Category: Season 3

Fiji – sisters and misters!

Our arrival in Fiji felt like our 3.5yr sailing journey was really coming to an end.  With only one more passage to reach New Zealand and the official start of Cyclone season only a matter of weeks away, we knew our time in Fiji would be short.  My sister, Lynn and her partner G, had already previously sailed to Fiji in their boat and had a wealth of experience and knowledge we could draw from while spending precious time with my wonderful sibling! 

The date of our long anticipated re-union arrived, but the strong winds we had raced to stay ahead of when we left Tonga, were still pounding the south coast of Vanua Levu, making it easier to stay a couple more nights in the marina before venturing out into less protected waters.    We spent a day exploring the island by car, venturing down unsealed potholed roads to find waterfalls, rainforest and other hidden treasures.   Fiji has a similar problem with Mongoose as NZ has with Possums and we saw plenty of the animals as they ran across the road into the grass verge.  They were introduced from Jamaica in 1883 to control a rat problem which was affecting the sugar plantations but, as is often the case when animals are introduced, those creatures become more of a problem, as they have no natural predators but get a taste for some of the native species!    

The winds eased a little and, on checking the forecast, realized the weather was not going to allow us to head to the isolated and beautiful Lau Group, as we had hoped, so we decided instead, to head to the northern part of the other main island in Fiji, Viti Levu, which would protect us from the strong southerly winds.   Along the way we stopped at a couple of islands, including Makogai – a small island surrounded by a reef with a traditional village hidden in the trees about 7km from where we were anchored.  

Makogai was used as a leper colony from 1911 until 1950, accommodating upto 700 patients shipped there from the British colonies of the Pacific, including NZ.  Sadly it was a one way trip for the patients and the neglected graveyard we walked through, is testament of the many nationalities that were housed on this small island.    In 2016 cyclone Winston destroyed most of the old Leprosarium buildings but the foundations and old walls are now used to house a breeding programme for Giant Clams and we were given a quick tour of the various ponds accommodating different ages/sizes of Clams, some with vivid colours.

Lynn and G had visited the island before and remembered the Chief, so we set off, armed with a small bundle of Kava roots, to present a gift to the village.   The ceremony of Savusavu consists of sharing a cup of kava, lots of clapping of hands and listening to the Chief speak.   At the end, he thanked us for the gift and for honoring their tradition, saying we could stay as long as we wished and gave us permission to swim, snorkel or roam the island.    Sadly, the weather dictated we needed to once again keep ahead of the next front that was approaching, bringing more strong winds from the south, so we headed to the sheltered northern anchorages of Viti Levu, with a surrounding reef protecting us from the rolly seas.   As we sailed the well marked channel we put out our fishing line and much to our surprise and delight, caught a beautiful Spanish Mackerel and, with G’s fishing expertise, he and Steve managed to haul it on deck – our first catch of the Pacific and one that fed us for three meals!   What a gift!

Now in the shelter of the island, we headed out to explore the Yasawa Group of islands, popular with holidaymakers from Australia and NZ.   Most of the islands have resorts, or cater for day trippers, and have been given names to entice those wanting to experience tropical paradise – names like Robinson Crusoe Island, Treasure Island, Survivor Island, Castaway Island and Blue Lagoon.   We were now in tourist central, the busiest place we had been since leaving Europe, but it didn’t feel over-run or too commercialized, probably because the local people are just so amazingly friendly and welcoming!   Everywhere we went we were met with a loud “Bula!” and cheerful, genuine smile so you couldn’t help but smile back and feel the warmth of their welcome.

We sailed as far north as Drawaqa Island, which is in the middle of the Yasawa Island chain.   There is a channel on the northern side of the island where Mantarays pass through as the tide falls.   Leaving Steve on the boat to recover from a pulled muscle, Lynn, G and I went in search of Manta’s.   Eventually we found one, swimming underneath us as it kept a wary eye on the numerous tourists who had joined us in the water.   They are such beautiful, graceful animals gliding with effortless ease as they feed on invisible plankton.   Some interesting facts about Mantarays.   They are often seen in “trains” where one female is chased by several males in a mating ritual;  Female Mantas reach sexual maturity between 8-10yrs old;  They give birth to one pup once every 2-3yrs;  They don’t lay eggs, but the eggs are kept inside the female for 12-13 months before hatching internally when the female gives birth to a pup. 

Lynn and G had booked flights home so, after three wonderful weeks together, we headed to the marina in Denerau for a last night together.   G and Steve gave it more of a nudge than Lynn and me, staying up all night talking rubbish and drinking the remains of all our alcohol!   It was a perfect send-off to the crazy-adult-kids who left us with heavy hearts and lots of washing up!!! 

Now things were going to get real as we started to prepare for our hardest passage to date, our final journey to New Zealand with unpredictable winds and changeable weather conditions during the 1200nm, eight-day passage.  Things were starting to get interesting!

Talofa Samoa!

The sail had been a mixed bag of fast and slow sailing, rolly seas, sail changes, sunshine and rain!    As we converged on Apia, SY Sonny – a catamaran that left Suwarrow at a similar time – came into view and we made the final approach together, both being instructed to wait outside the entrance to the harbour for an hour while the World Outrigger championships raced in the protected waters of the bay.   Eventually we were allowed to enter, giving us refuge from the blustery wind and waves which both dissipated as we entered the sheltered waters of the country’s capital, Apia.

Check-in was quick and easy with officials visiting the boat, drinking most of our orange juice, and guiding us into the very small marina.   The officials remained business like and stern until we were checked in and then the veil lifted and they smiled, welcomed us, chatted, drank more juice and reluctantly left!   We had been told of boats being refused entry if their departure papers from the previous port did not mention Apia as the next port of call.  Fortunately we had amended our papers, changing the next port from Niue to Apia, before departing Suwarrow.  The change was made by the Ranger at Suwarrow and I was so concerned this crossed out amendment would not be accepted, I had taken photos of Ranger Harry with the amended document as proof we had not done it ourselves!   Fortunately everything was in order and a couple of hours after arriving, we were free to explore. 

Samoa consists of two main islands and several small, mostly uninhabited ones.  The international dateline runs between American Samoa and Samoa (previously known as Western Samoa) so 23hrs and 65nm separates the two countries!   But the main separation came when Samoa was fought over with Germany, UK and USA tussling each other for controlling rights over the country.   In 1900 it was agreed that the Eastern part of Samoa would split away to be controlled by USA, and the rest would belong to Germany.   During WW1, New Zealand were tasked with performing “a great and urgent imperial service” to seize control of Samoa, which they continued to rule over until 1962 when independence was awarded.

The Scottish author, Robert Louis Stevenson, chose to live in Samoa in 1890 until his death in 1894.     We visited the beautiful home he built in lovely grounds above Apia and had an excellent talk describing his life in Samoa and the history of the house since his death.   We made a pilgrimage to his grave at the top of a nearby hill which had been his wish and probably final challenge for his understanding wife.   The steep hill was covered in forest and had no pathway to the summit so locals lined up and carried the coffin over their heads, passing it from hand to hand in a river of people.   Although he only lived in Samoa for four years, he made a lasting impression on the small country and is still revered and respected.

Samoa has some beautiful and impressive waterfalls and we hired a car together with our friends on SY Skyfall, visiting a few of the spectacular cascades, swimming above one before the water tumbled over a high ravine to a deep circular pool far below.  

While driving through the countryside we noticed houses with large tombs in their gardens housing parents or loved ones who remain a centre of the family even after death.   Mothers are respected, honoured and held in high regard in Samoan culture and, although male and female have definite roles, women are treated well and are usually the leader of the family.   Houses have an “Open House” either connected to a home or in the centre of a community of houses.  These are buildings without walls that are meeting spaces, a place for people to gather, eat, talk or celebrate.   In the evenings you see families gathering to share food and in the day women sit on the floor and weave together.   Everywhere we went we were greeted with a cheerful “Talofa” and beautiful welcoming smile, which was normally followed with questions and genuine interest in getting to know us. The people are just wonderful and we really enjoyed stopping to talk and spending time asking questions and answering theirs!

On the northern side of the island is the large To-Sua Ocean Trench, accessed by a long wooden ladder which lowers you 15m into the ground.   Climbing onto the ladder is a feat in itself as you need to commit to climbing over a steep cliff onto the first rung and then lower yourself, in my case slowly, to the platform at sea level.  I was not overly confident but managed it and was glad I had when we cooled off in the beautiful water at the bottom.  

Every morning at 0845hrs the police force march from their central police station in Apia to the Government Buildings to raise the flag at 0900hrs. It was a great spectacle to watch with the police band playing, on this occasion, Waltzing Matilda (don’t ask me why they chose that piece of music!) as the men and women marched in unison through the busy streets.

