Colombiana

As we flew over the same parts of Panama we had just a day before been agonizing about how we were going to get out of, Crystal and I knew we had made the right decision.  Instead of being baked on the open deck of a shoddy cargo boat as it bounced along the guerrilla infested coastline between Panama and Colombia for who knows how many days, we were enjoying the free peanuts and ginger ale in a comfortably climate controlled atmosphere.  We were headed to Taganga, a beach town fairly close to Cartagena in the north of Columbia to meet my buddy Calvin or Chino Mamino as some call him or maybe it's just me.  There were no direct flights to Taganga from Panama as most flights in and out of the country are routed through Bogota.  Although this did make for a longer travel day it had the added benefit of one of us being able to get a bikini wax at the Bogota International Airport during our layover.  

Our arrival in Taganga coincided with Holy Week and Colombians flock to this normally tranquil town to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ by partying all week on the beach in skimpy bikinis.  We met up with Chino who was already enjoying the local customs, not by wearing a bikini but by appreciating them, and had no choice but to join in ourselves.  With the festivities moving from the beach to the bars as the sun set and then going late into the night, Chino and I  were searching for motivation to get up and go diving the next day.  We weren't expecting much from what we had seen but this was supposedly the best dive site in Colombia and with both of us being avid divers we had to at least give it a shot.  We stayed pretty close to each other during the dives as bubbles leaked out of our rented gear while we placed bets on who would have equipment failure first.  Not sure if peeing in your wetsuit counts as equipment failure but with that much beer from the night before, it couldn't be helped.  The dives actually turned out to be better than expected with both of us seeing a few aquatic life firsts.

Overlooking the revelers on the beach in Taganga.

Not a bad spot for our surface interval between dives.

Finally, the evasive and invasive lion fish.

Staying hydrated with the local bag o'water.

The brightly hued Colombian flag waves proud.

Once we had our fill of Taganga we made the short bus trip west to Cartagena.  To me Cartagena is one of those nostalgic cities of lore, like Constantinople (now Istanbul) or Casablanca.  Not that they have to start with a 'C' but the mere mentioning of their names immediately takes your mind to a land filled with with adventure, romance, daring, and sometimes drug runners.  The blame for Cartagena's allure cannot fully be placed on the shoulders of Kurt Douglas and Kathleen Turner when they filmed "Romancing the Stone" or on Gabriel Garcia Marquez for writing "Love in the Time of Cholera".  The city and it's location have captured the minds of many dating back to the Colonial era when it was one of the most valued ports to control and Spain spent the equivalent of 2 trillion dollars to fortify the city.  Although there is much more to the city now, the main attraction is still entering the old town through one of the few gated archways placed in the thick defensive wall that surounds it and meandering aimlessly through the streets taking in all the sites it has to offer from horse drawn carriages to modern night clubs.

Street cheese - a welcoming substitute for street meat.

Street sweets.

Night life in full swing.

The night life begins.

Aside from all the mainstay attractions and throngs of mostly local tourists, the city was also preparing for the upcoming G8 summit which was just a week away.  There was a constant running day and night of  drills with guards in full riot gear filling the streets while helicopters swooped low overhead.  We took pictures of the US Secret Service "preparing" for the event as well and I tried posting those to this blog but for some reason they were blocked.  I also think I am being followed now.

After a few fun days in Cartagena, Chino's vacation time was up and Crystal and I needed to plan the rest of our Colombian escapade.  Colombia is about the same square area as Texas and Oklahoma combined so it can take a while to get from point A to B.  We had about a week left in Colombia before she had to fly back to Canada to get things together for her 'Doctors without Borders' leave in Africa so instead of racing around the entire country spending most of our time on a bus, we decided to take it easy and enjoy what we could on the 2 day bus trip back to Bogota.

Nestled in the mountains halfway between Cartagena and Bogota lies the acclaimed adventure capital of Colombia, San Gil.  This sounded like the perfect spot to break up the bus ride and stay for a few days to see what trouble we could get into.  San Gil has a monumental list of thrill seeking activities to offer:  rafting, caving, sky-diving, rappelling, mountain biking, para-gliding, and ant eating.  We chose the last two.

Soaring high in the clouds.

The only instructions for take off are run, run, run!

