The San Blas Islands might be the best kept secret in the Caribbean. It is difficult to imagine another place possessing more natural beauty. Instead of paying exorbitant prices to fly to Tahiti, where I understand that the local culture has been heavily impacted by tourism, a better option seems to be to purchase a relatively inexpensive flight to Panama City (much closer to the U.S. and with discount fares frequently available) and then take the 30-minute, $34 flight to the San Blas islands. Although the accommodations are basic, the simple pleasures of good food, a warm bed (or hammock), and some of the most beautiful scenery imaginable more than compensate for any lack of modern conveniences. An added benefit is that food and shelter are inexpensive.
The Kuna’s, the indigenous people residing in the San Blas Islands, are extremely friendly and remain surprisingly untouched by modern technology. For those individuals who prefer to balance the idyllic island escape with the comforts of civilization, several days in Panama City allows time to see the Panama Canal, take advantage of the good shopping, and explore the bustling downtown. While the San Blas Islands may not be for everyone, for those people that truly want an authentic tropical island experience, this is one of the few places that I have visited that is an actual virgin island paradise. Over the past week, I have enjoyed exploring several islands of the San Blas with my parents. After spending New Years’ Eve in Porvenir, a small island made up of an airplane runway and several small thatch-roofed huts, we moved east to Nuinudup. Ducking into the calm lagoon, surrounded by a few small islands and miles of reefs, we slowly navigated into a shallow anchorage. While my Dad went for a ride in the kayak and I snorkeled, my Mom inspected and purchased molas from Kuna’s, who excitedly greet each new boat as a gift from God.
On Monday, we moved to a popular anchorage in the Eastern Holandes Cays (pronounced keys). In the company of roughly 20 other boats, we were quickly informed than an informal pot luck and garbage burning party was being held on an uninhabited island nearby. Being more social and within 20 years of age of most of the other cruisers, my parents went ashore to partake in the festivities while I enjoyed my first few minutes alone in several weeks. The following morning was spent installing a new bilge pump. The installation was a success, primarily because my father was present, although we did make the mistake of tying the kayak up right next to the boat where the bilge pump discharges. As a result, the kayak was filled with some of the foulest oily water imaginable.
After cleaning up our mess, I introduced my parents to the transcendental experience of spearfishing. Fittingly, several hours in the water resulted in a total of zero fish caught. Luckily, we were not reliant on our ability to catch fish and my Mom had made more than certain that we wouldn’t starve. Sadly, my parents’ visit was coming to an end and on Wednesday we sailed back for Porvenir, where my parents could catch a flight to Panama City. The trip was an appropriate conclusion to a fantastic couple of weeks and we enjoyed a brisk downwind sail. En route, my Mom cast out the fishing line that we troll behind the boat. Displaying an unwarranted amount of confidence, Mom inquired about what kind of fish we wanted to catch. The consensus was a large, boneless one. And then, a strange thing happened. As we began to pull in the line on our approach to Porvenir, there was resistance. Initially, this was chalked up to the speed of the boat through the water. Taking control from my Mom, I began to pull the line in while my Dad slowed the boat. Soon, a splashing was noticed in the general vicinity of the lure. As the fish came closer, it put up a much greater fight. Scrambling around to bring the beast aboard, we were completely unprepared for such a possibility. A team effort was required with my Dad gaffing the fish and my Mom getting it drunk on strong vodka while I pulled it aboard. Mercifully, the alcohol quickly subdued the leviathan and we rested the inebriated fish on the cockpit floor while we motored into the anchorage. When the boat was secure, we eagerly measured the fish. The critical measurements were 34 inches long, 15 inches around, and an estimated 20 pounds.
To describe the feeling aboard Audentes following our catch as giddy would be an understatement. Proud. Dazed. Shocked. For most good fishermen, such a catch would probably be only mildly satisfying and considered common. For us, with about as unimpressive of a fishing resume as is imaginable, we wouldn’t have been more surprised if the recently deceased fish levitated off the cockpit floor and offered to grant three wishes if we agreed not to fillet him (I think we would have declined). Concerned that there would be too much meat, my Mom suggested that we take the fish ashore to share with others. Such nonsense was quickly dismissed. Instead, we proceeded to the bow of the boat and began to fillet our dinner. Since I have pretty much no experience filleting fish as a result of never catching any fish, my Mom demonstrated the proper filleting technique on one side of the fish. The result was two huge, boneless slabs of meat. The large size of the fish made filleting easy even for a hack like me. After taking off the majority of the meat, the remaining meat was so tender that we could scrape it off the bones with our hands. Risking our health in return for some of the freshest sashimi possible, we even ate several pieces of fish as we completed the filleting. The sashimi was delicious and practically melted in my mouth. Tasting the fish, we quickly identified the meat as tuna and this opinion was confirmed when we referred to Grant’s Guide to Fishes: The Fisherman’s Bible. Storing most of the fish for later consumption, we dined on a dinner consisting almost entirely of tuna. In addition to sashimi, we had ceviche, which my Mom made by soaking the raw fish in lemon juice and adding spices, and my Dad grilled several fillets that we then covered with either lemon, garlic butter, or garlic and olive oil. One of the best meals I have ever had.
