There is something truly magical about sailing in the open waters, provided you are not one of those sea-sick types, which, thankfully, I am not. A sense of freedom persists daily. Thoughts swirl as the wind billows and fills the sails. While the waves create the perfect, rhythmic background noise and the sea air fills your lungs, all you can do is just exist. Troubles seem to vanish into the horizon. Worry no longer occupies your mind. Surely, your mind wanders as you stare off into the horizon, but it's impossible to be gloomy. On the sea, there is just the wind, the waves, the salty air, the minor-roller-coaster-feeling of the boat lurching, and you. Even with a crew of passengers and two captains, sailing feels freeing.
I set out on February 14th, Valentine's Day of all days, from Panama City, Panama. After a winding car ride and a small launcha to the island of El Porvenir, I was to set sail aboard a private sailboat for a six-day trip through the San Blas Islands (known to the Kuna people that inhabit the islands as Kuna Yala) off Panama to Cartegena, Colombia. The trip normally includes three days in the San Blas, and the rest is for sailing to Colombia. In my mind, it seemed appropriate that I would leave on the most romanticized American holiday (hmphf...cough, cough...choke) since I had kind of romanticized the trip: sun-soaked San Blas Islands, white sand beaches, turquoise waters, sailing the open waters, blah, blah, blah...something fairy tales are made of, right? Nothing seemed to go as planned, but that's Central America for you.
A group of us arrived at El Porvenir a little before 11 a.m. on the 14th, only to learn that our boat was late and would likely not arrive until late afternoon. Oh well, we made the most of it with some swimming, snacking, reading and even a game of soccer with the Panamanian police that guard El Porvenir and its immigration office. There were nine of us: a young man from Australia, two young Brits, a Swiss girl, an American girl raised in Germany, two Dutch girls, an American politician/activist and me. Thankfully we all got along well and were all excited for the trip. Our captains, a Turkish man and a Turkish/American woman, arrived around 5 p.m. that day to a round of cheering and applause from us. We were delighted to see them (I dare say that a few of us were beginning to wonder if they'd show up that day). Given the lateness of the hour, they put us up in the local "hotel," which was more like a hostel, but which had a nice kitchen and plenty of cold beverages. Further, given our wait and the fact that we weren't going to be able to set sail until the next day, they volunteered to give us each a discount on the price of our trip.
The morning of the 15th, we boarded the boat for the first time and got our quarters settled. It was then that we all realized we had one more crew member: Gatito. Gatito is the captains' cat. He is a tabby with captivating blue eyes who squishes himself in to the tightest places when the boat's motor is humming. It was nice to have a furry friend aboard. Our captains checked us out of Panamanian immigration, we got fresh water for the trip and some supplies on a nearby island (near enough to reach in the dingy) called Wichubwala.
Wichubwala was my first look at a Kuna village. Kunas are a local people that fought for and earned their independence from Panama. They have their own flag and their freedom from many Panamanian regulations. The women wear traditional garb beginning at the age of 15, which marks the beginning of their time as a woman and their readiness for marriage. The men fish and drink beer. Kunas are short, dark-skinned people with their own heritage and customs. I don't know much about them, but one thing is for certain: they hardly ever smile.
Wichubwala, like all the other Kuna villages I would later visit, is made up of straw huts and sand paths, with an occasional cement building here and there that seemed out of place on the simple island. They bathe outdoors, and to our surprise, without any surrounding walls or tarps to conceal their naked forms. You can imagine our shock and First World embarrassment at happening upon a group of men taking turns in a large water-filled basin. It almost seemed like they were having a bathing party. We quickly turned on our heels and headed in the other direction.
After getting the supplies for our trip -- well, most of them, anyhow -- we had a lunch of lobsters and salad while still anchored between Wichubwala and El Porvenir. We were waiting for more diesel and oil and ice, none of which ever turned up, so we weighed the anchor, hoisted the sails and sailed for Chichime, another Kuna island. At Chichime, our captains ran into a friend of theirs who agreed to store our food and chill our drinks on his boat (since we had no ice) while we cooked up a huge crab for an appetizer, had a bonfire, and eventually had dinner.
