Category: Travel

Places, People, Things we have seen.

The most beautiful anchorage in the World.

We waited for a good weather window and headed further south to the iconic anchorage of Hanavave – Bay of Virgins or Bay of Penis’s, which was the original name but thought a bit too racy by early missionaries – in Fatu Hiva.   This is known as one (if not the) most beautiful anchorages in the World, certainly one of the most iconic, surrounded by high, jaggered hills and lush valleys.  

We had a fast sail into the wind and enjoyed watching the beauty of the island come into view, anchoring in 25m, the shallowest depth we could find, and used all our chain as we found a spot beside the team on Delos (Sailing channel Youtube followers will know who they are!).    Fortunately the prevailing wind is from the east, blowing down a valley at the head of the bay, so none of the other 18 boats in the anchorage swung much, which would have been messy when we all had almost 100m of scope out!  

Fatu Hiva is a beautiful lush island with tree covered steep, pointed hills, the valleys rich with grapefruit, oranges, limes, bananas, star fruit, guava and mangos in the most stunning setting.    Fruit grows abundantly in the wild and fish are plentiful so no one goes hungry, particularly as hunting boar or goats is also a popular pass-time.   The settlement of Hanavave has a lovely relaxed feel with all the houses built around large gardens containing several fruit trees, offering to sell grapefruit or oranges, climbing the tree to pick the best fruit while we waited below, hoping they wouldn’t fall as they climbed higher in barefeet, loading ripe fruit into the fold of their teeshirt!   The fruit was worth the effort with the juicy sweet grapefruit becoming a regular treat after a meal and the oranges providing a refreshing juice after a long walk.  

There is a lovely walk to a waterfall, taking about 40 minutes from the dinghy dock along a poorly signed pathway.    The water was brackish but refreshing as we swam under the trickle of water that cascaded from a great height above us.   We visited the small town of Omoa in the south of the island.   There is an anchorage here but several boats, including Delos, attempted to enter the bay, believing it would be a better, shallower anchorage but the surf was so great and the swell awful, they all returned quite swiftly to Hanavave!   The town of Omoa is lovely with a large “events” centre where the biannual Island Festival takes place, with tikis donated by the visiting islands.   There are some lovely Tiki’s along the waterfront and, once again, numerous houses displaying arts and crafts for sale.   We visited one man who made beautiful banjos in his backyard and he demonstrated the quality of the sound while his son proudly showed us his bone carvings. 

The road from Hanavave to Omoa is windy, mostly unsealed and steep with incredible views down to the anchorage.   Large groves of Mango trees grow wild along the road but sadly they are not ready until June so we were a month too early to forage for the delicious harvest!    Goats climbed high on cliffs along ledges that seemed like they would crumble beneath them and at night we could hear them bleating above us – I think I’d bleat too if I’d been up there in the dark! 

The anchorage was busy with boats arriving and leaving each day and then the jostling for positions as some of the good spots closer to shore and in shallower water become available.   We decided to move forward into a less exposed and slightly shallower spot, slowly hauling up our chain as we motored forward to keep the pressure off as our windlass winched up our scope.   We had been nursing our windlass for a little while, repairing it in Panama and treating it very carefully each time we used it, but hauling up over 75m of chain was just too much for it and, after depositing all it’s oil in the chain locker, finally made it clear to us it was terminally ill.   This isn’t the best news to receive when you are about to re-anchor in 17m of water but we had no choice and hoped the first attempt at anchoring would result in a firm hold, particularly as we had been told that wind gusts can get up to 60knots, so ensuring the anchor is well bedded in is essential.     The bottom is quite muddy, so it did take us a while to be happy that the anchor had indeed got a good hold but we now had 75m of chain out with the knowledge we would need to pull it up by hand in a few days time!    When this day came, Steve had set up a system where we could hand winch the chain from the cockpit while I hand fed the pulled up chain into the chain locker – a slow but effective method, made a little harder due to us leaving at 9pm on a moonless night, getting quite close to one boat as we worked together to haul up the anchor!  

