The "Puddle Jump"

Milly's voyage chart, March 2015 to April 2026

Peter and I had an expectation of what the passage from Mexico to the Marquesas, French Polynesia would be like.   We dreamed of downwind sailing first with the northeast trade winds, then with the southeast trade winds.  Of course, we also expected the part in-between, the Intertropical Convergence Zone, otherwise known as the doldrums, at this time of year just north of the equator.  In this band, sailors expect no wind punctuated by squalls with sudden high wind and lightning.  It's unpredictable.  Forecasts don't provide local detail and squalls result from just one cumulonimbus cloud.  The art is to get through the band at the narrowest point but the width changes constantly.  Both our previous crossings of the doldrums had been relatively uneventful and only once, a total lack of wind.  That was with John and Gill on Mehalah when we just floated passively for one night, no sails and motor off.  Peaceful in the middle of the Pacific.

In our preparations for this "Puddle Jump", inaccurately coined by cruisers everywhere, we joined many online seminars designed for those of us making the leap.  They covered everything, from preparing your boat, passage planning, weather, provisioning, navigation, the islands from the Marquesas through to New Caledonia and all in between.  They offered more information than we had ever had for our Atlantic crossings.  And we prepared longer and better than for our other long passages.

We had confidence that Milly was in great shape.  We had been able to get pretty much every spare part we had thought we might need either when we were in Canada or in Mexico.  Our crew, our old and dear friend, Lee, who had done the long legs of both Atlantic crossings with us, schlepped a suitcase of last minute purchases to us when she came a week before departure.  Our engines and generator were serviced.  Our communication systems rewired and tested.  We'd spent three years preparing, upgrading, repairing, replacing, purchasing three new sails.  The list was long.  When the officials saw us off the dock, we were ready.  Humpback whales greeted us outside the harbour, entertaining us with breaches and fin and tail slaps.  It seemed a positive sign.

We now only needed a weather window.  We use two weather apps which give us wind, waves, swell, current, chance of lightning etc. in six different weather models.  One app even uses the models to show us recommended routes from start point to destination beginning on four consecutive days and based on factors we chose as important to us...like comfort.  The usual length of the passage as predicted by this app was 16-18 days with less than 2 days of motoring.  We had expected 21 days.  We were pleasantly surprised.

PredictWind was our go-to weather App for passage planning.  When you hit play three little boats sail out of the starting point on three different days while the colours of the wind swirl.  The prediction is only very accurate 4-5 days out.  We were looking to avoid the big blue blob - no wind - just outside of the Bay of Banderas.

Even though cleared out of the country, we hung off the hook with a few other boats that were also doing the leap in Punta Mita at the mouth of Bahia de Banderas.  The bottom was cleaned, more meals cooked and frozen, final stowage under beds.  Best of all, Tom, Fer and Chente spent an afternoon with us.  

After three nights, the weather looked promising and we raised anchor, locked the chain in place and sailed out of the Bahia de Banderas, our locale for the past almost four years.  The departure date was March, 29, 2026.

Leaving Punta Mita.  Next stop Nuku Hiva!

First day out a pod of pan tropical dolphins, perhaps 20 or 30, small and spotted, leapt and played at the bow of the boat.  Another good omen.

Meanwhile, the three of us were getting into the groove of a long passage.  By day, with one of us on watch at the helm, the others would read, do crosswords, knit, prepared meals, and later in the passage, a giant jigsaw puzzle.  Lee was chief dishwasher, an endless job.

With Starlink, our passage took on a whole new character.  We were able to access detailed weather forecasts every day which offered a reassuring level of safety to our last ocean crossings.  It also meant we were connected to family and friends.  We Face Timed several times with our children.  And we could purchase the rodkicker as well as complete mundane tasks like banking, tax submission and FP customs, biosecurity and immigration forms.  Bizarre but great.  It was the world news we tried to disconnect from!

By night we took three and a half hour watches - Lee first, beginning at 9pm which meant that Peter started his day at 4am.  It was exhausting but so much better than with only two of us and we were grateful that Lee was game for the adventure.  Each night, Peter would give the parameters of what to do if wind speed increased or dropped, if a squall came, if wind direction changed etc.  Lee took nightly notes.