Running off a perfectly solid 10,000 ft mountain with a small Colombian strapped to your back and a thin piece of synthetic material overhead connected by a handful of cords holding you in the sky may not appeal to some as relaxing but it was one of the most tranquil and beautiful things I have ever done.  At times we were at a stand still balanced perfectly in a headwind before we found a thermal updraft to climb higher and higher above the mountain peaks until we gently soared down.  Although everyone paid the same price, the flights lasted from 30 minutes to 1.5 hours depending on how attractive you were.  Crystal got the 1.5 hour ride while mine was 45 minutes.  Not sure what that means but the only pain I had in my backside was when my pilot gently landed me in a patch of stickers.

Hormigas Culonas or 'ants with a giant ass' are a local delicacy and everyone is pushed to try at least a handful when visiting the area.  After para-gliding, eating ants didn't seem like too much of a risk so both Crystal and I had our fare share.  Tasting like salty peanut shells, we both agreed  they were better than the hissing cockroaches in Thailand but not as good as the crickets in Cambodia.

San Gil and the surrounding area is not just for thrill seekers.  Old colonial towns with cobble stone streets lined with terra cotta roofed houses dot the area, the most visited being Barichara.  Being well above sea level on the slopped terrain, the cool crisp air made daily strolls amongst the white washed walls a must, stopping to take a picture, grab some food, talk to a goat, or pet a kid.

Barichara photo op.

A handful of Hormigas Culonas or 'big ass ants'.

With just a few days left we still wanted some time to explore Bogota so we said goodbye to San Gil and hopped back on the bus one last time.  Bogota is vast and highly populated with close to 8 million people living in the city.  It is one of the highest capitals in South America which also means it is cold and rains a lot.  Unfortunately for us we weren't too prepared for this type of weather mostly because we had been living on a boat with no shoes for the past few months.  This allowed us the opportunity to really dig deep in our packs and come up with some unique and improvised clothing options to try and stay warm and dry.

They just thought I was from Holland.

Luckily Crystal is from Holland.

The veil of clouds break just enough on a cable car ride to view the sprawling expanse of Bogota.

Fortunately Bogota is filled with great museums and restaurants which meant we could spend a lot of time indoors and not outside battling the elements.  One of our favorites was The Museo del Oro (Gold Museum).  It has the largest collection of pre-Hispanic gold work in the world with more than 6000 pieces on display.  It is easy to imagine why once discovered by Europeans, the New World was a land to be plundered no matter what the costs to either side blinded by the riches in gold alone.  It's amazing that so many pieces have survived in such good health to this day and a privilege to view the advanced skill and knowledge the indigenous people portrayed in their works.

The other great thing about Bogota was the eateries.  We had been looking for authentic good Colombian cuisine for a while and Bogota did not fail us on that.  Tiny two story restaurants squeezed side by side with shared walls were the apparent hot spots for the locals especially to take refuge in when the cold and rain picked up.  A great variety of hot, creamy soups and tamales wrapped in banana leaves that had a half chicken inside never left you hungry but always ready to eat more.  One of the local favorites we had to try was an extremely dark cocoa drink served with warm butter bread and cheese that are supposed to be dipped or soaked in the chocolate and then eaten as you drink.  It seemed like an odd combination but once we tried it we had it after every meal.

Gold place

Gold face

Hot and delicious meals helped us through the days.

Dark chocolate, butter bread, and cheese.

There was the occasional break in weather which gave us enough time to enjoy our strolls throughout the city one of which lead to the grand plaza in front of the nation's capital building.  The plaza is the focal point in the historic La Candelaria district attracting mostly tourists and pigeons which in turn attract a plethora of hawkers selling everything from pigeon feed to mini alpaca rides.

The happiest boy in the world.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words but this one needs a lot more explaining to fully appreciate.  After a long day of walking, Crystal and I ended up in this plaza and once we gently declined the vendors pursuits for the 100th time, we were able to take up residence on the edge of the plaza to relax and take in the sites.  From one of the side streets we could here a small commotion and soon enough three boys came around the corner, one boy being the obvious culprit for most of the noise making.  He was extremely excited to be here, like he had been anticipating this day his entire life and it had finally arrived.  He definitely knew what the plaza had to offer because before he had made it even ten feet into the square he was already yelling his demands with a huge smile on his face: "I want all the pigeon feed you have.  I want all the miniature alpacas here now.  Where is the photographer?"  It didn't take any translating to understand that much.  In the blink of an eye he was on the back of an alpaca with pigeons clambering on his outstretched arms having his picture taken while his two friends grinned at each other and paid for everything he wanted.  I am not sure if he was slightly medicated after just being released from the hospital for a severe illness or this was the Colombian version of the 'Make A Wish Foundation' but if he would have been any happier he would have exploded.  It was like it was his birthday,  Christmas, and the government had declared a holiday in his honor all on the same day.  Crystal and I were astounded that an under-sized alpaca and dirty pigeons could bring so much joy to one person.  It was amazing to watch.  If everyone in the world had just 10% of whatever this kid had it would put an end to famine, war, and poverty in an instant.  We were lucky enough to be the only foreign tourists in the area and once he spotted us he immediately ran our way with a photographer in tow to take a picture with us to commemorate the event.  It was a true honor and pleasure.  Our last day in Colombia couldn't have been any better.

