Leaving the Boat in Panama - What Can Go Wrong?

A developing country like Panama has its beauties and charms: the weather is always hotter than in our home countries, nature’s attractions are abundant and there are new adventures around every corner. But, when it comes down to efficiency, responsibility, and common sense, this Central American country has a long way to go. Having spent a whole year in this region overland in 2005-2006 and another twelve months this time around, Mark and I know what to expect – or better – what not to expect. Last year, when we started talking about leaving Irie in Panama for a couple of months, to take a break from the boat life and catch up with friends and family in the civilized world, we realized we should plan well ahead of time and do whatever we could to have things in order for ourselves and our floating home.

But… the longer we travel in this part of the world, the more we realize one important fact: no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you plan, prepare, organize, expect, and confirm, things will not go the way they should. This is the short story of sorting out our past summer visit to the United States and Belgium, just so people know what to expect when trying the same thing, or to understand what it means to “abandon ship” for a while. With a lot of patience, determination and acceptance, solutions were found, but that doesn’t mean we were totally happy with them!

Already in February 2012, we contacted the French owners of Panamarina, between Puerto Lindo and Portobelo to secure a safe spot. This is a small marina with only mooring balls, which fills up quickly. The only thing we got accomplished via email was a notification that there was no room. Not willing to give up and knowing people secured a spot later in the year, we visited the French owners in person, European style. This was the way to go and after a short talk in French, we had ourselves a mooring ball for the duration of our absence.  I confirmed the reservation orally and electronically and we were assured we could go ahead and book our flights. Which we did, all based on dates that would work with the marina’s bus transport and operating days/hours. We needed to make sure that we could leave Irie the day of our departure from the airport and get back to her the day of our arrival back into Panama.

A few months went by and we started looking forward to our trip “home”. Big was our surprise, astonishment and disbelief, when – a month before take-off – we received a blunt email (in my junk folder) from Panamarina, saying that they cancelled our reservation! The boat that was in “our” spot wasn’t able to leave, because of the owner’s disease. .. What??? A few phone calls to the Frenchies led to rudeness and us being treated very poorly, unprofessionally and disrespectfully. We were laughed at in our faces and had to find another solution, pretty much last minute. The expensive Shelter Bay Marina ($900 a month for our size boat; catamarans pay 1.5 X the usual amount and there is a minimum of 40 feet you have to pay for; we are 35 feet) was out of the question and the marinas all the way in Bocas del Toro were not part of our travel plans.

After a few weeks trial and error in the West Lemmon Cays in the San Blas islands, where cruisers have left their boat successfully the last couple of years, Mark and I secured a mooring ball in the much cleaner waters. A German guy was in charge of the friendly, reliable and well-running operation, while the Kunas were the owners and cashiers. His wife was known to vigilantly check on boats, air them out and make sure all was in order, while the owners were absent. Even though we never were able to meet the couple in charge (we sure tried and planned our departure around this) and we saved a dragging boat which barely missed us, the day before our departure, we were OK with the new solution, based on positive reports and experiences of other cruisers.

Everything was booked and planned ahead of time for our trip to the US, to little avail. We waited over an hour for boat transport to Carti, mainland Panama, where our assigned driver had already left. A different jeep driver brought us to our B&B in Panama City, trying to get more money out of us. The following morning, the “arranged and confirmed” (unbeknownst to him) taxi driver did not show up on time. We called him out of bed and with less than an hour to spare, he managed to swiftly drop us off at the airport. Thanks to Roger’s commitment and responsiveness, we didn’t miss our flight.

Once in the US and Belgium, we could breathe again, but not for long. After continued inquiries about how Irie was doing in the San Blas, we finally heard that the German and his wife were no longer there! Nobody was watching our boat during the heavy summer storms, lightning and winds, while irresponsible sailors were anchoring their boats on shelves surrounded by very deep water. Once an anchor would drag, the boat was free to hit everything in its path… When the subject of Irie came up in conversations, Mark and I stubbornly avoided the topic. There was nothing we could do from thousands of miles away. Towards the end of our western world visit, we had friends confirming that our floating home was looking all right and everything seemed in order. Pfew!

Upon our return to Panama, we shopped and stayed an extra night in the capital, before the jeep drive (not without complications and extra costs) and boat ride – all in heavy rains – to Irie took place. We were very happy to be back home and to find her in good shape. We found no extensive mold inside and the bottom was in the same shape as when we left. We managed to deal with all the hassle and best of all: we were back in paradise and ready to enjoy it!