We sailed overnight to Hiva Oa, and arrived outside the entrance to the main anchorage of Atuona as dawn broke, in time to see the supply ship slip into the bay ahead of us.   This meant that a number of yachts had been moved to outside the protected anchorage to allow room for the large ship, which doubles as a cruise ship, to have room to maneuver.    We were returning to the anchorage to get diesel and visit the ATM, as cash is king on these islands!    The only place we could anchor was to join several other boats outside the breakwater, all of whom were being bounced around in an uncomfortable mess.   We only wanted to drop the anchor once, so we chose our spot carefully and I stayed on board while Steve took the dinghy and our jerry cans ashore.    We could not leave there fast enough, feeling relieved when we had slowly hauled up the anchor and safely removed ourselves from the horrible anchorage.   If we had arrived from a long crossing to those conditions, I think I would have wondered why we had bothered to cross the Pacific!    A hot tip for others planning this trip – go to Baie Hanaiapa on the north of the island instead.   A car can be hired for a few hours on the west side of the bay – last house on beach – and drive to Atuona to check in, get fuel and provision.   Much more protected and a far better anchorage!

We left Hiva Oa with Freya and had a lovely fast sail to Ua-Huka, 50NM north.   We were hoping to explore this beautiful looking island with incredible rock formations, but the anchorages were far to exposed for us and, after watching Freya being thrown around after they had set their anchor in one of the bays, we made the call to continue sailing to Nuku Hiva.    We arrived at 11pm and were guided into the wide anchorage at Taiohae by a fellow cruiser we had been berthed next to in Shelter Bay Marina in Panama.    We had ordered a new windlass from Tahiti and it was being delivered on the next supply ship in a few days time.   In the meantime we could do some laundry, avail ourselves of the freshly baked baguettes and check out Nuku Hiva which, on first impressions, was equally as beautiful as the other islands we had visited.   Together with our friends on Freya and Coddiewomple we walked to the head of the bay and enjoyed spectacular views of the harbour and hills beyond.   The small village of Taiohae had a relaxed Polynesian vibe which I really liked with the locals cheerfully smiling and greeting you with “Kaoha” as we passed in the street.   The women often wore a frangipani flower in their hair while the men were heavily tattooed and equally ready with a welcoming smile.   Horses were exercised on the beach by young bareback riders who rode with elegance and expertise as they galloped the length of the sand at terrifying speed.  

Each morning fishermen cleaned and gutted their catch on the quayside, throwing the entrails into the shallow waters of the harbour where sharks gathered in anticipation of an easy feed.  We bought fresh tuna here for $5 a kilo – the cheapest food to buy in French Polynesia and caught in a sustainable way in local waters! 

While we were waiting for the supply ship to arrive with our windlass, we sailed to Baie d’Anaho in the north of the island.   We rounded the corner into the protected bay and were immediately mesmorised by the beautiful horseshoe shaped bay, surrounded by tree covered hills with a small village hidden in the trees just behind a wide sweeping beach.    The village had a school and small church with horses being the main mode of transport as there were no roads and one tractor which seemed to belong to the whole village and used as needed.   Everywhere was clean and well kept with well tendered gardens and horses tethered around the palm trees that lined the beach.    We found a track that led us to the top of a hill and, after stopping to admire the beautiful view from the top, down to the town of Hatiheu.    The path on the other side of the hill was less rugged and we walked through heavy ladened Mango trees on either side of the track.  

Small cruise ships occasionally visit Hatiheu and the town seems very well set up to look after them.   The streets are wide and paved, a large thatched restaurant with open sides caters for tourists, but was shut as it was a Sunday, and a large Norman looking church with two turrets, was set back in immaculate grounds and a beautiful backdrop of sun shadowed hills.  But one of the most striking features of this bay were seven high, steep and jaggered outcrops of rocks that dominated the western side of the bay.  They gave an impressive natural backdrop to the town, sandy beach and bay.  

The anchorage was lovely and flat, which was a welcome change to the roll we had experienced on the other side of the island.   Turtles occasionally popped their heads up close to us but the water clarity was not great so seeing other marine life, which we knew was there, was not possible.   This could almost be the most beautiful anchorage, but The Marquesas have so many you can choose from!