After being together 24/7 for the past 3 months it was odd dropping Crystal off early the next morning at the airport for her flight to Canada.  I am not sure if the bikini wax shop was even open that early.  I still had some work to do since I still didn't have a boat yet to get me across the Atlantic but that is just a minor stumbling block which I will cover next time.

Cheers and hope everyone is well,

El Final de America Central

If this post seems a bit confusing, it's because it is.  I myself am still unsure of the exact tracks I covered on this final leg through Central America and writing about it didn’t seem to help clear anything up.  The plan seemed simple enough:  After departing S.V. Windwalker in Bocas del Toro, Panama, Crystal and I would find another sailing vessel heading south to Columbia so we could meet up with a buddy of mine in Cartagena in about a week's time.  I had been hopping on sailboats starting all the way from Florida to my current location and with just one more country to go in an area known for its sailing, this should have been a breeze.

Still barefoot and confused in Bocas.

Well it appeared the Panamanian government had caught wind of our plan and decided to issue a trade embargo on shipping white people via sailboat between themselves and Columbia because it was tougher to find a sail boat heading south than it was trying to explain what a turducken is to the local chief of police.  

In Panama there are four locations for boating enthusiasts none of which are close together:  Bocas del Toro, the canal on the Panama City side, the canal on the Colon side, and the San Blas Islands. 

After persistently asking every boat in a 10 mile radius in Bocas, we got a restraining notice that didn't allow us within visible distance of any type of ocean going vessel.    So we skipped town and decided to go to Panama City and try our luck there.  Instead of taking the rough 2 day bus ride that routes itself through every possible mountain range between Bocas and Panama City, we opted for the cheap 2 hour flight.  

On a side note as something that may interest fans of the Guinness World Record Book, Crystal and I had not worn shoes, flip flops, crocs, one-sies, or any other type of protective foot apparel for the past two months.  We knew our barefootedness was coming to an end with the big city lifestyle quickly approaching however we were able to board and fly to Panama City without shoes which makes going through security that much easier but after bewildered looks from the airport staff upon landing, we were instructed we must have shoes on to enter the baggage claim area.  We did weasel passed that one by saying they were in our check-in luggage when we actually had them in our carry-on backpacks however once we saw the littered streets of Panama City we claimed defeat and put on our flipee-flopees.  We were a bit disappointed because we only had 72 years, 6 months, and 13 days before we beat the current record set by an Indian mystic who lived in a tree in the northwest Uttar Pradesh region.  He obviously never visited Panama City.

To help ease us back into big city life after roughing it on a boat for so long, Crystal had a friend doing some work in Panama City and we were able to crash at her 5 star hotel.  (Thanks Pam if you read this!)  The nice thing was it was located right across the street from the main center of casinos and cabarets in the city.  The bad thing was that it was located right across the street from the main center of casinos and cabarets in the city.  

We spent a little time exploring Panama City since our main focus was on finding a boat but two areas aren't to be missed:  the fish market with endless stalls of fresh fish and ceviche and the old town with its European styled streets filled with Panama hat shops, entertaining ninos, and more importantly good food.

Thumbs up for oversized hats and cabarets.

Insert own caption.  Your guess is as good as mine.

As much as the city had to offer, we were still stuck high and dry without a boat after a couple days of solid searching.  Things would have been different if we would've had a bit more time but our days were running out before we had to be in Cartagena.  So we had two options left:  Go to the east side of the canal to Colon or try to find a way to the San Blas Islands and hope to find a boat there.  Both had their problems.  Colon is a place we were told to avoid at all costs due to the fact that the chance of getting mugged in the street in broad daylight is around 100%.  The San Blas Islands are in the no-man's land between Panama and Columbia which we were unsure of how to get to without a boat and once we got there were pretty committed to that route without a way of getting back easily.

