Tag Archives: 5. Panama to Tahiti

Life in San Blas

We were thinking of moving to one of the nice reef areas, about 15 miles east. But first Tim suggested that we visit the island/town behind us. I hesitated, wondering if “outsiders” would be welcome there. But one of the great things about traveling with Tim is his uninhibited interaction with everyone. I get to tag along and see where it leads.

The town consists mostly of houses with thatched roofs, plus some with metal roofs with water catchment systems. (There is no fresh water on the island — only rainwater or water brought from the mainland.) I had assumed that it was houses only, but there was a sign near where we landed the dinghy indicating crafts for sale. Then as we ventured further, along paths winding between closely-spaced houses, there were more signs…for stores, for the church, for the school, for a meeting house, for the medical clinic.

Enter Nestor, who speaks reasonably good English (slightly better than our Spanish), who introduces himself and adopts us. He answers dozens of questions; he has a cold beer with us (at our expense, of course); he guides us to the bakery, where the bread will be ready in 15 minutes. Ten minutes later, when it still will be ready in 15 minutes, he suggests we go to HIS island, Nalunega, just across a short stretch of water. We go, we visit the store there, we buy hot empanadas, we say no to many, many molas, we see the school (closed for vacation until March), and then he asks if we would like him to prepare a dinner for us I his house that evening Yes!

We go back to the first island, Wichubwala, to pick up our bread. Nestor takes his dugout canoe, and Tim rides with him. Bread in hand, we go a few yards to another island (or is it just some structures built over the water?) to buy lobsters for the meal Nestor will make. And finally we get back to the boat. This has been a much bigger outing than I had anticipated, and I’m hot and tired and thirsty. But what a great opportunity to learn how the Guna people live!

When we return in the evening to Nalunega, there is much more activity than earlier in the heat of the day. Lots of kids running around, lots more people on the paths among the houses. And a basketball game, complete with referee! I was going to ask if people played soccer, but I realized there was no space on the island for it. Nestor reports 700 people live on the island, which is a most a 3 minute walk from end to end.

Solar panels sprout between the thatched roofs. They attach to batteries, wired to LED light bulbs. And an occasional TV! There are even some satellite dishes, but Nestor says they don’t always work; his is primarily for DVD’s for the kids.

Dinner is lobster (the tropical kind has meat inn the tails only, no big claws) and coconut rice and breadfruit and beans. All is delicious! Nestor does the cooking. His wife helps with serving. His daughter minds the younger kids in a hammock. It is clear that all sleep in hammocks. They can be swung up into the rafter to make room during the day. Clothing is stored hanging from rafters. Most of the cooking is done next door, and the results are carried in to us.

Nestor shows us his passport, which has several stamps in it. He is proud of it, and he speaks of going to Columbia next, to work for a while and then return. He says that he goes to Panama City to work, but Panama City is “not good.” Tim asks about the city of Colon, and is it a dangerous place for “gringos.” Nester considers this for a moment and says, “For Gringos, si.”

We try to ask if the community has been affected by sea level rise, but he doesn’t exactly understand the question. Yes, he says, last November when the winds blew hard from the east, parts of the island were flooded. We ask about what the young adults aspire to — do they want to stay on the island. I couldn’t fully understand the answer. Many go to Panama City. At first I thought he said that the Guna customs are retained by them, but then I think he may have said the opposite.

There was traditional dancing that evening. We watched for a few minutes before we said we had to get back to the boat, as it was getting dark.

I must say that my impression of life on Nalunega changed dramatically during the course of the day. My predisposition was to think of the people as poor, and thus unhappy. But the people seem to be quite happy. The children are beautiful and playful and appear to be very healthy. My idea of “poor” morphed as I saw more of their lives. Were they lacking anything they needed? Would they trade places with any of us?

Baking Bread…? Part 2

(Continued from Part 1)

I’m hungry, so I investigate what we have left in the snack locker. Seeing no cashews or Snickers bars, I choose Saltines and peanut butter.

I’m tired. The last hour of this middle-of-the-night watch can seem interminable. It’s 0147. Crap, the last hour hasn’t even begun.

The ship has passed, and no new ones approaching. The wind has been steady for a while at about 17 knots. We’re doing fine with no reef. A big cloud is approaching, however — blotting out a patch of stars; registering deeper darkness than the ambient moon-set-three-hours-ago-sky. It’s 0158.

At this point of my watch I don’t want to do anything. I’m just hanging out until I can go back to sleep. I hope the wind doesn’t change. I hope no more ships appear. I just want an hour and two minutes to pass uneventfully. I have to force myself to stand up and go out to the cockpit and scan the horizon. Then I put away the peanut butter and crackers.. I check the charge level of our batteries. Our hydro-generator chafed through the line that holds it down, so it is out of commission tonight. So our batteries are getting somewhat low, but the silver lining is that I don’t have to listen to the annoying hum of the generator. Our wind generator is doing well, but it can’t keep up with our usage. It’s 0217.

My eyes are burning. I close them. Just for a minute. I wish I dared to close them longer. How do single-handed sailors survive? Earlier today we sailed past a huge floating drum/float/buoy. It was big enough that it would have done tremendous damage if we had hit it. We didn’t see it until it was already alongside. At night, no chance of seeing such a hazard. All small boats on the ocean are taking a calculated risk. It’s 0228.

Orion is about to set, soon to be followed by the Milky Way. The infinity of stars is amazing. I wish my eyes were sharper, so I could see more of them. An airplane blinks a trail northward. The North Star is lower in the sky each night, marking our progress south. I stare upward trying to keep my eyes open, and am rewarded with a shooting star — a good one, that leaves a trail glowing in the sky for a second before it is gone. It’s 0237.

I close my eyes…and jerk awake! How long was I asleep? Only for a second, I think. Time to make my way to the cockpit for another look around. No ships. No wind change. No big devoid-of-stars cloud patches. I’m on the home stretch now…counting down the remaining minutes until 0255, when I will wake Tim, brief him on the conditions, and go right to sleep.