Just beside the Government Buildings is a Cultural Village with an excellent daily programme demonstrating traditional weaving, cooking and tattooing. We watched a young man getting his torso and legs tattooed, where black dye was tapped into his skin by a sharp stick struck hard by an expert artist. The man had no say in the final design as the tattooist created the young man’s story in traditional designs, starting with his shoulders and continuing to his back, stomach, buttocks and legs, finishing above the knees. The role of a tattooist is one passed down through generations and there are very few Samoans now trained in this specialist skill. The young man being tattooed was supported by family as he lay perfectly still and very quiet during the process, while the tattooist was supported by two young men, possibly his sons, who carefully watched the design taking place and learned from their master. By the time we saw him, the tattoo had already taken four days with another nine until it was complete and, judging by the big bruisers spreading across his body, a number of painful hours lay ahead, all of which he had to endure without making a sound. The process is considered a right of passage to manhood, although less young men are having traditional tattoos due to the cost – thousands of US$ – and time taken.

After a week of sightseeing, socializing, enjoying the fabulous cafes/food and watching the World Outrigger Competition, it was time to go.  We cleared out the day before we were leaving as we wanted an early start, paid for the marina and prepared food for the 30hr sail to Niutoputapu, a small island in the north of Tonga and about 170nm sail south. Once again we would be sailing with Freya on the next leg of our journey. Samoa was a lovely surprise. The people, reasonable prices, excellent food and interesting culture made it one of Steve’s favourite destinations in the Pacific to date. Tonga lay ahead of us to the South which is often the direction of the wind, but we were choosing a weather window with more westerly in it – or so we thought!

Suwarrow – An Island to Oneself

The passage from Maupiha’a to Suwarrow was beautiful.   We had perfect winds that filled our sails all day and all night.   Seas that were gentle and no rain or squalls to deal with on our moonlit night passages.   We sailed in the company of Freya who stayed right beside us as we flew our two big jibs, until their spinnaker halyard broke at midnight when they had to scramble to retrieve the waterlogged sail .   To start with we were reminded of the heady days of sailing with SY Ruffian where our boats were so perfectly matched we finished beside each other after a multi-day passage.   With Freya severely handicapped with one sail down, we pulled ahead and were soon out of radio range as we sped towards Suwarrow.  

Suwarrow was, until the 1970’s, named Suvarrov after a Russian ship that “discovered” the atoll in the 1700’s.  It lies over 500nm north of Rarotonga and is part of the Northern Cook Islands territory.   In the 1950’s a New Zealander named Tom Neale chose to live on the island for six years in complete isolation, cut off from the outside world. His book, An Island to Oneself, has become a South Seas classic as it details the trials and tribulations of his solitary life in this beautiful, wild and unforgiving place. Two rangers now live on Suwarrow for six months and are responsible for looking after the atoll and making sure visiting yachts conform with the strict regulations while in the isolated National Park.

At 1pm, when we were four miles from the entrance into the atoll, we radioed the park ranger to ask permission to enter the pass.  Usually this is just a formality so I was very surprised to get a response saying access was denied due to the limit of yachts anchored in the bay being reached.    We were asked to wait outside the atoll until the morning when boats would be leaving.   This was not welcoming news as we were tired after a four day passage and had been looking forward to our arrival.    The wind had dropped to nothing at this point and trying to heave-to with no wind was impossible.   We dropped the sails as they were banging in the swell and this made our rolling even worse as we drifted in the windless ocean.   By 4pm Freya had joined us and we talked about how we could handle the swell and wait!   At 4.30pm the radio burst into life and the ranger informed us a boat leaving so we could now enter the lagoon.   Amazingly, and very kindly, our Australian friends on Matilda had heard of our predicament and decided to bring their morning departure forward to the evening to allow us entry into the anchorage.   Sadly, this meant we left Freya rolling in the ocean on their own, while we sped towards the atoll and into the flat, calm seas of the lagoon.   A dolphin welcomed us as we made our approach, battling 3knots of outgoing current as we tried to avoid large eddies on the way in.    As the sun set, we dropped our anchor close to several friends boats, and heaved a very grateful sigh of relief while still feeling guilty about Freya who were rolling around outside the reef. 

Suwarrow is everything you would expect an isolated tropical paradise to be.  The only way to visit Suwarrow is by private boat, so the privileged few of us are able to enjoy its clear warm waters, thousands of nesting sea birds, beautiful coral and, once again, whales in the lagoon, playfully passing in front of the anchorage.   If there was any island you would expect to find Robinson Crusoe, it is here – it meets all the described and imagined personas of a castaway island, it is uncanny, yet here we were taking a few days out of “civilization” to enjoy time in a place that time seems to have forgotten!  

Harry and Teina are the current island Rangers, responsible for keeping visiting yachties in check and being the guardians of the National Park.   They live on Suwarrow from June to November and are responsible for counting and monitoring seabirds and turtles during egg laying season.   They are kind, helpful and modest people, sharing their passion for traditional Cook Island customs as well as their love of nature.  The only time we saw them unhelpful was when they felt their position was disrespected when a yachtie didn’t ask permission to enter the pass or ignored their instructions and rules, but once they felt included and respected, their initial officious manner softened.

We were surrounded by friends in the anchorage and between snorkelling sessions, boat hopped as we all soaked in the incredible beauty of the place.   I celebrated my 60th birthday in Suwarrow, surrounded by new friends at a pot luck dinner organised on the beach.  We feasted on a variety of food and dishes that, although lacking a lot of fresh vegetables, was a luxury many of us hadn’t experienced for some time!  

On the morning of my birthday we collected our friends, Lee and Tamara on SY Athena in our dinghy and headed to the pass – our mission was to find the elusive but documented, manta ray cleaning station which come into the lagoon to get cleaned by wrasse fish which diligently nibble off dry skin and parasites as the rays patiently stay still for long periods – it’s like a day spa for mantarays!    We had heard of other cruisers having wonderful experiences close to the pass and, with Lee egging us in his persuasive, adventurous, enthusiastic way, we ventured further and further into the fast flowing waters.   At first sight of a ray under the boat, Lee leapt into the water leaving the rest of us glancing at each other wondering if anyone else would follow.   Tamara and I lowered ourselves into the fast flowing current and tried to catch up with Lee as he followed the mantaray back into the lagoon.   On seeing large grey sharks below us, we again looked at each other and returned to the dinghy.   A couple of days earlier a cruiser had been attacked by one of the sharks who took exception to being pushed away and circled around the swimmer, charging at him and biting his ear.   Another cruiser came to his rescue and, with blood dripping from his wound, he was hauled into the dinghy.   Tamara and I did not fancy a similar interaction so retired to safety!    Once out of the current and pass, we all jumped into the water again and waited.   Lee was freediving below us when I suddenly saw his movements change and he started frantically swimming in the opposite direction.  We all turned, unsure what was behind us, as a large shape came into view swimming fast towards the pass.   It was a humpback whale with baby, swimming silently beside us – quite amazing to have such an unexpected close encounter!    It turned out not to be the only encounter we would have as, later that day, a humpback, possibly the same one, came into our anchorage and swam around the boats for about 45 minutes.   Those lucky enough to have paddleboards had an amazing experience with the whales swimming underneath them numerous times before heading back out to sea.  

We had planned to leave the next day for Niue where our good friend, Kim, was joining us.   As we prepared to depart, we talked again to our weather router who had warned us of potentially bad weather to the south.   We discussed, studied, discussed and decided to follow our weather routers advice and stay north.  This was a hard decision to make as it meant letting Kim down and missing out on a place we really wanted to explore with her.  Kim was wonderful and, although deeply disappointed, understood our decision – one that later proved to be the right one as we heard of other cruisers who were unable to get ashore during the same period due to high winds.   

Instead of heading south, we sailed west and set our course for Apia in Samoa – a place we had not had not intended visiting or researched, so spent the passage learning more about it.   We left with a number of other boats heading in the same direction which made for good company at the start of the 500nm passage. 

At around midnight on the last evening, we crossed the dateline so we missed out on 15 August all together, another huge milestone reached and significant point in our journey. We were now just one hour time difference from NZ and home felt so much closer.

Sloths, Bats and Breakages

Back at the boat after our break in Costa Rica, we had a number of jobs we wanted to complete while we were in a marina.   We stayed for two more nights, working like fury to complete as many tasks as possible and cleaning everything that could be removed.

When we arrived at the marina two weeks earlier, it had been a stressful arrival as, not only was the  entrance very shallow but the width of the berth we had been allocated was only just as wide as our boat.   We were squeezed between two wooden poles and Cerulean was squashed between them, rubbing up against the fenders we had tied to the poles to protect our fiberglass.   

