Sailing the Caribbean and the Journey Comes to an End

We left Cartagena the afternoon of Sunday, March 15. Tony Santos, the captain of The Andiamo was anxious to leave Cartagena’s port before all of the boat traffic left on Monday morning; his eight passengers were simply awestruck as none of us had ever been on a sailboat before. Two young Norwegian men boarded The Andiamo and asked Tony for instructions on the cruise to Panama. We learned that the two had sold everything they owned, bought a boat and had been sailing around the world for the last three years. We were all excited about the potential for romance and adventure on such a trip. Little did we know that in less than 24 hours we would be cursing both the sea and the sailboat.
The Andiamo was at max capacity. Two Germans, a young man from London, a couple from Israel, David, Tracey and I, along with Tony and his girlfriend Karen made a total of ten onboard. Getting along and sharing the workload on board never became more important than when you are alone with nine other people for five days. You cannot exactly take a walk on a 50 ft sailboat but we managed very well, spreading out (for the most part) cooking and cleaning responsibilities. It’s amazing how quickly human beings revert to childish behaviour when confronted with situations in which they are not comfortable. At one point the group decided that two of the others had not done their fair share of cooking or washing up and nominated the duo for dish duty one morning. The two sat above deck ignoring the others and lamenting they did not want to be bossed around like school children. The reactions from both sides to the blame game of “I do my fair share” against “I haven’t seen you do anything” are universal and I’m sure have been played out in roommate and marital relationships worldwide. The dynamics are simply different in a small space with nowhere to escape.
The plan Sunday was a short sail to Baru on the coast. Tony decided to tow the dinghy, our lifeline to mobility off The Andiamo, and put it on deck once we reached Baru. The plan was altered when a massive wave swamped the dinghy, causing the tow line to snap and Tony had to make some quick decisions. The waves were big, over 8 feet and the wind was gusting. As Tony turned the boat around we were all flipping around and I was starting to feel very sick. As we got closer to the dinghy Tony realized it would be impossible to hook back onto it and was not worth the risk. We all got an emergency lesson in sailing and teamwork after a dreaded jibe caused the boom to madly swing across the deck and break the mainsheet traveler car. The waves were huge and looked like they were about to swamp the boat at any minute. Tony and the few that were not ready to hurl everywhere were on deck trying to secure the flailing lines and sails. It felt like a nightmare but order was quickly restored and I was grateful that something like this happened at the beginning of the trip because nothing else could possibly go wrong now. By the end of the catastrophe, The Andiamo had lost her dinghy, the boat hook, had her main sheet (the biggest sail) traveler car broke in two, and her dodger window (vinyl cover) ripped open. We sailed to Baru, arriving before nightfall without further problems.
After a morning swim, we left Baru, headed for the Archipelago de San Blas, a group of 400 islands owned by the indigenous Kunas of Panama. The cruise could take anywhere from 22 to 30 hours depending on the winds. It would take us about 24 hours, all of which I spent below deck feeling very sick and wondering why the hell anyone (aka those two Norwegian guys) would want to spend 3 years of his or her life sailing! We anchored near the Limon islands, just inside the main channel of San Blas and I decided the awful sea voyage was worth the reward at the end. The next morning I swam out to the nearest island and took a long-awaited walk on dry land. It was an uninhabited little piece of paradise. Huge pink conch shells were washed up everywhere on blinding white, velvet sand while pink and blue crabs scuttled around in the water with blue and yellow fish. Coconuts littered the ground and the palm trees were that perfect shade of green that you only see on postcards. In fact the whole place looked like a postcard and I had to keep reminding myself that I was not dreaming. I lay down in the sand for a long time and let the warm turquoise water wash up under my back. Every time I opened my eyes I was surrounded by the most beautiful place I have ever visited in my life. The only way to break my trance was to do something I am famous for: skinny dip. I had never swam naked in the Caribbean before and no one was around...
Back onboard The Andiamo we cruised through the Archipelago, passing islands on either side and vast sea again. We anchored at a new spot, one of Tony’s favourites, alongside about 10 other yachts on Wednesday night. An exploratory swim out to the island closest to us revealed a small hut where the Kunas stay for a week or so, fishing and making molas to sell until other family members arrive so they can switch duties. This island wasn’t nearly as pretty but I think I was definitely spoiled by this point. Snorkelling revealed rows of starfish on the sea floor of all sizes and all perfectly shaped. Tony had promised us fish for dinner and fish we would have. Because he had no dinghy, Tony swam to the island and bought the fish from the Kuna women, which were put in Ziploc bags. Tony carried them in his mouth, sorrowfully saying he felt, “like a dog” as he swam back to the boat.