Finishing the trip on such a positive note, my parents packed their belongings and prepared to depart on the 6:30 am flight on Thursday morning. Eager to see Panama City, squeeze in one more free dinner, and enjoy a night in a good hotel, as well as to spend more time with my parents, I decided to leave Audentes for a day and join them in Panama City. Anxiously, I double-checked the anchor, closed all of the seacocks, and locked everything up as I embarked on what would be my longest stay away from Audentes since she has been afloat. The Air Panama flight to Panama City was on a small puddle-jumper that seated 12 passengers. Oddly, there were no security searches and I did not purchase my plane ticket until I arrived at the airport in Panama City. The flight was quite scenic as we flew over the islands of the San Blas, where the reefs and small Kuna thatch-roofed huts were visible, briefly landed on a dirt runway in the lush foothills of the mainland, and then flew across the Isthmus of Panama. As we approached Panama City, we were treated to a nice view of the Pacific side of the Panama Canal. The flight lasted only half an hour and we were in the Panama Marriot by 8:30 am.
Although most people dream of breaking free from the chains of society and relaxing on a yacht in a tropical paradise, I cannot describe how nice it felt to lay down on a large, comfortable bed in an air conditioned room and watch TV. Having spent a good deal of time during my working days living in hotels, I realize that eating out, living out of a suitcase, and not being at home grows old fast. However, even a single day with a warm shower, a stationary bed, and a gym/sauna at my disposal was a luxurious vacation from my extended vacation. Even though I could have happily spent the day in the hotel, we eventually motivated ourselves to explore Panama City. I got a haircut ($6), went to the dentist ($30), and scouted out the Panama Canal (priceless). Aye carumba! The prospect of transiting the canal in terms of handling the incredible force on lines caused by the powerful surge within the locks, dealing with huge ships close by, and relying on my engine to work for a couple of days is daunting. While I was disappointed not to see any sailboats come through (they normally wait until February/March to avoid typhoon season in the Pacific), we were able to watch a few cargo ships pass through the Miraflores Locks. Despite the tremendous amount of water being filled and drained from the locks, the actual lowering of boats was somewhat anticlimactic. The most impressive aspect was watching the huge cargo ships enter the locks, aided by mechanical mules, which are specially designed engines resembling locomotives. The cargo ships, known as Panamax ships, were designed specifically to fit in the canal and the ships had only 24 inches of space between the ship and the concrete lock on each side. The two ships that we watched go through paid $104,000 and $156,000, respectively, to transit the canal. (The lowest toll ever paid was for Richard Halliburton, who paid 36 cents to swim the canal over 10 days in 1928.) The lock we viewed was the last series of locks before ships proceed on to the Pacific Ocean. In addition to the Miraflores Locks, there are two other sets of locks that lift and lower boats to Gatun Lake, 80 meters above sea level.
The history of the Panama Canal is interesting. Although my understanding is derived from an assortment of sources including cruisers, museums, and cab drivers, I am told that the desire to create a canal was the impetus for the U.S. supporting Panama’s independence from Colombia in 1903. The canal was first attempted by the French between 1879 and 1889. The same team that built the Suez Canal attempted to build the Panama Canal without the use of locks. Due to disease and mismanagement, the cheese-eating surrender monkeys eventually sold the rights to the U.S. in 1904 for $40 million. It took ten years, 75,000 workers, and $400 million to build the 50-mile canal. In response to the deadly diseases affecting workers, Colonel William Crawford Gorgas is credited with eradicating yellow fever and stopping the spread of malaria, greatly assisting in the completion of the project. The canal opened on August 15, 1914 and was turned over to Panama on December 31, 1999. In 2004, 14,035 vessels transited the Panama Canal. On Thursday evening, I had one final good meal with my parents and then spent the night on a soft, stationary bed. On Friday morning, I woke up at 5:00 am and said goodbye to my parents before catching a cab to the airport, where I boarded the 6:00 flight to Porvenir. As the plane descended, I was relieved to see Audentes gently resting in the anchorage. Soon after arriving back on the boat, a canoe full of Kuna children with an adult dressed as Santa Clause standing on the bow rowed by singing Christmas carols. Waving back at the happy children, I was no more likely to point out that Christmas isn’t on January 6th than I was to inform them that there is no Santa Clause. I’ll just assume that they were celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany and the native Santa Clause was a misguided attempt to look like one of the wise men. After nearly a month of having visitors aboard, I am once again alone. However, more company is on the way
My friend Zach, who joined me on the nightmare sail from Virgin Gorda to St. Martin is set to rejoin the crew. Apparently, his first experience of two long days beating into strong winds and choppy seas didn’t sour him on sailing. Hopefully, our days of tough slogs are behind us. In any case, I am looking forward to his arrival.