Cartagena to San Blas

Eeking speed from a dying wind before starting the engine, an overnight passage turns into two nights after having to heave to off the last Colombian bay available to us.  Tired, we anchor in Sapzurro.  The Colombian Coast Guard boards and tours thru Akimbo to see if we seem legit.  They leave apparently satisfied.  We see some hikers go by and notice a sign with the image of a waterfall.  “Cascada” it says.  We put on mask, snorkel and fins and swim in.  We hike a jungle trail and stand beneath the falls.  Ah. 

Hike back.  Take naps.  And motor out, around the point to Panama.  At Obaldia…the Panamanian Coasties board us too.  It’s always some trouble to find Customs and Immigration.  Tho Rima and i succeed in doing so, they say (most bureaucratically) that they can’t check us in.  They direct us to Porvenir or Shelter Bay, many miles north, but assure us we are allowed to enjoy the San Blas on the way. We depart. 

During the overnight, the autopilot stops working and we finish by steering manually.  I sailmail Tyler for a part.  But turning power completely off seems to let auto reboot and return to service.  Still i want the part. 

The magic of the Kuna Yala and San Blas has begun.  We motored to beat the dark into a bay.  Behind us the blue of the sky and the blue of the water erase the horizon.  We cannot tell if the silhouettes of Kuna fishermen in their canoes float on the water or in the sky.  A trawler appears to be anchored permanently in the bay.  Several men aboard.  Maybe it's a home to some of the bachelors in the community?  They shout as we slowly turn to port, waving us to starboard.  We don't understand their words, but understand their tone.  One gets in his canoe to lead us to the deeper part of the bay.  Thank you.  Puerto Perme is a very well protected bay.  Starry sky, tho screens are needed for the bugs. 

The sky attacked the earth this night.  We heard a hiss followed immediately by a flash and crash.  Only distant rumbles remained.  I went on deck to witness far off battles.  This morning i awake to find the earth survived, tho the sky hasn't entirely relented.  The engine battery monitor isn't working now - hopefully i'll find a fuse for it but at least it's not the monitor i need.

The morning light reveals a large village not far away and a smaller one near.  And fishermen in the bay, with diaphanous nets, busy, catching fish, hushed, excited.  

Fumbling with my Spanish to ask if we could visit the villages, i instead invite a fisherman and his son to visit Akimbo.  Andres and Eber (7 years old) come aboard and share coconuts with us, we share granola bars with them.  Andres assures us we could visit the villages, 500 people in the large one and 40 in the near.  He shows us Eber's school marks and asks if i could make copies for him, which i do. 

So we paddle Sea Cow in.  Over shallows and coral.  Again i whisper thanks for our neighbor’s help last night.  Ashore, the footpath leads us around a lumpy soccer field.  From there we hike toward the larger village.  One hut we pass has many animal skulls draped on a string, with a big feather attached to each.  A shaman’s hut?  Locked.  A hundred yards later the path splits left to the village, right to the “laundromat” (a half of an old canoe hull raised onto table legs where a woman stands rubbing clothes with a bar of soap and scooping water from the creek with a small bucket – i motion to ask if i may take a photo and she shakes her head).  On our return trip, a passing Kuna couple motion that i am welcome to bathe upstream.  So this is where the public bath is too. 

Anachucuna is a very traditional village.  The Kuna are tiny people, well proportioned and direct with their smiling eyes.  The women cover their calves with bead work leggings, they wear molas and red and yellow head scareves.  The men are unadorned.  The village is thatch huts, packed dirt floors.  There is NO garbage evident.  Rima and i are a curiosity to the residents.  Young boys dash by us just out of reach, and then again back the way they came, laughing.  We greet everyone with a happy “hola!”  “Buenos dias.”  I feel i am less suspect because there is a woman with me.  This feels like a very intact aboriginal culture. 

Back aboard Akimbo, we make our way north.  Mualtupu is the second largest Kuna village on this coast and less traditional.  We anchor and at sunset see the silhouette of boys running back and forth on a field – soccer, we’re able to surmise.  Next morning it turns out we are there for their anniversary celebration of their school.  Smaller villages have primary education…send there kids here for secondary. 

We meet Simon Herrera, their English teacher…who also writes about the Kuna history and culture.  Rima buys a few molas from Simon’s mother.  It’s noon by the time we push off, not in time to make it to Achutupu.  We thread thru channels and shallows tho and anchor at Usdup, another larger village, (where we see the trawler from Puerto Perme tied up?).  We leave early to make it to Playon Chico for our next rendezvous.  There we find the first sailing yacht we’ve seen in the San Blas.  They wave to us and mention that there is internet access here?  Tizz waving from the dock, Rima swims in to welcome him.  I take time buttoning up Akimbo to give them time alone before i paddle Sea Cow in to ferry him and his luggage back aboard.  Charlee and Teri to arrive the next morning. 