Ruffian had introduced us to a mobile depth sounder that linked to the electronic charts we used.  We loved the idea of being able to use our dinghy to survey the depth of bays that are either unchartered or with limited information, particularly in Panama and the South Pacific, opening up difficult anchorages that we would otherwise not attempt to enter.  Just before we went away we ordered the equipment and excitedly collected the parcel on our return.  

Bocas Del Toro is an area of isolated beauty with eight main islands and lots of quiet bays surrounded by forest and mangroves.   Cruisers seem to arrive in Bocas and fall in love with the area so decide to stay and we met numerous Americans that spent six months of the year in Bocas on their boat and six months back home.   We can certainly see the appeal of cruising in Panama, although the sailing in Bocas is not great and we spent a lot of time motoring between anchorages.

We were keen to find some Sloths in the wild and eventually we were rewarded as a young sloth hung in the trees above us being unusually active as it combed its hair and looked down on us.   Sloths only come down from the trees once a week to defecate, so it’s a rare event to see one on the ground, but we were lucky enough to witness one close to us.  They are such odd looking creatures with back legs longer than the front, awkward clawed feet, not designed for walking on, and squashed faces that look permanently surprised.   We kept our distance and watched quietly and enthralled.

We were often the only boats in an anchorage, shared with Ruffian as we continued to explore land and water together.   Some of the bays were surrounded by mangroves and if we anchored too close we found we were fighting bugs in the evening the most vicious being no-see-ums, which sometimes forced us inside.  

One day Iain and Fi collected us in their dinghy and suggested we went in search of a bat cave they had read about.   We all had little expectations as we motored through an almost hidden break in the mangroves and found ourselves in a shallow tree-lined river, skirting around fallen trees and obstacles as we progressed further upstream.   Sloths lounged on branches above us – one with a baby on her stomach as she lay in a bough of the tree.   On we motored, marveling at the quiet beauty of the river until, nearing the end of the navigable part, there was a large clearing and big jetty.    We were met by Juan, one of the owners of the land we were on, who led us to a large wooden building on stilts and signaled to us to choose a hard hat, head torch and waterproof shoes.  We were all a little surprised and dubious, thinking this was a potential tourist trap but, not seeing any other tourists there, went with it!    Juan tried communicating with us in his limited English and our even more limited Spanish, and led us through the forest as monkeys rustled in the trees above us until we reached a slit in rocks and entrance to the cave.    We stripped off and, wearing just our swimming togs, followed Juan into the darkness.   As soon as we were inside bats flew at us, catching the insects we were disturbing, changing direction at the last minute to avoid hitting us.   As we looked up, bats were hanging from every space of the cave.   We were led deeper into the underground caverns, sometimes having to swim in the cold waters as the underground river was too deep to wade through.   One obstacle was having to duck under the water to get past a large rock blocking our way – something that certainly pushed my limits but I’m so proud of myself for continuing.   Later we talked about how being in a group certainly encouraged both me and Fi to push our boundaries as we didn’t want to let ourselves, or anyone else, down!   The stalactites were beautiful, forming coral like structures hanging from the high roof of the cave.   It was one of those experiences that will be with me for the rest of my life.   Our initial skepticism was overshadowed by complete awe and wonder – we felt privileged to have been there and amazed that it appeared to be a truly hidden gem off the beaten path.

We had been having a few issues with our windlass (electric winch to raise/drop the anchor) and with the spares on hand, we decided to return to a bay close to Bocas town in case we needed additional tools.   We pulled up the anchor and turned on the watermaker to make use of the engine being on, as our watertank was getting low after a few days in an anchorage close to mangroves.    As we motor sailed to our destination the watermaker suddenly turned off and, on investigating, we discovered the high pressure pump (essential for making fresh water) was looking very much the worse for wear with one side almost separated from the rest of the pump.   

Steve worked tirelessly for the next few days as he took the pump apart and reassembled it while we tried to source the parts we needed in a timeframe that suited us.  The manufacturers, Echotec, were fabulous, understanding our urgency and arranging to courier the parts to us in Shelter Bay Marina, our next destination when we leave Bocas.   We were now low on water, so booked to go into a marina for a couple of nights so we could fill up with water and Steve could continue to work on the windlass.   Bocas Marina is a small place located about 20minutes from the town but provides free ferries four times a day which we made good use of during our short stay.   We really enjoyed the friendly marina, meeting numerous interesting people while Steve worked in the hot sun repairing the windlass and I carted drinking water backwards and forwards to fill the tanks.  

With the windlass fixed and tanks filled, we headed out of the marina to join Ruffian in a quiet anchorage about 30 miles east.  We opted to head out into the rolling seas so we could sail to our anchorage, instead of enduring a few more hours of motoring through the protected waters and narrow passages that we loved in Bocas.   

We spent one more night on anchor with Ruffian, had one more goodbye hug and then left them behind for the final time on the Caribbean side of the canal as their future plans are quite different to ours.    We were heading out again on our own path into the big blue yonder and, as sad as it was to say goodbye, we felt excited about what lay ahead as we set our sails for the entrance to the Panama Canal for our final sail in the blue waters of the Caribbean.

Costa Rica – Adventure, Wildlife and Beauty

One of the things I love about sailing is there is plenty of time to think.   I like to sit quietly and just let my mind wander and often find myself picking things apart and trying to understand behaviour patterns and thought processes.   Friendship was one of those subjects I found myself delving into and, in particular, looking at relationships made while cruising.   I have come to realise that landbased, longterm friendships are quite different to those made while cruising.   If we had not undertaken this adventure I would be mixing with the fantastic group of people I have been lucky to call friends for many years and would not necessarily seek, or have a need, to increase that circle.   I did not spend enough time with the friends I already had, so why go out and get more, so making friends as you get older, is harder.   When living this transient life, you do the complete opposite – we make an effort to meet new people and get to know them, even for a short time and, as everyone is in the same situation, new friendships come easily and readily.   It is very special when you meet people that share similar beliefs, interests and sense of humour as you, so shared experiences are enhanced and appreciated all the more.   Iain and Fi are our match – they’re probably more experienced, more clever and more knowledgeable than us, but they put up with us tagging along on the many adventures we have shared together!   When they suggested joining us on a trip to Costa Rica we answered enthusiastically, pleased to have great company to explore a new country with, particularly as Iain is very good at finding hidden treasures off the beaten path.

We had booked space at Carenero Marina so we could leave our boats, and negotiated the narrow, shallow entrance just before high tide, squeezing into a berth that was only just wide enough for us.   The marina could accommodate about 30 boats and most of the yachts there appeared to have made the marina their home, some never to move again!   Surrounding the marina were houses built on stilts over the water and every day children jumped off the small jetty infront of their home and played in the water.   Several hammocks were strewn across a large room with a small cooking area at the back, providing all the space they needed.  

Early next morning we caught a water taxi the short distance to Bocas, the main town in the region.   From there we caught another boat and a bus to take us to the border town of Sixaola.   A bridge separates Panama from Costa Rica so after presenting our passports on the Panama side, we walked across the wide bridge to enter Costa Rica.   The wide concrete bridge felt a little like we were doing a prisoner exchange as we passed people trailing their luggage along the narrow pavement, coming in the opposite direction, heads down as they focused on their feet and walked across the bridge.  

Our passports were stamped and we were given a 90 day visa to explore Costa Rica, a perfect way to reset our Panama visas and enjoy the delights of a new country.   We were shepherded onto another minibus and sped through the countryside, arriving in Puerto Veijo 40 minutes later.   Puerto Veijo had black sand beaches on the Caribbean coast and, like most of Costa Rica, is bordered by jungle and we were told was the best place to see sloths in the wild, something which evaded us!  

Today Costa Rica is famous for its forests, incredible wildlife and plethora of National Parks but, as we learned, things were quite different a short time ago.   In the 1940’s corrupt banks encouraged land to be cleared of forest before farmers could borrow money and then forced these same farmers off their land with high interest rates.  They then sold the land to friends, relations or people with influence, establishing large banana plantations.   Fortunately a newly elected government in 1996 recognised what was happening as half the country’s forest cover had been destroyed, and immediately made it illegal to clear land and encouraged the rejuvenation of the forest.   Today almost 60% of the country is once again forest and the local people, known as Chico’s, appear proud of their country with noticeably less rubbish and a keen interest in their environment.

Puerto Viejo is a small coastal town which is popular with backpackers.  It has that lovely sleepy, budget feel to it with several cafes and a variety of tourist shops but still holding on to its own identity.   We went for walks in the forest close to our accommodation, intrepidly following Iain who had managed to find hidden waterfalls, tracks and jungle walks that even locals were not aware of!   Toucans, macaws and oropendola flew noisily above us and we enjoyed identifying birds as they sang or flew into the thick trees.

