Intro to Panama

On our first walk from Shelter Bay Marina, an easy 10-minute amble into the jungle, we were so excited to see baby and mum, or maybe dad, capuchin above us.  I knew I was going to love it in Panama!

We arrived in Shelter Bay Marina in early January, entering the canal breakwater among a hundred or so anchored cargo ships and tankers.  The marina dock staff met us with enthusiasm ushering us into a slip, tying us up with alacrity - the very best we have experienced in our limited marina stays.  And then friends, Michelle and Glenn, from Rosie Skye, cruisers we had hiked, ate and drank with in Carriacou, welcomed us with hugs.  So great to reconnect.  And it happens more often than one would expect - the "coconut run" along the trade winds, east to west, is, by far, the most common route for circumnavigation.

Our first major hike led by Peter with four others took us down a steep cliff and through a mangrove swamp.  I went on all fours, root to root, before taking the much more elegant method as Michelle was demonstrating, plodding through the sucking mud.  Glenn, an Aussie who should know, told us that it was perfect croc territory - that was when we were in the middle.

Lo and behold, Glenn was right.  This croc is a regular on the river the mangrove we had slurped through ends at.  We spied him/her from the safety of a bridge traversing the river.  He slipped off the bank while we watched, into the river after a foolish but lucky bird.  Her speed (the croc's) made it very clear that a human who wandered too close would not have a chance.

Panama made an immediate positive impression.  The marina is situated on an old American army base, Fort Sherman, now overgrown in thick jungle.  An initial wander along the deserted roads and lanes into the base led us to a deserted church with simple frescoes, batteries abandoned to bats, and cages for the exotic animal specimens they found.  The fort was built in conjunction with the construction of the canal.  A brother fort on the Pacific side protected both of the canal entrances.  It was also used for jungle warfare training - perfect place for it, the jungle has now taken it over.  In 1999, it was turned over to the Panama government who use part of it currently for their own military training - we hear the hollering of troops on double time runs in full gear and in formation regularly.  Apparently, they catch a lot of drug running vessels in the bay and escort them to Panama City.  

We usually see howler monkeys in large extended family troops.  They watch us as curiously as we watch them, often coming directly over us in the branches.  A marina nature guide told us, as he leapt away, that the males aim a steady stream of urine at human below.  An effective way of marking his territory.  The howls, aptly named, from these small monkeys are very loud.  It's easy to believe that on the mountain slopes they can be heard from kilometres away.  They open there seemingly little mouth very wide and emit an enormous howl regularly, another way of marking territory, communicating, or being macho?  

A beautiful golden silk spider at the edge of our hiking path, laying eggs as we watched.

Milly in Shelter Bay Marina on the edge of the jungle.  Our later neighbour saw a croc one day on the water's edge - another reason, among many, not to swim in this, or any, marina.

On a much more interesting note for us, the jungle here is full of wildlife.  Even on our short walks we regularly see white-faced capuchin monkeys and troops of howler monkeys, agoutis and coatis, parrots and toucans and vultures.  Even a crocodile.  And apparently there are many, many more from frogs to birds.  Our untrained eyes overlook a jungle teeming with life.  It's an amazing place, all within a 5 minute walk of Milly.  We hear howler monkeys regularly during the day, especially before rain, at dawn and dusk.

Panama is also chock-a-block full of history.  Apart from the recent 20th century story of the building of the canal - more about that when we actually cross it - the north coast is full of conquistadors, pirates and privateers with gold, forts and, unfortunately, razed towns.  It's a brutal history, all about greed, but in the locations we visited, because they are so undeveloped, it was easy to imagine the hustle and bustle of the 17th and 18th centuries.

Portobello, said to have been named by Christopher Columbus when he spied a beautiful protected bay on an otherwise exposed coast often hit by large swell.  During the Spanish colonial period, Portobello was the most important port on the Caribbean side of Panama.  It was the end point of the mule train from Panama City on the Pacific coast, carrying the plunder of gold and riches from South America.  The customs house, now closed for renovations, is the biggest building in town and held troops to guard the treasures inside.  Fuerte San Jeronimo, is one of three forts guarding the town.  Over the 200 years of the town's heyday, they were attacked multiple times by pirates/privateers including Francis Drake, whose coffin lies at the end of the bay, and Henry Morgan.

The bay is indeed bello.  Hills and mountains covered with green and the occasional crop field etched into the jungle.  Only 400 years ago, it was teeming with ships and activity.  Now, there are a handful of sailboats anchored, several abandoned.  The stone from the forts were used to build the canal by the French and are now largely ignored by the residents who kick soccer balls against the walls.  Time of prosperity has definitely vanished.

