We left Isla Espiritu Santo day before yesterday and sailed here to Chapera - which is right across from Isla Mogo Mogo. We have been here before, and often stay here on our way to and from Panama City. It is close to the city, which means that since it is a weekend, there are a lot of local boats out here having fun over the weekend. Lots of small sport fishing boats, nice motor yachts, and the like. They are all loaded with water toys like jet skis and that sort of thing. It is a lot of fun to watch other people having fun, in fact, it is almost as much fun as doing it oneself. I love to see people when they are having a great time. It makes me feel good.
We sailed all the way here - the winds were certainly strong enough, but not too strong. Of course they were going sort of the wrong direction, so we had to "beat" our way there. A "beat" is when you are sailing to windward and the waves and/or the current is going the wrong way as well. It is not impossible, and our boat does a great job sailing to wind, but it is never really comfortable. I thought we did a good job, and I will never fail to be amazed at sailing itself - the way a boat weighing over a ton or more can be moved only by the wind, with no motor or anything like that. We were doing up to almost seven knots at times, which is almost our hull speed. (Hull speed is the speed at which a boat reaches it's top potential speed. It is determined by a calculation I do not understand, but which considers the hull length as part of the equation.) It was a lot of fun. When we got here, we were granted the most amazing sunset ever - I have seen plenty with more dramatic colors, but this was a huge coral colored sun ball, just hovering above the horizon, then dropping down.
Last night we had dinner on our friends' boat, and then spent the evening telling stories and getting to know each other better. One of the beat parts of living like this has been the people we have met along the way. Everyone has a story, and each story is different. It seems like most of us who make the decision to live like this have spent a lot of time thinking and acting outside the box for most of their lives. (For the record, I hate the phrases "thinking outside the box" and "coloring outside the lines." They do, however, illustrate what I mean and I can't think of anything better right now.)
Right now I am experiencing the down side of the weekenders - they drive their dinghies and jet skis at breakneck speeds through the anchorage and cause all the anchored boats to roll around. It has taken me three times as long as it should to type this sentence, as I keep making typos as I rock around all over the seat here at the nav station.
I am reading a really really good, but heartbreaking book. It is called "Five Days at Memorial: Life and Death in a Storm-Ravaged Hospital" by Shari Fink. It is about the problems at a New Orleans hospital during and after Hurricane Katrina. I hope I am never in a situation like that one, that is all I can say. It is so easy to sit back after something like that and Monday morning quarterback the whole thing. I don't know what kinds of decisions I would have made. It seems like (at this point in the book) that the people who ended up in trouble were the only ones who were willing to hang on and try to deal with things while others ran away for their own safety, and the big bosses (who of course are never on site when everything goes to hell, and in the Tom Clancy novels they are referred to as "REMFS", which stands for "rear echelon motherfuckers." It fits quite well, I think.) did nothing except to dodge the issue when things were acute, and then blamed the foot soldiers for everything that went wrong. I have cried just reading sections out loud to Mike, and I remember being so sad when it all happened, watching all that Katrina coverage on CNN, and just thinking that it seemed as though I was living in a third world country that could not take care of itself. I don't ever remember feeling as bad as that over something that didn't really touch me, it to me was sadder and harder to deal with than was 9-11. Anyway, I highly recommend the book. You will not be able to put it down, and it will change you in some way.
OK, enough. I am still happily living in paradise here in Panama, with clear water, lots of great fish, birds, bugs, and fish eating bats that fly around the boat at night. Until I got to Central America, I had no idea there was such a creature as a fish eating bat, but I now see them every night. I like bats anyway, and these are especially interesting. We will be here for another day or so, then into Panama City to take care of some things and to re-provision. We are out of beer (gasp!) and most of our fresh veggies, with only root veggies and onions remaining. It is Saturday today, and I suppose we will leave here Monday, weather permitting.
So this is it for now. My plan for the rest of the day (it is just after noon) is to take a swim, do some straightening up in the cabin, and plan a nice dinner. Do you think I can handle it? I think so!
"DOn't find fault, find a remedy." (Henry Ford)
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Saturday, January 18, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
More Fish
Ok, it was only one more fish, but it was a 35 pound white sea bass. It fought hard, but I brought it in. I could have fed the anchorage once it was cleaned, but Mike refused to share it, stating it was too good. I know it is good. We caught an even bigger one in Mazatlan, and that one fed five boats plus us, as well as giving half of it pre-cleaned)to the guys on the dock. The only reason Mike was willing to give it away that time was because we were leaving in two days for the US and could not possibly eat it all. So now we have five meals of fabulous fillets, at least 2 and maybe 3 meals of fried fish fingers, all in the freezer, as well as three more meals from the back of the fish, which are in the fridge. After we (Mike) filleted it, we discovered that the back had a lot of meat on it. So we kept it, cut it into four frying pan sized pieces, and last night we cooked one. I fried it in olive oil with onions and garlic. We just put it on a plate and picked all the meat off the bones and it was delicious.
Today we are not going to fish because it is too windy and the water is too rough. Tomorrow we are supposed to move to a new anchorage - not new, actually, as we have been there before, but different. A boat that is becoming a friend is there, and has invited us to join them. I like it there, and it has the added advantage of having internet access, as the signal from a tower on a populated island is not blocked by hills, as it is here. Of course the downside to having internet access is that we have to actually take care of business. If this wind keeps up, we should be able to not only sail all the way, but to sail pretty darn fast.
