Welcome to the Carib

The Caribbean feels less intense than the Pacific. I think it’s mainly because the Pacific’s ocean swell is so much bigger and more present. Or maybe it’s because cruising is finally starting to feel like home to me.

What are some other comparisons? The fish in the Carib are smarter. Or not so hungry. I haven’t been catching as much here so far. There are LOTS more porpoise in the Pacific – days of horizon to horizon porpoise. In the Pacific they visit Akimbo and i much more and they are more aerial – jumping 6 to 10 feet clear of the water sometimes. There are no whales in the Carib that i know of. In the Pacific we left 20’ tidal ranges. Here in the Carib a BIG tide is 15”. So we can anchor in shallower water, which is convenient. The water temp is barely warmer in the Carib, 91 degrees just now. There appears to be a lot less plastic jetsam floating around – it really was alarming in the Pacific.

The San Blas Islands are what sailors dream of. Why didn’t i know about this place? They are a place i tho’t could only be imagined. But they exist! THIS is it! A piece of paradise. An island Eden. That feeling is made moreso by the Kuna Yala people who inhabit and govern the islands and the coastal jungle. They are an autonomous indigenous people. Short folk. Their society is matrilineal, and they don’t allow marrying outside of their tribe – one does so with the knowledge that they have left the tribe. They have their own ancient language and crime is unheard of here. Their environs are pristine and virginal. The waters are so clear that when it is calm, in 15’ of water i can discern details on the sandy bottom…by moonlight. I am so glad i “turned right” instead of left out of Colon and peeked at them. Maybe they are a preview of Belize, but so far, hands down, if there is one place to come back to, it’s the San Blas Islands. If there had been bare breasted women, there would have been mutiny when it came time to leave. And unlike Bligh, i don’t even have any crew aboard!


There i am, in this bliss, anchored at Chichime Cay, close to some huts on the island. A woman comes out carrying some compost type stuff and throws it in the water lapping at the shore. Cool. She goes back in, comes back out and throws more out – this time a half dozen plastic bottles and bags?! Wait a minute! So much for paradise. The next morning a native paddled over and asked me if i could plug in his cellphone to give it a charge. And i don’t know how they collect drinking water to live on such tiny islands. Also it’s not like i have the place to myself. There are a dozen other yachts here. But it’s fun too to meet a few like myself. One rule around here is to NOT navigate at night. The islands dotting the seascape are atop an intricate and extensive system of coral reefs. As a reminder, one cannot go far without seeing a long abandoned shipwreck. Navigating here is very visual. Sunlight penetrating into the water, and polarized sunglasses are a huge help. Light green water is shallow, blue water is deep, and shades in between are “deep enuf.” Luckily there is an excellent guidebook.

The Kuna Yala are accomplished seafarers, piloting their dugout canoes impressive distances by sail and paddle (under sail they are called cayucos, and by paddle ulus, i think). The crew is often three – two paddling and one bailing. On my way out of the island chain, we were in 63’ of water, going by an ulu. One man was paddling, two had on fins and mask to dive and did so as if to have momentum, one after the other. Were they free diving to the bottom? One came up with a lobster on the end of a spear! Finally i’ve bought lobster catch of the day. Crab legs too. If i’m eating well no wonder i like this place.



At Isla Escudo de Veraguas an old man motored up in his dugout (don’t know what they call it when it has a motor on it) to collect $10 for the honor of anchoring there. This is a larger island, as in big enuf to have its own natural supply of fresh water. Fernandito seemed legit, gave me a receipt. While he was there four native fishermen motored their dugout up and asked if i had any beer. Not enuf for them, i replied and they went on. I could tell the old man was unhappy at their request. I imagine he talked with them about it that night. At dusk Santiago, Alfredo and Lorenzo showed up and sold me some more shellfish. They came aboard and enjoyed Akimbo from the cockpit, also liked looking thru my binoculars. Answering my questions, they said their community on the island has many people.



I haven’t slept in my bed in a long time. The humid air seems to hold on to the heat. The heat has some staying power to it, some heft. When it doesn’t rain i sometimes sleep in the cockpit on a cushion, but my back hurts the next day. The best bunks on the boat are the settees in the salon because there are fans mounted above them.
On to Bocas del Toro, with a few island stops between. One day we made 52 miles in great wind against and a knot and a half of coastal current – 67 miles thru the water in ten hours! Reaching under genoa alone (i got greedy that morning, tried the drifter first, which thrashed and tore, spent the morning stitching and taping a repair, all my fault, bad decision, unnecessary - the sail now sports an ugly scar, but the repair held the next time is set the sail). The next day the wind went light and ahead of us…28 miles in ten hours – there’s never much profit in sailing against both wind and current. Such is sailing. We’ve been motoring more since.

The Bocas del Toro archipelago started with Zapotilla 1 (slipper 1). Part of a park system, a ranger collected another $10 from me. Nice stop. While snorkeling around the boat (to cool off) i spotted a vintage anchor on the bottom. Made me wonder what the story was long ago that made a boat abandon or lose its anchor. Maybe you can make it out in the bottom of the murky photo. Back in the San Blas i also took an underwater shot that gives you a view of Akimbo you haven't seen before. The Bocas islands are mostly sheltered behind big islands, and they're mangrove islands - somehow not nearly so romantic as the palm trees and white sands of the exposed San Blas islands, and without the Kuna Yala.


In Bocas town i’ll check the weather. If there isn’t a lot of hurricane activity, i’ll start north - into their territory a month before the end of their season. Am feeling tentative about that. Shall see.