The next morning, the 16th, we were to set out for another San Blas island in search of ice, diesel and oil. We arrived at Elefante in plenty of time for a nice swim in the turquoise waters and some time on the island. This island actually had internet and soon became known to us as "Internet Island." Since some of us had friends waiting in Cartegena or concerned people back home and our trip was a bit delayed, we took the opportunity to update people on our status and the delay in our trip. What started as a six-day trip (with us arriving in Cartegena on the 19th or 20th) now looked to be more like a seven- or eight-day trip. Ha! That's what we thought then.
The people on Internet Island were more friendly than the people on either Wichubwala or Chichime and promised us oil, ice and diesel the next day. The next day came, and we received only the ice. The captains said we could do without the diesel, so now were just waiting on the oil. However, a new problem arose: weather. Weather hadn't heretofore been a concern because the San Blas Islands are protected by a reef system that keeps the waves down and the islands themselves create a sort of wind block. However, when we were to leave the San Blas and set sail, weather became an important factor. The weather report indicated that gale force winds were rocketing through the coast off Colombia and through the area we were to sail on the way to Colombia. We couldn't set sail in such conditions. Thankfully, our captains wanted to get us all there in one piece, rather than risk losing money by extending the trip. So, we stayed anchored outside Internet Island for another day and enjoyed frolicking in the crystalline waters and playing in the sun. None of us really minded the delay. I mean, how can you complain when you're in one of the most beautiful settings on earth without a care in the world?
When we still didn't receive the oil on the second day (the Kunas are apparently a very forgetful lot because they forgot to phone in our order...twice), our captains called their friends from Panama City who agreed to get us the oil we needed. More frolicking, more reading, more sun, more reflection, more singing, more merriment...another day gone by. On the third day anchored near Internet Island (the 18th), we received the bad news that the weather had not improved and we would not be able to leave the safety and security afforded by the reef surrounding the San Blas. Alas, more delay and no real idea of when we'd leave for Colombia. Given the uncertainty of our departure, the gentleman from America decided he better get off the boat and find a way back home since there was no way he was going to make his flight from Cartegena on the 21st. The good news was that we were once again having lobster for dinner!
It now seems appropriate to tell you a little of what I've learned about our captains. The man, we'll call him El Capitan, has mid-length hair somewhere between his original dark brown/black, gray and blond burned in by the sun. He is between 55-60, with tanned skin. His friendly countenance is apparent even when he is serious. El Capitan would love to be able to do everything by himself. In fact, he undertook most tasks alone and would realize that he needed help because of a bum shoulder. The woman, we'll call her Mum, is in her early 40s, has shoulder-length brown hair with a slight wave that is perfectly accented by the wind on the boat. Her quick smile is warm and she genuinely seems to care about everyone she meets. Mum likes to explain things to all of us so that we understand what is going on. Well, actually, they both like to explain things, but she goes into more detail. El Capitan and Mum are both fairly easygoing and carefree. Both captains want their passengers to enjoy the trip and relax. When they disagree, which usually happened when we approached a reef system or when we were anchoring, us passengers were none the wiser because they argued in Turkish with smiles on their faces. They are both particular, but not to the point of obsession, about their boat and the safety of the passage. Their desire for safety is refreshing and comforting; it is what extended the trip so long.
On the morning of the 19th, we learned that the weather system was going to keep us in the San Blas for another few days, so we set out for yet another San Blas island, staying well within the safety of the reef system. This time, we found Coco Banderos, a wonderful little group of islands sheltered from the wind and surrounded by white sand beaches and lazy waves. We frolicked some more and I got some quiet time to write in my journal. I couldn't see anything but beauty wherever I looked and the tranquility of the place made me feel...well, nice. I had friends waiting in Cartegena, and while I was anxious to see them and get the next leg of my trip underway, I couldn't be bothered to really care about the delay. Life doesn't get much better than a beautiful island in the middle of nowhere with good company, good food, good weather and the sound of the ocean. We toured around the San Blas for another couple days, seeing new islands and meeting new Kuna people. The captains informed us that we could finally set sail for Colombia and we prepared for our departure, which was to be on the 22nd.