We caught a bus to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, choosing to sit on what turned out to be the wrong side of the bus, as the seats on the right side had much less leg room than the spacious left side.   We didn’t notice until we slid into the seat and found we didn’t fit, but it was already too late as all the seats across the aisle were already filled.   We squeezed ourselves into the space, pulling our knees towards our chest as we made our way through the countryside.   We arrived at the bus station in San Jose 5hrs later and unfolded ourselves from the seats before being exposed to the bustling capital.    Our apartment was a couple of kms from the bus station and we elected to walk as we needed to stretch our aching limbs after the cramped bus ride.   This involved walking through a busy, rough and (I was the only one who thought this) scary neighbourhood where, at one point Fi and I decided to follow the faster Steve, by crossing an intersection without being able to see the traffic lights.   All of a sudden we were being yelled at by two heavily armed policemen on a motorbike which was heading straight for us!  

We only had one day in the city to explore, so lost no time, dropping our bags in our Air BnB and getting back out to catch the last of the afternoon sunshine, following a list of POI’s (Points of Interest) Iain had researched and marked on the city map.   The city reminded me a little of Dakar in Senegal – some interesting parts but mostly a place that has grown without plans or thought and was now a large sprawl with few interesting buildings and some unusual statues and monuments scattered around!   I may be being unfair as we were only there for a day!  

On the way back to the apartment we were accosted by a young guy who offered to cut Steve’s hair.   As he had not had a good haircut for some time, Steve was willingly led into the barbers shop while we continued back to the accommodation.   Two hours later I was getting concerned until eventually a shorn, but tidy, Steve returned regaling stories of all the illicit things the barber had offered him in addition to the haircut!    

We picked up a hire car and left the city behind, heading to the Pacific coast where we stayed in a rustic retreat (with fabulous outdoor shower) in the hills high above the small, but busy town of Jaco and close to a surfers black sand beach.   Along the way we crossed Crocodile Bridge where, peering over the side, numerous large crocodiles basked on a muddy bank.

We spent a week walking to waterfalls which Iain had once again masterly discovered, walking deep into the countryside, meeting horse riding cowboys and inquisitive motorbike riding locals.  Everyone welcomed us with a warm smile and stilted conversation as we tried to understand their Spanish with our limited abilities.   One morning we arranged to meet Randal, a local bird expert, in a nearby National Park and were treated to numerous sightings of exotic and colourful birds as Randal mimicked their song and drew them closer to us.   He taught us how to identify birds and where to look for them, encouraging us to train our eyes so we could notice more creatures around us.   The next day we were fortunate enough to see a Roseate Spoonbill wading in shallow water as it swept side to side, and watched as it flew off, displaying its beautiful pink wings – a stunning bird.

We were returning from a tiring but wonderful walk in the late afternoon, Iain driving slowly down a narrow road through forest, when an animal ran out in front of us.  Iain stopped, as did the animal, turning to look at us as it reached the other side of the road.   Quickly Iain grabbed a camera as we all watched, speechless as the small wild cat froze on the grass verge before disappearing into the forest.   We identified it by its markings as either a young jaguar or an ocelot and have had many experts confirm this to us, although unsure which one we had seen but all agreeing how lucky we were as so few people are privileged enough to see them in the wild.  

We loved our time in Costa Rica, the incredible birdlife, the beautiful waterfalls, rich wildlife, lush forests, long empty beaches, clean environment and great adventures with team Ruffian.   Some of the not so great things – we saw more intensive farming than we’ve seen anywhere else outside Europe, primarily pineapples, bananas and palm oil.  The palm oil companies encourage banana farmers to diversity by giving low interest loans and free seedlings while tying them in to long contracts, but then pay them less than they would get selling their crop elsewhere.  The banana crops are wrapped in large plastic bags which are filled with toxic chemicals, chemicals which are banned in most western countries.   Pineapple crops are sprayed with harmful chemicals and the spray drift is not controlled so rivers are becoming polluted and people getting sick.   We avoided a number of the more popular National Parks, primarily because they have become so overcrowded we believed it would feel like we were visiting a zoo, but once you get off the well beaten tourist paths, there is still a beautiful country to discover.

Our lasting memories of our time here was spending it with good friends, Iain and Fi, exploring new places together and creating a lifetime of memories.

Photo credit of wild cat: Iain and Fi, Ruffian of Amble

Christmas in Paradise

Panama is expectantly beautiful – from the people, tropical islands, jungle, rivers and incredible experiences, made all the more special to be able to share with good friends.

We continued a slow passage westward, calling in on small settlements and exploring rivers and islands as we continued up the chain of islands and bays towards civilisation.  Men in dugout canoes, occasionally with sails up, would cheerfully wave at us as they made their way to their coconut plot or garden they had created in the forest.   

We loved the silence and magical experience of being on our own in a small bay, surrounded by trees and with the incredibly thick virgin rainforest of Guna Yala as a backdrop, amazingly some of it never visited by humans.    We explored rivers and lagoons, snorkelling over beautiful coral in clear waters with no-one else within sight.   We watched dolphins feed close to the boat and tried to communicate with men who came over in dugout canoes as they tried to sell us Molas, fish or lobster.   We donated suncream to a couple of albinos – a man and young girl, who must really struggle under the fierce sun, their skin covered in scabs as they tried to shield their sensitive eyes from the strong morning sun.  

We bought a few Mola and I sewed them into cushions, enjoying the smell of smoke from a fire that seeped from the beautiful needlework as I imagined the women carefully sewing the colourful designs by hand in tiny, neat stitches.  

We sailed on, intending to call in at one last Guna village before hitting the more crowded and visited Western San Blas islands, but the wind was so perfect and we were enjoying a great sail, we decided to keep going and make the most of the conditions.   Sure enough, no sooner had we made the decision, when a number of boats started showing on AIS – the days of having an anchorage to ourselves in San Blas were now behind us – and we wove our way through reefs and shallows into a sheltered anchorage with ten boats, including Zen Again, already enjoying the clear turquoise waters that lay between several palm tree lined islands in the Holandes Cays.  

We approached the small island of Banedup in our dinghy, following a channel marked by sticks poking up from the shallow coral and landing on a sandy beach in clear water.   We were met by Ivin who owns a small restaurant on the island.   He, his brother and sister live in small huts and grow coconuts, bananas and papaya which they sell to visiting cruisers.   They also make delicious coconut bread rolls, delivered fresh to the boat each morning with Ivin paddleboarding out to us in the strong current, greeting us with a smile that was as warm and delicious as the bread rolls.   

We decided to treat ourselves to a meal one night and, together with Zen Again, headed to the beach as the sun was going down.   We had one of those magical evenings, eating a lobster dinner under a thatched shelter on the sandy beach with a warm breeze cooling us down and the sound of crashing surf hitting the reef a few meters from where we sat.

On board we have two fridges – one is small and used as a fridge with a very small freezer compartment that makes excellent ice cubes for our sundowners.   The other is a large ice box that can be either a freezer or fridge.   We refer to it as the chiller, as we keep it stocked with beer, tonic, wine, fruit and vegetables in the cavernous depths of the unit.   A few weeks earlier it had stopped working so we re-organised the fridge, removed some of the alcohol, and loaded it up with all the vegetables until it was bursting, making finding things we needed a real task, particularly at sea when the complete content of the fridge was in danger of being deposited on the galley bench beneath it!    We deduced that the reason the chiller had stopped working was because it was out of refrigerant gas which meant there was a leak somewhere in the system.   I put out a call for help and had three fellow cruisers approach us to see if they could resolve the problem.  One was in the next bay so we upped anchor, wove our way through a very narrow channel and settled ourselves in the sheltered bay next to the boat that had answered my call for help.    Once we’d dropped the anchor, Steve dived in to make sure the anchor was set correctly and upon returning announced there was a huge shark beside our boat just lying on the bottom of the sea.   Feeling very nervous about swimming around such a large creature, we both jumped into the dinghy and, with snorkels on, dangled over the side to see if we find it again.    Sure enough, there was a 2m nurse shark right beside our boat in about 4m of water, just casually minding its own business while we looked down on it with wide eyes and bums in the air from the safety of our dinghy!!!

Mike was from South Africa and had been cruising since 1999 with his wife, Laura.   He is typical of so many in the cruising community where he was keen to help other people with less skills than him and quickly discovered what was wrong with our chiller.    It turned out to be a lose wire as well as needing a gas refill and very soon the plates were getting cold and the beer was being placed back in the chiller!     We just love being part of this amazing group of people and really hope that one day we will be able to rescue someone like we have been helped so many times.