At this point an important decision had to be made and what better way to do it than while determining which Panamanian beer is the best:  Atlas, Balboa, or Panama.  After much deliberation and even more beers, we decided to go for it and head to San Blas.  I wanted to see the Kuna Yala people of the San Blas Islands anyway and we wouldn't know unless we tried.  We also decided Panama is the best beer but all three give you headaches if consumed in large quantities.

For one of the narrowest countries in the world, it is amazingly difficult to get information about the east side of the country while on the west side.  A distance of only 50 miles.  We knew there was a train that ran down the Canal multiple times a day but after that all we had were a few vague town names and a phone number that consisted both of numbers and letters for a cement mixing company in Colon.  We didn't call.

The Panama Canal Railway was completed in 1855 to help with the huge influx of traffic wanting to get in and out of California during the gold rush.  Prior to the railway the isthmus was crossed via dugout canoes and donkeys.  The Canal itself was completed in 1914 after 10 years of construction and more than 12,000 deaths mostly due to tropical diseases.  The Canal Zone history is a fascinating read if you are up for something more after getting through this post.

Picture of a picture of the Canal locks.

All abroad.

Nowadays the Railway is mostly for tourists and it's a great way to see the Canal while relaxing in the air-conditioned passenger cars and avoiding the threat of any tropical diseases.  The trip was a quick 1.5 hours before we had to depart in the welcoming and friendly town of Colon.  What Colon lacks in hospitality they do try to compensate for by having the most intricately painted busses in Central America.  We got on the first one heading south and didn't look back.

Classy yet subtle.

Nothing says good bus service like a half naked
woman taming two white tigers.

We had heard we could catch boats heading to San Blas in a town called Miramar which is basically where the road ends.  After a few hot hours we were dumped out of the bus with the one other lingering passenger.  We realized Miramar wasn't exactly the place we were expecting and we weren't expecting much.  A few worn out streets with dogs to match lined with concrete houses accented by the two story pink police/military housing unit on the corner facing a dirty beach.  

As soon as we stepped off of the bus an eager 'business man' approached us assuming he knew the only reason tourists would come here and that is to get to San Blas.  After we confirmed our intentions, he guided us to the local boat 'captain' who was resting under the shade of his porch wearing the official San Blas Captain's Uniform:  a single gold chain around his neck and a pair of cargo shorts.  In all honesty it was too hot to be wearing much more.  

Now things got a bit tricky due to three main factors:
-  We weren't exactly sure where we were.
-  We weren't exactly sure where we were trying to go.
-  We had no idea of the distance involved between these two non-exact locations.

Well after a bit of a "Who's on first?" conversation in figuring out the above questions, he gave us a price which seemed high for any distance and told us he wouldn't be leaving until the next morning at 9 am sharp.  It was just after noon when we arrived and we had left as early as possible in the morning to try and get as far as we could in one day, hopefully to the islands but unless we were willing to spend most of our life savings and donate a kidney for an immediate departure, we would have to wait as there were no other options in this one boat town.

Once negotiations were settled the 'business man' was excited to take us all the way across the street to the restaurant/hotel so we wouldn't get lost and hoping his tip would increase.  After dumping our bags in one of the two rooms/jail cells, we had a bite to eat, walked around town checking out all the sights it had to offer which took less than 5 minutes, and then spent the rest of the day in what can only be summed up in the pictures below: 

Option 1:  Sit and sweat while watching others do the same.

Option 2:  Sit and sweat while watching Rosa chop up squid and swat flies.

We woke up the next morning ready at 9 am sharp to get things going.  Turns out 9 am sharp means sometime in the afternoon whenever the captain's hangover wears off and piloting a boat off shore is a better option than getting yelled at by your wife.  So we were able to enjoy more of the great action the city had to offer including the diverse menu of the restaurant which served the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  And by the same I mean whatever dry pieces of chicken and plantains you couldn't wash down with a warm coke at the previous meal were saved and served again.  You just had to hope you got your own leftovers and not Rosa's.  

After sitting around for what felt like days, el capitan finally shows up rushing us as if it were our fault he was late and leads us to his 25 ft cargo boat loaded to the gills with supplies to deliver to San Blas.  As we looked for the seats buried beneath the suffocating amounts of cargo, we were directed toward the front of the boat and told to sit on top of the large ice chests full of fish.  He then loaded a few more rusty propane tanks between our legs before handing us what appeared to be life jackets in a vein attempt to be concerned about our safety.  And to give us the best possible odds of our boat being used for a July 4th celebration, he climbed in the back and lit a cigarette before his helper lowered down two sloshing petrol tanks to fuel the small outboard on our journey.  Then with one crank we were off....until about 50 ft from the dock while we were passing through the narrow cut leading outside the reef the engine died.  About thirty attempts later, after some MacGyver engine repair and being within arms reach of the exposed reef, we were off and running again to battle the 5 foot swells outside the reef with the 50 hp motor for the 3 hour trip.

