San Blas Islands, Panama

Our apologies for not replying to anyone who may have been trying to contact us. We have not had wifi since Aruba and our mobile phones do not work in the San Blas. There are one or two telephone boxes, but you cannot call Europe.

As it turned out, Jeremy was not really well enough to travel and should have seen a doctor. There was no return of the fever, thank goodness, but the urinary infection gave him “urgency” and “frequency”! He chose to prescribe himself a course of antibiotics, which had previously been for me and expired in 2007. The sea shows no mercy and even though we checked the weather before we left and saw no indication of strong winds or storms, we had both, which lasted one whole day and night. We had more water in the cockpit than we did crossing to the west of the Bay of Biscay. The day began flat calm with us motoring. We rejoiced when the wind turned north, a direction last encountered in Madeira, and we had full sails up on a beam reach, our fastest point of sail. A few hours later, we had two reefs in the main and if you stepped out of the cabin to check the instruments, you were wet through in seconds. As we approached Panama, we had to motor again in light winds.

We used our “new” electronic charts to steer between the reefs to the island of Porvenir. We tried to check in with Immigration but the officer was having a beer in the “hotel” or “restaurant” and managed to avoid us. Porvenir has an airstrip and small planes come in to land lower than the height of the mast so you have to be careful where you anchor. It was bizarre to be strolling across the airstrip at our leisure. The next day we met the Immigration Officer in his office. His desk was very old, several castors were missing from his chair and ants were crawling over his paperwork. We paid $20 and went a few strides to the Port Captain’s office for a cruising permit. He had brand new office furniture with packaging still wrapped around the chair legs. We were soon relieved of a further $69.

The next day we went to Nesta’s island, Nalunega. He showed us round his massive hut, which had a dirt floor, cane walls and a thatched roof. There were beds with mattresses at each end of the hut, but there was also a hammock. All the family’s clothes were hanging in the rafters. Outside there was a cooking hut and a small enclosure for his pig and two piglets. His “ulu” or dugout canoe was pulled up on his beach. His wife and all the island women wore traditional blouses embroidered with “molas”, which they spend hours cutting and sewing to sell to visiting tourists. Every hut we passed would bring out a woman with molas or jewellery to sell. In contrast, Nesta and the men wore western style shorts and t-shirts. He had sunglasses and a mobile phone but no television. A water pipe had just been connected to the village. When it didn’t work, water had to be fetched from rivers by sailing to the mainland in ulus or in one of the larger wooden boats powered by Yamaha outboards.

Unlike many other islands in the San Blas, Nalunega had a store and a visiting Colombian fruit boat, so we were able to buy bread and some fruit and veg. Nesta spoke English and showed us around for an hour. We bought him a beer and bought his daughter (one of 5) a drink and paid him the $5 he asked for as we left.

It is quite difficult navigating in these islands. We were suspecting our charts were not accurate and finding our cruising guide hard to follow, when we ran aground the next day. We now know Sal Darago floats when the depth sounder says 0.8m but not when it reads 0.7m. I thought we were well and truly stuck but Jeremy managed to get us off the reef in reverse. We felt a bit better when we met up with Frans and Lucia the next day and learned that they had been aground as well and a local fishing boat had helped to pull them off. We have become better at eyeball navigation but you still have your heart in your mouth when you cross a reef to get into a lagoon to anchor.

We have had some peaceful days and nights anchored off uninhabited islands but sooner or later an ulu arrives with molas to sell. One family of 7 in an ulu, including a baby being breast fed, were just about out of petrol when they reached us. We gave them some of ours otherwise they would have faced a long paddle to their distant island. We have been able to buy fruit and veg from a boat and half a chicken! We bought two fish and two coconuts from a family on an island and we’ve made our own bread three times. Today, we were moved on as we had anchored in the path of courtesy boats from a nearby cruise ship! The winds were gusting to 27 knots but we had to move, so we’re now anchored off Acuadup in a very sheltered place and it’s started to rain, at last. We have not had rain since we were in Bonaire.
As we’re in Spanish speaking territory, adios amigos, until next time.