Off to the San Blas Archipelago
Friday, August 11th, 2017
I moved back to Puerto Lindo to fill up with diesel before starting my cruise in San Blas. After an abortive attempt at anchoring close to the marina I returned to my spot at the head of the bay near the tiny village of Garrote. It was an easy row to the good dinghy dock at Casa X and much less crowded. Unfortunately, also open to the swell rolling in from the NE. Apart from the diesel, I realized I also needed to stock up with more essential provisions and made two bus trips through to the big supermarket in Sabanitas. An hour each way on the colourful, jam-packed bus, severely limited by how much I can carry in my backpack and two big shopping bags. Not just by the weight, but also the difficulty of handling the bulky bags in the bus with standing room only. I still enjoyed the bus rides, especially when I was able to get a seat. The people were warm and caring and the countryside is so beautifully lush and green and uncontrolled.
Once I’d stocked up all I had to do was wait for a day with a possibility of some westerly wind. At last there was a favourable forecast before my provisions ran out again and I headed hopefully out of the bay under power until I was clear of other boats, rocks and reefy bits. Then I was able to sail almost all the way. I left in the afternoon planning to sail through the night and arrive in the morning with good light to approach my first anchorage. As luck would have it the current hustled us along and we were at the entrance to the San Blas channel at about 3 am in the pitch dark. I hove-to, waiting for sunrise, and was able to have a short nap.
The beach at Chichime
I decided to make Chichime my first stop as the entry was straightforward and close by. I had been warned that it could get crowded as it is popular with the backpacker charter boats. But it seemed that I had arrived at an off-peak time and there were only three or four other boats and plenty of room in the exquisite bay.
Looking out over the reef
What a pleasure to anchor in crystal clear water, well protected from the swell by surrounding reefs which didn’t block the cooling breeze. No mosquitoes or no-seeums. Things were looking good.
My mola
After a few hours sleep I was woken by someone calling and I met my first ‘Master Mola Maker’ who had paddled quietly up in his dugout canoe or ulu. He displayed a magnificent collection of his work. All extremely finely hand stitched in intricate designs. My rather strict budget put most of it way out of my league but he had some more modest samples and I eventually settled for a cushion – sized piece that I am delighted with.
Starfish on my doorstep
My ‘overnight’ stop expanded to 3 idyllic days, reveling in the great snorkeling and beautiful surroundings. Of course, this is the rainy season and thunderstorms were plentiful so no shortage of water and I caught up with the laundry. More and more boats were arriving and I felt it was time to be moving on.
My next stop was just 3 miles further on at Banedup. Boats were clustered around the main island where there were some beach bars. It looked a bit crowded but there was another really good place to anchor where I could have more swinging room. This time I left the dinghy on deck as I was happy just to swim ashore. From the cockpit I could see colourful starfish on the sandy bottom.
On day two a fierce squall blasted the anchorage causing mayhem with the boats crowded near the island. Some re-anchored and a few left after things had calmed down again. Thankfully these squalls don’t last too long.
Palm Island seen from Banedup
As soon as the wind turned west again a day or two later, I headed off to the Holandes Cays about 11 miles away. Again I was lucky with the weather and had a lovely sail, the junk rig doing what it does best on a downwind run, sometimes cheating a bit and seeing how much I could get away with sailing by the lee. The Navik doesn’t approve of this tactic and it needs hand-steering.
I had carefully entered some waypoints in my Garmin Etrex which would get me safely into the Swimming Pool anchorage. The light was good and it was easy to see the reefs and shallows.
BBQ Island seen from my anchorage
I found myself in the sort of place that epitomizes everyone’s dream of tropical cruising. There were very few other boats and not a mooring ball in sight. I got the awning rigged over the cockpit for some shade and settled in. The next two weeks were spent just enjoying it all. There was no need for the dinghy and I used my inflatable kayak to paddle out to the reefs for hours of snorkeling or just exploring.
There were regular visits by the Kuna Indians in their ulus, sometimes selling lobster or fish, Other times just to chat and show their astonishment at the fact that I was sailing single-handed. A woman! One morning a group of lady Kunas came over and insisted on giving me a gift of limes and plantains.
But soon enough my meager supplies started to get low and I decided to make a shopping trip to Nargana at Rio Diablo where I should be able to do some basic shopping. I was all ready to leave early one morning and it was time to start the engine to see me safely out of the anchorage. Oh dear, instead of the normal noisy startup, just a click. OK, I’d had this before and it was just a loose connection, so I switched off and checked things out. Everything seemed fine. Try again. Nothing. The starter motor had been replaced not too long ago when I was in North Carolina, surely it couldn’t already have problems. Before doing anything drastic I went over to one of the other boats who were long – term residents, to seek advice. After I’d described the problem it was suggested that it could just be the solenoid sticking and all it might need was a tap to free it. Jim came over and showed me what to do and problem solved. What a relief, and a new skill acquired.
By now it was getting a bit late to leave so I put it off till the next day and then had a reasonably good sail to Rio Diablo, only having to motor for the last few miles when the wind died completely. The anchorage is very well protected and I went ashore to find the shops. No big supermarkets here but a scattering of small ‘tiendas’ with just the most basic of wares. No chance of replenishing my supply of Earl Grey. I did manage to find some flour so I’ll be able to carry on making bread. No butter though.
Tech and tradition
The little village is made up of a fairly dense collection of small reed huts with thatched or corrugated iron roofs. Sandy paths between. A shady footbridge connects the two islands and is a pleasantly cool place to linger and watch the world go by. Although this is one of the more ‘advanced’ villages, many of the women wear the traditional molas and their legs are decorated from knee to ankle with strings of fine beads wound round and round forming patterns.
Rio Diablo
On day two I went for a long row up the river. The entrance is very shallow and littered with big logs that have drifted down but once inside it was deeper and quite magical. I spotted a heron which was new to me and now and then a kingfisher flew purposefully by. I looked in vain for crocodiles. An enormous blue morpho butterfly flapped by, contrasting brilliantly against the dark green foliage. I passed two small graveyards tucked in behind the trees close to the river and a bit further up an ulu would be drawn up to the bank here and there where the coconut trees or bananas were being tended.