On the 21st, we stopped in another Kuna village on yet another Kuna island to replenish supplies and go for a river tour through the jungle. It was the middle of the day, so we didn't see too much wildlife, but it was beautiful nonetheless. To top it off, we took a dip in the fresh waters...with the crocodiles. Just kidding. We didn't see any crocs where we got out, but we know that there were crocs in the river because we saw a dead one along the shoreline.
The night before we set sail for the long haul to Colombia, we gave each other nicknames. There was Pippy, a delightful, quietly charming young English girl of 22 who earned her name because of her red, curly hair and freckles. Her boyfriend, Chappy, earned his name because of his love of puns and quick-witted prose as an Englishman. Gordita (meaning little fat girl, in Spanish), from Switzerland, earned her name because she was constantly eating; it was more of a satirical nickname, really, because she was quite slender with the figure many women dream of. We gave the non-drinking girl from the United States/Germany another satirical nickname: Barracha, meaning drunkard in Spanish. Our strapping, young lad from Australia, who seemed fond of flowers and ripped every pair of shorts he brought aboard (hence, needing new ones) garnered a nickname as jovial and easygoing as he: Flower Britches. One of the Dutch girls got the name Fokker because she frequently tended to the fok sails of the boat. The other Dutch girl, who recently learned and seized upon the American slang "awesome" but who pronounced it in her own hilariously funny and comical manner, received the totally appropriate name of Awshome. The captain gave me my nickname: Roxy. I like it. He said he gave it to me because I like all kinds of rock music. As the days wore on, he seemed to call me by my nickname more than the others and repeatedly told me that he thought the name was perfectly befitting.
On the morning of the 22nd, the weather gave us a window of opportunity. While we wouldn't make it all the way to Cartegena, we could make it to Sapzurro, a small town just over the Panama/Colombia border. The seas were supposed to be fairly easy (6-9' waves; winds at 15-20 knots) for the first leg of the 20-hour journey to Sapzurro, but the closer to Colombia we got, the winds were supposed to increase to gale force. Our captains were confident that if we stayed closer to the mainland and Sapzurro, we would be fine. It was getting from Sapzurro to Cartegena that would be difficult. In any event, we seized the opportunity to get out of San Blas and braved the seas.
All of the passengers except me took motion sickness pills in preparation for the journey. I was fairly sure I wouldn't get sick -- I'd endured 11 hours deep sea fishing in Alaska, after all -- so no dramamine for me. The sailboat (a 45-foot cutter rig cruiser) rolled and rocked and pitched. I let out a "woo hoo" (gasp! no, I'm not generally one of those "woo hoo" girls) at the first real wave and smiled for most of the day. What a ride! Everyone else slept most of the day, a common side-effect of the motion sickness pills. I, however, was grateful I didn't miss the thrill of the ocean!
We arrived in Sapzurro on the morning of Saturday, February 23rd. Sapzurro is a small Colombian village set into a bay surrounded by lush hillsides and craggy rocks jutting out from the dense forest. The water crashes into the rocks and shoots upward into the air, in some points as high as 10-15 feet. The sand is more coarse than in the San Blas, but the waters are equally blueish green. We motored into the bay, having put down our sails so that the wind could not push us into the rocks or reefs surrounding the bay, with a small pod of dolphins playfully swimming alongside, around, under and by our boat. Everyone on the boat cheered heartily and breathed a sigh of relief to have made it to Colombia. We still had another 144 miles to go before reaching Cartegena, but at least we were finally in Colombia!