Well after 4 rough hours with no end in sight, Crystal began getting worried that we were being taken into the mangroves for our loot.  The thought had been crossing my mind as well but I figured they wouldn't have put our bags next to the decrepit propane tanks if they actually cared what was inside them.  However after being covered in sea salt and baked by the sun for the most of the afternoon, I was just hoping the natives weren't too hungry wherever we ended up.

Finally after 5 hours, an island with an actual building was in sight.  This was El Porvenir, the fist of 378 islands that make up the San Blas Archipelago.  49 of these islands are inhabited by the Kuna Yala people.  They are one of the only tribes of native Central Americans that survived the onslaught of the European conquistadors relatively unscathed due to the island chain's geographic location.  Although claimed by Panama, the Kuna Yala are a completely separate region and greatly value their independence with their own check points and immigration offices at the border of their territory.  Up until just a few years ago they still used coconuts as 'hard' currency.  Derelict hand written signs can be still be seen on coconut trees reading "Do not pick".

Once our official entry was complete in Porvenir we hopped back in the boat and were taken to an adjacent island that was crowded with wooden shacks and a couple of concrete buildings.  We were instructed that this was our getting off point whether we liked it or not.  Our arrival on the island attracted a bit of attention as the locals knew we would need something but they just weren't sure what.  There were a few sail boats anchored around the island and in the distance I could see lots of masts around another island so we needed a way to get there.  So we were back to another round of negotiations without much leverage.

The Kuna Yala have their own native language.  Their Spanish is sometimes ok and English almost non-existent.  Luckily for us one of the island leaders joined in our forum and his English was quite good.  His name was something like Pablo but more native islandy and he was very helpful as our newly elected point man.  He also had a boat and a much better price to ferry us to the other island.  So we loaded our gear into his small boat while his son put the outboard on it and we were on the water again.

There were plenty of sail boats around the island where we were heading which gave us more hope than we had had in days.  However, our hope slowly faded away after our generic call out on the radio for any boats heading to Columbia was met with complete silence as we stared at the radio hoping a genie would come out and grant our wish.  After waiting too long for a non-answer on the radio we motored over to a couple of boats that had people on deck to give our search one final shot.  We were informed that most people here are anchored for the season and there aren't too many boats heading to Columbia now.  This would have been good information to have in Panama City.  Now we were back to square one, without a way to Columbia, and more immediately without a place to stay for the night as the sun was setting.  Luckily Pablo helped out again and said he knew a lady who would rent us a room back on his island so back we went.

Once back and our accommodations arranged, we continued to pester Pablo on how we could get to Columbia from here.  He said there were two options he could think of:  Get on a chartered sail boat or work our way along the coast line jumping on local cargo boats.  Well it appears anyone there operating a sailing charter is trying to pay off their boat in one trip because the prices were outrageous and none were leaving in the near future.  The 2nd option didn't sound great either.  We had just spent 5 unenjoyable hours on a local cargo boat and getting to the nearest port town in Columbia would require at least 2 full days.  On top of that details were pretty sketchy about how we officially leave Panama and enter Columbia.  Google Maps shows a clear and distinct line between the two countries but in reality it is a completely different story as there is nothing down there resembling a border unless you consider drug runners, guerrilla fighters, and actual gorillas immigration officials.  We were in a situation that is eerily similar to what happens every four years in the States when we have to elect a president:  deciding on the lesser of two evils.

Well Pablo could see our consternation at the situation we were in and overheard us mentioning we wished we could get back to Panama City so we could just fly to Columbia.  He decided to give us a third option which was to take a 10 minute boat road to the mainland where 4x4 trucks make the trip to Panama City in 2 hours.  We didn't need to discuss this over a few beers.  We asked where do we sign up.

Although we realized we weren't going to Columbia by boat, we were finally able to relax with the few extra days we now had and spent the time enjoying the island with the Kuna Yala.  They live an extremely simple lifestyle with just enough electricity for the necessities and sometimes running water if you ask nicely otherwise you shower with a water basin and half a coconut to pour water over yourself.  Without much running water, plumbed toilets are an issue also so they devised a series of piers around the island with outhouses at the ends. by outhouse I mean a few boards in place for a bit of privacy and one board to sit on depending on your business.  I would recommend taking your own toilet paper and not to go swimming when the tide is coming in.