The Belgians and the San Blas

About a week ago, Mark and I met two Belgian backpackers at Captain Jack’s in Portobelo, during a quiet Happy Hour. We talked a bit and got along pretty well. The following day, after being in the same anchorage for three weeks and getting fed up with the local mentality, we sailed Irie from Portobelo back to Isla Linton. We had three tasks left before we could return to the San Blas islands: do laundry at Panamarina, take on fresh water at Casa X and spend time on the internet to wrap a few things up. Things had changed drastically since three weeks earlier and neither water nor WiFi was available anymore; a bummer, which caused us another tiring and frustrating two-day delay.

So, one day, Mark and I took a bus back to Portobelo, to spend a good day at convenient Captain Jack’s again, deal with our internet stuff and take advantage of the organized potluck.  The Belgians were still staying there and we hung out a bit more together. By the end of the afternoon, we had invited our new friends to Irie for dinner at Isla Linton the next day and they excitedly accepted a free ride to the San Blas. Veronique is a big dog lover and is on a mission to help all the unfortunate ones she meets. She has been quite successful feeding them dog food, taking some to the vet, giving medicines to others and building protective nests for new born puppies. Olivier is an “old fashioned” photographer taking black and white pictures with film. They became our guests for three days and nights.

Together we explored Linton Island, had dinner and set off early for the San Blas islands the following morning. It was their first sailing experience and one dealt better with the challenging sea conditions than the other. The waves were relatively big and the winds strong. It was a bumpy 45 mile sail, but no weather improvements were eminent over the next few days, so we took the plunge. We had been on the mainland for a month, while we hoped to spend only two weeks running errands and stocking up. The sky was grey and once in a while raindrops kept us chilled, together with the salty waves we banged into. All in all the trip was all right (nothing broke!) and everybody was happy when we finally made the Chichime Cays. 

At this point, Veronique and Olivier are dropped off at a rustic hut in a small Kuna compound to spend a few days under the palm trees, while we are enjoying some quieter times in our floating home, in the exotic islands. It’s good to be back in paradise for a little while and we are also glad to report that, after weeks of crappy weather, the sun is finally showing her face again! Now, we just have to wait for the vegetable boat to swing by, to replenish our depleting stores.

Amazing trail of leaf cutter ants on Isla Linton.

Fish! It was VERY heavy in the beginning and then... all of a sudden very light!

We did catch another small Spanish Mackerel, with body, later.

Mark and I are back in the lovely San Blas islands!
 

The (In)conveniences of Portobelo

Back in the Eastern Caribbean, seasoned sailors used to tell us that they liked that area, because everything was easy. Locals speak English, (western) supermarkets abound, gasoline and diesel can be purchased on the water, land transportation is straightforward, cruisers get together regularly, restaurants and bars are everywhere and the sailing is fun, comfortable and … easy. Being in the San Blas for six weeks was a different world: exotic, beautiful, sustainable, but a bit inconvenient. We didn’t expect anything else and planned a trip to mainland Panama to take care of boat errands around the time we planned to help Liz and Axel through the Canal.

Isla Linton in Panama is gaining popularity amongst cruisers and we made it our first stop after the 40 mile voyage from Kuna Yala. The anchorage is quite rolly and the shore side provides nothing but a friendly Dutch restaurant owner (Casa X) serving food and cheap drinks and offering free garbage disposal, fresh potable water and WiFi for customers. To get to civilization (aka shopping), you need to take one of the few scheduled buses into Portobelo or Colon and you’d better not miss the desired one coming back or a long wait or cab ride is in order… So, after a few days in the quite Linton area, Mark and I sailed the ten miles to “busier” and more convenient Portobelo.

The anchorage is deep at places, but pretty well protected and sailboats are scattered throughout the big bay. There is a short cruiser’s net every day at 9am and cruisers like the place and congregate at Captain Jack’s for happy hour, tasty Vietnamese meals or to hang out in the TV room or do some internet. On shore, there are four Chinese convenient stores that will get you by and frequent buses run to Colon or Sabanitas, where the closest Rey supermarket is located and where you change buses to Panama City.

There is a big garbage mount near the Municipal building, where you toss garbage bags, for which you are supposed to pay $1. As a cruiser, I presume, because I cannot imagine locals paying this fee to dispose of garbage. They are used to litter everywhere, avoiding trash cans – if present – throwing all kinds of wrappers, bottles and containers through car and bus windows, or just dropping them on the floor of the bus. The road sides sport a very colorful and disgusting display, wherever you go, and sometimes – especially near Panama City - workers collect the trash in big bags, placed at short intervals along the main road. Kids don’t even think once when they toss their empty juice boxes on the ground.

In Portobelo, water can be obtained at a few spigots near the waterfront, but access is quite inconvenient and water jugs are heavy. Someone recently placed a nice tap at the end of the main dock, but a few days later, it was ripped out. At the moment, you can either pull your dinghy on shore near the big municipal dock or run aground with your dinghy to access the small dock at the future yacht club. 