Otherwise (as usual) there is not a lot of real news to report. We are both fine and doing well, no health problems. I am having continuing problems with a tooth, and since I have already been to one dentist twice with no permanent relief, I may have to find another one. I think I need a root canal. It started acting up really bad while we were in the jungle, and it hurt so much I had a hard time keeping Mike from finding out. I knew he would want to leave right away and head for the city and dental treatment, but I had been there before and figured I could keep it at least to a tolerable level until we were ready to leave anyway. It was turning into a real bummer - taking aspirin a million times a day, but finally I found some antibiotics that had not expired, and started taking those, as well as some 800 mg ibuprophen that had expired but oh well. Within about four days I was pain free, and Mike still does not know anything went wrong. But I can't count on that again, so I need it taken care of. We plan to make a city visit in a week or so, and that will be fine. I am rather proud of myself for handling it so well.
I was thinking the other day that we are beginning our fourth year out here - we left San Diego in late November 2010. I have been places and done things I never thought I would (or could, for that matter) do. While it has not all been paradise (the constant breakdowns start to wear on even the hardiest soul) I would not trade this experience for anything. And there is so much more to come! I have been dreaming of South America ever since I was a little girl. When I was in high school, we had an exchange student from Argentina. I was dying to talk to him, but he was super cute and I was way too intimidated by his good looks to say anything to him. I don't even remember his name. There was another kid in high school who was also interested in Latin America. I had a crush on him too, but as usual at that age I said nothing. (Him I might have had a chance with, too bad.) He was spending a lot of time trying to reconcile Catholicism with Marxism, which he believed was the only real answer for Latin America. I think that is now called Liberation Theology. Anyway, I wonder what became of him. When you have a lot of time on your hands, like I do now, you think of all sorts of random things. Luckily for me, I can amuse myself for hours just thinking about things. Maybe that is why I do well with night watches.
So that will be it for today. I am considering making brownies as a treat for Mike, especially since I have all the stuff, including walnuts. Why not? It is not as though it will cut into my busy schedule!
"The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams." (Oprah Winfrey)
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Today we are not going to fish because it is too windy and the water is too rough. Tomorrow we are supposed to move to a new anchorage - not new, actually, as we have been there before, but different. A boat that is becoming a friend is there, and has invited us to join them. I like it there, and it has the added advantage of having internet access, as the signal from a tower on a populated island is not blocked by hills, as it is here. Of course the downside to having internet access is that we have to actually take care of business. If this wind keeps up, we should be able to not only sail all the way, but to sail pretty darn fast.
Otherwise (as usual) there is not a lot of real news to report. We are both fine and doing well, no health problems. I am having continuing problems with a tooth, and since I have already been to one dentist twice with no permanent relief, I may have to find another one. I think I need a root canal. It started acting up really bad while we were in the jungle, and it hurt so much I had a hard time keeping Mike from finding out. I knew he would want to leave right away and head for the city and dental treatment, but I had been there before and figured I could keep it at least to a tolerable level until we were ready to leave anyway. It was turning into a real bummer - taking aspirin a million times a day, but finally I found some antibiotics that had not expired, and started taking those, as well as some 800 mg ibuprophen that had expired but oh well. Within about four days I was pain free, and Mike still does not know anything went wrong. But I can't count on that again, so I need it taken care of. We plan to make a city visit in a week or so, and that will be fine. I am rather proud of myself for handling it so well.
I was thinking the other day that we are beginning our fourth year out here - we left San Diego in late November 2010. I have been places and done things I never thought I would (or could, for that matter) do. While it has not all been paradise (the constant breakdowns start to wear on even the hardiest soul) I would not trade this experience for anything. And there is so much more to come! I have been dreaming of South America ever since I was a little girl. When I was in high school, we had an exchange student from Argentina. I was dying to talk to him, but he was super cute and I was way too intimidated by his good looks to say anything to him. I don't even remember his name. There was another kid in high school who was also interested in Latin America. I had a crush on him too, but as usual at that age I said nothing. (Him I might have had a chance with, too bad.) He was spending a lot of time trying to reconcile Catholicism with Marxism, which he believed was the only real answer for Latin America. I think that is now called Liberation Theology. Anyway, I wonder what became of him. When you have a lot of time on your hands, like I do now, you think of all sorts of random things. Luckily for me, I can amuse myself for hours just thinking about things. Maybe that is why I do well with night watches.
So that will be it for today. I am considering making brownies as a treat for Mike, especially since I have all the stuff, including walnuts. Why not? It is not as though it will cut into my busy schedule!
"The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams." (Oprah Winfrey)
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Sunday, January 12, 2014
No news is good news
And I have no news. Things around the anchorage here in Isla Espiritu Santo are just fine. We are considering moving to a new location, just for a change, but need to wait here as another boat is coming with some things for us, like limes and beer. The important stuff.
For some reason, the anchorage is especially rolly today. We are stuck in the trough, which means we rock from side to side, and at times, sort of swirl around. It is not a problem, but a bit uncomfortable and you have to be careful where you set things down if you do not want them rolling around. I just had to get up from here and rearrange two coconuts that were threatening to come loose and roll around the counter. By the way, fresh coconuts are a lot of work but they are worth it. I have become addicted to fresh coconut water. Not to be confused with coconut milk, which is an infusion of hot water and shredded coconut, then pressed. Coconut cream is what rises to the top of chilled coconut milk, and you can make butter from the cream, all the same as with milk. I have not done anything except make the milk, which I used to make coconut rice. I was disappointed, because you could not taste the coconut, and it took me a couple hours to make all that milk. But I am going to keep working on it, because I love coconut rice.
