry, wash the boat, play in the pool, and see the monkeys in the nearby jungle, we'll head back to The Flats to wait for our advisor and begin our transit. From what we have heard, there's not much to it. That doesn't stop me from being a bit nervous about the whole thing.

Isla Linton and Portobelo

After the San Blas, we had a very unpleasant sail over to Isla Linton. The winds were still high and the seas were filled with 10-foot swells. We caught a mahi but Matt got seasick (for the first time on this boat) when he tried to fillet it on the side deck because the seas were too big to have him on the transom. Apparently the combination of the leftover head cold and having his head sideways was too much.

Unfortunately, the anchorage in Isla Linton was full of swells. We visited Isla Linton to see the monkeys, but looked at them from the safety of our dinghy. We were very cautious after our friend's hand got chomped by an overly aggressive ape. She had to go get a bunch of stitches and a heavy-duty antibiotic.

We visited Portobelo by bus. It is an interesting town with a lot of history and a diverse population. There is a festival each year celebrating the Black Jesus. While were there we witnessed children walking around in black-face (even though they were already black) for the Congo festival, seeking donations. It is sort of like Halloween in the weeks leading up Mardi Gras.

 

We want to get some boat parts while we're in the area. Our freezer broke on our way to Isla Linton. We have replaced the Danfoss black box controller multiple times and luckily had another spare, but we need to get more since we seem to go through them every few months. Indel-Webasto, the maker of our freezer, basically blamed everything from our wiring (our fridge system uses the same wiring and has no problems) to the placement of the unit in the galley (where else would you put a freezer control unit?). That was during the 2-year warranty period when they were still talking to us.

 

We also started running our water maker because we have had so little rainfall to fill our tanks and we wanted to make sure it would work for the Pacific crossing. Although it ran fine, the booster pump kept blowing fuses and probably needs to be replaced. It's been awhile since anything major has broken, so we have gotten a little bit complacent.

 



In the meantime, we need to get measured for the canal and arrange for line handlers, fenders, and dock lines.

Getting out of Dodge

Boogie boarding boat buddies

Being in the San Blas and seeing all the boats up on reefs reminds me of a story told to me by a friend about her friend ("Suzy"). Suzy had failed the road test to get her driver's license four times. But she had figured out her problem: "I just don't know whether to err to the left or to the right!" My friend's response was, "Oh, Suzy. You don't err..."

Math on an island

That's how we were starting to feel in the San Blas. Any little mistake could easily lead to disaster. The intense winds, abundance of reefs, and suspect charts seem to create a perfect storm of boat deaths. We saw numerous reef-bound boats in the San Blas, five of which had happened in the weeks right before we arrived or during our four-week stay. Matt helped one boat that was sinking (this one was due to mechanical issues, not hitting a reef). Despite the beauty of the islands and the interesting Kuna culture, by the end of our stay in the San Blas we felt like we might be pushing our luck. After several days of staying put due to 30 to 40+ knot winds, we finally left for Porvenir to start our journey west. From Porvenir, we heard rescue efforts being organized for yet another boat and could see it stuck on the reef in the distance. And this was a backpacker boat familiar with the area.

Our dinghy ride up the Rio Diablo

To add to the "danger" quotient, the San Blas is also home to an abundance of wildlife. We heard reports from other cruisers of a four-meter caiman swimming right where our buddy boat Amelie IV was anchored and a bull shark eating a ray in the shallow area where a gaggle of our kids would later swim. It didn't stop anyone from swimming, but it did give us pause.

Super-highways of leaf cutter ants

It takes a steady hand...

 

Shoe-sucking mud

We'll head towards Colon next to start the process of crossing the canal.

What you mean 'we' white man?

Sand monsters! Photo by Marie-Claude Osterrath

Kuna men have told me on three separate occasions that I look like a Kuna woman. Actually, they have tried to tell Matt this, despite the fact that I'm standing right there and that I'm the one that speaks Spanish and even a wee bit of Kuna. The women may own the coconut trees but I get the feeling that the men are still in charge.

Photo by Marie-Claude Osterrath

Photo by Marie-Claude Osterrath

Funny enough, a man in Dominica had told me early last summer that I looked just like a woman of Carib Indian descent that lived on the island. Kunas are said to be the most closely related of all modern people to the Caribs that prevailed in South America before it was 'discovered' by Westerners. Maybe I have some long lost Kuna/Carib ancestors. Or maybe it's just my deep tan and black hair. Either way, I don't mind. If trouble starts I can pull a Tonto on Matt ("What you mean 'we' white man?").

Photo by Marie-Claude Osterrath

We had a beach barbeque on Christmas Eve with Amelie IV, Kazaio, and a new kid boat called Mandala. The kids had a great time digging on the beach, swimming, and watching the big bonfire. Christmas Day also got a "this was the best Christmas ever" from Mark and Conrad. We're clearly getting used to Christmas in warm places.

Cartagena to San Blas

The water in the Cartagena anchorage is extremely icky. That is a nautical term that means gross things float through the dirty water and lots of stuff grows on the boat's bottom. After only ten days, our engines showed their displeasure by running hot (port engine) and stopping altogether (starboard) as we motored out of the anchorage. Our friends on Amelie IV had dark smoke coming out of their exhaust.

 

With what little wind there was coming right on our nose, we motored from Cartagena to the Rosarios, a group a islands that belongs to Colombia. Despite the complaints from our engines, we made it without much incident. Matthew from Amelie IV yelled "Yes!" as he jumped into the relatively clean and clear water and we all felt the same relief at finally being able to swim again. We enjoyed swimming and started the process of cleaning the bottom. Our hull looked like it had the worst case of eczema ever, with the tiny barnacles and reddish algae covering the entire surface. The propellers were completely encrusted with barnacles.

'

We spent a few  days near Isla Grande, in the Rosarios, with Amelie IV and Kazaio. The aquarium there is surprisingly good and it was interesting to see the small village on the island. We then completed the overnight passage to the San Blas. The winds were better than forecasted but local weather patterns kicked up a strong current, so that we had 3 knots against us at times. At one point, the wind died a bit and although we were moving through the water (you could see the boat moving over the waves), our instruments showed that we were almost at a standstill. We turned one motor on and motor-sailed for the remainder of the trip but were grateful to have been able to sail while we could. We caught a good-sized black fin tuna and had a few dolphins on our bow.

 

The terrain of the San Blas struck us immediately because of the density of the coconut trees and the mountains. The area, known locally as Kuna Yala, is home to the Kuna natives. They have preserved their culture in a way that most indigenous people have not. We visited Playon Chica with our local guide, Arquim, and visited his family and the local cemetery. Mark and Conrad were amazed by the thatched-roof huts with bamboo walls. He gave us gifts of crab and lobster and sold us molas made by his wife.

 

As we entered Cayos Diablo, we saw a catamaran on the reef and later discovered that it was a cruising boat that we had met in Las Aves. They had come in at night without realizing that the electronic charts are offset and paid for it with their boat. It was a sobering caution against trusting your charts too much and coming into an anchorage here without good light.

 

Arquim from Playon Chica

 
Our visit to Niadup village in  Cayos Diablo was without a guide and allowed us to interact more directly with the villagers. We met the chief, were taken into the home of a local, and witnessed a village-wide celebration of a young girl's "coming of age" (the start of her monthly cycle). Although the villages have been traditional, they can't help but be influenced by tourists. The colorfully adorned women charge a dollar to be photographed and there are Kunas that want to either sell you something or a few that will just ask outright to be given things.

 

As Christmas approaches, we are enjoying the beaches and clear water. We miss our family and friends but are fortunate to be with new friends as we travel and explore.