Their Twin Otter airplane’s approach and descent is an aggressive but graceful arc.  The end of the runway is right at the dock nearest to where we are anchored.  I row in, pick them up, and once back aboard enjoy big hugs all around.  Who’d a thunk we would ever get together in such a place as this?  They bring with them all the spare parts i’ve requested, and food and my new Keens, oh boy!  And so i have lots of work to put the parts to use. 

Rima’s curiosity about the Kuna people is great.  Arkin, with two little daughters sitting in the bottom of his canoe, trades Kuna words to her for English ones.  Spanish is their middle ground to answer their confusions.  And they trade lots and lots of smiles.  He invites us to walk with he and his family when they go to visit their ancestors at the cemetery.  Rima swims over to the Danish boat to invite them to join.  My crew goes while Tizz and i continue to tackle chores on board – another casualty of the lightning strike is that the solar panels aren’t charging.  Turns out Tizz used to install solar systems (sounds rather god-like, doesn’t it?). 

While they are gone i buy lobsters from a Kuna canoe-man (say it ten times fast).  He shows me how to separate their tails from their heads.  Later i buy a big crab from another.  This one has a young oarsman with him who grunts to break it’s legs off the body.  Lobster tomorrow then, crab tonight.  But first i’ve invited our neighboring Danes to join us for wine, cheese and crackers.  Yorkim, Christine and young daughters Natasha and Isabelle are dear to meet.  We hear about and admire their travels.  Natasha and Isabelle seem a bit bored with the adult talk.  I pull the Balinese thunder toy from its locker, along with a thumb piano.  Next comes the guitar, upon which the older daughter, Isabelle, plays an iconic base line and we all sing along.  Not to be outdone, Natasha gets her sister to teach it to her. 

The next day nearby thunderstorms delay our departure, but i want to get out to the islands and away from the villages.  Yorkim mentioned the same navigational challenges i’ve been dealing with.  He generously offers us a computer copy of the Panama guide book i’ve been using.  Charlee swims over and back with a thumb drive for it.  We finally weigh anchor and thread our way back the way we came thru the reefs but feel one gentle bump on the way.  Some of the crew soon feels motion sick.  I take that as our cue to anchor behind Airdup island for lunch, but with our late start it turns out to be for the night. 

We leave not late the next morning to enjoy our first decent wind and sailing in the San Blas.  I navigate carefully all day to bring us 17nm to the Coco Bandero islands.  Another sailboat is where i had hoped to anchor.  We don’t want to crowd them, so we anchor in fairly close quarters between two islands.  Serapio arrives in his canoe with outboard motor.  He offers to shop for us ashore and we soon give him a big order for produce and beer…and a deposit for half of it…and an Akimbo shirt when he tells of losing his own. 

After snorkeling and before dinner, we move to anchor in a place with more room to swing at anchor.  This move turns out to be the right move.  At 4am a violent squall wakes us.  I hear the clutch on the anchor windlass slipping, letting more chain out.  What happened to our anchor snubber?  I don foul weather gear and a head lamp and go forward on deck to see that the rubber shock absorber and hook are gone, that the snubber chafed thru at the bow roller.  We are out to the bitter end of our rode.  I thank the knot in the end of it that so far is doing its job and not letting it go.  Akimbo is heeling wildly as she “sails” back and forth at anchor.  I see the wind meter top 50 knots and go to zero.  Perhaps the anemometer has blown away.  Waves have built and are rolling thru.  I start the engine to motor in place and hopefully help the anchor hold.  I ask Tizz to track our position, which i had marked, on the computer.  He does so and soon tells me i’m helping the anchor hold too much.  I’m heading for the island!  So i idle back.  But he was using the less accurate charts on my computer.  When he checks the charts Yorkim gave us…we are in a good spot.  Soon the squall has moved on and we all thank our lucky stars and go back to bed.  I fall asleep sure that if we had not re-anchored, we would be aground and in distress now. 

The San Blas have proven more challenging than i remember, and more challenging than the rest of this trip so far.  First, without wind, we burned up so much fuel in the first week…that i realize i should have bought fuel in Cartagena.  It took two months to burn 60 gallons when we were sailing in the trade winds…it took one week to burn 40 when it is windless.  This could have had a very bad domino effect, but now we read that a nearby village usually has fuel to sell.  Plus, with closer supervision, our consumption is dropping.  Then we almost ran over a canoe and fishermen when i went below to check the chart during a long day of motoring.  And the navigation has been “threading a needle” at times.  Then this squall came.  I have had to “up my game.”  I am on guard, if not spooked.  Thru all this, my crew hasn’t jumped ship.  I guess they still believe in me and Akimbo.  I’m doin’ my best to make their faith well founded.