Yesterday I did four loads of laundry in my little five gallon bucket - two sets of sheets. You can only wash one sheet and one pillowcase at a time, or nothing gets clean. I did all these clothes the other day, so it has really been a laundry week. I have three sets of sheets - a red set, a purple set, and a green set. I washed the purple and the green, and when I had them attached to the sail sheets drying in the wind, it looked like I was flying a spinnaker. Speaking of which, when we headed to the Rio Sambu from this anchorage, we were in a flotilla of five boats, and at one point, we were all flying our spinnakers and we looked fabulous. I wanted to take pictures, but the boats were too far apart to get any good effect. Ours is not a true spinnaker, but rather what is called a cruiser, or a drifter, or an asymmetrical spinnaker. It is easier to use and more versatile than a true spinnaker.
Otherwise, like I said, there is nothing going on here. The cormerants are migrating, and there are literally hundreds of them hanging around, and flying in large groups through the area. A bunch of them roosted in a tree near us, and we discovered they have really low voices, croaking like bull frogs. They are fantastic divers, and it is amazing to watch them go. They stay underwater for much longer than the other birds do.
The boat is messy and desperately needs to be straightened up, but I don't feel like doing it. I have never been good at "a place for everything and everything in its place" although I do try. When you live in less that forty feet, you can't let things get out of hand, and we never do. It is always very clean (I will never again live through another roach invasion, and although I know they were not there because the boat was dirty, it makes me feel better to think there are no snacks left for them), but sometimes we start leaving things out and it gets cluttered looking really fast. We did buy some beautiful basketry from the Embera, and we have mounted them on the walls and it looks great.
Today the plan is to maybe do some fishing if the waves calm down, and to visit the people on another boat here, one of the boats at the river with us. I need to make some tortillas, as we are out of the store bought version. Mine are better anyway. So I guess I should get started on that!
"I have learned that to be with those I like is enough." (Walt Whitman)
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For some reason, the anchorage is especially rolly today. We are stuck in the trough, which means we rock from side to side, and at times, sort of swirl around. It is not a problem, but a bit uncomfortable and you have to be careful where you set things down if you do not want them rolling around. I just had to get up from here and rearrange two coconuts that were threatening to come loose and roll around the counter. By the way, fresh coconuts are a lot of work but they are worth it. I have become addicted to fresh coconut water. Not to be confused with coconut milk, which is an infusion of hot water and shredded coconut, then pressed. Coconut cream is what rises to the top of chilled coconut milk, and you can make butter from the cream, all the same as with milk. I have not done anything except make the milk, which I used to make coconut rice. I was disappointed, because you could not taste the coconut, and it took me a couple hours to make all that milk. But I am going to keep working on it, because I love coconut rice.
Yesterday I did four loads of laundry in my little five gallon bucket - two sets of sheets. You can only wash one sheet and one pillowcase at a time, or nothing gets clean. I did all these clothes the other day, so it has really been a laundry week. I have three sets of sheets - a red set, a purple set, and a green set. I washed the purple and the green, and when I had them attached to the sail sheets drying in the wind, it looked like I was flying a spinnaker. Speaking of which, when we headed to the Rio Sambu from this anchorage, we were in a flotilla of five boats, and at one point, we were all flying our spinnakers and we looked fabulous. I wanted to take pictures, but the boats were too far apart to get any good effect. Ours is not a true spinnaker, but rather what is called a cruiser, or a drifter, or an asymmetrical spinnaker. It is easier to use and more versatile than a true spinnaker.
Otherwise, like I said, there is nothing going on here. The cormerants are migrating, and there are literally hundreds of them hanging around, and flying in large groups through the area. A bunch of them roosted in a tree near us, and we discovered they have really low voices, croaking like bull frogs. They are fantastic divers, and it is amazing to watch them go. They stay underwater for much longer than the other birds do.
The boat is messy and desperately needs to be straightened up, but I don't feel like doing it. I have never been good at "a place for everything and everything in its place" although I do try. When you live in less that forty feet, you can't let things get out of hand, and we never do. It is always very clean (I will never again live through another roach invasion, and although I know they were not there because the boat was dirty, it makes me feel better to think there are no snacks left for them), but sometimes we start leaving things out and it gets cluttered looking really fast. We did buy some beautiful basketry from the Embera, and we have mounted them on the walls and it looks great.
Today the plan is to maybe do some fishing if the waves calm down, and to visit the people on another boat here, one of the boats at the river with us. I need to make some tortillas, as we are out of the store bought version. Mine are better anyway. So I guess I should get started on that!
"I have learned that to be with those I like is enough." (Walt Whitman)
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Friday, January 10, 2014
Five Fish
That is correct - I caught five fish today before one pm. I got a sierra, a barred pargo, a small bass (thrown back), a black skipjack tuna, and another fish we have not yet identified, likely a snapper or something of that ilk. Since there are only three boats here now (counting us)we were able to give fish to both of them and have plenty left for ourselves.
We have settled into Espiritu Santo nicely, and of course I can't remember what I last wrote, so hopefully I won't repeat myself too much. It is wonderful here as usual, and even better than before, because we aren't having lightning storms every other night. Now we get to experience the good time of year here, before the rains start up again. Since we finally have a decent plan for the near future, and are here legally, it is quite relaxing. We got our laundry done, made water, and right now we seem to have a respite from boat projects. I hope I didn't jinx anything. But right now we are just subsistence fishing, swimming, exploring in the dinghy, and of course the general maintenance that is on-going. But since the humidity is way down, I only have to clean mold off the walls once a week instead of every two days. And it has stopped growing altogether in most places.