Once on land, we got our first fresh-water showers in nine days (bathing in salt water is decidedly NOT the same and leaves one feeling rather sticky instead of clean and leaves one's hair brittle and tacky). We checked the internet for the first time in a while, letting people know, via the ever-personal Facebook, that we were all alive and safe. We also checked the weather again. We needed to know whether it would be safe to sail to Cartegena, whether we'd need to wait in Sapzurro, whether we could make it partway to Cartegena and hit some of the islands off the coast, or whether we should all get off the boat and take land routes to Cartegena. The weather indicated more gale force winds hitting the Colombian coastline, necessitating a short wait. However, we could sail straight to Cartegena when the weather cleared in a couple days. So, we planned to set out to Cartegena, skipping the islands along the way, on Monday the 25th.
Sadly, some of the passengers opted to get off the boat and take land routes beginning on the 24th. Knowing it ws our last night together as a group, we had a wonderful dinner of marlin at a local restaurant and hostel in Sapzurro.
Our boat, which started with nine passengers and two captains and a cat, which was reduced to eight passengers when the politician/activist left, was now reduced to four passengers (Pippy, Chappy, Barracha and me), our captains and Gatito. It certainly made for more comfort on the ride with more space to spread out, but it felt strangely quiet.
Those remaining on the boat cleaned the boat from top to bottom after the others left. Man that felt good! Clean sheets! We lazed around Sapzurro for the day of the 24th and enjoyed a phenomenal meal of ceviche and fish at a Peruvian restaurant. It's weird, when you have the time to relax and nothing better to do, it's somehow easier to take advantage of the lull. Maybe the fact that the delay was out of our control made it easier. Maybe it was just a change in my own attitude (having previously been completely, utterly and unabashedly unable to relax for very long spells). Whatever the reason, it felt peaceful. In all candor, I believe that the boat trip has been the most relaxed and care-free I've been in years.
We left Sapzurro on the morning of the 25th under good weather conditions and the hope that we would make it to Cartegena by the 26th. Once again, I was the only passenger not sea sick or not doped up with Dramamine. As a consequence, I was able to help the captains more and learn a little more about sailing. Being the only one able to work below deck without getting sick, I made most of the lunch and all of the dinner. Everyone seemed grateful that at least one of us could help out and not get sick. I was happy to help and ecstatic that I wasn't sea sick at all. In fact, I was able to read my book on the boat, a feat that the others couldn't perform because it only made them more sick. I was desperately trying to get through For Whom the Bell Tolls, which I'd started only two days earlier, before the trip was over since the captains were only loaning it to me.
Somewhere between Sapzurro and Cartegena on the morning of the 26th, the wind practically died and El Capitan and I changed the gib sail to a fair weather sail made of light material. The thing was beautiful! A huge golden sail now took up the majority of the wind work. El Capitan called the sail Victoria's Secret. The seas were calm and as the others awoke, they were pleasantly surprised to feel no nausea and enjoy the lazy roll of the boat. Mum told me I was off-duty since the seas were calm enough for other people to help. That gave me a chuckle and I happily stayed put while Pippy and Chappy made us breakfast.
At about 11:30 a.m. on the 26th, as we were just getting ready to make a turn in our route, the Colombian Navy caught up with us in a small speedboat and decided they wanted to board our boat for an inspection. Some people get nervous at that sort of thing, but we didn't have anything to hide and were all quite calm. Truth be told, I was kind of thrilled to add another story to this epic trip. So, one naval man and one port captain boarded our sailboat to inspect our passports. Finding everything in order, as we knew they would, they shook our hands, said goodbye and went on their way after only about a half hour delay. Oh, and they said we could take pictures.
We made it to Cartegena at about 9:30 p.m. on the 26th. Finally! We decided that given the lateness of the hour, we would spend one last night on the boat, achored outside Cartegena. This morning, we came to shore and found our other friends that had gotten off the boat a couple days before and found a hostel to stay in for the night. Cartegena is a huge city along a large harbor. I have much exploring to do!
