The Pacific was so different from the Caribbean. The tidal ranges were huge, and large tidal flats stretched away from the Panama City foreshore. We were anchored off the west side a long causeway that connected a small island to the mainland. On the other side there was a marina and shops, and you could see the city. The day after we got there we got into the dinghy and took the tyres we used as fenders for the canal ashore. There was a pile of them already there from other boats. Every week or so an enterprising truck owner would pick them up and sell them to the Colon garages, 60km to the north, so they could sell them to the next set of yachties who needed them. There were taxis there, and some good restaurants nearby. We needed to go into the city to get our visa for French Polynesia. This would allow us to stay for three months instead of one.
The French embassy was in the old town, and the area immediately north of there was very dangerous. This was the area that sustained the most damage from the US bombing . The taxi drivers looked really worried for us and repeatedly told us not to go near there. We got our visas and looked for a taxi, but there weren’t any so we ended up dashing into the bad area to get one. No one bothered us.
Panama city is huge, with freeways, Mac Donald’s and all the other trappings of a large city. Shakira was to play there the next month, and the Lord of the Rings – The Two Towers was playing. As usual we had more shopping to do, so we took a taxi to the huge new mall, watched the movie and bought our stuff. It was in English with Spanish subtitles, but all the Elvish parts that were normally subtitled in English were instead in Spanish too.
We stayed about a week at the mouth of the canal before moving on. We were parting company with our friends, including Mark and Laurie. As usual we felt sad to leave the group but also looked forward to striking off on our own. Our next stop was the Las Perlas Islands, 35 miles southeast from Panama City.
The sail to Las Perlas was utterly flat, with 10-15 knot winds from behind. We were in the gulf that South America forms with the east-west lying isthmus of Panama. Ahead of us was the Darian Peninsula, one of the most dangerous places on Earth, but we were not going near the dangerous parts.
As we sailed along in the bright sun we saw another boat coming up from behind. It was the shiny catamaran Atanua, going much faster than us in the flat conditions. We called them and asked where they were headed. We were both going to Contadora, so we planned to meet up with them there.
Contadora is a small island with a few resorts on it and some local shops. I vaguely remembered it from peace summits held there in the eighties. We were amused that they shot Survivor there, and the latest one, Survivor – Exile Island was shot there too. We wondered if the contestants knew that there were shops a few miles walk to the north where they could get some beer and ice cream.
The island was rugged, with brown boulders spilling sown to the clear water. The colours were beautiful with the water a deep, clear blue from the Humboldt current. The water was quite cold. Atanua anchored around the next point, but we were after some seclusion so we dropped the hook off the next beach, which we had to ourselves. We spent the evening swimming and relaxing, then took the dinghy over to Atanua for a while. It was great to be anchored off a quiet beach, self-reliant and totally off the grid.
By that I mean that being in a marina or anchored off a major town brings with it a dependency. Because there are shops there you go to them to buy what you want to eat, rather than eating what you have. There are always things the boat needs so you buy them rather than making do or improvising. If you are not careful cruising can become an exercise in sailing from port to port and fixing the boat. We always tried to spend less than three weeks in town, then to cruise secluded areas for the next couple of months.
The Las Perlas were certainly secluded. Most had little or no population at all. After a couple of days at Contadora we sailed further south, and came across a couple of whales playing. I tried to catch them on video but they seemed to know how to avoid the lens. There were also plenty of dolphins around, and as we sailed to our next stop they played in the pressure wave under our bow. Al and I sat with them on the bowsprit until they got bored and moved onto the next game. We anchored and met up with Atanua, and this time Déjà vu were there too. We went spear fishing and caught enough fish for a barbeque on the beach, accompanied with a few rums (as is customary in those parts). The following days I did some work on the anchor windlass. Owen helped me get it apart, which required a bloody great hammer. I serviced the outboard too, which was not running well. Alison worked on getting the boat sorted out for long passages again. Then the rest of each day we swam, snorkelled and read books.
Our last stop in the Las Perlas was the south-western island in the group. On the sail over there we saw a wide, slow whirlpool of different coloured waters meeting, and flocks of birds were diving down to catch fish. We trailed a lure and I caught a huge yellow skip. It took me about an hour to land. We cut it up but the meat was very dark and bloody, despite hanging it for hours. It went into a curry in the end. I am not sure if the dish would not have been better off without it, though fresh protein is always welcome.
We walked the beach and saw the tracks of a big crocodile. We had been swimming every day so we wondered if any others had been around. The dive over the side to wash our hair that evening was very quick indeed.
We decided to move on. The other boats were going back to the north of the group to investigate some more, but we were keen to move on. We left for the Panama south coast the next day.