There is a kind of heron around her called a tiger heron. It's call sounds like a dog, except that dogs don't bark in a pattern. you hear them at sunset and early evening, but you see them during the day. They have black and yellow stripes on their faces.
We are still talking about our trip to the Darien and are planning to visit another river soon. The only issue is whether we go into Panama City first. We have some business, but most of it can be handled via the sailmail and the SSB radio (which is what I use to post this) even when we have no internet access. I guess that is our biggest decision right about now. There is a whole river system in the Darien jungle, and much of it is navigable for boats like ours, boats with a fairly deep draft. Our Darien trip was truly one of the most interesting, life changing, and inspiring experiences we have had since leaving our jobs and regular lives, and a lot of that is for reasons I have yet to be able to articulate, even to myself.
Tomorrow some local guys are supposed to bring us some fruit - probably green papaya and limes. I will be happy for both. Our last batch of limes went bad because I didn't get around to storing them properly. Last time I do that! We are almost out of fresh produce other than onions, garlic, potatoes, carrots, and some other root vegetables. That is always the first thing to go - the fresh veggies. I have tried all the different tricks, and I think I stretch things out pretty well, but these things only last so long, no matter how hard one tries. I did a pretty good job this time - everything was bought several days before Christmas, so it has been awhile. There are some peppers left, but they are getting pretty dried out.
Somehow I ended up with Aretha Franklin doing "The Weight", which I am listening to as I write this. We have a lot of music stored on the computer, and Mike has made all these random mixes, I guess you would call it. I never know what I am going to be hearing next, but it is fun and rarely do I hear anything I actively don't like. But back to "The Weight" - I had no idea she ever recorded it. It is awesome anyway - one of my all time favorite songs by one of my all time favorite artists. I don't know where half this stuff we have came from - cruisers are always trading those little computer sticks around with movies, TV shows, music, and whatnot. Anyway, listening to good music, writing this post, and just enjoying a bright sunny day - well, I almost (but not quite) feel guilty.
"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." (Mother Teresa)
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We have settled into Espiritu Santo nicely, and of course I can't remember what I last wrote, so hopefully I won't repeat myself too much. It is wonderful here as usual, and even better than before, because we aren't having lightning storms every other night. Now we get to experience the good time of year here, before the rains start up again. Since we finally have a decent plan for the near future, and are here legally, it is quite relaxing. We got our laundry done, made water, and right now we seem to have a respite from boat projects. I hope I didn't jinx anything. But right now we are just subsistence fishing, swimming, exploring in the dinghy, and of course the general maintenance that is on-going. But since the humidity is way down, I only have to clean mold off the walls once a week instead of every two days. And it has stopped growing altogether in most places.
There is a kind of heron around her called a tiger heron. It's call sounds like a dog, except that dogs don't bark in a pattern. you hear them at sunset and early evening, but you see them during the day. They have black and yellow stripes on their faces.
We are still talking about our trip to the Darien and are planning to visit another river soon. The only issue is whether we go into Panama City first. We have some business, but most of it can be handled via the sailmail and the SSB radio (which is what I use to post this) even when we have no internet access. I guess that is our biggest decision right about now. There is a whole river system in the Darien jungle, and much of it is navigable for boats like ours, boats with a fairly deep draft. Our Darien trip was truly one of the most interesting, life changing, and inspiring experiences we have had since leaving our jobs and regular lives, and a lot of that is for reasons I have yet to be able to articulate, even to myself.
Tomorrow some local guys are supposed to bring us some fruit - probably green papaya and limes. I will be happy for both. Our last batch of limes went bad because I didn't get around to storing them properly. Last time I do that! We are almost out of fresh produce other than onions, garlic, potatoes, carrots, and some other root vegetables. That is always the first thing to go - the fresh veggies. I have tried all the different tricks, and I think I stretch things out pretty well, but these things only last so long, no matter how hard one tries. I did a pretty good job this time - everything was bought several days before Christmas, so it has been awhile. There are some peppers left, but they are getting pretty dried out.
Somehow I ended up with Aretha Franklin doing "The Weight", which I am listening to as I write this. We have a lot of music stored on the computer, and Mike has made all these random mixes, I guess you would call it. I never know what I am going to be hearing next, but it is fun and rarely do I hear anything I actively don't like. But back to "The Weight" - I had no idea she ever recorded it. It is awesome anyway - one of my all time favorite songs by one of my all time favorite artists. I don't know where half this stuff we have came from - cruisers are always trading those little computer sticks around with movies, TV shows, music, and whatnot. Anyway, listening to good music, writing this post, and just enjoying a bright sunny day - well, I almost (but not quite) feel guilty.
"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." (Mother Teresa)
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Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Adios Rio Sambu!
OK, so I will pick up where I left off, I hope. As I have said before, when I have no internet, I send these out by short wave radio, and I can't go back to read what I said the last time. So if I am repeating myself, I am sorry but there is nothing to be done. I have no short term memory and haven't for at least the last couple of years.
Anyway, we stayed in the Rio Sambu, with five other boats near the village of La Chunga. The people there are all Embera, and they are indigenous to Panama. After the first day, when we paid for music, dance, dinner, and an exhibition of how to work a sugar cane press, everyone went back to their normal lives, with the exception of us hanging around. The kids of the village spent much of each day visiting the kids on the big catamaran, and in the evening, the adults showed up. One day we found three kids in a kayak hanging around the boat, waiting to be invited on. So we did so, and they were interested in everything. Then Mike started taking them on rides in the dinghy, and letting them drive the outboard. Now most of these kids are really skilled in boat handling, and a lot of their wooden cayucos have little outboards. Then one of the adults from the big catamaran also started running kids about, and soon our quiet river anchorage was filled with the sounds of kids driving dinghies around like bats out of hell. It was really fun to watch, and Mike was having possibly a better time than the kids were. We found out later that Mike was a subject of great interest among the village women - it was speculated that they liked his beard. All I know is that several women women went somewhat out of their way to inquire of me as to whether Mike was my husband. The kids all remembered him, for sure.
