Ship’s Log Week Twelve
Location: Shelter Bay Marina, Panama - 9°22'0.40"N, 79°57'2.91"W
San Blas Islands aka Guna Yala - Is this paradise?
Two days’ sail from Santa Marta, eventful for the one giant wave, which wooshed through the hatch of Walrus’ cabin, waking Dicky up and landing a flapping flying fish beside him on the bunk… I’m not sure who was more surprised, and then the San Blas Islands were in sight.
The advice to arrive in daylight had been wise. As the view of the Western Holandes islands crystallised, we could see waves rippling over coral reefs, the remnants of a wrecked vessel washed up on a ridge of sand directly ahead and beyond twenty or so yachts anchored around palm-fringed white sandy beaches, lapped by azure waters.
Paradise was within reach, the sight of a palm-thatched beachside bar beckoned us on. Careful navigation through uncharted waters with a team effort between Walrus’ crew at the bow watching for obstacles, sudden shallow patches and any other potential obstructions and Dicky steering a slow-steady course brought us to the perfect spot to drop anchor. Within minutes we were visited by a Guna Yala boat selling Molo (traditional, multi-layered embroidered pictures depicting stylised animals, fishes and brightly coloured geometric designs). My negotiations were half-hearted and I relented, paying the asking price, as, I’m guessing many others had, accepting this as the price for enjoying the beautiful ocean surrounding the Guna Yala islands… and, at the same time securing a unique momento, as a reminder of this first sighting of the islands in years to come.
Is this paradise? We asked ourselves as we went ashore in the dinghy shortly afterwards, to find other World ARC fleet crew swinging on seats, sipping on pina coladas and margaritas around the beachside bar. It didn’t take much encouragement to settle in, enjoy the sunshine, chilled vibe and good company. Thinking of friends and family back home in chilly England/Ireland… we enjoyed our first afternoon in paradise.
The next day, Gerald and I circumnavigated on foot and found the island really was palm-fringed with white sandy beaches the entire way round. We stepped over palm tree trunks, and paddled in the warm clear sea water, we noticed an abundance of conch shells in varying states of decay and, sometimes perched along the edge of the beach in a way that suggested purposeful design by the Guna Yala people who lived on the island.
En route, we passed a thatched wooden building on stilts built out into a bay over shallow sea, with a man bent over lobster pots on the beach, counting his catch. Further on a fisherman in a long boat, just a hundred or so yards from the shore, staring intently into the water, before casting and pulling in his net with a catch of silver, flapping fish which were quickly emptied into the bottom of the boat. Meanwhile Guna Yala women in traditional dress, with beads wound around their calves and wearing brightly coloured skirts and headscarves were working in the interior bush, setting fire to small patches of ground, presumably to burn old palm fronds and clear the ground for new growth.
A rendez-vous with other World ARC fleet members was arranged via WhatsApp and later that evening we joined with the crew of Fruition walking along a path lined with conch shells by torchlight to dine on lobster in the wooden restaurant on stilts. A memorable experience - truly once in a lifetime.
In the days that followed we visited a further four of the forty-nine inhabited Guna Yala islands (there are more than 300 islands in total). Each had its own distinct features, most were less developed than Western Holandes.
The visit to Canbombia was memorable for the wooden dugout boats (without outboard motors) and waters that were stunningly beautiful, with waves rippling over coral reefs to the East and West of the island. The course to find an anchorage was winding and skilfully navigated by Dicky. The island had one hut selling coconut juice, beer and Coca Cola. It seemed that two Guna Yala families lived on the island in thatched huts and that the Guna Yala culture was genuine and very much alive.
We were approached by Guna fishermen in a dugout boat selling lobsters and spider crabs. A brief negotiation followed through sign language and five lobsters and two spider crabs were transferred into a Co-op bag and passed on board Walrus. I filled a sink with seawater and tipped the doomed crustaceans in, swiftly moving a wooden board over the top to stop any escapees…. Not swiftly enough it seemed, as I moved away one lobster emerged over the edge of the sink and determinedly tried to make an escape.