The first few days were choppy with confused seas meaning swell from several directions and choppy wind waves on top of those.  Not comfortable but not threatening in any way.  We were on a beam reach moving along happily.

Day two or three, Lee's toilet plugged, we figured most likely from a child guest who inadvertently broke the no toilet paper rule.  Peter and I spent several hours on the unpleasant task of emptying the holding tank to no avail.  A plumbing snake did nothing.  Luckily, Milly has two heads.  We all now used one.  No problem really, just not as convenient or private for a guest.

Day three or four: Peter noticed that the boom was falling, coming perilously close to the cockpit roof and two solar panels.  He diagnosed the problem as broken seals in our rodkicker.  Our boom is heavier than most.  It has a "maintamer", an Antares creation.  It is a fibreglass 19 foot long, tapered basket that catches and holds the sail as it comes down making it easier to contain and flake the sail.  Because it is heavy, we had considered removing it - but we hadn't.  Along with the topping lift, a line at the end of the boom going up to the top of the mast, the rodkicker holds the boom up.  We had never considered a spare rodkicker.  I hadn't even known what it was.

With the rodkicker failure, we used the topping lift to hold the boom up.  In the middle of the night, on my watch, I noticed that the boom was swinging up and down wildly.  I roused Peter and we discovered that the old topping lift had completely chafed through on our new sail and was swinging wildly at the top of the mast.  Down came the mainsail.  

Our beautiful, new parasail bought especially for this passage.  Perfect, until...

Unfortunately, instead of our expected downwind sail, we always seemed to be on a beam reach, perfect for the main and a head sail.  And acceptable for our new parasail.  The parasail is for downwind.  It's a specially designed spinnaker which is more stable and, therefore, requires less adjustment with changes in wind direction.  It also can be used over a broader wind angle.  We tested this by using it on a beam reach - 90 degree wind angle.  It worked beautifully!  We had several days and braved a couple of nights of fast, smooth sailing.  Wonderful, until it wasn't.  Peter noticed the block holding the sail at the top of the mast had broken off.  Down came the parasail.

Back to the retired main.  Peter figure that the reefed sail itself would hold up the boom.  After a bit of a struggle with Peter standing on the cockpit roof, bouncing around in rough seas and carefully laying the boom on to the side of the cockpit roof in an attempt to save our solar panels, the reefing line was in place, the mainsail raised and off we went on a reefed (smaller) main but a main, nonetheless.  Until the reefing line chafed.  The main was retired permanently.  

We were down two sails and had two left, the Genoa and the screecher, both headsails.  The screecher is lighter and larger than the Genoa which is a hardy workhorse.  Our dilemma, however, was whether or not to risk using the screecher to go a knot or two faster.   

We fought a counter current for most of the passage.  It's the blue arrow in the centre of the circle and boat.  The boat speed in 3.5knots - strikingly and frustratingly slow at 92 degrees true wind angle and 10 knots of wind without our main.  Argh! And our speed over ground was even less with this darn.current

Meanwhile, the wind continued to be on our beam and we were constantly fighting a contrary current.  Crossing the ITCZ took a few days, often motor sailing, but as often as possible with the tired, old screecher.  During a particularly squally day with unusually solid grey skies, we saw gale force winds.  The silver lining in not having a main with sudden squalls especially at night when you can't see them coming is that you are never caught with too much sail up.  

Dawn, April 13th.  Crossing the equator.  We drank a sip of 70 proof Grenadian rum and offered it to Neptune.  There a message in a bottle into the sea with email address.  If any of you find it, please write.

And Lee became a Shellback.  Peter and I, being old salts, had already graduated.

On one of my watches with the screecher up, a squall hit us with winds gusting over 20 knots - our preferred limit for the screecher was 15.  To decrease the apparent wind, I went downwind going way off course but hopefully putting less stress on the screecher.  I did my best but late the next day, Peter looked up to see a tear along the seam of the screecher.  It was protesting.  Down came the screecher.

We had great faith in the Genoa.  It moved us along at a turtle's pace, still against current.  We used our motors reluctantly but necessarily until the port engine regulator sounded an alarm.  Our starter battery was overcharging.  Peter checked, cleaned and rechecked the connections.  It worked sometimes and went into the red other times.  So, we used it as little as possible, saving it for finally anchoring in Nuku Hiva.