The town of Portobello is impoverished today.  Although the church, closed when we visited, houses a celebrated Christo Negro, tourists often don't venture this far east.  The surrounding land is lovely, the bay is beautiful and the nearby beaches are gorgeous and water access only.  Perhaps Portobello will enjoy a revival - at least enough to support the population.

After our first explore, I knew that Panama was going to be among our favourite countries.

Passage to Panama

Our route from Bonaire to Panama.  To avoid the rougher waters off the coast of Columbia, we did an indirect arc up and over.  It worked to some degree. 

 

The passage from the ABC's to Panama is referred to by some circumnavigators as among the top five most difficult passages.  There is an almost constant pocket of high wind off the Columbian coast which brings big waves and swell often from different directions.  The trade winds funnel around the La Guajira peninsula.  And then katabatibc winds off the Sierra Nevada range contribute fierce katabatic gusts.  Instead of leaving for Panama in early to mid December, before the northeast Christmas winds exacerbate the trades, we so enjoyed our time in Bonaire that we delayed our departure until after the New Year when the seasonal winds were well entrenched.  

After studying the weather charts, we decided to leave on the five day (and night) passage on Tuesday.  Due to technical difficulties, we were unable to use our satellite system to upload weather info while on passage.  Peter took multiple screen shots of weather for the five passage days.  And our dear friend, Anne, assisted by husband, Rob, in Canada volunteered as weather router, texting us at least daily with updated info re the red blob - location, size, wind strength, wave direction etc.  We couldn't do much about it but at least we knew what to anticipate.  Along with the weather forecasts, talking with other cruisers who had done the trip gave us the local wisdom - don't do the tempting rhumb line from the north end of La Guajira Peninsula to our destination, Shelter Bay Marina at the northern mouth of the Panama Canal.  Instead, sail northwest from Bonaire, then west, not turning southwest until beyond the red (high wind) blob.  At all times, at least 100 NM off the coast of Columbia.

We left Bonaire with three other boats on January 4th. We had all had lunch together the day before to say good bye, one of the difficult things about cruising.  We had spent Christmas, New Years, hikes and dives with the German and Swiss crew and we were sad to part ways.  All three were headed to Dominican Republic.  We were going west.

Leaving Bonaire, we headed northwest with the waves and swell on our beam.  Big and choppy. My worst point of sail for seasickness but I had taken Bonine - my treatment for seasickness along with chewy ginger candies - and I was grateful to be fine.  No reading but otherwise happy.

Day of departure: The white dot is approximately at our second waypoint and as far north as we thought we would go.  The white streaks are the wind direction, on our stern one we turned due west - very nice.

You notice that the wind direction curls around to come from the north which, thankfully, made almost our entire passage downwind.

Sunday's forecast on the previous Tuesday before leaving Bonaire.   We thought/hoped we would be in the green almost at the canal before Sunday when the blob got more widespread.  Unfortunately, by Saturday when we thought we would emerge out of the red and into green, Anne told us it was red to the Panama coast.  No problem really but demonstrates that this five day old forecast was inaccurate.  We were glad to have Anne watching for us.

Downwind sailing, even in big waves, is quite comfortable.  The boat surfs down the swell, riding the waves with ease.  And these swell were BIG - higher than the arch on the stern.  We estimated three to four meters high.  More importantly, they were steep.  Instead of a long, gentle swell with a period of 10-12 seconds, these were about 6 seconds.  We didn't get pooped - sailing lingo for a wave/swell breaking over the stern of the boat - but we were thoroughly soaked with splashes on the port quarter (back of the boat, port side).  By the third day, we couldn't sit in the cockpit except at the helm, which was high and almost dry.  I had made lots of frozen meals but even heating them up on the stove was not enticing.  Still, we were relatively comfortable and marvelled at the waves after two years off the sea.

The end of my final watch at dawn, brought the ships only visible on our chart plotter at night, into view.  You can see eleven in this shot.  

The little triangular icons are other ships on our AIS, a system which is a godsend, especially at night. At this point there were 250 targets/vessels on the AIS system.  It tells you how fast a vessel is going, it's direction and in how many minutes the closest point of contact/collision with Milly will be.  It always amazes me how often in the wide open sea, we are on a collision course!  The black icon is Milly.  The black line on her stern is the route we have travelled.  The blue vector off her bow is the direction the boat is steering while the red vector is the actual direction we are going with current and swell taken into account.  Each vector ends at where Milly will be in 10 minutes.  The other ships have black dashed lines on their bows showing us their direction, speed (by the length of the vector) and where they will be in 10 minutes.  These enormous 300 m ships move fast!! The dots in the centre of most of the ships indicates that they are anchored - we can go as close to them as we want but you never know when they will begin to move.  The blue x at Milly's stern is our last waypoint we had entered on the chart to put us at the opening in the Panama breakwater directly south of us.  