On the day the supply ship was due in, we left to return to Taiohae and excitedly jumped in the dinghy as soon as we were anchored to collect our new windlass.  We had only gone about 10 metres when the outboard suddenly stopped and refused to start again – very unusual for our extremely reliable motor.   We rowed back to the boat and Steve started to dismantle it while a friend picked me up in his dinghy to collect our parcel and purchase some fresh fruit and vegetables. 

I’ve said this before, but the cruising community are never slow at offering to help if they see a need and we were, once again, overcome with the kindness of our friends.   Todd from Freya gave up hours of his time to help Steve install the windlass while Bram from Coddiewomple checked out the outboard that Steve had not been able to fix the day before.   Todd and Steve had great success with the windlass which fit perfectly and sounded great, while Bram diagnosed the problem as being with our electrical coil which was not an easy fix as parts are hard to come by in The Marquesas.   We looked on line and discovered that Amazon had them for US$50 so, armed with this knowledge we contacted a supplier in Tahiti knowing that flights leave Papeete for Nuku Hiva every two days.   The supplier had the part in stock but were quoting US$450 for just the part and delivery would be on top of this.   Needless to say we decided to wait until my son visited in a few weeks and get the part delivered to New Zealand.   In the meantime we dug out our trusted old 3hp outboard and was amazed when it started first time!  

Boats were starting to leave Nuku Hiva for the Tuamotus as a small weather window had developed which was only going to last a few days.   We decided to forgo our planned visit to Ua-Pou, south of Nuku Hiva, and head south too, before the winds died later the next week.    So, early one Saturday morning of another long weekend (there are five public holidays in The Marquesas in May), we left the beautiful shores of The Marquesas behind us and with a heavy heart, bade farewell to these special islands which I could have happily spent a few more months exploring.

Hiva Oa – Finding our land legs

The small island of Hiva Oa has a population of just over 2000 and covers an area of 326 sqkm.   The majority of the population live in the main town of Atuona which is dwarfed by a spectacular tree covered mountain that rises sharply from a valley where the small town sits, nestled against a sweeping beach.   The sweet smell of perfumed flowers and citrus trees fills the air and, together with the beautiful scenery creates a senses overload for anyone but particularly for land starved crusty sailors who have been at sea for over a month!

Our first formality was to check in to French Polynesia at the local gendarmerie, which involved a long walk along a sealed road with little shade to give us some respite from the hot sun.   We had been told to make sure we arrived at the Gendarmerie in the morning as they are often closed in the afternoon, so armed with our boat papers, proof of a flight booking out of French Polynesia to NZ and passports we were buzzed into the police station.    The procedure was quick and easy with the final step being us mailing one part of our entry permit to Papeete from the local post office, a distinctive yellow building across the road from the gendarmerie.  While there we purchased a local SIM card which came complete with data and across the road we managed to buy a few groceries including baguettes and some very expensive vegetables (red cabbage US$17), chosen from a very small selection.  We soon realized that items with red price stickers were considerably cheaper than other similar products and learned that these items were subsidized by the French.   Crazily you could find several different brands of milk but only one was subsidized, making it at least three times cheaper. 

The French artist, Paul Gaugin moved to Hiva Oa and became part of this small community, spending the rest of his life painting scenes from the island.  He, along with Belgian legendary singer, Jacques Brel, is buried in a small cemetery overlooking the spectacular volcanic peak of Temetiu and the main town nestled at its foot.   We paid our respects, admired the incredible view and started the long walk back to Cerulean, having been told of a precarious shortcut down a steep path and across a small black beach at the head of the bay.

As we walked around the town, watching a wedding take place, we were struck with how familiar everything felt.   From the carvings of tiki’s, to the meeting house and karanga that was performed when the bride walked down the road towards her groom, it all felt like Maori culture, which we shouldn’t have been surprised about but we were amazed by the similarities.   The language was also very familiar and we later discovered that when Maori speakers have visited the islands, they can understand each other’s language although but only barely. 

