Once again I’m going to defend our navigation skills right up front. We
did NOT do a Christopher Columbus. In spite of where we thought we were going,
we knew where we were when we got here!
The day before we left Las Perlas we motored down to Isla Pedro
Gonzales, an island on the south western edge of the group and a natural jumping
off point for the Galapagos Islands and French Polynesia. It took about 3 hours
and we saw a few more whales, but they were fat, lazy ones so no tails or
basketball leaps. We knew that there was a weather window about to give us a good
sprint start out of the Gulf of Panama. We also knew there were a few boats looking
to grab the opportunity.
When we got to Pedro Gonzales the most obvious anchorage near the
village was deserted apart from some primitive dredging going on. The place had
none of the charm of the other islands, an impression that wasn’t helped by the
knowledge that a month before a yacht had had it’s dinghy and outboard motor
stolen off the davits there while the owners slept!
We decided to motor around to a more exposed, remote anchorage well out
of sight of the village, and as we drew closer there were 5 other boats there at
anchor. The beach was clean with palm trees and a much better ambience than on
the village side. There was a strong north wind, the start of our weather window
and the swell was giving all the boats a merry dance. We set our anchor solidly
because we were on a lee shore and starting our passage would be so much more
complicated from half way up the beach.
It turned out that 4 of us were about to leave. Xanadu, a big, 63ft heavy
displacement sloop with an Aussie couple, Jeff and Luda and their 2 kids,
Dig Doog, a Lagoon catamaran with a French couple, Olivier and Danya and their
2 kids, and Hibiscus, a French production cutter, about 40 ft with Phillipe and
Nathalie.
Of the 2 other boats, one was a Lagoon with another Aussie couple, John
and Jill who were just sailing around Las Perlas for a break from Panama City,
and Sunrise, a cutter on it’s way back to Panama after a failed attempt to leave
the gulf for Ecuador.
The weather at this time of year is difficult here. Boats heading west
have taken up to 3 weeks to get to Galapagos, a passage we counted on doing in 8
days. Of the boats leaving to head south, more than half had returned with
stories of ferocious squalls and total inability to get
anywhere.
That night Olivier picked me up in his dinghy at about 9 and we went
over to Xanadu to discuss the voyage to Galapagos. We set up a radio schedule
and agreed on the best route based on a nifty bit of software Phillipe has that
takes daily wind and current forecasts and gives you a route, with waypoints etc.
We set the alarm for 5:30. It was still pitch dark and we had serious
doubts about our sanity, but as it got lighter we finished getting the boat
ready and by 6:30 we were on our way.
The sailing was great and we skipped along at 7 knots, but by nightfall
the wind had dropped and we were motor sailing. Overnight all the boats lost visual
contact but we kept in touch with Hibiscus, initially via VHF radio and then by
email. That night we were invaded by big black moths… dozens of the things. The
insect spray nearly killed us too, but it was better than having these flappy
creatures buzzing around the cockpit.
The next day we motor sailed the whole day. The currents were against
us and the wind was too light to keep us going. A heading for Galapagos was out
of the question. On a port tack we could only manage WNW which would take us way
over the top of them and give us even greater headaches when trying to get south
to find the southeast trades to carry us to the Marquesas. On a starboard tack
we could only manage SSE, which at least was getting us south.
In the early hours of the third morning it was my watch and I suddenly
noticed a red light off our starboard beam. The radar showed it was about 2
miles away. Nothing was coming up on the AIS to identify it as a commercial ship
and none of the charts showed any kind of beacon or buoy, so I thought it may be
Xanadu. Heading in our same direction we would only see her port (red) light,
and her dark navy hull would be invisible at night.
She didn’t respond to radio calls, so we decided to head towards the
red light to clear up the mystery.
It was difficult to see clearly through our cockpit windows but as we got closer
I noticed our depth was reducing. Sandy was looking out the side of the doghouse
as I slowed down to just a couple of knots.
All of a sudden Sandy yelled out, “It’s an oil rig! Turn!”.
I knew we were close to what I thought would be another boat and was
ready to turn as soon as we could see what it was, so I was able to instantly
punch 90 degrees to port into the autopilot. As we swung away I could make out
not an oil rig, but the red light was about 30ft above the water perched above a
massive steel base that rose up from the sea surface like a pyramid.
I was too busy getting the boat out of trouble to see it clearly, but the base must
have been 50ftX50ft.
That beacon is not shown on the chart plotter or any of the charts we
have, but it’s there. The charts show very shallow water and we got a reading of
8 meters, which is plenty for us but could be a disaster for big ships. We now
have our radar alarm on day and night and it goes off if anything enters the
area within 4 miles of us.
On Monday August 12 we sailed within 17 miles of Malpelo, again. It’s a
huge rock that rises straight up out of the ocean, 845 ft high. That was when we
decided to have a workable plan B. If getting to Galapagos was going to burn
through most of our fuel, we needed another plan. We didn’t really intend
stopping at Galapagos unless we had to, but rather it just happens to be
directly on our route from Panama to a point about 5 degrees South, where we
have some hope of finding those magic carpet ride trade winds that will carry us
all the way to French Polynesia.
