The
western islands of Panama are, quite simply, a great cruising ground for
boaters. Anchorages are many and the distances between them are generally
short. Even the greater distances are all feasible for day passages. Save for
the complaint of the rather long journey from Canada to get to this region, we would
recommend that all boaters immediately make way.
Having
made that long journey we are now dealing with feelings of regret: our time
here has proven to be far too short for our liking. It is precisely this sort
of realization that inevitably causes a small percentage of people who travel
to far away places to all of a sudden stop moving and say “fuck it, this is the
place.” A precipitous life choice to stay and strike roots is thus made. Though
we have certainly seen some lovely spots while sailing, the beacon sounding from home
has always been stronger than the lure of beaches forever.
Still,
meeting expats who have made such a choice is always interesting. They buy
property or an old boat and try to make a go of it, somehow. They open a
restaurant, or a bakery, or build a hostel. Their degrees of success are often
startlingly different and they inevitably become the subject of much local gossip. Some become
pathetic sods, careening their beaten-up old boat into others anchored nearby. "WTF happened there buddy?" asks the aggrieved boater."Sorry man, I’m wasted and wasn't paying attention!"
The expats and their businesses tend to come and go. Others
find longer-term success and grow old enough to see the beauty of youth in place. This often ends,
predictably, in the dissolution of all that was built once the
forsaken spouse finds out.
Boca
Chica is one of those lovely small town places. With an anchorage inside a narrow island passage it enjoys perfect protection from the sea. Apparently, some fifteen years ago this was
an up and coming spot for the back-packer set. Travel fashions have apparently since changed and it is a quieter place now. It would have always been a hard-to-get-to spot. From its modest hostel beginnings, development went the other direction and there is now an elegant
resort. The luxury cabanas are built along a steep winding path down to the dock house
where on Saturday nights there is a tiki bar party. Boca Chica is a place we
would like to have had time to hang out at for a while. We were disappointed at having an onwards schedule that made us miss Tiki Night Saturday.
The
Islas Secas offer crystal clear waters and terrific skin-diving. We were
anchored there one afternoon when our friend Wolff called on the radio from his trimaran, en-route 3-1/2 miles out. With no-wind conditions he had been lucky to spot three whale sharks feeding near the surface. Like any
sensible sailor he recognized this offer from the sea-gods and jumped into the water so he could experience swimming with them in the open ocean. He suggested we come out too. Greg and Debra (from Avant) took up the offer and blasted out as
fast as our little dingy would take us.
Debra had previously swum with whale sharks in La Paz, but Greg never. Snorkeling alone as they passed within arms reach he looked the behemoths in the eye,
marveling at their spotted greatness. Don’t
touch though. One flick of their great big tail could send you skyward. These
were apparently only little ones, being merely 25-30 feet long. Words do fail - it was fucking fantastic. The sad part was that Debra’s waterproof camera had a dead battery,
so no underwater pictures were to be taken. Greg has his indelible memories but we need to get a waterproof
camera.
Parida south anchorage
Hostel dining deck
The infamous Tiki Bar
The channel at Boca Chica
A mascot for the bow found on the beach, painted all pretty
Frank's Hostel/Restaurante, leaving Boca Chica.
Isla Secas
Albacore tuna, offshore caught with no one looking except offshore spouses.
Debra, Rob, Wolff, & Greg at Isla Secas, eating snacks and drinking plenty.
Debra, the fish aficionado.
Wolff's boat, Del Sur, at Isla Secas
Greg borrowed Debra's camera to take some underwater pics. No battery remained when we headed out for the Whale Shark swim :(
Rainbow Wrasse in the coral
Our snorkeling platform
Black Tip Sharks
Guineafowl Puffer, golden phase
Brain coral
Golden Jack
Scallop
Blue-and-gold Snapper
Olive Ridley turtle, maybe a Hawksbill (hard to tell from this pic)
Whale shark
A cell signal is few and far between in these parts and we stop at a little sea-side village called Pixvae for a night, hoping to get some internet and news from home.
Beside the school, if you hold your phone at just the correct angle and if you are lucky you can receive a WiFi signal. A local will help you with the password.
Helpful Internetters
Horsemen need to get their internet fix too. This is the town Hot Spot.
Along with the horses there were a few cars and trucks in Pixvae.
Heading to Bahia Honda
Western Panama is lush.
Kennedy the panga-man of Bahia Honda, barters for goods and cash using fruits and vegetables. Notice that Greg's bartering shorts are the same ones he wears fishing.
Our bartering outcome.
Bahia Honda. The bar there is the happening place, but the human result in a setting of poverty is not necessarily pretty.
Views from our anchorage.
The bar is simple but you can get a drink if you want one.
Town walk-about
The Church of course.
Did this work? Nah, probably not.
The motto of the police service is the same all over the world. In this case the building is well guarded from outside attack.
What were these fruit called? They were pretty tasty.
Isla Santa Catalina beach landing - view from the restaurant deck.
Abandoned buildings can be kind of cool.
Gotta love this dog.
And this pet parrot free on its own (budgeria?)
Santa Catalinian signs. Check out the boobs on that mermaid.
Scenes from Isla Afuerita.
This is a drug runner's semi submersible boat that was abandoned on the beach. Two outboards on the back power it and only the pilot house shows above water. Invisible on radar.
Del Sur at Afuerita, across from Bahia Honda.
Heading back to Armuelles from Parida. Sunrise.
Heading back to Armuelles from Parida. Full Moon.
Hot footed Booby. Don't worry, the BBQ was off.
Lots of boat visitors.
Another Albacor Tuna. Second one this season. Very Yum.
The beach landing at Armuelles had a big surf, so we took the ladder this time.
Beauty posing on the condemned pier.
Dude with broken flip-flop on the condemned pier, getting ready to climb down the rusty ladder.
A welcome sunrise after a long, sleep-deprived night passage that included engine fuel-line problems while we are headed back to Golfito in Costa Rica.
Back in Golfito. This is our hotel recommendation for visitors. An experience in real.
