Log 23: Groundhog Day

Returning from the birthday trip in Boquete, we were ready to get back on the hook in the anchorage. While the colorful patrons and convenient amenities at Bocas Marina have been pleasant, the nights are much more disagreeable. We toss and turn through the night in our pullman berth, a slice bigger than a twin-size bed. The dock we’re on sits adjacent to mangrove swamp that blocks much of the wind, and the bugs here feast on us every chance they get. We hear someone in the marina has dengue, a common mosquito-borne illness here, so I try to sleep with a sheet, but laying in your own sweat can make for restless nights. We’re eager to get back into the breezy anchorage, but first, we must face the looming issue we’ve been putting off… our “car” (Scout, our dinghy) is still out of commission.

After the Great Inagua grocery run incident, Scout was never the same. We try to repair it at the marina, but no matter what we do, it doesn’t stay inflated for long. The marina owner tells us they build small, simple fiberglass catamaran-style dinghies that are available for purchase at a reasonable price. After days of heartache trying to fix Scout, and failing, collecting information about this locally made model, and frankly give up on seemingly billions of pinholes draining our time and patience, we finally decide it’s time to move on. We trade Scout to a fellow boater who wants to try his hand at repairs, and we purchase a new dinghy.

Now mobile, we anchor near a small island named Solarte, just east across the inlet from the main island, Isla Colón. (Side note for fellow sailors: at the time of our arrival, this was marked as an anchorage on Navionics, with at least a dozen or more sailboats here. However, a couple months from this time, the local government will order all vessels to exit this area as they no longer allow anchoring here). It was a beautiful spot, sea stars roam the sandy bottom, bait fish congregate in flickering clouds, and small patch reef areas nearby make for fun snorkeling on lazy boat days. Occasionally, the swell would pick up and the anchorage would get rollie, but we didn’t mind much, as our trusty delta anchor never let us drag once. (Shout out to Uncle Bryan: 9˚19.277’N, 82˚12.916’W).

It takes time to adjust to riding in the new dinghy. It rides very differently than the inflatable. It feels wobbly but takes head on chop well. With bright yellow hulls, it’s affectionately named the “Dos Bananas” by our friends. It gets the job done, especially in this rough-and-tough environment. The weathered wooden docks here frequently sport rusty nails like tetanus injections, and if you’re close to a panga, forget about it. Fiberglass-hulled panga boats get beat up here like there’s no tomorrow. Dos Bananas holds up anchored outside the surf waves, and we have no worries leaving it at Daniel’s dinghy dock, which is often loaded with other dinghies rubbing up on each other during the grocery runs.

Daniel, an eclectic local (with a hell of a backstory), offers sailors a spot to tie up their dinghies on his small dock for a fee. His place is conveniently located on the southeast end of Colón (aka “in town”) which is easy walking distance from stores. He has a small loft upstairs but he’s usually hanging out at the wooden table near the paybox surrounded by tools and sometimes a polished-off rum bottle (or two depending on the company he always has around him), and his sweet American Bully dogs close by. His English is great, and he usually knows the scoop on what’s going on in the area, so we enjoy talking with him when we stop in. He’s very friendly and we trust Dos Bananas is in good hands at his place. He’s still a hustler though, so we know business is his prerogative. It’s $2 to tie up to his cleats, and while that may sound cheap to some, keep in mind the average hourly wage in Panamá is $3 dollars, and we’re told the average here in Bocas is even less, so you can imagine, it’s mainly only sailors and friends of Daniel who park here.

When we cruise into town to restock on fresh foods – it’s a bit of wild goose chase – with five different spots for our full grocery rounds. Oliver’s Fruit and Vegetable Stand has the freshest produce, Tuddy and Fish Meat Market has the freshest and best variety of meats, Isla Colon Market is the spot for dried goods, and the Super Gourmet Shop carries specialty items like fresh herbs, locally made kombucha, vacuum-sealed premade meals, and leafy greens.

The “super-store” in town is called Toto, and although this three-story Chinese-owned store has many household items, and usually the cheapest prices, we try not buy fresh items there unless we need to. The smell in this place can be terrible, even packaged items can hold onto a slight stench of Toto’s. We have no issue buying canned goods and taking advantage of the hardware section of the store. However, if your sniffer is sensitive, be warned, some days the stench will disarm you (especially if they get a cow in). Of course, all shopping is done on foot, so we haul our finds back to Daniel’s and drive back to Belafonte and unload.