One thing the Embera do is to paint themselves (mostly the women) with a dye that is sort of like henna, but dark blue instead of brown. Many of the women paint their entire body - arms, legs, and upper torso. Since tops are not generally worn, the chest designs are pretty interesting. So several of us gringos got ourselves painted up. There are pictures, and as soon as I have regular internet, I will post them. I even got my face done, which I am kind of regretting now, as it has to wear off, and the dye really seemed to take well on my skin. So my arms, legs, upper torso and my lower face are covered with designs. One funny thing - when we were getting this done (it is called jagua, pronounced ha-gwa) we were outside of the woman's house. None of the three of us were really comfortable with taking our tops off in front of God and everyone, including each other's husbands and one girl's father and uncle, so we got someone who spoke really good Spanish (I was nervous and could not figure out how to explain the situation even though I certainly have enough of the necessary words to do so) who happened to be a peace corps guy, to tell the local women that in the US, women are not supposed to go topless in the community. I asked him to explain that I thought we were sort of stupid, but it was the way we were raised and we couldn't really get past it. He said not to worry, they understood. So we got the revealing parts done in a house on stilts that I could have easily lived in if there were a bathroom. The houses are on stilts, with only partial walls, and you climb down a ladder to get down, and they only have outhouses. So if not for that, I could easily live in that thatched roof home with no running water. By the way, there is no electricity in this village either.
The village also has a wonderful swimming hole. While the actual village is not on the river itself, it is closer to a tributary or tidal estuary that is part of a running stream. There is a section that is deep enough for the kids to dive off rocks into it, and it is separated from a shallower part by a tiny waterfall. The water is clear and bracing (Mike would call it cold) and felt so good I did not want to get out. We did this right before getting our jagua done.
Later we met some guys who were riding around in a hand carved cayuco, which is a canoe carved from a single log. They have them all over Central America, and each country has a slightly different version. The ones here are long and skinny, and look sort of like a needle slicing through the water. While many of them have outboards, the others paddle, using beautifully hand carved paddles. Mike wanted one, and these guys came over to negotiate the sale. After we completed that, they offered to accompany us about an hour up the river to another Embera community, called Puerto Indio. instead of simply following the river, they took us on shortcuts that bypassed much of the river and instead went up inlets and tributaries. This town was a lot bigger - there was actually a road leading to another village, two tiny grocery stores, one paved sidewalk, and electricity. The homes were a little sturdier, and some of them had satellite TV dishes sticking out. We met the mayor, and generally wandered all over the place, checking it out. They do not get visitors here - it is pretty much inaccessible except by boat. We saw the chute leading from a corral to the river, where the cattle are herded into the same cayucos I discussed before. You can only get maybe two cows in a large cayuco, and maybe four in a large panga. THe cattle are transported to a place called La Palma on the map, but is called Puerto Quimbo by the locals. I have no idea why that is. Puerto Quimbo is the largest town and the governmental center of this area of Panama called the Darien. We will likely go there before all is said and done.
So this experience has been simply amazing, and I feel like in a lot of ways it was a true cultural exchange, not just us gringos coming to gawk at how other people live. The local people came on some of our boats, saw how we lived, and saw how we take care of our kids, which is not that much different than how they care for theirs. These people are wonderfully friendly, and they are interested in absolutely everything. They would like to have more tourists come to their village, and are working to make that happen. They have a little hut with beds and maybe some mosquito netting - I have stayed in dicier places in Guatemala by far. We are the only group of boats to come, and they are not expecting any more. But I think the secret is out and cruisers are going to want to come. I hope everything works out well. We left this morning, and everyone wanted to know when we would be back. And it was not about how much money we spent there - which was not much - but rather they actually enjoyed our company.
So now we are on our way back to what seems to be our home anchorage, Isla Espiritu Santo. We will spend a bit of time there, then head into Panama City to handle some business and to re-provision. We are not yet out of beer, so there is no great rush to get back. Right now, as I am writing this, we are anchored towards the mouth of the river, awaiting a high tide early tomorrow morning so we don't run aground trying to get back out to sea. Mike wants the anchor up by six am, no problem. I hope we can sail some once we get out of the river, but the weather report indicates little to no wind, so we will have to motor it. Not the end of the world certainly, but I do prefer sailing!
So this is it for now - and the next post will likely be from Espiritu Santo. I love it here.
"We especially need imagination in science. It is not all mathematics, nor all logic, but is somewhat beauty and poetry." (Maria Montessori)
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Anyway, we stayed in the Rio Sambu, with five other boats near the village of La Chunga. The people there are all Embera, and they are indigenous to Panama. After the first day, when we paid for music, dance, dinner, and an exhibition of how to work a sugar cane press, everyone went back to their normal lives, with the exception of us hanging around. The kids of the village spent much of each day visiting the kids on the big catamaran, and in the evening, the adults showed up. One day we found three kids in a kayak hanging around the boat, waiting to be invited on. So we did so, and they were interested in everything. Then Mike started taking them on rides in the dinghy, and letting them drive the outboard. Now most of these kids are really skilled in boat handling, and a lot of their wooden cayucos have little outboards. Then one of the adults from the big catamaran also started running kids about, and soon our quiet river anchorage was filled with the sounds of kids driving dinghies around like bats out of hell. It was really fun to watch, and Mike was having possibly a better time than the kids were. We found out later that Mike was a subject of great interest among the village women - it was speculated that they liked his beard. All I know is that several women women went somewhat out of their way to inquire of me as to whether Mike was my husband. The kids all remembered him, for sure.
