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After seven weeks in murky Cartagena bay, we were ready for
the clear waters of Panama's San Blas islands. The passage
directly from Cartagena to the western San Blas takes a mariner
over the "armpit" of the southwest Caribbean Sea,
where strong winter trade winds and steep seas can make for
an unpleasant, if not dangerous, trip. An alternate route
is to hug the Colombian coast line and stop at several islands
south of Cartagena before crossing to the eastern San Blas.
This option places a mariner farther south where the offshore
passage is shorter and, hopefully, the seas are smaller. The
Rosario islands 20 miles from Cartagena are the first stop
on this route.
Rosario Islands
December 21 - 23
The Rosarios are a coral-fringed archipelago, making high
sun necessary for safely reading the water. To arrive in the
Rosarios at midday, we departed Cartagena at 7:30 A.M. Unfortunately,
the wind didn't build off the coast until late morning when
we were already near our destination. This pattern of no morning
wind persisted along the Colombian coast, forcing us to motorsail
and burn precious gallons of diesel that we were hoping would
last several months in the San Blas.
Approaching from the north, we threaded our way down a narrow,
marked channel to the south side of the Isla Grande where
several other boats were already anchored. Not far behind
was Dawn Dancer. On our first attempt, the Delta anchor
skidded across the rubble bottom until it suddenly grabbed
a coral head with a sharp thunk and a lurch. Our attempt to
motor over the anchor and free it was unsuccessful.
A local man in a dugout was hovering nearby and offered to
jump in and free the anchor. The presence of snorkel and fins
in his dugout made us suspect he gets a lot of this business.
We asked how much he would charge us, and he indicated he
would help us out of friendship and then show us his handmade
necklaces. With a splash, he dove in and quickly dislodged
the anchor. He advised us to anchor closer to the beach for
better holding, and we found a good set there. He then presented
his necklaces. While still in Cartagena, we had noticed that
cruisers returning from the Rosarios all had their new collection
of ugly necklaces, which they had acquired as payment for
various services. So we were prepared. Our helper showed us
several shiny red, black, and white necklaces that he insisted
were coral, not plastic. I guess gringos just look universally
stupid. We selected one that looked like wood and haggled
his gringo price down a few pesos. He was a nice fellow and
helped us out, so we didn't mind giving him some money.
That evening, Jim and Roxanne on Dawn Dancer served
us a delicious fish dinner. It's worth noting that we met
them two years ago in Florida, where they treated us to a
memorable Thanksgiving dinner. We had reunited just the week
before when they arrived in Cartagena.
On our second day in the Rosarios, we toured the Oceanario
(like a scaled-down Sea World) and the aviary. Both places
were well worth visiting. The aviary has over 300 species
of birds, many of which we had never seen. The proprietor
was friendly and allowed us inside one of the large cages
to take pictures. As Nick walked past one particular cage,
a woodpecker flew straight toward him, turning at the wire
in the last second and launched a perfectly aimed missile
of gooey gray excrement that landed on Nick's shoulder. It
was a much-practiced and well-executed maneuver that has undoubtedly
caught many a tourist by surprise. In typical Rosarios fashion
there was no admission fee for the aviary, but afterwards
we were presented with a table of handmade beaded bracelets
and necklaces. We figured the aviary was a good cause and
purchased one of the more expensive items.
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Nurse sharks perform on cue at the Oceanario.
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Tintipan, Bernardos Islands
December 24 - 25
On Christmas Eve, we listened to the weather report on SSB
radio and decided to move south another 25 miles to the San
Bernardos islands. As usual, we had to motorsail in the morning
calm. On the southwest side of the big island of Tintipan
just west of the only mooring, which was occupied, we found
good holding off the pretty, palm-lined point. The water was
clear as bathwater and reflected vibrant turquoise under the
sunny sky. For dinner we had a special treat: lobster caught
by Gary on Rainbow Rider in the Aves and frozen until
a special occasion.
Christmas morning we awoke in paradise surrounded by sunny
skies, clear water, and palm trees. Meanwhile, back in the
States, folks were bundled up and stranded in airports as
a strong cold front swept the country. I spent the morning
happily cooking in my galley. Christmas lunch was ham, broccoli-rice
casserole, candied yams, dressing, and cranberry sauce. After
lunch, we jumped overboard for a refreshing skinny dip in
the perfect water. Sure beats building a snowman! After lunch,
MiLady arrived and we invited Jim and Norma over to
eat the chocolate pie I made earlier that morning. Far from
the winter chill, crowds, and media madness that define the
holidays back home, we enjoyed a relaxing Christmas day. The
only part of a stateside Christmas that we missed was being
with our family, so alas even paradise has its downside.
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Isla Fuerte
December 26 - 28
We decided to leave the beautiful anchorage at Tintipan and
wait for better weather at Isla Fuerte, 33 miles southwest.
Another cruising boat had written an article raving about
what a good time they had in Fuerte, saying you would want
to stay a week. As usual, there was little or no wind until
the end of our journey, so it was a motorsail the entire trip.
We had waypoints for anchorage spots on the east and south
sides of Fuerte. As we approached the east anchorage, we noticed
a considerable swell crashing onshore. About that time, a
local boat with three men pulled alongside offering to guide
us in because there were, they claimed, dangerous rocks that
could puncture our hull. They pointed to the anchorage tucked
inside a small point of land and insisted that it was where
all the sailboats anchored and was most tranquilo.
It seemed to us that in the present conditions, the south
side might be preferable. "No, no!" the lead guy
vehemently insisted as we started to turn the boat.
Among sailors "local knowledge" is considered a
valuable tool for navigation. So we turned around and headed
into the east anchorage following the waypoints we had in
our chartplotter. The local boat motored alongside us, "guiding"
us even though we told them we had a chart and didn't need
help. Once anchored they asked if we wanted seafood or fruit.