Back at the boat we started cleaning.   We had been shocked when we had seen Cerulean after our passage as her white gelcoat was now a tone of green and brown with long goose barnacles hanging off the red antifoul just below the water surface.   We looked like a boat that had been abandoned, so we jumped in the warm water and started scrubbing.  

Over the next few days other boats we knew started arriving, similarly dirty, and the anchorage became a social buzz as we celebrated our achievements and discussed plans.   We were keen to move out of the rolly anchorage as it was getting busy with some large boats arriving and squeezing themselves into any spot that looked vaguely large enough for them with few using a stern anchor to prevent turning and potentially hitting other boats.   We knew a supply ship was due to arrive soon and when that happens all boats anchored within an area indicated by yellow markings on the shoreline, had to move.   We were within that designated area so, together with our friends on Freya and DanceMe, we sailed out of the sweeping bay and back into the SE tradewinds that blow pretty consistently around the islands.    DanceMe peeled away to a different anchorage while we and Freya sailed around to the north side of Hiva Oa, entering the quiet bay of Hanamenu, surrounded by high, jaggered red cliffs with ridges that came to a thin sheer pinnacle.   The bay was deep with a black sand beach, fringed with palm trees at the end of the cove.   We anchored in front of the beach, hoping for protection from the swell that swept into the bay, but failing as we rolled in the anchorage we shared with Todd and Susan from Freya, the only boats that day adventurous enough to get off the beaten path of the popular, protected bays closer to Atuona.  

Ashore we left the dinghy on the beach and found a man in one of the lived-in huts on the beach.    AwJuan had lived at Hanamenu for three years, with only one other family as a neighbour, looking after the property for his uncle.   He spoke no English but had a gentle face and ready smile, speaking slowly for us to understand as he guided us towards the footpath that led to the plateau and inviting us to eat with him later.    The four of us walked up the well trodden stoney path to the top of the hill and looked down on the bay and lush valley below, surrounded by baron cliffs on each side.   It was a magnificent view as we looked down on our two boats anchored below us as we watched the surf pound on the beach in front of our yachts.   No roads led into the little settlement of Hanamenu, and the hills behind looked beautiful in the mid-day light acting as a barrier between the settlement and the main town of Atuona.    Wild horses roamed the hills and some days later we watched as attempts were made to tame those caught by taking them to the beach and into the sea, calming them so they became used to human contact.  Horses are still a regular, and often only, form of transport and it takes a week to break in a wild horse, getting them accustomed to wearing a basic wooden saddle and being around the rider. 

A small, spring-fed oasis on the western side of the bay, provided a welcome refreshing cool-down swim after the hot climb where we washed ourselves under a pipe that diverted a strong flow of water into the pool from a waterfall that cascaded down the fern clad hill.    

Later, we sat with AwJuan as he prepared a meal for us, earlier being insistent that we return at 3pm to eat with him.   His kitchen was sheltered by just a sheet of corrugated iron over the open fire.   A sink and metal bench doubled as one of the kitchen walls, separating the cooking area from his garden and working area.  He masterly moved a large breadfruit he had been roasting in the fire by using two long sticks and transferring it onto a work surface using large leaves to handle the hot vegetable.   He then peeled and mashed the fruit, adding water and kneading it into a dough like consistency.   Todd was put to work, squeezing fresh grated coconut through a cloth and extracting coconut cream which was poured over the breadfruit dough.   A table was laid under the shade of a large tree with several dogs lazily lying close by, hoping for a morsel of food to be thrown to them.   The table almost sagged under the food – wild boar, shot in the hills, breadfruit done two ways, fried bread, fresh coconut milk to drink and lots of fruit.    It was a wonderful treat and we were overwhelmed by AwJuan’s generosity, not wanting anything in return except our company.  As we prepared to leave, we were given hands of bananas, buckets of limes, grapefruit and mangos, all grown on his property.   It was a very special day.