One thing the Embera do is to paint themselves (mostly the women) with a dye that is sort of like henna, but dark blue instead of brown. Many of the women paint their entire body - arms, legs, and upper torso. Since tops are not generally worn, the chest designs are pretty interesting. So several of us gringos got ourselves painted up. There are pictures, and as soon as I have regular internet, I will post them. I even got my face done, which I am kind of regretting now, as it has to wear off, and the dye really seemed to take well on my skin. So my arms, legs, upper torso and my lower face are covered with designs. One funny thing - when we were getting this done (it is called jagua, pronounced ha-gwa) we were outside of the woman's house. None of the three of us were really comfortable with taking our tops off in front of God and everyone, including each other's husbands and one girl's father and uncle, so we got someone who spoke really good Spanish (I was nervous and could not figure out how to explain the situation even though I certainly have enough of the necessary words to do so) who happened to be a peace corps guy, to tell the local women that in the US, women are not supposed to go topless in the community. I asked him to explain that I thought we were sort of stupid, but it was the way we were raised and we couldn't really get past it. He said not to worry, they understood. So we got the revealing parts done in a house on stilts that I could have easily lived in if there were a bathroom. The houses are on stilts, with only partial walls, and you climb down a ladder to get down, and they only have outhouses. So if not for that, I could easily live in that thatched roof home with no running water. By the way, there is no electricity in this village either.
The village also has a wonderful swimming hole. While the actual village is not on the river itself, it is closer to a tributary or tidal estuary that is part of a running stream. There is a section that is deep enough for the kids to dive off rocks into it, and it is separated from a shallower part by a tiny waterfall. The water is clear and bracing (Mike would call it cold) and felt so good I did not want to get out. We did this right before getting our jagua done.
Later we met some guys who were riding around in a hand carved cayuco, which is a canoe carved from a single log. They have them all over Central America, and each country has a slightly different version. The ones here are long and skinny, and look sort of like a needle slicing through the water. While many of them have outboards, the others paddle, using beautifully hand carved paddles. Mike wanted one, and these guys came over to negotiate the sale. After we completed that, they offered to accompany us about an hour up the river to another Embera community, called Puerto Indio. instead of simply following the river, they took us on shortcuts that bypassed much of the river and instead went up inlets and tributaries. This town was a lot bigger - there was actually a road leading to another village, two tiny grocery stores, one paved sidewalk, and electricity. The homes were a little sturdier, and some of them had satellite TV dishes sticking out. We met the mayor, and generally wandered all over the place, checking it out. They do not get visitors here - it is pretty much inaccessible except by boat. We saw the chute leading from a corral to the river, where the cattle are herded into the same cayucos I discussed before. You can only get maybe two cows in a large cayuco, and maybe four in a large panga. THe cattle are transported to a place called La Palma on the map, but is called Puerto Quimbo by the locals. I have no idea why that is. Puerto Quimbo is the largest town and the governmental center of this area of Panama called the Darien. We will likely go there before all is said and done.
So this experience has been simply amazing, and I feel like in a lot of ways it was a true cultural exchange, not just us gringos coming to gawk at how other people live. The local people came on some of our boats, saw how we lived, and saw how we take care of our kids, which is not that much different than how they care for theirs. These people are wonderfully friendly, and they are interested in absolutely everything. They would like to have more tourists come to their village, and are working to make that happen. They have a little hut with beds and maybe some mosquito netting - I have stayed in dicier places in Guatemala by far. We are the only group of boats to come, and they are not expecting any more. But I think the secret is out and cruisers are going to want to come. I hope everything works out well. We left this morning, and everyone wanted to know when we would be back. And it was not about how much money we spent there - which was not much - but rather they actually enjoyed our company.
So now we are on our way back to what seems to be our home anchorage, Isla Espiritu Santo. We will spend a bit of time there, then head into Panama City to handle some business and to re-provision. We are not yet out of beer, so there is no great rush to get back. Right now, as I am writing this, we are anchored towards the mouth of the river, awaiting a high tide early tomorrow morning so we don't run aground trying to get back out to sea. Mike wants the anchor up by six am, no problem. I hope we can sail some once we get out of the river, but the weather report indicates little to no wind, so we will have to motor it. Not the end of the world certainly, but I do prefer sailing!
So this is it for now - and the next post will likely be from Espiritu Santo. I love it here.
"We especially need imagination in science. It is not all mathematics, nor all logic, but is somewhat beauty and poetry." (Maria Montessori)
----------
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for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Thursday, January 2, 2014
New Year in the Jungle
(January 2, 2014. Somewhere in the Darien jungle.)
On December 29, we left out little island heaven (Isla Esprirtu Santo) with about five other boats, and headed into the jungle. Our objective was to go eight miles up the Rio Sambu, which is right inside the southernmost bay of Panama, right near the Colombian border.