Christmas was fast approaching and with it, the anchorages were filling up with boats wanting, like us, to enjoy the holiday period in a tropical paradise.   Our friends on Ruffian arrived and we had a wonderful time catching up on the happenings of the eight months since we were last together in Dominica while the number of boats in the anchorage and new friends expanded.     We took numerous snorkelling adventures, enjoying being able to explore again with Iain and Fi as we quickly fell back into the ease of their company.   We booked Christmas lunch with Ivin on Banedup Island, and 11 of us sat down under a thatched shelter on the beach to enjoy a lovely four course meal.   This was followed by a number of challenges that Steve and I had set our friends, which culminated in a blind-folded dinghy race and celebratory drinks on board Cerulean.   It was all great fun and made for a memorable day. 

On Boxing Day we pulled up anchor with Ruffian and Zen Again to continue our journey west, enjoying a great sail in flat seas as we made good speed, arriving in Chichime – a protected anchorage with a narrow entrance between two reefs infront of two small coconut tree lined islands.   We snorkelled in the strong current before having a final sundowner on board Cerulean with Mike and Nicki from Zen Again.   The next day we were sailing to different destinations, marking the end of our three months journey together.  We first met in Gosport, UK in June 2020 when we had 5NM of water under the keel and we had now visited 11 countries together with 10,000NM sailed on Cerulean!  We will see them again in a few years in New Zealand and hope to sail with them around our familiar home waters.

We continued our journey SW with Ruffian, and anchored in front of the small town of Portobello, only a few miles east of the entrance to the Panama Canal.  The town had been a significant port in the 1590’s due to its protected harbour and became one of the most important sites for the transportation of gold and silver from South and Central America to Spain.  For over 150 years fleets of galleons were sent to Portobello to collect their valuable cargo, so the town was heavily protected with three forts and large batteries of canons in each.    The protected harbour was now scattered with deserted yachts, washed into the muddy shallows and left to decay as the forgotten boats slowly fell apart.  The small town was almost deserted when we wandered through the narrow, potholed streets against a thick forest backdrop.   There is a large white church that houses a famous black Christ and worshippers walk on their knees from as far as Costa Rica to pay their respects.  Repurposed American school buses are elaborated decorated and now serve as public transport as they career down the rutted roads towards the large city of Colon less than 50kms away but a world away by comparison!

It was a lovely quiet anchorage with the sound of howler monkeys breaking the evening silence as their calls echoed around the harbour.  Lots of birds flew around us from Pelicans, flying very low over the water, to a large flock of white Egrets and small swallows darting between our rigging and all around us. 

We continued after a couple of days, motoring into the wind, through hundreds of tankers waiting to go through the Panama Canal.   As we passed the channel marking the entrance into Shelter Bay and the beginning of the canal, it was a strange feeling to know we would be making that journey in a few week’s time.   On we motored until the entrance to Rio Chagres came into view with breaking waves marking the narrow passage into the river and a large fort dominating the headland.    We led the way over the shallow sand bar as rolling waves pushed us up the river.   I must admit to having white knuckles as we meandered our way through the entrance, and was relieved when the depth started increasing again – not somewhere to enter in strong winds or rolling seas.   We motored up the glassy river with thick jungle bordering the banks hiding the many crocodiles that inhabit the area.   Howler monkeys called out and birds screeched, swooped and mesmorised us until we found a peaceful place to drop the anchor, out of sight of any manmade structures but within a few miles of one of the busiest shipping passages in the world.   

The Chagres River was dammed in 1910 to create the Gatun Lake which supplies the water for the locks of the canal, so we took our dinghies up the river about 5 miles to have a look at the dam and get our first sight of the canal.   One problem faced us on arrival….. Steve and I had forgotten to bring shoes!    We walked in our barefeet for a few miles on hot tarmac, prickly grass and stony pathways but it was worth it to get a feel for what lay ahead of us in a few week’s time.   We watched two large tankers making its slow passage through a lock into the Gatun Lake where a cruise ship was waiting for their turn to pass through on the other side.  

On the walk back to the dinghies we spotted a group of Howler Monkeys in the trees close to our path.   We watched as the family quietly fed on leaves, allowing their young to forage and swing through the branches before gathering them up and ensuring they did not stray too far from the group.   

We remained anchored up the river for a couple of days, enjoying the tranquillity, birdlife and feeling of isolation, even though the occasional hoot of a large ship reminded us that the canal was not far away.   At night we shone bright torches into the mangroves to see the red eyes of crocodiles reflected back at us.   Sadly we could only spend two nights in this wonderful place as we needed to continue west so, with Ruffian following us, we motored back out of the narrow entrance for a long motorsail to Bocas del Toro where we would be leaving the boats for a couple of weeks so we could adventure inland with Ruffian.

CREDIT:  Huge thanks to Ruffian for the amazing pictures – all the drone footage and the best of the rest, labelled in pictures!

San Blas – Where time forgot

Our return to Santa Marta from our trip to the Amazon, marked the beginning of the end of our month in Colombia.   We were now on weather watch, waiting for a good window for the 2.5 day passage to Panama and it didn’t look like we would have to wait too long.  

We needed to stock up on provisions as we knew it would be a number of weeks before we were going to be anywhere near shops, as we were heading to some very remote places with no roads, airplanes or ports close by.    We made several trips to the supermarket and stocked up on all the essentials and then went back for more to fill any spare cupboards or storage spaces!   We bought fruit and vegetables which would last at least a week as these would become luxury items in the weeks to come! 

A few boats we knew arrived in Santa Marta just as we were preparing to go, so we spent our final couple of evenings socialising before checking out of Colombia on one of the last days of November 2022.   We had waved goodbye to Zen Again earlier that day as, being a little smaller and slower in the forecast conditions than us, they felt they wanted to leave by mid-day to ensure they arrived in Panama by Friday morning.   We decided to wait until 10pm to leave and slipped out with our fuel tanks filled to the brim with the cheapest fuel we’ll get, probably ever again!  

The wind was steady and we made excellent speed, breaking our best 24hr distance covered record by making 161NM.  In fact we were going too fast and decided to try to slow down.  We calculated we would not be able to reach landfall before sunset on Thursday and did not want to arrive in Puerto Obaldi at night time as we had heard the anchorage was quite rolly and uncomfortable.   Our decision to go to Puerto Obaldi was made due to the cheaper check-in options plus starting our exploration of the San Blas region of Panama from here, right on the border with Colombia, meant we had access to some of the most remote Guna Indian villages which was a real drawcard for us.  

Zen Again managed to arrive just as the light was fading on Thursday evening, but we were a few miles behind and decided to stand off the coast and heave-to for seven hours as we waited for daylight before heading into the exposed harbour.   (Heaving-to is a method of stopping the boat while having sails up to keep the boat in a comfortable, balanced position).  As it turned out, I’m glad we made this decision as we both managed to get a solid three hours of good sleep before we re-set the sails and headed into the harbour just as Avanti, another boat who left Santa Marta after us, arrived.  

Checking-in was a long, hot procedure and involved a visit to the police in a concrete bunker looking building with no windows or doors but a desk under a hole in the wall, where they inspected our passports.   Next, we needed to visit the immigration office where a queue had started outside the closed door.   Every so often someone would come out of the office, look at the line of people and go back in, shutting the door behind them.   We had just gotten to the front of the queue when, after about a wait of 45 minutes in the hot sun, the immigration officer appeared and apologised profusely for the delay, but now he had to go to the airport and would be back in 30 minutes.   I think he could tell we were crest-fallen, because 10 minutes later he was back and said he would process us quickly, which he did!   From there we went to the Port Captain to get a cruising permit.  He had no computer or typewriter and carefully completed about seven forms in neat handwriting, all designed for a dot matrix printer with perforated strips down the side of the carboned paper and all asking for the same information.   Quite what happened to the forms or the copies after we left, I have no idea!   After paying US$200 for a one year cruising permit for the whole of Panama – Caribbean and Pacific coasts – we were told to go to the copyshop as we needed to give the police a copy of our permit.   Back at the copyshop we were then charged US$10 for anchoring in the bay while we checked in!    Armed with all our papers we returned to the police and gave them copies of everything which they carefully examined, added our names to a large, thick notebook, smiled and told us we were free to go!     And go we did.   As soon as we were back on the boat, we sailed out of the bay to find a more protected anchorage so we could enjoy a good night’s sleep!

Panama is a beautiful country which many cruisers skip through on their way to the canal.  This is a huge mistake as there are hundreds of unspoilt bays and villages untouched by time that are begging to be explored.   Using the only accurate charts made of this area from a cruising guide we exchanged for guides we no longer required when in Grenada, we headed up the coast following the hillsides covered in virgin rainforest.   We anchored near the end of an inlet at Puerto Escoses close to a group of huts that had been built over the water just off the sandy beach.   All the huts were empty, but some were still being built and we could see dug out canoes close by so assumed the huts were still being used but just not when we were there!    It was deliciously peaceful with only the sounds of the forest to disturb the peace as we headed to bed and slept for nine solid hours!

