October 15, 2008
Bocas Marina

On October 1, we cheerfully left the dock, picked up 100 gallons of fuel, and headed out with four other boats from the marina for a week to ten days’ worth of relaxation.  In the group were Pamela Jean, a 50-foot Formosa cutter from Texas with Bill and Pam aboard; Mariah, a 63-foot Choy Lee sloop with Evelyn and Dave from Key West; Serenity, with Steve (who’s the staff captain on NCL’s Norwegian Jade); all following Guavi, with Ariel and Michelle from Puerto Rico out to some of the islands and anchorages in Bahia Almirante.

Our first stop was Cayo de Agua (Water Cay), where one of our marina-mates has property he’s hoping to turn into an eco-resort.  The weather was fantastic – the sea flat as a table – which was a good thing, because Cayo de Agua is right up against the Caribbean.  We anchored on the south side of the cay, off Daniel’s dock, where we were greeted wildly by his three mixed-blood hound dogs who have the run of the place when Daniel isn’t there.

An afternoon walk showed us that “eco-resort” is a stretch – Daniel has a couple of local guys who watch over the place; who have hacked a few steps into the hillsides; who have built a palapa-covered platform with hammocks for barbecuing and lounging; and who have dammed a little creek in the hopes of providing a fresh water reservoir.  Primitive would about cover it.

After a calm night at anchor, that featured dinner aboard with Steve and Amy of Serenity, we rounded up a dinghy flotilla for a tour of the north side of the island and a bit of snorkeling.  The beaches were beautiful, the sea was flat, and the company was great.  In the evening, we gathered in Daniel’s palapa for a pot-luck barbecue, drinks, and stories.

The next morning, we formed up to motor over to the Zapatilla Cays, twin islets that comprise a national park here in Panama.  On the way over, the starboard engine overheated, so we ran on one engine, dropped anchor, and Ole set out to discover what was wrong.  Jan was off with the rest of the dinghy flotilla to explore the easternmost of the cays and pose for a cheesecake photo.  It’s beautiful (the island, not the cheesecake photo) – a storybook white sand islet ringed with palm trees and featuring well-maintained walking trails through jungle and mangrove.  We cut through the center of the island, then waded around the western half, back to where we started.

When I got back to the boat, it was to discover that the starboard engine would NOT turn over, no matter what Ole did to it.  Luckily, Steve on Serenity has the same Ford Lehman engine, and a stash of extra engine parts that Ole can try to cobble the engine back together. 

We pulled anchor in the early afternoon, and then motored just half an hour to an anchorage off of Punta Vieja.  Again, couldn’t fault the weather.  The seas were bathtub flat.  We would never attempt this anchorage for an overnight if there were any hint of wind.  All of us agreed to meet at the bar at a little resort called Natural.  It’s one of those all-inclusive places where, for about $150 a night, you get accommodation, three meals a day family style, transportation, and use of snorkel equipment, kayaks, and the like.  The bar was charming, and Martin, the host, had made a special trip back to Bocas to stock it for us, as the ten of us added about 60% to his business.  The dinghy trip back was spectacular with bioluminescence the locals call “estrellas” (stars) in the coral.  The next day, Ole opted to stay aboard and work on the engine, while I went out for a snorkel with Steve and Amy.  Still no luck getting it started.  So another evening was spent at the bar, commiserating with the locals and telling stories to each other over several gin and tonics.

In the morning, we caravanned up a little river to a Ngobe-Bugle village called Salt Creek, where friends from Marina Carenero have established a mission.  The tiny Indian village is neat, tidy, and friendly, located about a quarter-mile up a paved path from the dock.  Mike and Christine, the missionaries, are working with the village to establish itself as a tourist destination and craft center.  The crafts, though primitive, are well-priced and include bags woven of natural fiber, carved and painted fish and sea creatures, and jewelry made of shell.

We must have touched bottom in the river on the way out, though, because the dinghy wouldn’t get up to speed – the propeller just freewheeled past a certain point.  Jeez, it’s always something.