It is VERY remote here. There are no roads, no roads at all leading from Panama to Colombia. The jungle is so dense and swampy that there has never been a road built through here, not even local ones. The Pan-American Highway, that begins in Alaska, ends here in the jungle and anyone wanting to go from Panama to Colombia needs to take a boat or a plane. There is no way to drive there. That is why there is a brisk business in ferrying backpackers from Panama to South America (usually on the Caribbean side) as there is no other cheap way for them to get there. I was astonished to discover that all these people with crew were not paying the crew, rather, the crew were paying the boat owners for the ride, as well as buying their own food AND helping with the boat work as well. Sweet deal for the boat owner! People even do that all the way to the south Pacific.
So anyway, this other boat we have been hanging around with here, decided to take this river trip and recruited five more of us to join them. Getting here was hairy, to say the least. Not in a violent, storm tossed way, but there are long mud flats from the mouth of the river leading to the bay, and one has to cross them at exactly slack high tide, or one will run aground. The longest drafts (which is how far into the water your keel extends) belonged to us and one other boat. The lead boat is a large catamaran, and those boats will float in about ten inches of water, so they led the way, calling depths out to the rest of us via VHF radio as we carefully motored our vessels along. The water is muddy, so you can't see into it to see how deep you are. We brought up the rear, with the other deep draft vessel just in front of us. (A possible nail in the coffin for the Mickelson 50 I can't get out of my mind - that sucker draws seven feet at least, where we are only six.) The boat ahead of us did end up running aground, if only for a couple of minutes until she was able to work free and get into (slightly) deeper water. Because we were just behind them, we headed a bit to port and managed to avoid the really shallow spot. After that, we managed to get us all into the river, where the channels narrows and the river itself gets plenty deep.
Going down this river was like being in a jungle movie. In fact, the first night we were here we watched "The African Queen" and just hoped neither of us would have to pull the boat through the weeds like that. MJ is a lot bigger and heavier than the Queen! But it is early morning now, and all I can hear other than this computer keyboard and the fan in Mike's room is the sound of birds and bugs, all yelling their heads off. Yesterday at dusk a tree across from where we are anchored was filled up with toucans. We could tell what they were by the silhouette of their bills against early evening sky. There was another tree with roosting herons, cormorants, and another bird we were not sure of. There are supposed to be crocodiles here, and I have no doubt that there are, but we haven't seen any yet. The water is muddy with a strong current, and the other day we awoke to discover there were logs and tree trunks and branches and vines and palm fronds and all sorts of things wrapped around the bow of the boat, actually pushing us and disrupting our anchor from its resting spot. We had been shoved a back about 200 yards. It took us about an hour or an hour and a half to get the mess cleared. We were unable to just push it aside from the deck using the boat pole, and ended up in the dinghy, shoving and poking with our hands, leaning into the water to get a grip and shove everything aside back into the current. Luckily this water is full of natural organic matter, not horrid crap from the city or off of other boats. We had to use a rope and lasso some of the logs, and then use the dinghy engine to pull them out from under. There were logs underneath logs. I have never seen such a mess in my life. We figured out that because we had anchored in a slight bend in the river, we were collecting everything that drifted along. And since the river banks are entirely made from mud with trees that seem to fall in all the time, there is a lot of flotsam. So as soon as we had the mess cleaned up, we moved the boat to a different location. Although i kept waking up every time I heard anything brush along the hull, when it got light and I couldn't stand it any more, I got up and discovered we had made a good decision and there were no problems - just a few vine-ish things draped like ribbons along the anchor chain. It was beautiful to wake up to.
There is a village here, and we have been visiting it. You can either take the dinghy up to a dock like structure, tie it off, and then walk for about a mile or so (I think, I am not good at gauging distances and height and things like that, but Mike said he thought the walk was about a mile) to reach the village itself. The route to the village begins with a raised wooden boardwalk that crosses over a swamp. The vegetation cannot be imagined - you have to see it for yourself. Verdant does not begin to do it justice. There were bird of paradise plants at least ten feet tall, with flowers bigger than my head. The boardwalk is suspended and it a little rickety, so the only problem was I had to watch my feet as I went along to avoid missing boards and generally trying not to trip. I am clumsy under the best of circumstances, so this sort of thing is an extra challenge for me. After the boardwalk ends, there is a flat, neatly trimmed path that runs the rest of the way. I would say the boardwalk makes up about 3/4 of the entire distance. The walk is a wonderful one - as I said, it is flat and well kept, so you can look around. In fact, it is so well kept that I could have gone barefoot, rather than in flip flops, as long as I kept a careful watch for leaf cutter ants and step around them. The bird sightings could not have been better, and the birds are not as skittish as birds usually are.
The village is set in a clearing that reminds me of a football field, sort of, without the lines. They have a large thatched structure with no walls lined with benches that acts as a community center. The houses are wall-less structures up on stilts, and everyone cooks over fires. There is no power. There are chickens running all over the place, as well as some skinny dogs and a few pigs, but the pigs did not come into the living space. The women wear wrap around skirts in bright colors, and the men wear these loin cloth things. Everyone wears beads, some with long strands they double over their chests like bandoliers. They also paint themselves up with this dark blue dye, which is not permanent. I have planning to have it done before I leave, and I will take a picture of it. (By the way, I do have pictures of all this stuff, and when I am in some semblance of normal internet range, I will post them.
Well, this is almost too long for the radio, so I have to get going. I will continue with the jungle adventure as its unfolds.
"Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education, in the elder, a part of experience." (Sir Francis Bacon)
----------
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On December 29, we left out little island heaven (Isla Esprirtu Santo) with about five other boats, and headed into the jungle. Our objective was to go eight miles up the Rio Sambu, which is right inside the southernmost bay of Panama, right near the Colombian border.