When we arrived on April 20th, after 22 days at sea on one sail and one motor, we were relieved, ecstatic, wowed by the scenery, exhausted and just so happy to put down the anchor.

Entering Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva, April 20th.  Stunningly beautiful and such a welcome sight.

On thinking over the passage, it definitely wasn't the downwind sail Peter and I had anticipated and dreamed of.  We knew our screecher was old and worn so it wasn't a surprise that it tore when we pressed it.  We had not thought of a rodkicker spare and had not carried extra line for a topping lift and reefing lines.  We had plenty of other lines for failed halyards or standing rigging.  Monohulls with one motor carry more spare parts than do catamarans with two motors.  We had all the recommended spare parts for cats but not an alternator/regulator.  The spinnaker problem was a fault in design.  And the toilet, well....

Anyway, it didn't matter.  All could be repaired.  Parts could be purchased and shipped.  The important part was that we were in the Marquesas in French Polynesia.  We had sailed 2,847NM across the Pacific Ocean, the longest passage of the "coconut run circumnavigation", in 22 days.  There was a lot to celebrate!  And now it was time to explore.  

We're here, in the land of Tikis!

What has Milly been up to?

As we float at anchor in Nuku Hiva, French Polynesia, it is time to resume blogging.  There have been plenty blog worthy to write about over the three years since the Ecuador trip but the writer has just felt like a blog break.

Where have we been for the past three years?  There has been one wedding, two births - we now have three gorgeous grandsons - one funeral, very sadly, two trips to Norway to visit Peter's mum with a side trip to England to reunite with cruising buddies, and another to Spain in the company of dear friends, three SailGp events with accompanying local exploration.  Last year we hiked from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, 265 km in 16 days.  We checked out Mexico City - highly recommend - and a mountain village a truck ride away from our Mexican base in Bahía de Banderas.

Tom and Fer's wedding day.  We were so happy to be part of it!

Sammy, born April, 2024.  Completely unexpectedly, I was attended the birth with Gid.  A privilege and an honour!  Although, a little tough hearing the exclamations of pain from my darling daughter.

Vicente/Chente, three weeks old, with proud and adoring parents.

And this little cutie turned four!

We've spent six months of each year enjoying Stony Lake living.  It was overdue for some TLC after a lengthy period of neglect.  Amazing how fast nature can take over.  With YouTube University as our guide, we have rebuilt two of the walls including windows and door in the original cabin with leaning walls, sinking floors and asymmetrical roof lines.  We have constructed a new dock and built a new cabin with loft from a kit.  We've also enjoyed lots of family time, visits from old friends and three separate visits from cruising friends.  We have discovered that we love living at the cottage during the warmer months.  Life is simple and as busy or relaxing as you want it to be.

Our new loft cabin.  Foundation, deck and cabin built by two (previous) city folks.  Took us all summer.

During our time in Mexico, we cruised a little north and a little south along the coast.  We loved being close to Tom and Fer and now Chente and enjoyed seeing Gid, Em, Leo and Sam each year at Gid's family reunion which, thankfully, happened to be close by.  We got to know the Bay very well and had many close encounters with humpback whales.  

The clan in Punta Mita.  Very happy times! We are so darned lucky!!

But much of the time was spent caring for Milly.  Her systems were showing her age after 10 years living aboard and two ocean crossings.  We knew we wanted to continue west at some point so we took the time in Mexico to prepare and stock up on spares.  When we went to Canada with two carry-ons, we returned with two large duffel bags and a sail or two.  We discovered that importing to Mexico is an uncertain and expensive endeavour.  Oversized luggage on a flight is simpler, more timely and much less costly.  

Over the three years we have replaced our watermaker, replaced and increased the length of our anchor chain as well as windlass and gypsy, replaced our main and Genoa sails, replaced all standing rigging, bought a new parasail for downwind, pampered our engines including the generator which wasn't working, replaced water pumps etc. etc. etc.  The list goes on.  Small things and large.  

We made it to Toronto to celebrate Christmas with these guys.  As you can see, we had a heartwarming family time!