The final challenge that made this passage interesting was the number of ships we encountered in the final two nights.  Once we turned southwest, we realized that our route was also the same path that these humungous cargo and tanker ships were taking to go to the Caribbean, US east coast, Europe, The Suez, the northeast coast of South America, etc. etc.  To further complicate things, there were the occasional ships that came toward our port beam from Columbia.  

Peter sleeps well on passage because he knows I am extremely (maybe, too) diligent in my goal to avoid ships by at least 2 NM at night.  I would move to the right or the left to avoid ships coming up our stern to pass or coming toward us along the same line.  That was relatively easy although our path jogged a couple of miles to the left or right through my watch.  

On the last night, I felt like a tiny mouse chased by a huge cat that was coming toward us from Columbia.  Although downwind is comfortable, it is limited by gybing if required to go past 180 degrees.  I can manage a controlled gybe on my own but really prefer not to.  It's also impossible to tell whether the ship will pass in front of us (better) or behind us (unnerving since it means we have to squeak by in front of it) until it is quite close and under, say, 20 minutes away.  So it was hard to tell whether I should slow down - at the wind's discretion when downwind, speed up with the motor or head up making us go faster and change direction by a few degrees.  So this huge ship called, Ocean Mystery, bound for the canal, kept me on the edge of my helm seat for my last watch.  Happy ending though.  It passed in front of us less than 1NM distant as the dawn broke.

As we approached the canal, we followed the radio chatter of the Cristobal port officer - very efficient woman - giving direction to the many ships, telling them where to anchor, when to pick up anchor, when to head to the breakwater entrance, where to go once in Limon Bay, how to pick up a pilot etc.  It was fascinating entertainment.  She didn't want to hear from us until we were 1NM away and told us just to keep on going through and to the marina, situated inside the breakwater.  

We entered Shelter Bay Marina, were directed to our slip, assisted by very friendly and efficient dock staff and welcomed by our friends from Carriacou who happened to be there.  After cleaning the salt off Milly's inside and outside and off ourselves we were ready and excited to explore Panama.

Diving Bonaire

These tiny blue polka-dot juvenile yellow tail damsel fish are among my favourite.  No sign of a yellow tail in the young.  I go for the cute as opposed to the big and threatening.

Truck dive, dinghy dive, yacht dive, night dive, day dive.  We did it all!  And loved it.  We even purchased our own tanks and are now fully equipped apart from a compressor.  Bonaire boasts some of the best diving on this side of the Great Barrier Reef.  Most of the protected reef that encircles the island begins just offshore which, uniquely, makes it possible to swim out to explore.  If the sites aren't close enough to dinghy to, we could take the boat.  All sites are equipped with shore access points and a mooring ball for boats to tie to.  The infrastructure makes the diving or snorkelling accessible and easy. And the fact that the entire shoreline is protected means that the fish are many and varied.  All but sharks which are not invited.

Getting ready for a dive from the back of the "cruiser's truck".  We could just walk into the sea and float to the dive site.  

Our night dive had a mission attached.  We were in search of the ostracod, a tiny crustacean, typically 1mm in size.  Within five nights after the full moon, it rises from the soft coral in what we understood was a mating call from male to female.  It's bluish bioluminescence appears in vertical dotted moving strands.  It's really tough to describe! And no photos were taken - you just have to believe me. 

To see the bioluminescence at it's best, and under the guidance of Rhapsody, an American boat who had done several ostracod dives, six of us went on iCat to the leeward side of Klein Bonaire, a smaller island of the "mainland". It is protected from all development and, hence, very dark.  We got into the water just after sunset, descended to a spot where we were surrounded by soft coral and then floated and waited.  Slowly one or two ostracod strands glowed.  Within minutes we were surrounded by hundreds of glowing blue pinpoints.  It was amazing!  Followed by a night dive with flashlights in hand.  Followed by a potluck dinner on iCat.  Followed by a motor back to the mooring field.  A grand adventure!!

Preparing for our night dive on iCat which was packed with dive equipment for six.  Just jumped off the back of the boat, shortly after sunset.  Very exciting adventure!

The Ostracods looked like this but without the swirl.  Kind of like New Years Eve streamers. You would think, as you drag your finger across the "strand", it would break the bioluminescence.  But no! it doesn't affect them at all.  Mysterious and very cool, especially surrounded by the black of a night dive.