Back on the coast – Ensenada Benao.

Out next passage was an overnight passage. We sailed across the mouth of the Gulf of Panama, past the infamous Punta Mala on the southern bulge of the country, to a bay called Playa Benao. This was a well known surf spot, and had hosted a major competition the previous day in 10 foot waves. We anchored in the corner of the bay right next to a very familiar boat. Mark and Laurie had arrived there a couple of days before, having skipped the Las Perlas and toured the western side of the gulf. Althea had the boards and wetsuits out on deck from their morning surf. We caught up with them and had dinner together.
Playa Benao is a wide bay facing south, with a small rocky island sheltering the eastern end of the bay. The swells from the Pacific are gathered by the bay and focussed on a series of sandbanks. There is a small shop on the beach with a few cabins to rent to touring surfers. We were anchored behind the island, directly off a private beachfront property. There was a creek running down to the beach and lots of wood. The second night we had a bonfire, with the guitars out and Laurie running around with a burning branch. We kept well clear of the creek in case there were crocs in it. In the morning I was disappointed to see a couple of syringes on the beach. It seemed worlds away from the drug scene in the city. At least they had the cap on, so Laurie couldn’t have been stuck in the dark.
Over the next few days we surfed every day. Once we saw a small croc swimming around the anchorage. It was only about a metre long and kept close to the rocks, but we decided to line fish rather than spear from then on.
Eventually we decided to explore ashore. Since we had officially checked out of the country we had stayed on the water almost the entire time, but we figured that since we had a permit to cruise the coast it would be OK to go into the local town. We set off one morning on the local bus for the local regional centre of Las Tablas. It was a very interesting town with great food, and a large produce market. We bought some fresh food and some medicines we had forgotten to pick up. Mid-afternoon we caught the bus back again for the long trip home. Halfway there we were pulled over by the Panamanian police. They were checking for illegal immigrants. Which was what we were at that time. We had our US drivers licenses on us but not passports, which were stamped out of the country anyway. I kept telling them in my hardware store Spanish that they were on the boat (Mi Pasporto estas sur el barco a playa Benao). It was working, so Laurie and Mark didn’t let on that as Californians they both spoke good Spanish. One of the local guys we had been surfing with was there and vouched for us as responsible people and well off, so they let us go. I vowed never to stretch the rules again. The locals were all very friendly in Panama. It was not a tourist destination and still retained its original character. All of the men wore the traditional Panama hat. They were expensive but we should have bought one. Yet another excuse to go back.
Time to move on again, Mark and Laurie were moving on to Ensenada del Naranjo, so we went with them. We caught a tuna on the way and had a big BBQ on the beach. There were quite a few of the boats that we had come to know there, and it was great to have a party with them all again.
About this time we were thinking seriously about making the hop to French Polynesia. We wanted to find one more bay where we would have it to ourselves and relax for a few last days before making the 4000 mile trip to the Marquesas. We planned to skip the Galapagos because we heard that it cost $200 per person per day to cruise there. We said goodbye to everyone. Althea weren’t coming to Polynesia, but continuing north to the States, so we were parting company. We sailed on alone to the offshore island of Jicaron.

Jicaron is a small island off the prison island of Coiba. It is only a couple of miles across the channel but the swift currents ensure that no prisoners can get over there. It is one of the most beautiful islands I have ever seen. It contrasted with the arid, brown rock country of the Benao area, with rich green jungle rising from the white sand beach. There was a small fishing boat spending the night. We anchored about half a mile away. They left in the morning, smiling and waving as they passed.
A small spring fell from the hillside and spilled across the beach. We grabbed all our water containers and filled them for the long trip ahead, getting soaked in the process of getting them through the surf.
One day we went fishing in the dinghy. We kept hooking small wahoo, only to have them break off the line. We were alone, so when we ran out of fuel there was no one to wave down. We rowed the mile to shore, then spent about an hour rowing along the shore back to True Blue. There were what looked like the tracks of a big croc on the beach. We were glad to have oars and a dinghy you can row. We got home just before dark fell.
Each morning we listened to the weather, and read and re-read the couple of pages in Jimmy Cornell’s Cruising Routes book. The next passage was to be half way across the largest ocean in the world. We wanted to sail past the Galapagos even if we couldn’t stop. From Jicaron to the Galapagos was about a thousand miles, or nineteen hundred kilometres. From there to the Marqueses was another three thousand miles. We were a little scared.