Outhouse or office:  Conference call on line poo. 

Outhouse or playground:  Why not let the kids decide.

As for our accommodation, it consisted of a bamboo hut with the beach as our floor.  It was obvious they hadn't had visitors in a while as they had to put a bed together for us but it turned out to be quite nice and rustic.  We would smooth all the sand out before going to bed so we could see all the whimsical routes the sand crabs took during the night and try and track them down in the morning.  Other than that it was your typical island setting with about 150 natives and 2 travelers from North America.  We played chase with the kids on the beach, watched fishermen almost swamp their boat in their excitement to catch a school of fish while the women rolled over from laughter on shore, and got a kick of watching each other nervously use the outhouses over the water.

Bargaining for textiles and possibly a small child.

Bedroom - sand crabs free of charge, other crabs come at a higher price.

The night before our departure, Pablo told us the villagers wanted to throw us a huge party for coming to their island as the anointed ones and saving their island from the tyrannical overlord, King Mamono.  Just kidding.  He just wanted to tell us that the town we were going to in the morning to catch the 4x4 had everything we would need:  a restaurant, internet, stores, and a hotel if necessary.  When we arrived the bustling metropolis consisted of one thatched pavilion for immigration and another disheveled wooden building that sold some food and room temperature Fanta Orange.  It was just one more comical episode before we loaded up in the truck alongside a very pregnant woman and her doctor in case she went into labor on the way back to Panama City.

Immigration station, 4x4 depot, restaurant, and hotel. 

And then we were off to Columbia.

Plenty of pictures added to the Panama link under Images on my blog site.

Hope everyone is well,

JB

South Bound and Down - Part 2

Firstly, and probably most obviously, I made it safely across the Atlantic Ocean in about a month’s time and close to 4,000 nautical miles of sailing.  More on that later when I get everyone caught up.  I admit I should not be this far behind with my accounts, however, I will also admit I never said I liked to write so hope at least someone appreciates this besides my mother.

One other quick note before we start.  I have included more photos in this entry because I know it takes time to click on the photo links to the right and want people to see some more photos but I have also uploaded a lot more for Honduras, Nicaragua, and added Panama and Columbia.  So if you even have more time to waste at work you can check them out.

So let's head back to the Bay Islands of Honduras one last time and wrap up our southern sail along the East Coast of Central America.  We had jumped ship from the youthful monohull, Atreyu, to the luxurious cat, Windwalker, to take us on this journey.  We would be going to islands that are getaways from getaways, where pirates are a legitimate worry, and where Twitter accounts are un-updatable.  The list included a couple more of the Bay Islands, Vivorios, Providencia, San Andreas, Little Corn, and Bocas del Toro.  Below is a map of our route and the islands to give an idea of the ground we covered:

Cayos Cachinos, Honduras (25 nm, 4 hrs)

A short day sail just east of Roatan, Cayos Cachinos is probably the least inhabited of the Bay Islands and actually consists of 3 smaller islands and numerous islets that are to an island chain what Pluto is to the solar system.  It’s a magical place where few tourists make it because of its inaccessibility.  So inaccessibile that on one of the islands they were taping Survivor Italy but don’t get too excited.  The only thing we saw were the helicopters blazing in and out with, we presume, those voted off the island.  Not that I watch any of the Survivor shows but from what I know of the American version, it appears the Italian version is a bit more severe in that they fly the latest loser to the top of the island and dump their body overboard into the fiery pit of the volcano where their screams quickly became inaudible.  I just made that last part up.

Here is a view from the old lighthouse on top of the main island looking across the protected cove to the 'Survivor' island:

Our boat is the lone white speck between the two islands. 

Unholstered and ready for action, or a picture.

Aside from the few guests at the tiny resort on the island and the local Garifuna fishermen, we had the place to ourselves.  However in the event that there was a security risk, we all felt safe in the rested hands of Manuel, the lone island/resort security guard, as long as he wasn't nodding off after a few morning cervezas.

Due to its lack of access and infrequent visitors, it is home to one of the least touched coral reefs in the area and is by far one of the most beautiful reefs I have ever seen.  Whether you scuba dive or just go for a snorkel, it is absolutely stunning from the kaleidoscope of colors in the reef, to the numerous swim throughs and shallow canyons, to the eagle rays that glide by uninterested in your presence.
  

Even the shrimp are brightly hued in this amazing underwater-world of colors.

