7-13 Feb, San Blas to Colon: After tidying the boat we spend the rest of Tuesday (7-Feb) relaxing after our night sail (30 hours) from Cartagena, Colombia to San Blas Islands, Panama. From our cockpit view the palm covered island of Banedup lies before us, with several other yachts anchored around us. Including “Tui”, whom we’d had a little race with on our passage. They came into the same anchorage about 1 hour after our line-honors finish 😊
The only sound to be heard is trade winds in the rigging and the distant roar as the huge Caribbean waves end their long east-to-west journey crashing onto the reef on the Windward side of the island. We can see the enormous breaking waves in the distance, the same waves we’d had to navigate through in the morning, with our hearts pumping hard with concern.
The following morning, job No.1 was to clean the barnacle covered hull. Armed with a 12” wide paint scraper I entered the water with full dive gear, including wetsuit and thick gloves, to ensure I didn’t get cut by the sharp crustaceans. It turned out to be relatively easy and very satisfying work. Each sweep on my paint scraper resulted in thousands of barnacles cascading off the hull to their new home on the seabed. The only challenge was to keep them from going down the neck of my wetsuit! Thankfully all their round white calcium footprints left on the hull were also relatively easy to remove, revealing clean antifoul paint underneath. I had been worried the paint would come off with their feet, leaving the hull less protected going forward. Doing a quick sum estimate, I believe I removed ~250,000 barnacles in 2-3 hours.
While annoyed by the blatant growth on the hull, I was pleased to see that not a single barnacle had managed to grow where I’d painted PropSpeed on the propeller, shaft and bow thruster blades. At least that expensive paint was worth the money! Another pleasing aspect of my yard work is the ceramic finish (by Undrdog) which I had applied to the hull topsides, waterline upwards. The area 15cm above the waterline was a thick brown colour from all the crap floating on the water in the marina. But with the ceramic coat, one simple wipe was all it took to remove the filth, leaving a pristinely clean and shining boat-top. Lovely.
Two dive tanks later, the hull was clean again and Captain slightly happier now that Cloudy’s prestige has been restored.
We sat in that anchorage for 3 days, enjoying the tranquility and also some social time with an Austrian couple on their Hallberg Rassy 46, Lusea. Like many others, including ourselves, the Covid years have taken their toll on both the boat systems (lack of use) and by implication, their cruising mojo. They had been heading for the Panama Canal, but now thinking of selling up, after 11 years of cruising. Anyone looking for a good HR46 ready for the Pacific, look no further.
One of the days we took a stroll with them around the island (Banedup) which is probably no more than 300 x 100m. Other than the spoiled area where several locals have made their home, plus a deserted grass hut that claims to be a fish restaurant (!) the island is fairly pristine. The kind that might be called “paradise”. Except, that is, for the swarth of human plastic debris all the way along the windward shore. If this is what happens after just 20-30 years of plastic being discarded, it’s hard to imagine what it will be like in another 20-30 years 🥺. Sadly, it’s the same scene on all islands throughout the Caribbean.
One thing that we now have for the very first time is the luxury of high-speed internet while at anchor in a remote place. Yes, our Colombian purchased Starlink system is working perfectly here in Panama, allowing us to enjoy evenings with Netflix entertainment. Plus, full communication without the usual need to search for a working cell phone signal, of which there seems to be none here. For those who enjoy uninterrupted fast internet at home, our new situation won’t seem unusual. But for us it’s a total revelation. A game changer to cruising life.
Talking of communication, our agent in Panama has lined us up for the first stage of our Panama Canal crossing – namely getting the boat inspected and measured. We are due to have this done on Tuesday (14-Feb) so we make plans to get to Shelter Bay Marina, about 70nm west, at the entrance to the canal.
After just 4 days in our peaceful anchorage at the east end of the Holandais Cays, on Saturday (11-Feb) we move 10nm east to another anchorage, this time in the East Lemon Cays, ready to venture out into the huge Caribbean seas the following day and sail towards the canal entrance.
Our new anchorage is similar to the Hollandias Cays, except we are now clearly in a more touristy area. The islands no longer have small grass huts with locals coming out in their dugout canoes to sell you fish. Here, each small island is a mini rustic resort with backpacker-type tourists enjoying a night or 2 on what they see as deserted paradise islands. And rather than the dugout canoes, the locals here race around in speed boats with their cargo of life-jacket clad tourists. What a change in just 10 miles. Later on, we are shocked to read that a 2 night stay on these very basic islands costs over $600 per person. We are perplexed why anyone would pay that – but evidence shows there are many who would.