We celebrated Christmas Day with a dive off the back of Milly with friends, one of whom was a beardless Santa.

All underwater photo credits go to Sabine on iCat.  Thanks, Sabine!  After seven years our underwater camera's seals are not doing what they should.

Blue-tipped anemone

A blue tang, also among my faves, visiting some brain coral.

A speckled eel looking threatening but actually just breathing with open mouth.  Nonetheless, showing it's sharp little teeth.  Interesting but not among my favourites.

Fat Fungus Coral

Fireworm

Flower Corals

Juvenile French Angel Fish

French Angel Fish - most often hang out with their mates

Among the strange fish, a peacock flounder, with two eyes on it's flat horizontal side - if you understand what I mean

Very large green moray eel, watching us from inside a pipe.

Our final dive at the salt pier was our most eventful.  Fish seem to like hanging out around the human detritus that the pier and it's making provide.  A great barracuda on one side was not paying much attention to us but I was paying close attention to it.

A green moray eel later swam by.  Definitely the biggest we've ever seen.  He was on one side of us at the same time as the barracuda was on the other.  I needed to have eyes in the back of my head.

These trunk fish are also odd.  Long and exceedingly thin with huge eyes and not a very fishy shape.  They hang vertically in the water, trying to look like coral or vegetation, waiting for prey.  Or they swim directly over and just behind a fish, using the fish as camouflage.

The parrot fish is a dime a dozen in the reefs but never get ho-hum.

Last sighting on our last dive.  Never tire of turtles.

Another strange one - a pufferfish looks kind of big, slow and dopey.  Huge eyes and large roundish head.  It  puffs up with prickles if threatened.  Not so dumb, after all.

Scrawled Filefish

And another great shot of an eel.  Remember, it's just breathing!

Another favourite, these box fish are sometimes, so tiny they look like cartoon characters.  From the back or front they look triangular and somehow very friendly.

Christmas Tree worms on brain coral.  When touched the trees collapse into themselves.

We had a wonderful time.  We dove six times with dive partners Zoltan and Sabine.  So fun to be underwater again.  Very Zen!

Bonaire on Repeat

A blow hole at the northern tip of Bonaire on our first of a few explorations with new friends.

Our unexpected boat work had kept us a month in Grenada.  Our friends in Curacao who we had planned to meet up with had moved on to explore further afield.  The ABC’s are a good stepping stone on our way to Panama.  So which one to choose?  In the fall of 2016, we spent about a month playing in Bonaire.  We were with six other cruising boats who we had met in Grenada and became fast and firm friends with.  Many of us carried on to Columbia for further land adventures.  Peter and I had such great memories of Bonaire that it was easy to choose it as our midway point.  We intended to stop for a week to ten days - dive, hike and bike.

Flamingos, one of thousands, that make Bonaire their home.  Ranging in colour from almost white to deep peachy pink.

In theory at least, Bonaire prides itself as an ecotourism destination and islanders are serious about conserving Bonaire's natural beauty including the flamingos.

They are sociable creatures usually in large groups.

Our passage to Bonaire took just over three days, arriving in the morning of our fourth day.  We had a comfortable downwind sail but Milly was not through with her complaints.  The webbing on the tack of our screecher tore making it unusable and meant that we could only use our Genoa instead of sailing wing-on-wing.  Our sump pump to drain our shower - a treat after a hot day on passage - stopped pumping.  Our fresh water pump became first erratic, then only worked by manually turning it off and on at the electrical panel.  Our toilet outlet in the guest head cracked and leaked.  And our port engine was leaking coolant in an elusive spot that we could not find.

The harvested salt from the salt pans looks like snow, a strange sight in an incredibly barren and hot land.  The pans become pinker as they get more concentrated.  Pink water on one side, crystal clear blue sea on the other.  And billowing salt suds, like soap suds from a washing machine gone crazy, blowing across the road between the two water bodies, where we were cycling.

Over a thousand wild donkeys wander the island and look at us as curiously as we look at them.  We admire.  They probably don't reciprocate.  

These thorny yatu cacti make effective fences, keeping the donkey and human riffraff out.  Only the birds seem to manage to perch on top without ado.

.... and maybe these guys who are also all over the place.  This and two other hang out at the marina garbage, waiting for edibles. 

As we approached the large protected mooring field at Kralendijk, the sudden squall that had reduced visibility to 100m cleared to unveil two huge cruise ships dominating the town and harbour and towering over the two story high-rises of the town. 

A shock and, admittedly a sore-point, were the cruise ships stacked at the waters edge in town.  The one in the foreground is relatively small!  The dock are about 200m from the end of the mooring field.  Skilled driving was needed and demonstrated.

