de Colombia a Panamá por las Islas de San Blas

As a wedding present my brother John gave us what is in Spanish poetically called "efectivo", with the instructions that we were to do something special with it during our trip. We are trying to make it all the way home without flying, a goal made difficult by the lack of roads through the Darién Gap between Colombia and Panamá. The Pan-American highway is not entirely pan. So we decided to cross into Central America by sailboat from Cartagena through the San Blas Islands to the Panamanian mainland.

We had heard some stories of drunken captains, shipwrecks, and unseaworthy vessels, but we got a recommendation from the people at our hostel in Cartagena and met our captain, Humberto, a few days before we embarked. Humberto turned out to be sane, smart, and friendly, and had been making the journey about ten times a year for fifteen years on his sailboat, Irene. He was assisted by his nephew, Juan David, who reportedly learned to sail before learning to walk. We were in good hands. Also joining us were a fun Australian couple, Tom and Eliza, and Kristine, an interesting Danish women living in London.






We pulled out of Cartagena around four in the afternoon and continued into the open ocean under sail with nothing but the soft sound of the water and mild flapping of the sails, as the dusk light friscalated over the swells to the horizon.






The following day we spent entirely on the open ocean stopping only to take a swim in the deepest, bluest sea we had ever seen. We saw many little flying fish buzzing over the surface of the water like large dragonflies. A couple even fell into our boat and were converted into tasty snacks by Humberto. We also had several birds use our boat as a resting spot on their long journey, one staying with us for the night.

The last time I had been in the open ocean, I had been deep sea fishing north of San Francisco and had spent almost the entire five hours face down on the deck, sick as a dog, so I was a little nervous about this trip. For those five hours I had wished for death; could I survive five days? Luckily the seas were relatively calm for the first two days. As long as I didn't try to read or do much below deck I was fine. By the time bad weather hit, I was somewhat used to the movement of the boat.













On the second morning, not far from the San Blas islands, we were awoken before five by the U.S. Coast Guard pointing out that the light on our mast was out. This apparently was a red flag for them because we enjoyed their company for the next eight hours. The first half was spent going around in circles followed by a small boat full of coasties as a squall set in, flashing lightning and booming thunder and sending the swell up to give us all a little taste of the queasies.

Humberto's English is quite good, but he had a lot on his plate and it was hard to hear yelling from boat to boat, so I became the spokesperson. After several hours, soaking wet and feeling a bit seasick and still having no information on what was going on, we decide to speed up the process by heading for the islands. I relayed our decision to the officer in a tone of respect that those who remember my teenage years would have marveled at. Soon enough we were boarded by the guards, most of whom were quite friendly, especially Michael Jackson (pictured), from Texas, and Brett from Norwich, Connecticut. They didn't much want to be tossed around on our boat in the rain without breakfast either. Finally in the afternoon the commander on the mothership Thetis decided that we were drug-free and sent us on our way. I was impressed by the professionalism and friendliness of the guards, but it was a little dismaying to have a boat of 150 guardsmen tied up with us for eight hours. That is one heck of a cost to pay to search one small sailboat. I don't think we are going to "win" the "Drug War" this way.



Finally we got to the San Blas Islands, officially part of Panamá but almost exclusively controlled by the native Kuna Indians, and spent the next couple days fishing, eating fish, and snorkeling with fish. I have never seen anything like the profusion of fish we found along a huge coral wall near where we anchored the first night. Now I understand why Humberto said he would gladly turn himself into a dolphin. On our last night we were treated to another amazing Caribbean sunset.































Finally we said goodbye to Humberto, Juan David, Kristine, and Irene and spent a night in Portobelo, once the most important Caribbean port in Central America and now famous for the festival of the Black Jesus. We spent the night trying to get over our land wobbles with Tom and Eliza, playing an Israeli card game, and working on our left-over gin. On the following day, a holiday in Panamá due to the death of beloved former president Edara who brought Panamá out of the Noriega era, we made our way to Panama City on the Pacific side of the isthmus.





Thanks, John, for a wedding present we will never forget.