I emailed Alex, a good friend of ours who had suggested some time ago
that we should consider going to Ecuador. It gets us south faster, is a cheap
place to refuel and stock up with fresh produce and the people are friendly. The
only downside was that after a week or so you still haven’t made any westward
progress. Without internet access research is impossible, but Alex emailed us
the co-ordinates and contacted Puerto Amistad to let them know we were coming,
and just as well.
There is a shallow river entrance with shifting sand banks and
with our 6’6” draft, it’s high tide only. Fortunately they send out a ‘pilot’,
basically a local fisherman.
Pedro arrived right on cue and perched himself on the edge of the
cockpit. With no English everything was hand signals. We zigzagged our way
through the maze making 90 degree turns with no landmarks, but Pedro guided us
through. At times we only had 18” of water under the keel. Eventually we were in
deep water in a sheltered river with a dozen other yachts, and Pedro and his
assistant hooked us up to moorings fore and aft.
This place has made a wonderful impression. While it’s definitely 3rd
world, the local people have some dignity. The place is tidy and clean and
walking the streets is a pleasure. It feels safe, because it is. You don’t see
the trash in the streets like in Panama and the Caribbean and the locals are
quick with a laugh or a smile.
As usual, we arrived with a list we knew we’d never get through, but
then we hadn’t yet met Chino, and Alan.
Chino arrived with the medico who came to officially give us our health
clearance. We apparently don’t look like addicts or smugglers and weren’t
carrying meat products, apart from the meter long Mahi Mahi we caught on the way
that was cut into fillets in the freezer. I’ve got no idea what he was saying or
asking, but he and I signed his form at the bottom and he was happy enough.
In the mean time Chino, with sign language, an occasional word of
English and whistles, made sure we understood that if we wanted diesel, propane,
the bottom cleaned, and I’m sure he would include births, deaths and marriages,
he was our guy!
When something came up that needed translation, he made a phone call to
his English teacher, Alan, and handed me the phone. Alan was teaching a class on
the shore and stood there waiving so we could see him. We arranged to catch up
in a few hours so he could give us all the information we’d need to make life
here easy.
When Alan realized we were serious about having 72 hours to get
everything done, he confirmed the things Chino and his partner in crime, Carlos
could do. They put on scuba gear and cleaned the bottom, got rid of the rapidly
growing barnacles etc….. $40!
They took the propane tank and swung into gear to get me 180 gallons of
diesel, at $1.50/gal! Delivered to the boat and poured into the tanks. That’s
about 36 cents/litre.
They took a small welding job and had it back here the same day…
$10.
In the mean time Alan, who has a boat similar to ours but a bit
smaller, came over the next morning with Ariosto, his little local guy who he
has doing all kinds of work on his boat.
“We’re here to help you get through the essentials on your list”.
We got stuck in. Ariosto did a few jobs around the place, including an
oil and filter change on the main engine and then we tackled an ogre that has
been on the list for 6 months. The automatic float switch for the bilge pump
hasn’t been working, so I keep an eye on the bilge and pump it with the manual
switch. The bilge itself is impossible to get into to clean, so sludge and muck
accumulates there until the boat next comes out for antifoul paint, at which
time a plug gets removed and the bilge can be drained and flushed.
We spent hours fiddling with the wiring, confirming my belief that
electronics and voodoo are first cousins, and eventually got it all working
beautifully. In the process Ariosto who is strong, wiry and would struggle to
reach 4’8”on a hot day, crawled down into the bilge to connect wires, and
cleaned out a lot of the rubbish while he was there. And all with the happiest
smiles you’ve ever seen. A day’s wages for Ariosto? $25.
Alan wouldn’t take a cent, but we took him out for a few drinks and
dinner. Total bill for 3 of us… $43.
It was actually a great evening. The bistro here at the marina is
permanently open sided and the whole structure is on pillars over the water so
we can all watch our boats and the river. Two other cruising couples pulled up
chairs and joined us, really lovely folk, and then Tripp, who owns the marina
and bistro joined us and the ‘war stories’ continued late into the evening.
And today we went to the local fruit and veggie market. We bought a ton
of stuff, including peanut butter ground right there, for about $20. The taxi
back to the marina was a trike arrangement, pedals, no engine, with all our
purchases… $1.
There are people who sail here for a few months every year. It’s easy
to see why.
And tomorrow our voyage continues. High tide is at 1:22pm and the Pedro
will guide us out. We will head south west to 5 deg S, 86 – 88 deg W where we
hope to find the edge of the trade winds.
But, tomorrow morning I will be finishing another repair and modification on
the outhaul lines for both the main and mizzen sails. They both chafed through
again on the way here. I’ve been working on them for the last 2 days and had to
totally fabricate a new bit… the last ‘bit’ is somewhere in Davey Jones locker.
Sandy has everything stowed and has given the boat it’s traditional clean so we
can at least start out looking good.
Until next time…