Ironically the smallest of the three islands, and most likely to get washed out by a large wave, is also the most populated.  It is home to a Garifuna tribe that welcomes visitors to tour their enclave of wooden shacks and enjoy a home cooked meal of fresh fish along with other Garifuna favorites.  I have mentioned the Garifuna peoples before but for those who missed it, they are descendants from a wrecked slave ship in the late 17th century who survived, escaped, multiplied, and now inhabit the entire Central American Caribbean Coast and Los Angeles.  Their status as an ethnic minority group throughout the region usually allows them exemptions from the local government and donations from NGO's leaving them free to laze about most of the time with the occasional bit of fishing and soccer thrown in to break up the day, the latter of which they are happy to let you join in.  Of course local soccer rules apply which include being taken forcibly to the sand with or without the ball, taking the ball around a house to escape the defence, and using small children and chickens as goal posts no matter where the may roam.

Our Garifuna chef preparing a freshly caught Kingfish for dinner.

Guanaja, Honduras (55 nm, 10 hrs)

Said to be the Venice of the Caribbean because of its canals that cut through the island, the only thing that reminded me of Venice here was that when I took a piss it still hit the ground.  The good thing that came from our visit here was that we got a freshly frozen bag of lobster tails that fed 7 people for 2 meals for 20 bucks.  Not too shabby.  And by fed, I mean, Crystal and I took a crash course via the internet on how to prepare lobster and can say they came out pretty damn tasty.  The bad thing that came from here was I got a mild case of the Dengue Fever which held us up for a couple days until I recovered.  I also came to the realization that the brown splotches on my hand were from a mild form of leprosy that was going around Roatan.  Crystal and I got to share this one since we like holding hands so much.  We were told it would just go away in a few weeks and it was no real worry.  Good to know.  So now that is two more tropical diseases I can add to my list.

As the sun sets, the clouds build before our departure from The Bay Islands.

Vivorios, Honduras (197 nm, 38 hrs)

After Columbus took 3 months to complete this same leg, he named the horn Gracias a Dios (Thanks be to God).  Eventhough it only took us a day and a half, I was thinking the same thing.  Fighting a strong current, mixed seas, headwind, and frequent squalls, we were all glad to pull into this obscure island haven.  Technically Honduras claims Vivorios and the surrounding islets but as it lies about 50 nm off the baren corner of the country, the only things that seem to lay claim to these sandy patches of land barely rising above the sea are fishermen/pirates.

Before we even dropped anchor, we were surrounded by 3 small fishing boats each with about 3 to 4 disheveled men who were eyeing us just as much as we were eyeing them.  We were the only boat there at the time and these men lead a desperate life barely sustained by fishing and any other opportunities that may arise.  We intentionally sailed to Vivorios and not one of the islands closer to the mainland to avoid the threat of piracy however even just last year a single-handed sailor was killed here while his boat was looted.  We had everyone come up on deck so they could see our numbers as both sides discussed our next move.  We decided to break the obvious tension and began into a friendly greeting and conversation.  After apprehensive glances made their rounds between all parties and the fishermen held meeting amongst themselves again, two of their boats departed and one stuck around to show us their catch.  It appeared we had won out and they began to barter their fish for cigarettes, water, knives, and women (which was more like woman, that woman being Crystal).  We figured we could help them with all of the above except the knives (insert smiley face emoticon with winking eye) as we would be spending the night here and wanted to stay on good terms.

Where regulation is nonexistent, fishermen show off their catch of fish, sharks, and a lonely turtle.  

Once cordial relations had been established, we were able to relax and enjoy this true tropical island paradise.  With just enough sand and a  handful of palm trees to be classified as an island, Vivorios provides a welcoming anchorage to break up the trip going around the corner to Providencia or Nicaragua.  We all hopped in the crystal clear water for a snorkel and swim to the island.  Some swam faster than others due to the large amount of barracuda that immediately welcomed and began circling us as soon as we jumped in.  Everyone eventually made it to shore physically unscathed and took their own time to circumnavigate the shores which if walked slowly took about 15 minutes.  That night we dined on conch ceviche from conch we had plucked off the sea floor during our snorkel and fresh Kingfish we caught en route to the island while the stars from a clear night sky twinkled overhead.

Counting steps to see exactly how big the island is.

One of these is not like the others.

The shallow grave of a presumed fisherman.

As we lifted anchor the next afternoon and began our sail south through calmer waters and fair wind, I think we all looked back at one point or another probably realizing we would never return here but it is a place we would never forget.