The Guna people are indigenous to Panama.   They are fiercely protective of their culture and have tried to prevent western influence in their lives.   They live in small communities which often don’t mix with other Guna communities, and the women wear colourful clothing with intricately embroidered designs on the front and back, called Molas.   They live very simple lives – the men fish in small wooden dug out canoes or tend their coconut plantations, the women look after the family and prepare the meals.   They have large families and, as we witnessed, due to the desire to keep the village tribes “pure” there appeared to be a lot of close family couplings, as we saw a number of birth defects in the young.    The houses are very simple, often one storied with a thatched roof and built on land very close to the sea.   Extended families live together so houses are made larger as the family grows or daughters marry – daughters remain in the houses of their parents and new husbands move into their family home.  Walking though the villages made me feel like we were in a place that time forgot.   Fortunately the Panama government has not quite forgotten them and a few years ago paid for solar panels to be installed in most Guna communities.  This has made a huge difference to the villages who are very proud of the energy these panels produce.

Each village has a Congress House and villages (men and women) must attend meetings there every day.  This is the place to sort out problems, concerns, plans or celebrations in the village.  The chief or Sahila, will oversee proceedings from a hammock in the centre of the large thatched building. The meetings can be long and tedious as they cover every day matters and issues from disagreements to travel passes, so members of the community are employed to let out loud shrieks at regular intervals, or prod people with long sticks to ensure everyone stays awake and alert!   

The previous night we had heard several bangs that sounded like gunshots and cheering from the beach near our boat.   It transpired that a large cat (we were told a Jaguar) had swam across to the island, passing our boat and making its way to the beach, when it was shot and killed – not to protect humans but to protect their farm animals.   I was very sad to see pictures of the beautiful animal the next day and relieved to learn it was a very rare happening.   

It surprised us that we saw no chickens in the villages – a common sight in Colombia and everywhere else we have visited.  Pigs often seen in small bamboo huts on stilts above the water.   This is for two reasons – the first to keep them clean as their droppings fall straight into the water, but the second is to avoid crocodiles taking them.   This is also the reason there are no chickens as they will encourage crocodiles into the village.

We motor sailed a short distance to the settlement of Ustupu, the largest village in San Blas.   We spent a happy few hours getting lost in the labyrinth of small streets and passages that wind between the thatched houses, enjoying walking without fear of a vehicle speeding down the road, with the only engine noises being generators to service the many restaurants in the village!    A woman appeared at an open window and beckoned us inside the small square building.   She was sewing beautiful Molas on an antique Singer sewing machine and had several on display.  I couldn’t resist and bought a brightly coloured one from her for $10, which I will treasure.   As we continued through a small, dusty square, a man and his son called us over and they proceeded to play a beautiful tune on their roughly made blow pipes, telling us there would be dancing in the square later.   We walked on to the northern coastline where waves break on sharp rocks that were covered in litter.   I tried to explain to the young boys who were playing football close by and had come over to see who these strange white giants were, how seeing all that rubbish made me sad, but they looked at me as if I had just confirmed I really was from another planet!

As the only boat anchored in the shallow dirty bay, we became a local attraction as men and young boys slowly paddled past us, shouting their greetings and waving as they grinned at us with friendly curiosity.   We purchased a few lobsters from a man who approached us in his dugout canoe, clinging onto the side of Cerulean as he showed us his catch.  One of them tried to make a break for it and I was almost tempted to let it go back into the water, as they were all quite small, but the thought of fresh lobster for dinner prevented me from doing so!   That night, under a full moon and clear skies, we ate like kings and listened to the merriment ashore.

We discovered it was Mother’s Day and, on taking the dinghy up a small river in the north of the bay, saw a large gathering on the bank, near a small coconut and banana plantation in a clearing in the jungle.   The women enthusiastically waved us to come over and, as we scrambled up the steep muddy bank to join them, they thrust a bowl of food in our hands.   The women were all dressed in red with beautiful Molas on the front and back of their robes, red beads around their legs, red headscarf and red rouge on their cheeks.  They cooked in a huge pan over an open fire as the men and with children sat around watching them.   Through google translate, we were able to communicate with the husband of one of the women cooking.  I asked why the women were working on their special day and he answered, “They love to work.  If they don’t, they die!”    It then turned out we were actually in a graveyard, surrounded by their mothers and ancestors as we celebrated and remembered them.   Youngs guys were renovating an old tomb, fixing fresh leaves onto the thatched roof.   It was incredibly special to share that time with the happy group of different generations of brightly dressed women and we returned down the river, following a trail of red petals that were floating downstream in memory of all their mothers that had passed.

As we moved further west along the mainland Panama coast, we past a number of villages, all built perilously close to the pounding surf and often every square inch of the small island taken up with houses.   Occasionally we saw evidence of where there was once land and now the sea was washing away a construction that had stood there – bridges to nowhere stood as memorials of days recently gone by and the remains of a dock now stood attached to nothing but the sea floor.   As these scenes unfolded, I couldn’t help but ponder on the overwhelming sadness and irony of the situation – here were a peaceful race of people who have shunned Western influence and tradition, yet they are now at the sharp end of having to deal with the very real issue of rising sea levels while plastic washes ashore on their beaches, carried there by the strong currents from Colombia and further afield. 

The Mighty Amazon

Our flight from Cartagena to Bogota was very short.  The stewards only just had enough time to deliver each passenger a water before it was time to land in the capital of Colombia.   The city seemed to sprawl out for miles as we circled above on our approach.   Once landed we then had a short wait for our connecting flight to Leticia, the southern most city in Colombia, bordering Brazil and Peru, and our entrance point to the Amazon. 

I was fortunate enough to be able to have a window seat as we flew over the rainforest with views of a meandering river below us and the borderless lines that blur where Colombia finishes and Brazil starts.   I was so excited I thought I would burst as I tried to drink in the view that lay beneath us.

We were met at the airport by Sergio, the owner of Amazonas Jungle Tours who we had booked a three day adventure with.  After paying a small visitor tax, we were welcomed to Leticia and guided to two tuk-tuks which sped us into town along rutted roads.   Once again we were amazed at the driving abilities of road users as tuk-tuks and scooters jostled for position and unmarked crossroads seemed to follow a “who-dares-wins” road code.   We splashed through puddles in the potholes, bounced over ruts and swerved to overtake those travelling too slow, sometimes choosing to use the wrong side of a dual carriageway, which on-coming vehicles seemed to take in their stride.  I was mesmorised and felt slightly ill when I locked eyes with a young baby – less than 6 months old – being held by its young mother as they were both sped down the road on a scooter while our driver tailgated them at speed.   

Once checked into our cheap but adequate accommodation, we took a tuk-tuk into town and had an early dinner where Steve – always food adventurous – tried the Mojojoy platter – a local speciality of tree grub, like Huhu grubs in NZ.   I was disgusted but proud of him!!!  After our dinner we walked to the main square and climbed the church spire to watch flocks of parrots coming in to roost at dusk.   The sky was dark with thousands of parrots as they circled in flocks overhead and landed in the trees surrounding the square, squawking as they approached, drowning out any other noise around as we had to shout to be able to talk to each other!

In the morning we were collected early and taken to catch a small boat to the main port which was across a river that we would normally have walked across but the footbridge had been damaged and repairs were not yet complete.   The river was very busy with long wooden pirogues jostling for position as we pushed and squeezed our way out of the estuary and finally into the fast flowing stream of the mighty Amazon where we were loaded onto a much bigger and faster boat for the journey upstream. 

We were asked to put on lifejackets as the boat was filled with a mix of tourists and locals, the young captain masterly negotiating debris in the river as we made a highspeed journey upstream.   We made short stops at small villages and settlements along the river, depositing passengers on muddy banks and leaving them to scramble up hills as we continued our journey 40 miles up the river.   Eventually we reached Puerto Narino where we were met by Brehitner who would be our guide for the next few days.   Brehitner was in his late-twenties (I think) from Peru, spoke perfect English as he had trained as an English teacher, was hugely knowledgeable about nature and local tribes/traditions and was altogether a lovely man!  We would get to know each other quite well over the following few days.

Puerto Narino is a surprisingly big town populated by about 85% native tribes, with no cars or vehicles and clean, well kept pathways.   A waterfront stadium seemed to be in continuous use with football or volleyball games, well supported by enthusiastic spectators.   A daily market lined the footpath with fresh fish, fruit and some vegetables for sale as well as a very small amount of jewellery and local art.  