Confession time… Dicky and I screamed and ran to the other side of Walrus’ saloon. I’m sure I heard Gerald’s laughter on deck. We quickly regained our composure, the wooden board was pinned down securely with two heavy pans and the results are the subject of the next Monday menu… tales from the Gourmet Galley.
Was the first impression of paradise borne out?
We learned that the Guna Yala is a matrilineal society, which eschews personal wealth - the islands belong to all. Coconuts belong to the people and visitors are expected to respect this, it is considered disrespectful of Guna culture if visitors pick up and/or take coconuts (which litter the ground). The islands were at first glance pristine. Walking around each of the islands visited we found that the landscape was marred to varying degrees by plastic bottles, washed up flip flops and other non-bio-degradable material, which did somewhat dent initial impressions.
After five days of Guna Yala paradise we were ready to move on and sailed overnight to Shelter Bay Marina, Panama.
Preparations for the Panama Canal Transit and Galápagos Islands
On 30th January Walrus was lifted out of the water by the Shelter Bay marina boat maintenance team.
Dicky steered Walrus into the lifting dock, where the mooring ropes were tied to either side of what looked like a big concrete pit. Giant slings were secured under Walrus’ hull and with precision and evidently many years of good practice under their belt, the marina staff worked seamlessly operating the lift-out machine, while a diver was deployed in the water to ensure that the slings were in place and nothing would be damaged during the lift out. We watched avidly to see the state of Walrus’ underside, Walrus having last been lifted out in Ramsgate nearly a year ago - after much negotiation to secure a date and with far less attention to detail.
Walrus rose steadily and gracefully out of the water to have her hull pressure washed to remove green algae and any other living creatures. The Shelter Bay team were super efficient, every last centimetre was cleaned with a powerful jet of water within minutes of lifting. We had wondered whether a pressure wash would be sufficient to get Walrus’ hull to the standard required for entry to the Galápagos Islands. As streams of red anti-foul paint came off with the algae, the answer was clear - she needed a fresh coat of anti-foul.
Herman was in charge of Walrus’ lift-out, arrangements for her transfer to the dry dock and the application of anti-foul. After brief discussion between Dicky and Herman, Walrus’ stay on the hard standing was agreed. She was transferred to a flatbed lorry and we watched as she trundled away, travelling at a sedate pace between an avenue of palm trees to the marina yard. Quite a sight and a far cry from Ramsgate.
Once secured in a cradle, a ladder was attached on one side for us to climb on board. For the next couple of days we were to be perched up above the ground, much like living in a treehouse, while Walrus had her hull scraped and painted with black anti-foul. Shelter Bay Marina lived up to its reputation for great workmanship.
Time to explore Panama and catch up with World ARC fleet members in the bar, around the pool and on various excursions. A jungle walk with Carlos as our guide gave us an insight into the history of the area we were staying in. Shelter Bay Marina had, not so long ago and up until the late-1990s been occupied by the US military and was known as Fort Sherman.
When the American’s left the area following the handover of the Panama Canal to Panamanians in 1999, Fort Sherman was left empty and the buildings were plundered for anything of worth. The result, some buildings have been restored to form the Marina complex, others, such as the former movie theatre, have been re-purposed as a sail loft, the remainder have sunk into dereliction. It was amongst the film-set like derelict bunkers and batteries that we sighted a troop of capuchin (white-faced) monkeys, at a little distance and high in the trees above we watched howler monkeys delicately picking and eating leaves, while alongside us an agouti ran along the top of a wall. Carlos led us through the extensive, dark bunkers - we saw a large fruit-eating bat and stared intensely at the floor after being warned of potential lurking snakes.
A trip to the new Aqua Clara Locks proved fascinating - we watched huge container ships move from the higher level of the Gatun Lake through three locks to the lower sea level of the Atlantic. I’m not sure whether I was more or less anxious about the Panama Canal after the visit, but I certainly felt better acquainted with the geography and the process. We will be transitting through the Gatun locks to the Gatun lake and from there through the Miraflores locks and under the bridge of the Americas out to the Pacific.
Meanwhile… we wait and keep a watching brief on the crocodile who has stationed himself on the bank opposite Walrus (Dicky has named him Cedric).