A couple food tips for living in Central America: Clean and process your fruits and vegetables as soon as you get home. There are many methods, but whatever you do, try to be intentional about it. It’s not uncommon to find a hitchhiker or two, and parasites are incredibly common here. (Unfortunately, we learned this the hard way). If the beef smells funny but not bad/rotten, it may just be grass-fed. Ask people. This next tip is a no-brainer, but double bag any meat wrapped in saranwrap, so blood doesn’t leak when it thaws. It’s a nightmare to clean especially in the weird cooler box shapes of most sailboats. Chicken eggs aren’t refrigerated, and they aren’t washed. Eggs pop out with a natural protective coating on them and washing this layer off exposes the porous shell thus removing their natural defense from pathogens. Washed eggs (like what most people see in the United States and other developed countries) need to be refrigerated, which isn’t the norm here. Don’t buy rice or pasta unless you can see through the packaging. Weevils have become one of my archenemies. Also, don’t be afraid to eat like a local. You’ll probably find fruits and vegetables grown locally are cheaper and more abundant than produce you’re more familiar with back home. I definitely haven’t eaten this many plantains my whole life but it’s certainly a staple here. Give new recipes a whirl and ask people what they are making at home in their own kitchens. You could learn a thing or two, or at least have an interesting conversation.

Another purchase we make is Panamanian SIM cards for our phones. There are two major companies here, and it’s about $5 per week for unlimited data, however, there’s currently no pay-as-you-go hotspot service, so we hardly use our computers. We communicate through the app, “WhatsApp.” Most business in Panamá (and most countries outside the U.S. for that matter) use WhatsApp too, so it works. Because of the hotspot dilemma, we’ve tinkered with the idea of buying Starlink, but haven’t pulled the trigger on it yet.

I can’t believe we’ve already been in Panama for over two weeks. Time is morphing in weird ways. Back on Belafonte, we try to get comfortable, but if I’m being honest, I’ve been struggling with missing my family. My brother and sister-in-law just had their second child, and I deeply wish I could be there to meet my new niece and give them a hand with all that comes with a newborn. Our dear friends are growing their families back home too, and there seems to be so much that we’re missing in our loved one’s lives. Even with Panamanian SIM cards, service isn’t the greatest here, and when it rains (which is seems to be more often than not) it’s frustrating, and service is spotty at best. In some ways, it’s sort of tough to check social media. It can be a wonderful way to stay in touch, as much as it is also a reminder of how much we are absent from the lives of people we hold dear. But this is the life we chose, and everyone else is living their own lives too. Earth keeps spinning. Sometimes, we must keep our attention focused on what’s right in front of us, even just to keep our chin up. Basic day-to-day life operations on Belafonte is much more difficult than our stationary house life was, so we keep busy with tasks, which distracts from the layers of loneliness too.

One example of these boat tasks is acquiring freshwater. At anchor, there are three options: make it, collect it, or buy it. We only bother with the first two options. One of the larger purchases we made before cruising full-time was a watermaker. Essentially, this machine draws in sea water, filters it, and splits it into two separate hoses: fresh water that we add into out 60-gallon water tank, and salty brine that’s poured back into the sea. It makes about nine gallons per hour, but not without a price. This machine draws a significant amount of power from our battery bank. Belafonte’s electrical system is solar powered, and we don’t have an external generator, so this power demand is strenuous. It’s also incredibly cloudy here in Bocas del Toro, so our batteries are usually less than 100%. Add on lights, fans for relief from the humid heat, charging electronics, and other miscellaneous power draws, this sometimes creates a literal power struggle. So, on stormy days we collect rainwater and fill our tanks with it (which is our preferred method but not always reliable).

As far as other “amenities” aboard the Belafonte, our plumbing is manual. Yep, that means pumping the toilet by hand and pumping the sink by foot. This does help us conserve water, but it does make me appreciate automatic flushing toilets more. Our shower is an outdoor camping shower bag that we fill with rainwater (or from the sink) and hang from the boat’s boom to shower in the cockpit. Our only cooking device is a propane stove. Although it has three burners, it’s approximately 15×12.5 inches, so I never have more than one burner on at a time. But that’s all we need. My favorite part of Belafonte is the spaciousness of the salon (aka living room). Considering Belafonte is a 36ft monohull, the salon is wide and roomy; enough to work-out and have friends over to visit comfortably. And man, the friends we’ve met along the way keep our spirits afloat!

As the next couple weeks pass on, we meet some incredible friends. It’s also sort of ironic; we’ve met many boaters from Texas, and even from our hailing port of Saint Augustine Florida. We spend great times with our friends on Motherload Sailing, S/V Rumi, S/V Windflower, M/V Ranger, S/V Annabelle, and others, adventuring, celebrating, and learning from each other. We hang out in the evenings and talk about projects, tell stories, and even vent to each other when the frustrations kick in and we need a pep talk. Every morning, a crew from the anchorage goes out surfing together, which makes me feel better when Brendan goes out on the big wave days. I know they are all looking out for each other. (And I don’t only mean from getting injured from the sport), but especially from aggressive locals.