Several birthday/Christmas presents to Peter who has been hankering for a simply stored boat to sail around the anchorage.  Inspired by Tom this summer at the cottage who winged back and forth with ease, this wing foil has proved not as simple to sail as it is to store.  We are on a steep learning curve, first to learn to balance as one of us is pulled behind the dinghy.  When we finally do manage to foil, we last a few seconds before splashing.  (By the way, it's upside down on Milly's deck here.  So far no action pics.  We're too busy driving the dinghy or falling)

On the very positive side friends on Yacht O, who we had not seen since 2020 in Grenada greeted us in their dinghy and led Milly to a mooring ball which they had saved for us.  To prevent damage to coral, yachts are forbidden to anchor anywhere along Bonaire’s coast which is designated as a marine park.  In previous weeks/months, the mooring balls were in such demand that boats were forced to wait for days/weeks in the marina.  We were extremely lucky to have O on the lookout for us and actually, on the day of arrival, had three to choose from.

As a group and for those who want, the cruisers have at their disposal a truck to rent by the day for $20.  Provisioning, touring and truck diving made easy.  The truck seats four comfortably, five with a pinch, but, of course, we were most often six.  Two rode in the back.  This time it was Peter's turn.

A hike to the highest peak, Mt. Bandaris.  At 784 feet, it wasn't too high but the climb was steep over rock.  We were swept by a stiff wind at the top.

The island is barren. Unless planted in a garden, most of the green is from scrub and cacti.  This is the "longest" vs highest tree on the island.  Swept by the strong, consistent trade winds, it grows horizontally.

Our initial reaction to our return to Bonaire was tinged with disappointment.  The cruise ships were definitely “in your face” and hard to ignore, the mooring field was full and our time was dominated for the first ten days with scouting out parts and boat work which seemed to lead to more boat work.  And we missed the carefree frolic with our friends of years past.  O left for Puerto Rico, after a brief overlap for sundowners so we were on our own.

Another hike to one of the estimated 400 caves in Bonaire.  This one was deep and dark.  Bats fluttered around us.

I kept my hat firmly on head.

Paintings from Amerindian people, probably painted prior to Spanish explorers claiming the island as their own in 1499, are still evident.

Amazing that we and any one else could just wander in.  No signs or plaques.  Reminded us of the ruins, temples and graves that dot the Turkish countryside, accessible to any and all who care to check them out.

The growth of stalactites. One cm in 100 years?

New found friends made our stay in Bonaire a real pleasure!

However, as always in cruising life, we met a Swiss boat, iCat, and a German boat, Queen Emma, who were friends of other dear cruising friends and our life became very busy with shared hiking, biking and snorkelling.  And food and drink.  We were having such a lovely time with them that we were happy that weather and boat work delayed our departure so we could celebrate Christmas and New Years with new friends.  (During COVID time when we have stayed put longer than we usually do - weeks and months compared to overnight or days, we have found that as we spend more time, we meet more cruisers and so have much more of a social life.  It becomes more difficult to pull ourselves away.). The cruise ships gradually faded into the distance.  And, again, we loved Bonaire.

Lionfish are a menace to life on Caribbean reefs.  In places like Carriacou and Bonaire, where spear fishing is banned to tourists, lion fish hunting is encouraged.  We went on a lion fish hunt in Carriacou and received a Padi certificate as a result.  Here, we didn't do the hunting but we enjoyed a burger at a celebrated food truck on the sea.

Christmas Eve dinner at a delicious tapas restaurant.  White wine, no aquavit.  We had it for New Year's Eve, hosting dinner on Milly.

We biked to one of few farms where spinach seemed to be taking over in a riot of 8 foot vines.  

Peter enjoying iguana stew, much to the distress of our veterinary friend.  It tastes like chicken - of course - with tiny, bothersome bones.  It was billed as an aphrodisiac.

Christmas Eve in Bonaire.  We missed our children but had a great time with good friends.

The Christmas winds which we had wanted to avoid on our passage to Panama were well established.  The infamous pocket of foul weather along the Columbian coast was almost permanent at this time of year.  Gale force winds kick up enormous waves and swell.  We were looking for a drop in the wind speed and a smaller patch of no-go area.  January 4th was the day.  Our friends headed north to Dominican Republic, three boats in a convoy, and we headed west, excited to reach the first previously unvisited country since leaving Cabo Verde in January 2020.  Panama here we come.

Setting up for a group photo...

...the timer is ticking.

On a bike ride around the southern tip, we saw many sculptures made from the flotsam that came ashore.  He is an especially good one.

Good-bye, Bonaire.