At around 0330, we approached the east end of the San Blas archipelago. We were heading for the Canal Caobo, a channel just south of the group of small islands known as Holandes Cays. Eric slowed down to 1400 RPM. He set the radar/chart plotter so that the charts overlaid on top of the radar. He studied it carefully to make sure the land masses matched the chart exactly. He made sure the depth we matched the chart. We were relieved everything lined up. We proceeded slowly into the channel, carefully watching the depth sounder to make sure the depths continued to match the charts. This is the first time we have ever done a night entry without navigational aids, such as channel markers. Flying blind and relying on your electronics is a little scary. By a few minutes before 0600, we were as deep as we dared to go in the dark. We had hoped the sun would be rising by then, but it was still pitch black.
It was relatively calm in the channel — for the most part, at least. We did get the occasional bigger wave. It was a million times better than being in the open hell er — open ocean, but we were still a little disappointed. We’d had our hearts set on totally flat. Even so, we were happy to be out of the rough stuff and almost instantly felt better, but still didn’t feel good. We tried turning on the air conditioning downstairs, wanting it to be cooler and better smelling so Eric could get some sleep, but it still didn’t work. The strainer was clogged up a bit. We did turn the air con on in the pilot house. It was hot and humid out and the cool, dry air felt so good.
As the black sky started to turn gray in the soft morning light, it was clear that the cloud cover was thick. Eric had been hoping for a bright, clear morning where we could pull right in as soon as it was light enough to see. With it being so gloomy, we’d have to wait longer for the water to be illuminated enough to see coral heads, rocks, and other potential hazards in the water. Eric was exhausted and still not feeling well overall, making him grumpy and irritable. Knowing it would be that much longer until we were anchored and could get some rest was aggravating for him.
We did circles in the channel until 0715. Then we brought in the paravanes. It was rolly enough in the channel that the fish were swinging around as we pulled them up, making bringing them in a little bit tricker than normal. They bumped into the swim platform a couple of times, which made us wince. Those things are heavy and have potential to do serious damage, but fortunately, it was a gentle tap that left no marks.
By the time the paravanes were secured, the sun finally had risen enough so that the visibility was decent. We proceeded west towards the island of Porvenir, the capital where we needed to check in, located at the northwest tip of the archipelago. We had anticipated it to be a smooth ride and were crestfallen to find ourselves in head seas. It was certainly more uncomfortable of a ride than we had anticipated. There was 15 knots of wind real on the nose creating small but very rapid and sharp waves. Eric immediately started to feel a little bit green. On another day, we probably would have had an easier time tolerating the severe hobby horsing than we could right then. To make matters worse, almost the instant we turned into the head seas, the pilot house air shut itself off. The air simply doesn’t work in these kinds of conditions. We sank into a little bit of a depression, knowing our intended anchorage was not going to be very calm given the sea conditions. We desperately needed to be some place very, very flat to provide reprieve from the hard passage, and the idea of not getting that reprieve was too much to bear.
We approached Porvenir around 0800. Near Porvenir, the waterway is a bit of an obstacle course, with areas of very deep and very shallow water within a few feet of each other, along with a sunken boat thrown in the mix. When we pulled up to the island, we thought we had made a mistake and gone to the wrong place. It is tiny, with just a handful of buildings and a small grassy field. This is supposed to be the capital, with an airport and a town. The island isn’t even as long as an airstrip and half the island isn’t as wide as an airstrip. This can’t possibly be the place. We were confused. Eric double checked the charts and decided it was the right island. Where were they hiding the airport?
We asked a passing boat where to anchor, and headed over there. We were dubious about the spot since we were in 100 feet of water. But we pulled forward towards the island a little more and suddenly were in only 30 feet. The depth variations are insane here. It took a couple tries to get the anchor set just right, but by 0830 we finally were situated. A German boat pulled in and dropped anchor beside us almost as soon as we had set our anchor. We decided to rest for a little bit before getting the dinghy down and going to shore. We tried turning on the air downstairs one more time, and it worked. Thank God. It was only 0830, but it was already a sultry day and we were so hot. Our moods improved some.
Once we were anchored, we finally took a moment to really look at our surroundings. We were in the middle of three islands and the tip of a peninsula on mainland Panama. The mainland looks green and hilly, though the hills aren’t very big. The islands are all tiny sand strips barely above sea level and dotted with palm trees. They are all absolutely gorgeous, looking like something out of a post card. Here is Porvenir. We got almost the whole island into this shot, just a little is missing from each side.
We did clean up the suicide fish right away. We threw over at least four dozen, maybe even more, flying fish. Most all of them were only about 2 3 inches in length. The frigate birds went nuts collecting them. Oddly, we never got any real rain the entire passage. Since arriving in the Caribbean, we have gotten heavy rain almost every day. We haven’t ever gone five whole days without a hard rain in this part of the world, though we are told the wet season went on for an abnormally long period of time this year and they don’t normally get as much rain this time of year. Hopefully, we’ll get some rain soon because Kosmos needs a bath. The fish made a mess.
Forty five minutes later, Eric re-rigged the boom from paravane mode to dinghy mode and we got the dinghy down. While we were in the process, two different little canoes pulled up with people selling molas. We have read about the infamous molas of the Kuna women, but were still unclear as to what exactly they are. It turns out they are quilting squares. Each square is decorated with beautiful deigns. You could buy individual squares or multiple squares in a set where each square is different but they all match. We suppose the idea is that you sew the squares onto clothes to decorate them. We guess you would get a single square to decorate something small, like a baby outfit, and get the multiple squares for something big, such as a full dress. The literature we read said quite clearly that the chiefs of the island do not want you buying from boat vendors as it puts women without access to boats at a disadvantage. The chiefs only want tourists to buy on shore where they can look at every woman’s work and select the best. Eric told one to come back in an hour just to get rid of them. The other one Christi explained in broken Spanish why we wouldn’t buy the beautiful molas he was offering, which he seemed to know to be true. When we said no, he begged for money to feed his baby and for magazines to read.
We took the short dinghy ride in to shore. The office that houses all the officials is right in front of the dock. In the brief minute it took to get from the dock to the office, we were mobbed by another group of women selling molas. The women are tiny. They are all shorter than 5 feet tall and most are rail thin. As far as facial features, they look like a stereo-typical Native American, with brown skin, dark hair and eyes. Most had a hoop through the septum of their nose. Most wore a head scarf. They were all wearing brightly colored blouses with puffy sleeves, decorated with a mola on the front and back. They all had sarong style skirts that went to about mid-calf, also brightly colored. The clothes were loose fitting and didn’t show much skin or figure. Probably the most notable thing about their outfits are the anklets. They all had row after row of colorful beaded anklets going all the way up to their calves, and from a distance could be easily mistaken for leggings. We told them “possibly later” on buying molas.
To be continued”¦