We requested two snappers and some bananas, hoping this purchase
would satisfy their desire to charge us for the unneeded guide
service. However, when I handed the lead guy a 20,000 bill,
which included an extra 2,000, he insisted we should pay more
to cover his propina (tip). In these situations, we
always wonder if pissing off the locals will result in an
unwelcome late night visit, so we handed over another 2,000
bill. This seemed to satisfy him, and he left us alone to
contemplate how the boat was rolling in the muddy brown water.
When MiLady approached the island half an hour later,
we suggested that the south anchorage might be better. They
ignored the insistent guide boat and found a satisfactory
spot around the corner. Since it was late in the afternoon,
we decided to put a swell bridle on the anchor chain (points
the bow into the swell so the boat doesn't roll) and reconsider
moving the next day. During the night, the wind shifted from
the north to east and then died, putting our stern to the
shore and creating an uncomfortable roll. Tranquilo, my ass!
The next morning, MiLady reported a good night on
the south side, so we relocated and found less swell and clearer
water. The weather forecast called for high winds and seas
offshore for the next several days, so we hoped this spot
would be satisfactory.
After lunch, we launched our dinghy and gave Jim and Norma
a ride into town. As we surfed the dinghy onto the beach,
several men ran up to help and greet us. One of them was our
"guide" from the day before. "Amigos,
amigos!," he cried out with that fake friendliness
commonly found on used car lots. We told him that his recommended
anchorage was not tranquilo and we had moved. We told the
men that we intended to walk around town and buy a few beers
somewhere. One young man named Julio insisted he would guide
us. Once again, it was obvious we would be guided whether
we wanted to be or not.
At this point, we broke the cardinal rule: always get the
price up front. In Cartagena, for example, we always confirmed
the rate before getting in a taxi. Otherwise, we might have
been stuck paying a higher gringo price. Today, assuming the
guide fee would be nominal, the four of us followed Julio
down the dusty streets of town. It's interesting to see how
people live in these remote outposts, but I always hope they
don't think we're looking down on them as if they're zoo animals
on display.
After a half-hour walk, we stopped at a bar on the beach
and finally asked the question we should have asked before:
"cuanto cuesta?" How much does it cost? We
were shocked to hear him reply 40,000 pesos. We had spent
less than this for an hour with a taxi driver when we toured
the convent in Cartagena. Furthermore, we didn't have 40,000
pesos. We argued that his price was too high and we didn't
have that much money. Undoubtedly he'd managed to charge a
gringo price to the European tourists, so he sulked when he
had to accept less. Jim bought a round of beers for the five
of us, and then Julio led us back to our dinghy (we knew the
way but what the heck) where he encouraged us to sit down
at a nearby restaurant. We told him we were out of money,
thanked him for his service, and returned to our dinghy.
The dinghy was just as we left it, and surprisingly no one
came forward for protection money. As the four of us grabbed
the handles to launch the dinghy, a small boy of about four
years old ran up and grabbed a handle. This fellow wasn't
knee-high to a grasshopper and certainly could offer no assistance
with our heavy dinghy, even if we didn't already have four
adults to do the job. "No, no," I reprimanded and
patted his hand away. There were waves crashing on the beach,
and I didn't want him underfoot where he might get hurt. He
stepped back and proffered an open palm, waiting for his propina.
We were speechless at the audacity of such a small child.
The munchkin stomped off to rejoin his playmates in the surf,
grumbling and "talking shit" all the way. In Fuerte,
the hustlers are trained at a young age.
The weather didn't moderate until Monday, and by then we'd
been rolling in an unexpected west wind and swell for several
miserable days. As we prepared the boat to go offshore, Nick
discovered our stern anchor was missing. The anchor had been
mounted in a special bracket near the stern and shackled to
a length of chain and rope, which remained in a bag on deck.
We're pretty sure the anchor had been stolen while we were
in town a few days before, but we had not noticed it. I guess
the locals got their propina, and our poor opinion of Fuerte
was confirmed. We later learned that several thefts have occurred
at Fuerte, and anchors seem to the be the favorite target.
Advice to cruisers: skip Isla Fuerte!
At 5:00 P.M. we departed on a southwest course to the San
Blas. The wind was from the northwest for the first 30 miles,
something not forecast, and too light to sail without the
engine. Much to our disappointment, we motorsailed all the
way to the San Blas. Other than the smell of diesel fumes
blowing into our cockpit, the trip was pleasant. With no ships
on the radar to worry about and a moonless sky, the star gazing
was spectacular.
Daylight revealed the lush green eastern coast of Panama,
and the seas were now rolling in at 8 to 10 feet. At times
MiLady, just a mile off our port side, completely disappeared
from sight mast and all. As the boat surfed across the large
swells on our approach, we searched for a rock awash at the
entrance to Puerto Escoses, but it was hidden in the large
seas. Since the chart for this bay found in the Eric Bahaus
guide warns that the GPS grid is not precise, we weren't confident
that our plotted route would avoid the rock. I quickly made
a call on the VHF radio to Queen Mary (anchored elsewhere),
and they gave us their waypoints for a safe entry. We modified
our course, and then we spotted the rock to our starboard
side. Whew! We made our way to the far end of the anchorage
and dropped the hook in a beautiful and calm mangrove bay.
At N 08° 49.031' and W077° 37.321', we had not only
reached the San Blas but also the most southern point in our
cruise. It was time for breakfast and a long nap.
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We were boarded by the Colombian Coast Guard
in Isla Fuerte. They were courteous, professional, and happy
to pose for this picture.
School on Isla Fuerte
Deanna and Norma pose under La Bonga, a giant
750 year-old tree.
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