San Blas Islands, Panama
by KARIS
February 22, 2022
Thirty hours after leaving Cartagena, Colombia, guided by our trustee cell phone GPS (since we had lost all of the electronics on the boat at sunrise), we made our way into the anchorage of Porvenir where we checked in with Customs and got our permits for San Blas, Panama. The anchorages suggested by our navigation apps turned out to be unsafe, so we just used our eyes and our collective instinct to pick a spot. We set the anchor close to the more inhabited island and ended up staying there for the night. A local in a canoe carved out of driftwood assured us this was a good spot and sold us a sim card, some coconuts and a San Blas flag because he said something along the lines of, “the resistance is coming” and the local law authorities would charge us a fee if we didn’t fly their flag. The flag was red and yellow with a black swastika which we were told represented the night and karma. So certainly a different swastika than the one we were familiar with as Americans, but it still felt a bit awkward to hoist it up the mast.
Though we were hugely relieved to have arrived at our destination relatively unscathed, Morale was low overnight. Shit was breaking left and right and we were questioning our life decisions once again. I was starting to realize that this constant questioning was just something I would have to get used to. It was a byproduct of choosing a path that was so different from the smooth, predictable one I had followed for so long. Honestly, we were all just deeply exhausted. I knew everything would feel more manageable in the morning. At the time though, it felt like an ever burgeoning load of things that needed fixing.
February 23, 2022
Sure enough, by the next morning spirits had lifted. The guys fixed the watermaker which was a huge win for the team. We rode that high all day as we motorsailed to a more isolated anchorage in the afternoon.
We spent three nights at a beautiful, protected anchorage off the southwest corner of Chichime Island. We awoke with the sun, snorkeled the coral reef every day, and paddle boarded to the island where we could dig our feet into the sand and stretch our sea legs under the shade of the palm trees. It was perfection. On our first morning there, a “grocery boat” came and sold us fresh fruit, veg, bread, beer and chips. We couldn’t believe the luxury convenience in such a remote location.
Grocery Boat near Chichime Island, flying the flag of the Guna Yala people
It took about 15 minutes to walk around the entire island on foot. The center was a dense, palm tree orchard, littered with coconuts and a few makeshift huts. Outside of the huts, the Guna women hung their beautiful molas for sale. Inside, little children peeked out at us through the windows. They smiled and waved. One little girl had a cell phone that she was playing games on. We took the dinghy over to the neighboring island where a family greeted us and introduced us to their pet pig who was tied to a palm tree. He was super excited when the kids came over to pet his belly.
When we got back to the boat, two Guna ladies along with their “captain” and a few little kids motored up to our back deck and eventually made their way on board, toting buckets full of molas (beautiful, hand woven textiles) and long beaded bracelets wrapped around wooden branches. We picked out a few things that we wanted to buy - we felt like we needed to contribute to this Guna Yala economy somehow, especially since these families were essentially allowing us to invade their pristine backyards. We offered the kids cookies and treats and Nolan gave them a tour of the boat. They asked if we had any clothes to get rid of, so Sloane picked out a few things she wanted to share. The elder of the group was a woman who looked like she was in her 70’s, and was no taller than three and a half feet. We massively underestimated her tenacity and authority as a salesperson - shame on us. Turns out, she was ruthless (which we all kind of admired on some level) and we finally had to say no with some conviction when she asked us for more money, our diesel (which we were already low on), and the last straw, our rum.
Sloane in her mola jumpsuit
The kids are settling into a little routine on the boat, without the internet. They play a lot of imaginary games with each other and have finally stopped saying “I’m bored” every 15 minutes, like they were doing on land in Colombia. They are lonely though - Sloane is desperate to make a friend here, and Nolan just misses his friends at home. In the back of my mind, I worry and wonder if this longing will ever pass, or if they’ll forever feel this melancholy ache for the life we left behind.