I spent a lot of time sewing with a new industrial sewing machine.  My mum whose skills and talents as a seamstress I now appreciate as extraordinary, taught me the very basics as a teen.  She believed that, rather than paying a bomb for an art or a craft, she could do it all herself, a notion that in my older age, I have somehow inherited.  It becomes a curse when projects include a 21' long sail cover and two cockpit enclosures, one for shade and one for foul weather.  Our cockpit was often ripe with choice words - sewing in a small space with large pieces of canvas that somehow shrink when hemmed, plastic mesh which stretches and, the very worst, plastic that bends awkwardly and scratches, is patience testing.

We were pretty on top of things in the fall of 2025 when an electrician we had hired to replace our AGM batteries with lithium - a major upgrade we knew to be "a game changer" - called us at the cottage to say we had been indirectly hit by lightning and most of our electronics had failed! We immediately began the process of claiming insurance and when we returned to Mexico a less than adequate surveyor came to inspect.  Based on the surveyor's comments, our insurance adjuster initially judged that the damage was due to poor workmanship of the electrician and so our responsibility.  I went into overdrive to prove our lightning claim.  Even though there was an enormous deductible attached, the ultimate bill was almost triple.  I collected a history of lightning strikes during the period we were away and before the electrician was on board as well as the account of other boats in the marina that had been struck.  Eventually, the claim was okayed.  Thank goodness! 

In the new year, the boat was hauled out, bottom painted, engines mounts replaced and realigned - huge messy job - through hulls inspected and one replaced, vulnerable bolts replaced and others de-rusted.   Life raft re-certified, fire extinguishers recharged, propane tanks topped up.  

It is recommended that provisioning cover the passage plus two months of island hopping in the Marquesas and the Tuomotus. Overwhelming! I parboiled and froze veg and berries, stocked up on nuts, beer and nonalcoholic beer, sparkling water, UHT milk, all sorts of cans and bottled products, toilet paper, paper towels, crackers, cheese etc. etc.  Multiple trips with Tom's truck to various supermacados.  Buying was only part of the job.  Then there was storing.  Our port forward berth became a table for drinks under the mattress.  Bins under the settee were full to overflowing.  The pantry was packed, the new once built-in oven space proved to be a perfect place for grains, nuts, dried beans, seeds etc.  

Oh and lots of diesel.  We have never carried so much.  And a good thing we did - foreshadowing for the passage blog.

Finally, came clearing out of Mexico.  We have cleared out of many countries over our 11 years on board.  Only Brazil ranks as complicated and onerous as Mexico.  Multiple forms, copies galore, contrary directions of where to go and who to speak with (in Spanish).  Several days of running around, paying fees and trying to be polite and charming rather than irritable with eyes rolling was exhausting.  Finally, they made an appointment to inspect the boat after which we were not allowed to get off the boat onto the dock and had to leave immediately.  Six people in uniform came to the boat!  One in army camo opened cupboards and asked if we had drugs, ammo, fire arms or nicotine??  The remaining filled out forms with Peter.  

Boater to be.  What else?

And then we left!  It goes without saying that we were, oh so sad to leave Tom, Fer and Chente.  But it felt very good to be off the dock and on our way to a new adventure.

The last day hanging out with the little fam, just before we left.  Fun and games! 

The Amazon

 

First curious creature of our first hike through the jungle.  Great camo!  We would have missed it's nearby presence completely if Raoul hadn't pointed it out.

The last leg of our Ecuadorean adventure - a four night stay in The Amazon Basin.  

Booking a lodge in the Amazon Basin by internet felt like a crap shoot.  All very similar, all with pretty good to great reviews.  We chose Sani Lodge for a few reasons.  First, it required a three hour motorized canoe ride down the Napo River followed by a 45 minute hike through jungle, followed by a 30 minute paddled canoe ride on a narrow river to a peaceful lagoon where the lodge was situated.  The journey sounded like an adventure in itself and meant that, unlike other lodges, it was far away from any oil company's industry.  Sani is also owned and run by the local Kichwa community which gave it a more authentic vibe and a promised visit to the Kichwa women's community centre and collective made it an obvious choice.  We were not disappointed.