Wanting to get out of the swell and longing for a calm anchorage, we headed for the island of Tahuata, to the south of Hiva Oa.   Here we found calm water and many friends, enjoying the anchorages of Hanamoenoa where mantaray feed and fearlessly allowed us to swim with them, getting so close they even nudged a friend of ours out of the way!    Early morning or evening, they would swim around the boat, staying for over an hour doing acrobatic turns below us before coming back towards the surface, allowing us to see right into their body through their large open mouths as they fed on plankton. 

Hapatoni is in the south of the island and we anchored in sand under impressive high cliffs in the north of the bay just as a small pod of dolphins entered the anchorage.   Spinner dolphins regularly visit the area, often in small groups where adults teach babies how to jump and spin.  The small quiet settlement of Hapatoni is a very traditional village with a lovely stone church, large impressive community space and well kept houses beside a clean sandy beach and rutted road.   A community of artists and craftspeople live here, keeping alive the tradition of wood and bone carving, passing down skills to the children at a small school.   On recommendation, a small group of us attended a church service, delivered in Polynesian with enthusiastic and uplifting singing from the small congregation.   An impressive looking man played a traditional drum which was over a meter tall with goat skin tightly stretched across the top.   He struck an impressive figure with every inch of his body tattooed, including his face and we later discovered he was the chief during the island festival, held every two years.   When the missionaries first came to The Marquesas they banned tattooing which had long been in the Marquesan culture, telling stories of important/significant events and being a right of passage from puberty to adulthood.   Although not done in the traditional way, most men will have a tattoo – always just in black and a traditional design.

After church we headed to a nearby house and ate a traditional meal of fish, breadfruit and bananas while chatting with a visiting artist who had helped set up the community many years earlier and now teaches at the school.   It was fascinating talking to him about art, politics, life in the village, the connection with Maori and having him play us a tune on a pipe, played by breathing out through his nose.   He explained that in the bible, life is given to Adam by God breathing into his nose and likewise, in death it is believed the last breath out is through the nose, so playing a nose pipe is a deeply spiritual thing.   It certainly was a memorable end to our time in Hiva Oa, a beautiful island with genuine, interesting, happy people who enjoy a simple life in a stunning location, tucked away in a forgotten corner of The Pacific.

Panama Pacific Side – Friends and Fixes

Kim was our first NZ friend to come on board Cerulean and we had both been looking forward to her arrival and visit.   Not only is Kim fantastic company, who I love dearly, but she was a regular sailing partner on my first boat, EJ and brought with her some much needed supplies which she triumphantly deposited on the salon table!   Amongst the many treasures were the required stainless steel bolts needed to repair the hydrovane, one of which had snapped on our passage from Bocas to Shelter Bay a few weeks earlier and had been impossible to source locally.  

With one job done we now turned our attention to the most important, fixing the watermaker.   We had been in regular contact with the manufacturers who had recommended the list of replacement parts we needed to rebuild the high pressure pump (an essential part of the watermaking process).   The diagrams provided to complete the jigsaw were not clear and after failing to get the pump to build pressure and, even with the help of friends, we were unable to resolve the problem.    I had so desperately hoped we could have the watermaker working while Kim was with us so she wouldn’t have to put up with minimal showers and strict water conservation measures but, with time pressing, we did not want to stay anchored in Panama city for the duration of her stay.   A few days after coming through the canal, having explored some of the old city together, we set sail to a small island just south of the city called Toboga which would be a good overnight stay before leaving early the next morning to sail to Las Perlas islands, about 40NM to the south east.   Named after the pearls found in abundance there, the small group of islands are a popular cruising ground and we were keen to explore them with Kim.  

On arriving in Toboga we found the deep main bay was scattered with mooring buoys and the only anchoring spot was very close to the ferry terminal bringing regular boatloads of tourists to the island.   We decided to pick up a buoy next to a lovely looking American yacht on a mooring in the next row over from them.   Usually boats of similar size and shape will respond to wind and current in the same way so when one turns, the other usually follows so I wasn’t too concerned that the buoys were close to each other – certainly no closer together than in other places we have been.   We settled in for the night, enjoying the calm, clear evening.   At around 1am we were woken to someone banging on the boat and to our horror, found that we were T-boning our neighbour’s boat.    They were on board trying to keep us from hitting them again and knocking furiously on our boat to alert us to what was happening.   In the process our lower navigation light got smashed but fortunately that was the only damage done to both boats.   We started our engine and backed away and they very generously offered to move moorings while we sorted things out on board.  