For the most part surfers are laid back, nice people, but in some places such as here, there’s a crazy local who flips on the tourists who they believe is stealing their waves. This particular person (whom we will call PP) pulled a knife on our friend MJ in the surf lineup, (where everyone sits on their boards past the wave break waiting their turn to paddle into the next wave) and told him if he ever saw him again, he would kill him. Later we heard this mentally loose guy just got out of prison for gruesomely murdering a woman (serving only 6 years and became even crazier while he was imprisoned) and he will go after any nonlocal who is at the same surf break he’s at. There’s one locals-only spot that he stays at most the time, which we don’t go to, so it’s typically clear of him. A couple weeks later though, he went after Brendan in a nonlocals spot. He quickly swam up to him splashing and screaming in Spanish. We now laugh, as Brendan’s first words to him were… “Stop, I don’t like to get wet” hahh then said, “…we were leaving anyways,” and he and MJ left. These sailor boys aren’t scared of a fair fist fight, however, unlike PP, we actually have something to lose. Getting into a knife fight isn’t even close to worth it. We all need to make it back home, safely.

Sometimes I get nervous about trouble sneaking up on us though. It’s common knowledge that thieves target boats whose dinghy isn’t there (like knowing the car isn’t parked at the house and chances are no one’s home). Also, I do get nervous about these altercations in the surf, because people can identify us with our dinghy anchored out while surfing, then associate it to Belafonte when it’s tied off later and throughout the night. I’ve become pretty good at setting up cheap and simple booby traps around the boat, and we have locks and cables, but theft is still an issue here. Our friend had his hatch (front door) lock cut off one night while he was out on the town and returned to his home being ransacked and valuable items stolen. When he went to the police, they wrote it down, but it hardly even matters here. So, sometimes it is hard to sleep when your brain questions every little sound in the night.

Although things can seem a little sketchy, there are gems we’ve discovered that make the time here more enjoyable. One of these gems is a little beach bar named, Cocitos, (which if we had to choose, is our favorite spot). The bartenders are incredibly friendly, accommodating, and have a zest for life that I truly appreciate. The manager Dani and bartender John work as a team serving up cold beers, craft cocktails, and excellent conversations. Plus, it’s all glued together by some of the best pizzas I’ve ever had. Yes, pizza. A woman named Princessa cooks stone oven pizzas and fresh tacos in the back. We’re told she has 11 kiddos, (and even if that number is only half right, that’s still a lot), so I like to think coming into work might even be somewhat of a break for her. What really gets me is the two sauces they make inhouse, a creamy garlic sauce and a slightly spicy (also creamy) chipotle sauce. They are finger-licking good. These three people make magic happen at Cocitos, and no matter what we have going on, we know we can always get a smile on our face when we visit them there.

Back on Belafonte, we do our best to stay entertained. We take mini day trips to check out nature in the area, work on boat projects, and look forward to the next surf swell. Brendan has been peaking at sailboat listings in the area lately, and we toss ideas back and forth about what we would like to see on our next boat. I wonder. At the end of the day, I cook up dinner, and if service is stable we try to watch a movie on Brendan’s cellphone before bed.

We reflect on the strangeness of time these last few weeks, as it seems to simply slip through our hands. Now, we’ve officially been “stationary” here in Bocas del Toro for over a month. What next? Are we burning time until hurricane season is over, or are we wasting time? I look over to see Brendan sound asleep. He’s headed out to surf early in the morning, so I try not to wake him. I make a loose attempt to quiet my racing mind and get some sleep. Although admittedly, I haven’t found myself looking forward to “tomorrow” in a while. It’s sort of just been the same thing every day. As if this entire month has been filled with the same day repeating itself over and over again. Instead of feeling like Bill Murray in Life Aquatic, I feel more like Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day. But I guess that’s just life for us right now. I know I shouldn’t complain. But I continue to find difficulty in feeling either peace or excitement right now. The all-too-familiar stench of depression lightly lingers in every once in a while; threatening me. Like the slightest drizzle before a big rainstorm.

I finally nod off sometime between 2 and 3 am, and wake up to another day, just like the rest.

That is until, a kind older woman, whom I’ve briefly met before, offers us an interesting proposition. At nearly the same time, Brendan’s parents call to tell us, they are planning a trip to visit us here in Bocas del Toro.

~ Day 132