Another lodge's much larger but less comfy motorized canoe docked at Coca waterfront in the sandy Napo River.  We waited for our boat on a large river boat turned working reception centre mainly for staff, food, mattresses, mosquito netting etc. and us.

First was an hour flight from Quito to Coca, a boom-to-bust mining, frontier town on the Napo River.  Here we were met by our resort guide.  Like our hiking trip, and although the resort was occupied by other groups, we had our own personal guide assigned to us for our entire stay. He provided a boxed lunch.  After a lengthy wait, we climbed aboard a "motorized canoe" with multiple rows of airplane like seats, ancient but functional.  Life jackets donned and we were ready for take off.  

The Napo, a tributary of the Amazon, is an estimated 1.5 km wide but very shallow and dotted with shifting sandbars.  The pilot was on constant alert for logs as well as reading the currents for shallows usually at full speed and with constant, sometimes sharp and sudden veers and turns.  Between marvelling that we were in the Amazon Basin, admiring the beauty on shore and keeping an eye on the pilot, it was an exciting trip.

Our motorized canoe at the landing sandbank.  Note the ever shifting sandbanks in the river.

The beginning of our 45 minute walk to the next canoe, initially through Amazon-size grasses and then jungle.

We walked for about 45 minutes first through giant crops (as you imagine, everything grows to full capacity in the Amazon) and then through jungle, arriving at another landing on a narrow river, canopied by lush growth.  We settled into a paddled canoe, at the bow was our English-speaking guide, Raoul, and steered by our second nonEnglish speaking, Kichwa assistant guide, Jose.  We sat on bench seats, one behind the other, in the centre without paddles - strange to be so catered too but more able to enjoy the amazing surrounds.  At one point a very large tree had fallen across the river just the night before.  Being the only way in or out of the lodge, the staff had worked all night and morning to clear it enough for navigation.  

About to climb aboard our second canoe.  We were in the centre two benches, me first, Peter behind.  Raoul was at the bow and Jose, the brawn of the expedition at the stern, steering, paddling, pushing.  His homemade paddle can be seen in the photo.  The blade of all the paddles were elm tree leaf shaped with a pointed tip for pushing through mud.

 

After a serene yet awe-inspiring 30 minute paddle, the river opened up to a lagoon.  The multiple buildings of the lodge were in the distance. The resort was made up of several thatched buildings - a bar and observation deck, a dining hall and about a dozen cabins with one or two guest bedrooms.

Sani Lodge is located in the Yasuni National Park and Cuyabeno Reserve.  It includes 103,784 acres of primary forest.  The land is managed collectively and entirely protected mainly from the oil companies that have had devastating effects on the Amazon Basin.  The property hosts over 1,450 species of trees, 550 species of birds, 13 species of monkeys and over 1,000  species of butterflies.

No swimming in the lagoon.  Piranhas, small but with those big white teeth.  And the common black caiman, with a maximum length of around 5 to 6 m (16 to 20 ft) and a mass of over 450 kg (1,000 lb), is the largest living species of the family alligatoridae was another deterrent for swimming.

Our welcome drink, fruit salad, empanadas and other appetizer like things with introduction by the manager about our next four days.  They kept us very busy, getting up predawn, hiking or trips all day, dinner, and then a hike or paddle each evening.  It poured with rain when we were scheduled for a night walk.  Missed it.  Might have to go back.

The only cabin they had that wasn't shared was "The Honeymoon Suite" so we took it.  Greeted by swans.  The cabin was octagonal with large cracks in the walls.  The mosquito net kept us safe from all critters including scorpions.  We had a bathroom and balcony overlooking the lagoon.

View down the lagoon from the bar/observation tower.  The canoes are the cargo ship equivalents.  All dry goods were brought in the same way we came.  When a cargo canoe arrived, all male staff arrived at the water's edge to heft the contents to storage or kitchen.  When we were there a very full load of new mattresses arrived.

A tree among the cabins covered with pendulous Oropendola
 nests.  Quite something when we saw them but became rather ho-hum, a common sight.

Within minutes of our welcome drink, we were fitted for rubber boots, shown to our honeymoon suite to drop our bags and were off on our first jungle walk guided by Raoul and Jose.  So many creatures, plants and trees.  Absolutely amazing!!

Lacey mycelium and moss.