After a quick visit to make sure there was no other damage to our neighbour’s boat, we left in the morning to sail to San Jose Island, the most southerly of the Las Perlas group.    We arrived in the late afternoon and joined one other boat in the protected anchorage.   The other boat turned out to be Free Spirit, who we had met in Bocas with Ruffian and sailed back in their company to Shelter Bay.   They were leaving the next morning to start their Pacific crossing and we gave them a loud send off as they left the bay.  

We had hoped we would see whale sharks in the bay, as we had been told of other boats who had enjoyed diving with them there, but we were not lucky enough to experience that.  We did however have several huge flocks of Cormorants and Pelicans fly in formations overhead and around us.   The sky was almost black with birdlife as different flocks circled the island numerous times.  

It was lovely exploring the islands with Kim.   We sailed, fished (unsuccessfully), saw big swarms of stingrays and even had one jump out the water infront of us, had dolphins play in our bow wave, celebrated Steves 60th birthday and watched a whale breach and then spyhole as we sailed back to Panama City.   All this was done with lots of laughter with the wonderful comfortable calm that good friendship brings, although it would have been great if we could’ve showered more!!!!    All too soon, it was time for Kim to leave us and we returned to Panama anchoring in La Playita so we could catch up with our friends on Zelda before they left for Galapagos.   We were both sad to see Kim go, not only because we had loved having her on board but it also it felt like a little bit of home was leaving us too!  

After experiencing a couple of unpleasant nights on anchor in La Playita we decided to move around the corner to Las Brisas which is more sheltered from the roll of wake from canal traffic.  The big disadvantage of Las Brisas is the dinghy dock which is very busy and, if the conditions and tide dictate, could cause damage to your dinghy – and dinghies are essential and valuable assets when you live on a boat!   However, having a comfortable anchorage outweighed the possible dramas of the dinghy dock, which cost $1 per day compared to $50 a week in La Playita!   Once we understood that the best place to leave the dinghy was behind the dock on a long line, we had only one drama when a friend called us while we were in the city to inform us that our dinghy was high and dry on the rocks.   We had miscalculated the spring tide, but fortunately it was afloat when we returned and some kind sole had raised our outboard to ensure there would be no damage.

We were now waiting for more spare parts to arrive, including a replacement navigation light which we had been unable to find in Panama.  Repairing the watermaker was now a very high priority and we were in contact with the manufacturer and had video calls with a knowledgeable and patient friend to get advice.   In fact, it was our friend who suggested what the problem may be and much to our relief and delight, Steve serviced the parts (replacements had not been provided for this particular part) and all of a sudden we had a working pump!

Panama is a big modern city and thousands of yachts pass through it each year, but sourcing parts and getting professional work done in Panama is extremely hard, if not impossible!   Several attempts have apparently been made to set up well equipped stores for sailors, but on-line shopping has killed them and it is usually cheaper to purchase the parts needed in the US and have them shipped through an agent.   We did visit one store which was located in, what turned out to be, a rough area of the city.   We had found our way there using public transport, which is only 35c for a bus or subway ride.   Needing to stretch our legs, we decided to walk back to Albrook bus station, completely unaware that our route would take us through the unsafe ghetto!   I became very nervous as Steve led the way, reluctantly following him as I stuffed dollar notes down my bra and voiced my concern about the route googlemaps was taking us.   When we found ourselves in the middle of a rundown housing area with rubble in the road and apartments with broken windows, boarded up doors and men with bandanas spilling onto the street, calling after us, I was terrified!   We reached the end of the street, thinking it would be a main road but it was another frightening looking area and Steve was blindly following the directions Siri was confidently giving, to take us down a road with a bend under a bridge.   I stopped and refused to continue, just as I heard a voice behind me yelling, “Hey!”   I turned around and two heavily armed policemen with bullet proof vests, helmets and large guns in their hands called us back.   We had no idea where they came from but had obviously seen two naïve gringos wandering in a place they shouldn’t, telling us we were in great danger and needed to leave!   With our Spanish and their English being very limited, we were told to wait by the side of the road.   A taxi came into view and, unsure whether we were under arrest or not, we hailed it and jumped in before the police could translate any more instructions and left two bewildered policemen on the side of the road!   Lesson learned – trust your instincts – Steve obviously doesn’t have any!  