The Kuna’s are a fascinating group of people. One of the most autonomous indigenous groups in all of Central and South America, they are a matriarchal tribe and have been given complete authority through agreements signed with the Panamanian government. They own outright all of the islands of San Blas and part of the mainland as well. They have complete say over who is allowed to visit the islands and no foreigners can own land in San Blas. They charge an ever changing rate for taxes and fees to boats and visitors and do not allow people to remove anything from the islands or for their photo to be taken (unless you are willing to offer payment). They do not allow the Panamanian or US Coast Guard access to the islands, making them a safe and secure route for illicit trade boats from Colombia. The Kuna have an arrangement with such boats: they charge them a set fee for using the sea route through San Blas and if they encounter Coast Guard boats and have to unload their cargo into the seas, the Kuna will recover it and sell it back to them in Panama at a discounted rate. In exchange for their cooperation, the Kuna do not have to worry about fights with these trade boats.
Thursday morning we set sail right after breakfast through more gorgeous islands and crystal clear water. I sit up on deck, just as I sat up here all day yesterday, admiring the scenery and feeding ropes as directed by Tony. Although I don’t think I’ll ever be a full time sailor, it’s nice to pretend in calm waters. We reach El Porvenir, the port immigration of San Blas, shortly before lunch. A local fisherman picks up Tony and Karen who take our passports into the 3 small immigration buildings to be stamped into Panama. El Porvenir is barely big enough for the offices, a small hotel and an impossibly short runway. I walk the length of it, barefoot and in my bikini, in less than 10 minutes. This is the main gateway for people reaching San Blas by air and like the rest of the islands, it is rudimentary at best.
We continue on to our final destination, passing islands closer to the mainland completely covered with shacks. A stark contrast to the gorgeous islands further out to sea, these are where the majority of the Kuna live and it is hard to imagine life on such a cramped little island with so many other people. We throw anchor and a long canoe picks up the eight of us and our luggage. After goodbyes and picking up 10 more Kuna men, we set out for the mainland, accessed by river. At the river mouth we see a crocodile enjoying the heat on a tree stump exposed over the water (it’s 36 Celsius today).
Two men, friends of Tony’s, load our backpacks on the roof of an old jeep while the eight of us cram inside for the wild ride to Panama City. The road is undergoing considerable work but is still navigable only with 4x4. We climb straight up through the mountains, getting glimpses of the Caribbean far below and drive through a river because there is no bridge. Shortly before sunset we arrive in Panama City; in one afternoon we have come from the Caribbean, through the jungle and are now staring at the Pacific and Panama City’s skyscrapers in the horizon. It has been a fantastic journey, undeniably the best of my life.
Back in Panama City I have a few days to kill before my flight home on the 23rd so I go shopping and visit nearby beaches and islands. I know I am undoubtedly ready to go home however, when I am walking down the street and I see a guy eating a greasy fried thing and staring at me as I walk towards him. As I get closer, he stoops and tries to look up my skirt while shuffling towards me. Alarmed, I elbow him in the neck and keep going. A few minutes later I’m in a compact market and I feel something touch my butt. I whirl around and a well dressed man is apologizing profusely but I’m so mad about the previous encounter I tell him to f*** off and he literally runs away from me. The machismo culture in Latin America thrives everywhere and is usually harmless but today I am absolutely fed up with the hisses, catcalls, and yelling I encounter from men everywhere I go. I know it is like this for all foreign women and they do not know the meaning of the term sexual harassment but it is still unnerving.
I’m now back at home in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan and grateful for every experience, both good and bad. I was gone for exactly half the amount of time I had planned on, something my whole family told me would happen but I didn’t believe them back in December before I left. In the span of three short months, I have gotten to know myself a lot better and what is important in my life. I have also seen and done some incredible things, experiences that have shaped who I am. I read a quote from the action thriller novelist Michael Crichton that said: “Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am.” I could not agree more and would add: The world will be forever teaching me and helping me to appreciate both what it has to offer and what I have at home.