A splash of brilliant orange, signifying "don't eat me or else".

Like cocoa but not.  Large drop-shaped pods hanging directly of the trunk.

The hoatzin bird.  About the size of a pheasant.  Another that we thought was amazing when we saw it the first time but they are a dime a dozen.  Not considered very special.

Our first walk was followed by dinner with Raoul who ate each meal with us and was a bottomless source of information.  He had lost his job as naturalist tour guide at a competing lodge when covid struck.  He made ends meet for a large family by waiting tables near Quito.  He had just been hired by Sani and our tour was his first gig.  He was very excited to be back in the jungle and expected to stay at least six weeks, sending money home to his family.

After dinner, still day one, we were taken on a very slow and silent canoe ride through the lagoon.  Raoul occasionally swung the beam of his flashlight around.  On one swing we saw two glowing eyes just above the waterline and only a couple of meters away.  Caiman!  We were spellbound.  No rocking the boat!

The edge of the lagoon.  Perfect home for a caiman.  We only saw the one pair of eyes on our night paddle but others saw them during the day.  The water was so murky that they could've been very close by.  We've seen enough crocodiles and alligators on our travels.  The eyes were enough for me.

Day two: A paddle down the lagoon and hike through the forest.  The boots, supplied for every guest by the lodge, kept feet dry, clean and sting and prickle free.

A climb up to a bird observation tower.  The platform was built around the tallest tree around.  Neither platform nor steps up impregnated or harmed the tree.

Many, many birds of were pointed out by our knowledgeable guides - parrots, toucans, macaws to name very few.  The beauty of the green lush canopy extending the distance of the view was almost better.

Raoul giving me a lesson.  We were on the platform with a group of about eight very serious birders.  Their excitement sent them scurrying about, from side to side, binoculars pointing, counting the birds, checking off the varieties.  They were as titallated by the feathers as we were amused by them.  Each evening they would sit around a table in the bar, laden by books, notes and lists, very seriously tallying their sitings.  They were headed to Peru next.  

A mycelium fairy gown

Centipedes.  A reason to wear rubber boots.

On our many hikes, Jose was an incredible source of information.  He did not speak English so Raoul translated but the scope of natural history knowledge was amazing.  As we walked - at quite a slow pace - he was always on the lookout for some flora or fauna to show us.  He would suddenly stop and look up into the dense canopy.  Peter and I would follow his gaze, of course, and see only a sea of green.  Sometimes in minutes, sometimes sooner, Jose would point out a monkey or bird.  The same went for the jungle floor.  He would suddenly leave the path, walk 50 m., and use his ever present machete to cut a leaf, stalk, vine or bark, bringing it back to demonstrate or tell us how the Kichwan people used it - usually for medicine, food or to make something.  In this case he cut some giant thorns with sticky backing to show us how the kids amused themselves.

A heron.

A vine, carefully cut into strands for basket weaving by Jose, with his machete.  Delicate work with a giant device.  Every child, male and female, learns to use the machete for all their vegetation needs.  It is an essential tool and wielded with dexterity. 

Day 3:  Back to the Napa River muddy landing for a three stop excursion.  Speeding through the sandbanks in the motorized canoe, the first stop was a float off a clay cliff or clay lick at the river's edge.  Every morning hundreds of parrots flock to the lick to eat the clay.  One theory, favoured by Raoul, was that many of the seeds in the parrots diet are toxic and the clay neutralizes the toxin.  Another is that the clay is sodium rich which the parrots need in their diet.  Only parrots in the western Amazon Basin eat clay.  We floated by the lick for about an hour waiting.  We could see and hear hundreds of parrots in the trees surrounding the lick waiting for the one beside them to go for the lick.  They are hesitant because among the parrots are birds of prey who would rudely attack while the parrots were eating.  If one or two parrots took the plunge to the lick, others would follow - safety in numbers.  Unfortunately, none were brave or foolhardy enough to feed on the morning we went.  And so, no pictures.

One of several barges making the trip with trucks carrying oil, ironically needed by the oil companies on the river.  The river was, indeed, the only highway in or out.  

Next stop, a walk through a national park.  More natural wonders including this wild looking vine and flower 

Wild and wonderful

Although the jungle was alive with their chirps, we didn't see many of the frogs.  This one was so well camouflaged, you can understand why we missed them.