We all opted to move to Crawl Cay, a snorkeling spot popular with the lancha traffic ferrying backpackers from Bocas. We arrived right at lunch time, found a calm spot to anchor in about 25 feet, and dinghied over to a great little over-the-water restaurant for lunch – some of the best conch ever!  And very expensive, for here.  Two plates of conch, two beers, and a rum punch set us back about $50!

The next morning, all of us decided to head back to the marina.  It was a full few days, but not nearly what we wanted.  Engine troubles being what they are here in the third world, it made sense for us to head back – but we were disappointed not to have had more time away.

As soon as we were tied up, and the engines cooled, Ole was back down in the “basement,” still trying to troubleshoot.  Finally, after a couple of days of trying a, b, and c, he discovered water in the cylinders (not good) and traced it to a shredded exhaust manifold which, of course, is not available in Central America.  Several phone calls and boat units later, we have the parts coming from American Diesel in Virginia, hopefully in time to have them installed before Ole has to go back to work on November 17.

October 31, 2008
Bocas Marina

The second half of October was uneventful (save a couple of spectacular parties to be described later).  We waited for parts.  Ole has been down in the engine room dismantling the engine, cleaning up, and getting it ready for the hopefully soon arrival of a new manifold and adapter kit.  I’ve been working on making new window covers for the outside of the pilot house, trying to protect the interior wood while providing much-needed shade.  Thankfully there are just enough common sense fasteners to handle the just enough Sunbrella I have left.

Now to the parties:

Sharkey (the woman that runs the cantina here at the marina) suggested we all go over to a farewell party for one of the expats who’s been a realtor here for several years.  The party was held at the house of a well-known local artist, on Marina Carenero just a few doors down from the marina.  The instructions were that it was to be women-only until after 9:00 p.m., then the men were welcome to come.  While I expressed discomfort at going to a party for someone who didn’t know me, especially one that called for “women only,” Cathy (from Attitude) and I shored each other up, and talked Ole and Neil into waiting for us at the Cosmic Crab (between the house and Marina Carenero) in case we wanted to leave early.  Fat chance.

The reason the first half of the party was “women only” was that apparently Darian (an ex-Chippendale from South Africa who shares a boat here at Bocas Marina with Dyllan, an ex-figure skater) had been invited to “perform” for the guest of honor.  Now as a grown woman, I have been not only around the block but around MANY blocks.  And I can say, without equivocation, that Darian was the best male stripper I’ve ever seen!  At the point where he got out the baby oil and flaming torches, Julie, the owner of the house, got up to get the fire extinguisher and sat clutching it to her chest with her mouth hanging open.  The performance was cathartic, ending with twenty or thirty females screaming at a quite improbable retrieval of a dollar from the guest of honor’s teeth (let’s just say it involved an inward-facing handstand between the guest of honor’s knees).  My oh my.

Well, after THAT, Cathy and I elected to run over to get Neil and Ole, and return to the party.  English Bill, a cantankerous electric guitar player, was there, and with enough rum I can be persuaded to do a bit of Janis Joplin (the fans were screaming for more).  Add an open bar, frustration over a broken engine, and the prospect of Neil and Cathy leaving soon, and the evening just got wilder and wilder, culminating in Sharkey opening the cantina bar at 2:00 a.m. for more drinking and disco exhibitions featuring Dyllan, Darian, Cathy, Anne, Sharkey and me.  I’m not entirely sure, but I think Ole and I carried each other home some time around 3:00 a.m., and didn’t speak for nearly 24 hours.  It’s hell to get old.

More boat work, more waiting, more sewing later, and Halloween rolled around.  As South Africans, Dyllan and Darien had never experienced it, so of course they were put in charge of decorating the cantina. As a costume minimalist, Ole wore a Wartisila diesel shirt and I put a dollar into each of my earrings (I’m a buck-an-ear…).  Some folks went all-out, and it was hard to judge whose costume was best  I was particularly fond of the carpenter who used foil-backed insulation to make himself into a dragon, but Darian’s “naked chef” was inspiring as well.  When things wound down here at the cantina, a few of us opted to take a water taxi over to town to see what was cooking at the backpacker hangouts.  It was pretty wild…and the local cops seemed mellow and amused. 

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