While waiting for our packages to arrive we serviced and worked on a number of items on board.   The autohelm was working well but had not been serviced for two years, so we removed it, checked and cleaned it and re-installed, only to find it no longer worked!   With the watermaker now fixed, it was the next priority item and Steve soon discovered some loose connections and resolved that issue too!   He was on a roll – could he make it a tri-factor and repair the generator which had last worked at Christmas?   No!   Sadly that was going to take a bit more skill than we had and, even calling in help from our canal French buddy boat who happened to be a diesel mechanic, proved successful in getting the engine working but unsuccessful in generating power – and before anyone suggests it, we did check the capacitor!  

Our friends who were on ARC Pacific (a rally of about 40 boats), arrived in Shelter Bay and Steve offered his services as a linehandler through the canal for our friends on Escapade of London.  I welcomed the boats as they arrived in La Playita marina, enjoying catching up with our friends on Escapade, Walkabout and Casamara.   We all went out for a lovely meal together, having last been together in Grenada nine months ago. 

There was a weather window forming and, as there had been no wind between Panama and The Galapagos for a couple of weeks, we were determined to join the flotilla of boats leaving to cross the Pacific.   We collected our packages, said our farewells, did the last of our provisioning, filled up with fuel, cleared out with immigration and customs, and headed to Toboga for our last night in Panama.

The next morning we motored around to a lovely protected anchorage on the south side of the island and Steve spent a couple of hours scrubbing the bottom of the boat in the clear water while I prepared food for the crossing and stowed everything away.

At 1330 on Thursday 23 March 2023, we pulled up the anchor and set our sails, heading southwest as we bade farewell to land and civilization for the next 30+ days.

Panama Canal – Transit to the Pacific

Panama declared independence from Colombia in 1903, helped by the US, which led to a speedy and clandestine treaty with America to start building the Canal.   A large tract of land on either side of the proposed canal was handed to the US, an agreement that happened without consulting the population of Panama.   Over the next 10 years more than 75,000 people worked on building the canal costing almost $400 million.   At the time of construction, the dam that flooded Rio Chagres to form Gatun Lake was the largest earthworks dam ever built, forming the largest man-made lake in the world.  

We were excited about the next part of our journey, taking us from the Atlantic to Pacific Ocean and all that lay in our way was the passage from Bocas to Shelter Bay Marina, and the start of the administration booking process to secure a date to transit.     We were expecting 20knots of wind on the beam and messy seas with 2-3m waves.     Once we left the protection of the islands, the sea started to build and current was sweeping us along at a fast pace as we set Hilda, the hydrovane and prepared for a fast sail east.   Suddenly a large bang shook the boat and our heartbeat sprang to life as quickly as we jumped up to try to work out what had happened.   A bolt had sheered off the bottom of the hydrovane so the rudder was starting to separate from the boat.   We hove too, stopping the boat and Steve climbed over the side to remove the heavy hydrovane rudder as we bounced in the confused sea.    Now underway again, we decided to hand steer to save our batteries, instead of turning on the autopilot.   

We continued at a fast pace all night, arriving at the buoyed channel in front of the seawall as the sun came up.   We wove our way through the numerous anchored tankers, waiting their turn to pass through the canal, received permission to enter the port, pulled down the mainsail and proceeded under jib only through the channel as the wind blew at over 30knots and waves crashed high on the seawall either side of us.    We called Shelter Bay Marina on the radio and received very precise information on how to negotiate the entrance, our allocated berth and instructions on how we should proceed and prepare.   We were impressed, as we had never had such efficient, precise and clear instructions from a marina before!    As we pulled into our berth we were welcomed by several old friends – more people than will probably be there to catch our lines when we arrive in NZ!   Our friends on Zelda had rescued TT, who we had left in The San Blas on Christmas Day by accident, and we were happily reunited on arrival in Shelter Bay Marina. It felt great to see so many familiar faces and join a family of friends who could provide us with all the information we needed to prepare for our bureaucratic journey as we start the booking process to transit.  