And more

A butterfly with translucent wings.  

Sani Warmi

Traditionally, in many local communities, jobs and economic freedom for women are limited. While many lodges in the Amazon do not hire women as an employment policy, at Sani Lodge, all members of the community are included. When Sani Lodge opened, the guests asked to visit the homes and villages of the Kichwa community to see how they lived.  The women in the community were, unsurprisingly, not keen on having tourists point and gawk at them and their homes.  Instead, they recognized the understandable curiosity of the tourist as an opportunity.  Sani Lodge partnered with the SANI WARMI project, empowering the women of Sani Isla to run their own business cooperative, making and selling artisan crafts constructed from local seeds, vines, and fibers, growing the medicinal plants crops of a typical village garden, cooking lunches in a kitchen set up in a similar fashion to a home kitchen and providing special guest artists and teachers for the community.  This business provides a sustainable source of income for the women and their families while encouraging the protection of over 42,000 hectares of pristine rainforest from outside intrusions, particularly oil companies.  

The community business was set up beside the Kichwa school which was unfortunately closed for holidays.  We were able to look in the open windows of the primary classrooms.  Only the most basic of equipment was available - blackboards, desks and chairs.  But the walls were decorated with colourful student art like classrooms anywhere.

Our guide through the gardens of the cooperative.  Using her machete, she whacked off branches, seeds, pods and flowers to show us.  This was a palm for thatching.  

Brownea grandiceps.  The fresh bark of the tree is used as an anti-hemmorhagic and applied to wounds. Most interestingly, it is also used to stimulate blood flow to the uterus in order to stimulate menstruation and abortion.  Amazing!

The flower of the Brownea grandiceps.  As big and bold as it's uses!

The women's cooperative kitchen.  The open grill is the common method of cooking. Our lunch of grilled fish wrapped in banana leaves, plantains, and a special treat.

An artist had come to the cooperative to give a painting lesson to anyone interested.  People of all ages and talents were enjoying it. 

Our guide offering a grilled plantain.

We even got a cocktail.  A toast to cava - a tea from the root of the plant, having a sedative and disinhibiting effect.  We felt neither but it was worth a try.

The special treat was first presented to me as a gift wrapped in a banana leaf.  The women watched with big smiles I took as a signal of a surprise meant to startle.  I was forewarned.  Upon opening the wrap, I found three large, white, squirming larvae about two inches long.  I kept my cool, even laughed, but these big guys were thrilled to be freed and moved in pulsating waves to the edge of the leaf and my hand.  Seeing my consternation, the guide swept it back onto the leave.  I could laugh again.

The special treat.  These larvae love rotting palm tree wood.  The Kichwa drill holes in the trees and then harvest them or find them in fallen trees.  Yum, yum

Ready, set....

....Go.  Crunchy on the outside, soft and mushy on the inside.  Not a lot of taste, except for a grilled skin effect.  A great source of protein, I'm sure.

The women's collective also manages a freshwater turtle reinsertion project with the intent of reintroducing this endangered species into the wild.  We adopted two little guys which I held in a banana leaf bowl all the way back by motorized canoe, hiking, and paddled canoe to the lodge where we let them swim into the lagoon.  (So many uses for banana leaves)

Our final hike was a long one with lunch provided at a research outpost on the property.  Again Jose and Raoul excelled at pointing out monkeys, birds and all kinds of flora.  Here is a puma track!  

A cool poison dart frog.  

A bird's nest on a leaf just above the forest floor.

The sap of this leaf can be used as nail polish or whatever.

A teeny, weeny frog spied by Jose.

And yet another weird and wonderful something or other.

I loved our short but awe-inspiring time in the Amazon Basin.  It was, aptly, at the end of our incredible Ecuadorean nature adventure.  For me, it was my favourite stage in a trip where each phase was unique and wonderful.  Our guides, whether for Galapagos day trips or our longer Andes hike and Amazon explore made it a multi-faceted education.  

We were so lucky to enjoy Ecuador before the political tumult of just weeks after we returned to Milly.  

Thank you Gill and John for initiating the journey with your invitation to crew with you!