There are two “good” places to leave your dinghy: the municipal dock or the “publico” side of the Escuela de Ritmo dock. The first one is a public dock (we confirmed this with an important official), but a guy there has asked us for money several times, stating the dock was private and to “keep an eye” on the dinghy, so no holes will be punctured in the tubes (something we never experienced in five years of cruising)… We always lock our dinghy and engine and the only time we ever paid to leave our dinghy was in Cartagena, Colombia, where they charge a weekly fee, entitling other benefits. After a confrontation with this Portobelo guy and involving the government official, we don’t dare to leave our dinghy there anymore. It’s all about principles…

The other dock also has a bunch of kids “watching” the dinghies and you are expected to pay. Some say $1 each time/day, others just hand over some change or just leave again. We are willing to pay some money there, because it seems to be the only safe place to leave a dinghy, even though it is often way too crowded. But, two times we came back while our dinghy was being beaten up, either against the barnacle rich wall (someone moved and climbed all over our transportation device with muddy feet and the engine was lifted in a funny way – but luckily started), or riding against the lifted propeller of another dinghy. We refuse to pay when this happens. Principles…

For most of the errands, one has to catch a “chicken bus”. These are big, colorfully painted and decorated old US school buses; very picturesque. They fill up quickly and the one and a quarter hour ride to Sabanitas, to buy groceries, diesel or gasoline, is loud and uncomfortable. Imagine sitting down (but mostly standing up) like sardines pressed together in a can, music blearing from the speakers, bodies vibrating from the base (it’s like being in a disco, no, more like standing next to the speakers of a pop concert) and sweating from the heat and humidity, hitting the ceilings or jumping up from the benches with each bump on the road. Now do this for over an hour – or two hours to Colon – until all your bones ache and you understand while we feel exhausted after every errand.

Waiting for the right bus consumes a lot of time and the longer it takes; the more you are worried about refrigerated items going bad. When the bus finally arrives, your stuff is packed in the back and if you’re lucky you get piled in as well. Sometimes, one of us ends up hunched over in the springy back, the other up front with one leg outside. While the dance music blares, passengers’ lips move with the lyrics. People are generally friendly and sometimes, women get offered a seat. Other times, three adults try to squeeze onto on school children’s bench. The windows hardly slide open anymore and when the speakers are old, the walls and benches shiver. But, the rides are cheap and… we always make it back home, somehow!
 

Full Circle

The “mysterious” dish in my previous blog is called “kielbasa a la Wojo”, a meal one of Mark’s fraternity brothers in college – Wojo – prepared for his friends. He was very proud and excited about his “exclusive” meal, but nobody else shared those feelings. Instead of being savored, the sausages went airborne and an interesting food fight ensued. Ah, the good old days. On Irie, chorizo purchased in Nargana (San Blas) was used instead of kielbasa. They tasted pretty gross and came in plastic casings, which we found out the hard way… Thanks for guessing, everybody. The prize goes to Keith Kinch, who won an all-inclusive stay on Irie! When can we expect you, Keith?

By now, Mark and I have temporarily left the San Blas islands to run a bunch of errands on mainland Panama. We stopped at Linton Island for a few days to check the place out and considered basing ourselves here for the time being. The only thing the anchorage has going for it, though, is decent WiFi and some funny monkeys on the island. Buses to stores, fuel stations, Portobelo and Colon run infrequently; the bay is quite choppy and there’s basically nothing there but a friendly restaurant (Casa X) with $1 beers and fresh juices. So, a couple of days ago, we sailed on to Portobelo, the other protected bay in this area.

Portobelo is a relatively nice town, with old fort walls spread around town and the bay, an efficient bus service to Colon and jungle all around. We wake up in the mornings with the roar of howler monkeys. Town offers a few Chinese run convenient stores and free water is available at the dock. On shore, Captain Jack’s is offering a whole bunch of services for cruisers and there are many other establishments to have a (local) meal or freshly squeezed juice or smoothie. There is even a bank machine, but no fuel station. We are now officially in Central America, which means dirty streets with lots of garbage everywhere and affordable goods and meals for sale.

Portobelo is special to us for a different reason as well. This is the point where Mark, Kali, Darwin and I turned around on our yearlong camping trip through Central America, six years ago. We drove our truck camper all the way from California to Panama, over the Canal and Portobelo was our most southern point. Our Caribbean circumnavigation is now kind of completed: one half was done over land, the other over water. When we walked the ruins again, we couldn’t help but think about our precious dogs and the good times we had together. Who would have guessed that we would be back, one day, by boat this time and without our pets?