Providencia, Columbia (200 nm, 40 hrs)

After we got through the shoals and our route turned due south, the sailing was perfect.  Light air coming from aft and smooth seas.  This took us straight into the two little known island jewels of Columbia.  Yes, they lie a good ways from their country of governance and much closer to the mainland of Nicaragua but they are definitively Columbian.

Providencia is the smaller of the two islands and as it is the more northern of the two, we stopped there first.  Unable to conquer this island by foot, we were forced to rent scooters which allowed us to complete the lone road around the island in about 45 minutes if we didn't stop.  However stopping frequently to get your feet wet at the picturesque beaches, to watch a baseball game, or to chat with the friendly locals couldn't be passed.

... must use tire swing.

Another awesome beach around the corner...

This blip of an island was also the outpost for the famed Captain Henry Morgan.  The lore of hidden treasure can be heard from the whispers of the locals and easily imagined as you explore the jungle and rocky outcroppings around the island.

Captain Morgan's Head greets sea farers as they enter the harbor.  I can see the face but to say it's his head is a bit of push unless he was related to the Elephant Man.

San Andreas (55 nm, 10 hrs)

Plenty of street food options
back in the 'big' city.

This island is the getaway for the posh mainland Columbians.  More hustle and bustle here give the main town a big city-like atmosphere but there are still plenty of places to relax.  Here we had to upgrade to a golfcart and it took us about 2.5 hours to get around the island.

Columbian tourists pose for a photo-op.

The night lights come on along the beach front to guide the crowds to the bars and discotecas.

Little Corn, Nicaragua (80 nm, 16 hrs)

There are two Corn Islands, Little Corn and Big Corn.  The first thing to know is no one goes to Big Corn.  Everyone goes to Little Corn and by everyone that means the local population of a few hundred locals plus the few intrepid backpacker types that make the difficult trip overland to the East Coast of Nicaragua and catch a ferry to the island.  I do have to say that their tenacity in getting here without a boat definitely pays off.  This is the most relaxed hamlet of an island you could ever imagine finding.  With just enough conveniences to keep you comfortable and inviting people will make you want to stay longer than you intended.  There is no electricity from 5 am to 2 pm everyday but there are plenty of white sand beaches and hammocks that seem like they were put out just for you all around the island.

So much beach, so little time.  Which hammock first?

The perfect spot for sunset.

We were lucky enough to be there for the Big Corn vs Little Corn double-header baseball game and also lucky enough that Little Corn won both games.  Way to go home team!  You know you are watching a baseball game on a tropical island when the outfield doesn't end with a fence but a jungle and a woman in the stands tells the batter, "Stanley, hit it in the mango trees."  This meaning hit it out of the park.

Roberto - snorkel guide and right fielder.
Keeping his reflexes sharp as he sneaks up on this nurse shark.  

Bocas del Toro, Panama (200 Nm, 40 hrs)
Finally, after about 3 weeks, we arrived in Bocas which was everyone’s getting off point as the skipper had to get the boat down to the Panama Canal to meet the owner.  Crystal and I definitely didn’t explore this area as much as I think is due to it.  There is much more to see aside from the main island of Bocas however after seeing fantastic islands for the past 3 weeks, being in a rush to get to mainland Columbia, and getting fed up with the skipper, we made a quick getaway, flying to Panama City, after just spending one night here.  However, even though our time here was brief it was anything but uneventful.

Long story short, whilst yelling at the skipper to pay up on money owed me as he walked down the main street while I was wearing just a pair of swim trunks, I learned you can get a ticket for walking down the aforementioned main street with your shirt off.  Just got a warning.  Also, if you happen to visit the police captain, immigration officer, and local judge, it is best to have a shirt on as well or else you have that much more explaining to do.  Shoes wouldn't hurt either.  If you aren't at least chuckling yet, please picture me in just trunks (no shirt, no shoes) in the most official building this town has to offer trying to explain my side of the story to a judge.  It was hard not to laugh myself at the circumstance I was in but at least I made it this far.  In the States I couldn't have even gotten into a 7-11 much less an appointment with a judge.

Ok enough of that.  I decided with all the baseball talk I should at least include one picture of a baseball field and the one in Bocas was my favorite.  The baseball/soccer field was at the end of the runway of their international airport.  The kids played on no matter what was coming in on final approach.

Not the best picture, but you can see the plane turning off the runway as the batter waits for his pitch.

So that sums up my sailing down south.  Well over 800 nm covered and a great time was had by all.  Next up is the overland and high flying adventure through Panama and Columbia.  Bon voyage!

Cheers,
JB