It is VERY remote here. There are no roads, no roads at all leading from Panama to Colombia. The jungle is so dense and swampy that there has never been a road built through here, not even local ones. The Pan-American Highway, that begins in Alaska, ends here in the jungle and anyone wanting to go from Panama to Colombia needs to take a boat or a plane. There is no way to drive there. That is why there is a brisk business in ferrying backpackers from Panama to South America (usually on the Caribbean side) as there is no other cheap way for them to get there. I was astonished to discover that all these people with crew were not paying the crew, rather, the crew were paying the boat owners for the ride, as well as buying their own food AND helping with the boat work as well. Sweet deal for the boat owner! People even do that all the way to the south Pacific.
So anyway, this other boat we have been hanging around with here, decided to take this river trip and recruited five more of us to join them. Getting here was hairy, to say the least. Not in a violent, storm tossed way, but there are long mud flats from the mouth of the river leading to the bay, and one has to cross them at exactly slack high tide, or one will run aground. The longest drafts (which is how far into the water your keel extends) belonged to us and one other boat. The lead boat is a large catamaran, and those boats will float in about ten inches of water, so they led the way, calling depths out to the rest of us via VHF radio as we carefully motored our vessels along. The water is muddy, so you can't see into it to see how deep you are. We brought up the rear, with the other deep draft vessel just in front of us. (A possible nail in the coffin for the Mickelson 50 I can't get out of my mind - that sucker draws seven feet at least, where we are only six.) The boat ahead of us did end up running aground, if only for a couple of minutes until she was able to work free and get into (slightly) deeper water. Because we were just behind them, we headed a bit to port and managed to avoid the really shallow spot. After that, we managed to get us all into the river, where the channels narrows and the river itself gets plenty deep.
Going down this river was like being in a jungle movie. In fact, the first night we were here we watched "The African Queen" and just hoped neither of us would have to pull the boat through the weeds like that. MJ is a lot bigger and heavier than the Queen! But it is early morning now, and all I can hear other than this computer keyboard and the fan in Mike's room is the sound of birds and bugs, all yelling their heads off. Yesterday at dusk a tree across from where we are anchored was filled up with toucans. We could tell what they were by the silhouette of their bills against early evening sky. There was another tree with roosting herons, cormorants, and another bird we were not sure of. There are supposed to be crocodiles here, and I have no doubt that there are, but we haven't seen any yet. The water is muddy with a strong current, and the other day we awoke to discover there were logs and tree trunks and branches and vines and palm fronds and all sorts of things wrapped around the bow of the boat, actually pushing us and disrupting our anchor from its resting spot. We had been shoved a back about 200 yards. It took us about an hour or an hour and a half to get the mess cleared. We were unable to just push it aside from the deck using the boat pole, and ended up in the dinghy, shoving and poking with our hands, leaning into the water to get a grip and shove everything aside back into the current. Luckily this water is full of natural organic matter, not horrid crap from the city or off of other boats. We had to use a rope and lasso some of the logs, and then use the dinghy engine to pull them out from under. There were logs underneath logs. I have never seen such a mess in my life. We figured out that because we had anchored in a slight bend in the river, we were collecting everything that drifted along. And since the river banks are entirely made from mud with trees that seem to fall in all the time, there is a lot of flotsam. So as soon as we had the mess cleaned up, we moved the boat to a different location. Although i kept waking up every time I heard anything brush along the hull, when it got light and I couldn't stand it any more, I got up and discovered we had made a good decision and there were no problems - just a few vine-ish things draped like ribbons along the anchor chain. It was beautiful to wake up to.
There is a village here, and we have been visiting it. You can either take the dinghy up to a dock like structure, tie it off, and then walk for about a mile or so (I think, I am not good at gauging distances and height and things like that, but Mike said he thought the walk was about a mile) to reach the village itself. The route to the village begins with a raised wooden boardwalk that crosses over a swamp. The vegetation cannot be imagined - you have to see it for yourself. Verdant does not begin to do it justice. There were bird of paradise plants at least ten feet tall, with flowers bigger than my head. The boardwalk is suspended and it a little rickety, so the only problem was I had to watch my feet as I went along to avoid missing boards and generally trying not to trip. I am clumsy under the best of circumstances, so this sort of thing is an extra challenge for me. After the boardwalk ends, there is a flat, neatly trimmed path that runs the rest of the way. I would say the boardwalk makes up about 3/4 of the entire distance. The walk is a wonderful one - as I said, it is flat and well kept, so you can look around. In fact, it is so well kept that I could have gone barefoot, rather than in flip flops, as long as I kept a careful watch for leaf cutter ants and step around them. The bird sightings could not have been better, and the birds are not as skittish as birds usually are.
The village is set in a clearing that reminds me of a football field, sort of, without the lines. They have a large thatched structure with no walls lined with benches that acts as a community center. The houses are wall-less structures up on stilts, and everyone cooks over fires. There is no power. There are chickens running all over the place, as well as some skinny dogs and a few pigs, but the pigs did not come into the living space. The women wear wrap around skirts in bright colors, and the men wear these loin cloth things. Everyone wears beads, some with long strands they double over their chests like bandoliers. They also paint themselves up with this dark blue dye, which is not permanent. I have planning to have it done before I leave, and I will take a picture of it. (By the way, I do have pictures of all this stuff, and when I am in some semblance of normal internet range, I will post them.
Well, this is almost too long for the radio, so I have to get going. I will continue with the jungle adventure as its unfolds.
"Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education, in the elder, a part of experience." (Sir Francis Bacon)
----------
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