After anchoring I take the dinghy and handheld depth sounder on my planned route through the shallows, where I want to navigate Cloudy Bay through in the morning. I do a depth survey and mark the route on our iPad, ready to follow the same route tomorrow. While out there, I motor over to a gathering of small boats to see what’s going on. Turns out to be a small shallow sandy patch where they bring tourists to swim in waist-high clear water. All a bit odd. But this is the day and age of mass tourism, and the kind of thing land-lubber tourists pay good money for!
The following rainy morning, Sunday 12-Feb, we motor through the narrow channels which I had surveyed yesterday and again out into the open sea. The winds are up to 25kts today and hard on our beam, along with the usual 3-4m short waves. Rather uncomfortable but at least today it’s only 50nm until we are around the corner and into the sheltered bay of Portobello. We sail with the cutter and heavily reefed mainsail but still manage a healthy 8-9kts average, with the occasional wave slapping the starboard side of the hull and splashing on deck. Our speed is definitely an improvement with our newly cleaned hull. By midafternoon we turn the corner and motor into Portobello and anchor right under the famous San Fernando Spanish Fort.
This Bay of Portobello and its fort have quite an interesting history. All the gold and silver that the Spanish plundered from the western shores of South America (like what is now Peru and Ecuador) were shipped up the Pacific coast to Panama City. From there, the booty was offloaded and carried by mules across the thinnest part of what is now Panama, to the Caribbean coast and the settlement of Portobello. Here, the gold, silver and other precious items were stored in warehouses until Spanish ships arrived to take them back to Spain. So not only was Portobello town overrun with riches, but it also attracted English “pirates” like Captain Drake (pirate to the Spanish, naval hero SIR Drake to the English!!). Hence the need for the fortifications such as San Fernando with its lines of canon. But unlike forts and castles you might find in Europe, this fort is untouched and unrestored other than the undergrowth cleared from it. And with its rusty iron cannons still lying where they were first commissioned, you really feel like you’ve just discovered it after hundreds of years since it was abandoned. Intriguing.
After a rather rough few hours of sailing, this bay is totally tranquil, the only sound being birds and monkeys in the jungle vegetation ashore. We also have many migratory birds (like swallows) flying all over the boat in search of holes and crevices. Presumably looking for where to make a nest. I have to resort to jamming one of my Crocs (shoes) into the open end of the boom, because they seem to be queuing up to go inside. I’m not having nests in my boom. Go find another boat you little buggers!
We share the anchorage with several other boats, and we assume they all have the same thought: to day-sail here from San Blas and do the last 20nm to the canal entrance the following day.
The next morning, Monday 13-Feb, after “visiting” San Fernando Fort with the drone, we lift the anchor and sail off towards Colon. The 20nm sail takes just under 3 hours. At 8nm out we VHF Cristóbal control to ask permission to enter through the Cristobal breakwater into the protected bay of the canal entrance. As we approach there is a minefield of ships anchored just outside the breakwater. Presumably all waiting to go through the canal. We’ve since learned that the bigger container ships pay over $1million to make the canal transit. And ships with dangerous cargo (like oil or liquid gas) pay even more. It kind of puts into perspective the $2,500 that we will have to pay to transit with Cloudy Bay.
Once inside the breakwater there are yet more anchored ships, and we use their windbreak to unfurl the sails again and refurl them more neatly. It will be a while before they come out again. And while doing this we get a call on the VHF: “Cloudy Bay, what are you doing? Please proceed immediately to the marina!” Clearly big brother is watching us, and loitering in these waters is strictly frowned upon! However, we don’t rush. One more sail to do, then fenders to place and mooring lines to secure.
As we motor gently into Shelter Bay Marina, we realize it’s quite a tight place to maneuver. So rather than turning around once inside, we opt to reverse all the way through the docks, with a tight turn into our assigned dock and another very tight turn into our berth, and all with quite a strong cross wind. To do this I lock the wheel mid-ships, gently motor in reverse, and use the bow thruster as a rudder, which pivots the boat about the axis of the keel allowing me to get Cloudy Bay into the tightest of spots. A bit like reverse parking a car into a space is so much more precise than forward parking, if done correctly. The exercise goes perfectly, and we enter our slip like professionals …. This time!
Unlike Colombia, the line handlers of the marina staff are fantastic, and we are efficiently and safely tied up.
Straight away you can feel an undertone buzz of excitement and anticipation all around. Each and every boat here is poised to go through the canal and start their Pacific crossing. All the crews are hyped up and the boats all look as ready as they will ever be for this next leg of their adventures – likely the longest single leg of the whole circumnavigation.
Cloudy Bay is also perfectly ready for the coming challenges. But not so the crew. We are in a dilemma of emotions. Oana doesn’t want to go any further and although I am able to continue alone, the prospect of being apart for many months is really tearing at us. Is it time to stop this adventure and move onto other pleasures that we can both enjoy? Or do I continue and finish what I started, my life’s dream to circumnavigate? Oh, decisions decisions ….