When transiting the canal it is possible to complete all the necessary paperwork and fees without an agent, saving up to $500, but as we had joined the Pacific Posse (group of boats sailing across the Pacific this season), we were able to get a good discount on an agent, so had already been in contact with one.   Before a transit date can be confirmed, the boat needs to be officially measured to make sure we do not exceed 60ft in length – a hard task for a 43ft boat!    We eventually got a date to be measured, four days after we had arrived, and spent about an hour with the measurer, answering numerous questions before being issued with our unique identification number (SIN).   We were later visited by the agent who we repeated our desire to have a transit date of 19 February, as a friend was arriving from NZ on 18th.   As our desired date was 10 days away, and other boats were waiting only seven days for their transit, he did not see this as a problem but would confirm in the morning.   

We had arranged to join our friends on Avanti to help them as line handlers on their transit through the canal and they had been allocated a spot leaving at 3am.   Next morning we left the marina at 2.30am, meeting an advisor who jumped on board from an expertly captained pilot boat as we rocked in the heavy seas.    We rafted up alongside a small catamaran and together we proceeded through the six locks, separating as we motored 20NM through Gatan Lake.  

Along the way we contacted our agent to ask for confirmation of our transit date…… We were told we had been confirmed for 23 February, and I immediately responded saying this was not acceptable, particularly as other friends who had arrived after us, had been allocated dates well ahead of 23rd!     It then transpired that our measurements papers had been put into the tray of the person allocating dates, upside down, so had been missed…….!    Happily, after numerous messages and phone calls, we were eventually allocated 19 February but it did cause a few unhappy hours as we tried to come up with solutions!  

We left Avanti anchored in the Pacific after spending a night with them in their lovely boat, catching the bus back to Colon in time for the free bus back to Shelter Bay Marina.   While we waited on deliveries and continued to prepare the boat for our Pacific crossing, I helped other friends on Zelda transit this time staying overnight in Gatan Lake, moored to a large cushioned buoy in the north of the lake.

Our date was fast approaching.  We had provisioned, filling our cupboards with non-perishables as we stocked up on everything we would need to cross the Pacific and back to NZ.   I felt like we were a mini grocery store as we had so much food stored in every nook and cranny just needing to top up and buy fresh fruit and vegetables before leaving on our passage.   The big topic of discussion around the boats preparing to transit through the canal was the food menu for the advisor!   In addition to having four linehandlers, all boats need to have an advisor on board when transiting the canal and we were instructed to make sure they were well fed with hot food and cold drinks.   We heard rumours of a boat which offered substandard food to the advisor, who responded by calling for a takeaway.  The food wasn’t expensive but delivering it to the yacht in the canal was another matter and the yacht was presented with a bill for $400!  

The day before we were due to go through the canal, our good friend Kim arrived from NZ and we met her, along with our sailing friends from Altimate, Norbet and Sabine, in Colon – our crew for the transit was complete.   The agent came, relieved us of our $2500 fee and delivered lines and fenders for the next day.  We had been notified our transit would take place over two days with an overnight stay in Gatan Lake, meeting our advisor in the anchorage area close to the entrance to the marina.   We said our goodbyes to the many people we had met and spent time with during our two weeks in the marina, reversed out of our berth and started our transit to the Pacific.   

Our crossing was a wonderful experience.   We saw crocodiles on the banks of the canal, enjoyed great company, ate well and celebrated our safe arrival in the Pacific – a major milestone in our journey home.    We dropped the hook in Las Brisas anchorage with a backdrop of Panama city’s impressive skyline and farewelled Norbet and Sabine.    Kim was with us and we were going to make the most of her visit, wanting to explore and discover new places together and give her a taste of our life afloat…..

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.