Our tour started straight away with a boat trip to see the pink dolphins that feed in the fast flowing waters in front of the town.  It didn’t take long before a flash of pink alerted us that we were in the company of a large river dolphin that are unique to the Amazon.  Unlike the bottlenose or common dolphins, pink dolphins do not often interact with humans, preferring to keep their distance.  They also do not jump out the water but slowly porpoise, showing their pink sides as they move through the water feeding on shrimps and crustacean that give the dolphin its pink colour.   They are large mammals – much larger than other dolphins we have seen – and are treasured but also occasionally hunted by the tribes.  

After following pink dolphins for a while Brehitner took us to a sandy island in the Amazon, across from Puerto Narino, and in doing so, crossed the invisible border into Peru for the first time.   Much to our amazement, we spotted a flash of pink in the shallow waters and we all hurried towards the disturbance where were treated to watching a group of pink dolphins mating, with lots of splashing, thrashing and pink flashes before they parted ways!  

Later that afternoon, wearing our gumboots we had been lent in Leticia, Brehitner guided us on a walk through the forest.  As we approached a clearance in the trees, we heard how two years ago there had been thick forest, but during Covid the family that owns the land had to clear it to grow food as they had no other means of feeding their family.  I get upset at seeing the destruction of part of the forest but struggle with the loss v’s understanding a mans need to feed his family.   We saw rubbish strewn along the banks and in the side rivers of the Amazon which are all products of the western world putting our values and lifestyles on every culture we come in contact with.   The Catholic Church has a huge dominance in even the smallest communities and it was strange to hear western classical music being played in the jungle to a group of school children, some dressed in traditional costume, as proud nuns looked over the proceedings.   Who are we to tell these people they cannot clear some of the jungle to provide food for their families?  However, the affect of this clearing is evident in the large mudslides that mark the edge of the fast-flowing river.  Big ancient trees have been swept away into the brown waters and Brehitner told us that they believe a large island very close to the town will soon be swept away as the wet season approaches. 

Our visit to the Amazon was at the end of the dry season, in the wet months the river swells and floods the villages turning the tall pole houses into homes constructed above fast flowing water and canoes as the only means to leave the house.  Gardens are flooded and the mangroves come alive again with fish, Cayman and pink dolphins that live in the shallow water, giving birth amongst the roots of the flooded trees.   Houses and trees are stained with muddy lines showing the height of the river when in flood, creating a very different environment to the one we experienced. 

We continued our walk through the forest with Brehitner showing us different plants used for medicines or hunting purposes – the bark of a tree to ward off, or cure malaria, the thorn from a tree to make darts, poisoned with a specific tree frog, a rubber tree where the sap was extracted and the scars could still be seen on the bark.   It was fascinating to see these trees and hear from someone who knew, and lived in, the forest.  

We arrived at a building on tall poles and walked through the grounds to two lakes where the owners had developed a fish farm.  In a tree near the house lived a friendly Toucan, free to fly away but comfortable around humans allowing us to get very close to it as it sat in the lower branches of a large tree.   They are such beautiful birds with the most stunning colours on their beaks and feathers.   I was mesmorised by it!   In the lake lived huge Pirarucu fish one of them was enormous and looked like a serpent as it came to the surface to feed.   They can grow to 3m in length and this one didn’t seem far off it as it slowly came towards us, grabbed the food being offered and quickly beat its retreat!  

We waited until dark, relaxing in hammocks, chatting away until night fell.  We then returned to the lake with Brehitner pointing out small colourful frogs along the way.  We were on the hunt for Caymans that live in the reeds around the lake and as Brehitner shone his bright torch along the bank, several red eyes were reflected back at us!   I was under the misguided impression Cayman were small alligators – not true!   They can be very big alligators and I wasn’t too keen to get much closer than just seeing their eyes as we were walking along the waters edge!

We walked back to the village through the forest with Brehitner uncovering interesting critters along the way – plenty of large tarantulas, tiny colourful frogs, lizards, beetles, stick insects and moths.  If we’d been on our own we would’ve missed them, but Brehitner knew exactly what to look for and where to look!

The next day we headed back across the river to Peru and a visit to a small indigenous village where a local guide walked us through the forest, pointing out special trees as we went while Brehitner translated.  Sloths, curled up in the top of the trees, resembled footballs as they slept the day away – I’m not sure if/when they are ever active!    In the wet season the village and forest are flooded and once again there is evidence of large mud slides that have taken a considerable amount of land from the small community where we were treated to a traditional lunch, cooked over open fires in a large communal kitchen.  

That evening Brehitner steered us up the river in a small tin dinghy, gave us a fishing rod made from a stripped stick, with a short piece of fishing line attached to it and small hook.  It was beautifully old fashioned and child-like as he masterly cut-up some bait and told us to cast the line as far from the boat as possible, first swishing the tip of the rod in the water.   This was not just any fishing trip, this was us fishing for piranha!  

Nic had the first catch, managing to snare a fish Brehitner identified as a sardine which he then cut up and used as more bait.   We then all managed to catch catfish of varying sizes which we immediately threw back.   After moving to another part of the river in muddy water and close to the shallows, I successfully landed the first Piranha – a small fish with red sides and very sharp teeth.   We had so much fun in the still evening with the sun setting behind us as our catch numbers increased, laughing as Steve caught a large Piranha that I was so afraid was going to land on me that I moved backwards and fell into the bottom of the boat completely beached and unable to do anything but laugh as the caught fish continued to dangle above my head!

We returned to the village for our last night, with four of the nine or so Piranha we had caught, throwing the rest back to fight another day!   Brehitner prepared the fish and masterly cooked them for us, showing us the big teeth that were hidden behind their lips.   The fish tasted surprisingly delicate and was a lovely way to end a great day.

On our last day we walked through the area’s secondary school and into the grounds of a monkey rescue centre.   All the monkeys are uncaged and free to play, live and roam the forest around them but food is easy to find at the centre, so they tend to hang around.   There were three types of monkey with the cheeky Capuchin steeling the show with their fearless antics, climbing on our shoulders and arms as we fed them banana.   The other monkeys were a lot more fearsome but it was lovely to watch them in the trees, nimbly jumping from branch to branch and calling to each other as they climbed.  

After a final walk to the market and visit to a small museum, it was time to leave Puerto Narino and head back to the metropolis of Leticia!  As we made our way downstream at high speed, dodging large trees and other organic matter floating down the Amazon, we reflected on the last few days.  It had been a magical experience to be in the Amazon, to witness life in an extremely isolated community and to have had the privilege to see so much nature.  It had been a dream of mine to one day get to the Amazon, but I was unsure how/if I could ever realise it.   How lucky am I to now have memories not dreams…?  

Exploring the Sierra Nevada

We had already spent a week in Santa Marta and, as we were only intending to stay one month in Colombia, we needed to start exploring this fascinating country.   Early one morning our group of four intrepid explorers made our way towards the busy fruit, vegetable and everything in between market.   Stalls spilled out into the road as vehicles tried to squeeze their way through past pedestrians and vendors who wandered out into the traffic without a second look.   It seemed totally disorganised as people yelled across the street at each other, drivers shouted at pedestrians and beeped horns, but traffic moved and market stalls had customers and the numerous police we saw on motorcycles and cars turned a blind eye, so the system must work!     As we tried to find the bus to take us to Minca, we passed a large butcher shop displaying meat in large cabinets and at the end of the counter stood a tough looking guard with a large automatic rifle slung across his chest with his finger on the trigger.  We moved on quickly with a passing thought of what dead remains might have been in the display cabinet of the empty shop!

I’m embarrassed to say that our Spanish is non-existent, limited to words of pleasantries or thanks.  Even though I tried learning at least one word a day, my vocabulary was appallingly bad so having Nicki with her good grip of the language was a huge advantage.  She managed to organise our bus tickets and get us safely on the waiting bus which wouldn’t leave until all the seats were full – no bus timetables here! 

Although there are no timetables, the bus driver appeared to have a schedule of his own and, with passengers bags tied to the roof and a bus crammed with people, he drove like he was in training for a formula one race, overtaking on blind corners and speeding up the narrow hill roads.   It was a relief to arrive in Minca 40 minutes later, stepping out into the relatively quiet streets of the hillside settlement.   

Motorbikes are the main form of transport in this area and the constant drone of a bike is never far away, often ladened with mum, dad and child(ren), none wearing helmets as they negotiate the potholed roads.   The children were balanced between parents, youngest at the front between dad’s legs (we sometimes saw this child asleep resting their head on the handlebars), second child between parents and mum at the rear, often holding shopping!    

Minca is the main town for the rural hillside communities that stretch out across the Sierra Nevada.   It has an old frontier town feel to it with small buildings lining the rutted roads that have been washed out with the heavy rains that fall in the rainforest that Minca is in the midst of.   Brightly coloured birds darted passed us as we walked towards our accommodation, perched high up a steep long pathway overlooking the forest and down towards Santa Marta in the far distance.  The relative coolness of the temperature was a welcome relief after the sticky heat of the city, which is why Minca has become a popular place for locals to come to escape the summer temperatures in the lower areas.  

Our accommodation was part of a hostel offering varying types of sleeping options from hammocks under a thatched roof shelter to dormitories in the main building and separate thatched huts for those wanting a little more privacy – like us!    We seemed to have scored the chiefs hut as it appeared to be the largest one in the group and accommodated the four of us on two levels, accessing the mezzanine floor by a ladder.    As the sun set everyone staying at the hostel gathered on a large deck to watch the sun go down and listen to music, watching birds and bats darting below and around us as they caught flies in the fading light.   All this for less than US$30 a night B&B per couple! 

Next morning we were up early for a birdwatching tour with our knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide, Martin.   We walked through the forest with Martin pointing out birds along the way as we all trained our binoculars in the general direction he was excitedly pointing!   It was a fabulous trip with some of the highlights being a Toucan which was nesting, a flock of Macaws flying overhead and, right at the end of the walk, a pygmy owl that Martin was determined to find after hearing it calling close by.   The Pygmy is the smallest owl in the world and very hard to find so we were lucky to have such a close encounter.  

Later that day we headed to Victoria, an organic coffee plantation nestled in the hills and still using the old method of natural flowing water and sunlight to process the beans.   The manager took us for a tour, explaining the long and laborious steps taken to ensure we can enjoy a cup of coffee!  There are several steps in the process, but the only one that is labour intensive is the picking, everything else can be done by one person.  It seemed quite incredible to me that anyone could have come up with the idea of doing all the rinsing, separating, drying, roasting and grinding so we can enjoy a hot drink!   

We left the plantation, passing huge clumps of bamboo nestled in the thick forest and climbed up into the hills, expertly driven by Alfredo who we had hired for the afternoon.   We wanted to go to an Indian village and understand more about how the aboriginal people live.   It was clear that the population of full-bloodied native Indians was greater in Minca than in Santa Marta which is inter-racial with Africans, Europeans, Asians and Indians living harmoniously together, so it is wonderfully impossible to tell where someone’s past family was from.    We were in a remote area when we spotted a man walking up the long, narrow, steep road.   Alfredo stopped and told the man (we later learned was called Juan) to jump on the back and we’d give him a ride to the top of the hill.   Juan gave a beaming smile and jumped on the bumper, holding on to the roof rack as Alfredo increased speed.   After a quick conversation, we were invited to meet Juan’s family in his home, so turned down a very rocky road as Juan masterly continued to cling to the back of the truck.  

Juan lived in a round thatched house with his wife, two young children and an elderly woman I took to be either his or his wife’s mother or grandmother.   Juan showed us how they made twine from flax growing in their garden and dyed it using roots and berries to create bags, bracelets and clothing.  He took us to a meeting house where the community discuss local events and happenings and teach children their rituals and traditions.   Juan was such a gentle, beautiful person and we must have seemed like giants to him as we towered above his small frame following him back to his house watching his bandy assured walk as his children rushed out to greet us.   His children were gorgeous, full of cheeky happiness as their grandmother (who we think we had disturbed having a wash), head wrapped in a towel, tried to control them.    It was a very special meeting in a place with views over the surrounding valleys and tree tops.

As dark fell we started our return to Minca, watching a beautiful sunset as we descended further down the hillside.   As the sun disappeared the rain started and by the time we returned to Minca the roads already resembled rivers so we asked Alfredo to drop us at a local restaurant so we could wait for the rain to clear.   We enjoyed a lovely meal, watching the actual river increasing in volume and strength, as the heavens opened and lightning and thunder crashed around us, reverberating around the surrounding hills.  

Our time in Minca was coming to an end and we left behind the brightly coloured humming birds, clear air and chilled atmosphere to catch the bus back to Santa Marta, fortunately with a less urgent driver, who deposited us back into the hurly burly of the market area.

We returned to the boat for one day before starting our next adventure and going much further afield to continue exploring this fabulous country.

Colourful Cartagena

The alarm went off early on Monday morning and we were up and off the boat within half an hour, excited for the next part of our journey of discovery!   Together with our trusted friends and companions, Mike and Nicki, we hailed a taxi to take us to the main bus terminal which is on the outskirts of town.   We were heading to Cartagena, an old city about 400 miles west of Santa Marta which is steeped in history.

The bus was very comfortable and the roads leading out of Santa Marta were fast and smooth as we slowly left the city behind and started seeing more rural scenes as we sped through the countryside.   We passed an estuary with a large flock of pale pink flamingos that all took flight as we approached, flying beside us, much to my delight, their long necks outstretched as they beat their large wings. 

A short while later we passed a shanty village built on stilts over the Magdalena River estuary.  The river close to the houses was a rubbish tip and we watched someone throw a plastic bottle off their deck to join the rest of the rubbish collecting close to the houses.   Further downstream a group of men waded knee deep with a fishing nets in hand and I wondered whether they would catch more rubbish than fish……

We saw large flocks of Egrets and Turkey Vultures along the beach as we followed the coast on our journey west, passing through small towns where horse and carts were used to transport crops and goods.  Large Haciendas, marked with imposing gates and the occasional horseback riders gave the impression we were on the set of a movie as we continued our journey through the roads lined with trees ladened with ripening avocados with fallen fruit left to rot around the trunk.   It was an enjoyable five hour bus trip giving us a moving window into life in Colombia.

Cartagena was an import port for the export of gold and silver and for importing slaves from Africa. As it is in a key location, close to Central America as well as the Caribbean, and shipping precious cargo, the city was a target for pirates and privateers (pirates that were thieving under the name of royalty, like Sir Francis Drake), so the city was heavily fortified. As well as having a rich maritime history, the city has beautiful historic buildings which have colourful and interesting stories to tell.

Like in Santa Marta, the bus station in Cartagena is on the outskirts of town so we negotiated a low price for a taxi into the old city so we could get our bearings before finding our accommodation.   Cartagena has two distinct areas – the old and the new city, and we wanted to focus on the old part.   We approached the walled city, walking through Centenario Park where marmoset monkeys climbed in the branches and sloths, introduced to the park a few years ago, lazily sleep in the upper branches of trees.  

We had arrived on Cartegena independence Day, a national holiday which is celebrated with a large festival in the city, the culmination being the crowning of Miss Colombia!  With the festivities finished, it was now time to focus on Christmas and large decorations were being installed in the main square in front of the gate through the city walls.   As we approached the stone arched gateway we started to get a taste of what to expect in the city as men with hats stacked on their heads and arms full of sunglasses approached us trying to sell us their wares.   Once inside the walls we were taken aback by the amount of hustling and continuous requests to have us part with our money!   However this did not detract from the beauty of the buildings and sense of history in the lovely old city.   We were excited to get to know Cartagena over the next few days, but first we took a US$3 taxi ride to our accommodation, on the northern beaches of the city and settled into our modern apartment, wasting no time getting familiar with the washing machine, good showers and swimming pool!

Over the next few days we wandered the city streets, met up with friends for lunch, went on another excellent guided walking tour and enjoyed numerous eating and drinking establishments!   The city is vibrant and colourful with lots of beautiful buildings, lovely plazas and some spectacular murals on buildings in the Getsemani district.   Some of the old buildings had door knockers which gave an indication of the profession of the people that once lived there – a sea merchant would have  a knocker of an anchor, fish or anything to do with the sea; royalty or those from high society would have an iguana; clergy would have a hand and a lion represented members of the army or protectors of the city.   The big wooden doors that these knockers decorated often opened into a large lobby that led into a beautiful, enclosed courtyard.  

While on the walking tour, we were in the Plaza de la Aduana when our guide abruptly broke off from his speech and stopped a man in the street, introducing him to us as the Mayor of Cartagena.  He was very affable and spoke excellent English (we later learned he had lived in the USA for many years) and was very impressed we were from NZ.  His security team quickly surrounded him and hustled him away – we learned he is not a very popular Mayor!   A little while later we were led to an area where our guide announced he was going to introduce us to his future wife….. he then showed us a pavement dedicated to all the past winners of Miss Colombia, just as the stunning, newly crowned Miss Colombia made an appearance, flashed us a beautiful smile and entered the building.   Our guide was speechless as we joked with him that his future wife had just passed him by! 

The city had many fine statues and monuments but were outnumbered by the huge array of cafes and bars offering excellent coffee and appetising food!   One of our favourites was Abaco Libros y Café which was a small coffee house inside an old bookshop.  The walls were lined with thousands of books and gliding ladders gave access to those on the top shelves.  

After a few days exploring the city we made our way to the airport for the next leg of our adventure.   While we were sad to be leaving Cartagena we were also excited for what lay ahead as we were all about to experience something none of us imagined we would have had the opportunity to do.