We are home in Indianapolis from June 21 to September 12
At the end of this month's log appears a report be Mecca Manz, a cruiser
who, with her husband George, sold their boat this month. The report
gives a different perspective on areas we plan to visit.
Hotel Marbella
Panama City
Tuesday, June 20
Couples pay thousands of dollars to cruise lines for a trip through The
Panama Canal. Thousands of tourists observe the canal every day, sitting
on a hill or standing on the balcony of a visitors' center, observing the
passing ships and yachts against the beautiful background of Panama's hills
and lakes.
We did it from the first-class restaurant at the Mira Flores Locks Visitors'
Center. The champagne buffet and the friendly staff made this Sunday
afternoon relaxing. We especially enjoyed the passage of a yacht
with its required complement of extra persons. (Four line handlers,
port and starboard, bow and stern. Line handlers usually are cruisers
borrowed for the day. Each handles a 150 foot line that is tossed
to a staff member of the locks who walks along with the yacht until it is
tied up. Some yachts come rafted, others alone. This yacht was
alone, but tied to a tug once inside the lock. Almost a problem. As
the water fell, the port stern line of the tug broke, perhaps because a
crew member was not there to loosen the line as the tug descended. If
the line had not broken, well, we hate to think about what could have happened.
But all was well.)
In October, we hope to make the passage as line handlers. The experience
is no more profound than passing through locks on the Ohio River. But,
like the tourists, we want to do it, for this is one of the greatest projects
of history, a 15 year labor (not counting the French) that allows huge economies.
At the end of the day, The USS Mendonca, a naval vessel, passed through
simultaneously with a Chinese container ship. The Navy's ship is 276
meters long.
Sunday, June 18 (Fathers' Day)
A boat can be, for a time, a prison, a small space, hot, perhaps a bit
aromy, filled with personal detritus piled here and there and set aside to
give access to items we need, like tools and rags. The effect is depressing,
especially when combined with the weariness of daily cleaning, polishing,
maintaining.
We spent the last two weeks in prison. Polishing stainless, repairing
Cetol on our teak, new oil and transmission fluid, servicing injectors, annual
fluid changes etc. on the outboard, speeding up the laptop computer,. making
plane reservations, new raycor filter, new oil filter, clean the engine
room, laundry, removing car stereo radio for repair, planning purchase of
new microwave, sending hatch screen covers to San Jose (Cabo Rico) for repair,
washing the turbo charger fan filter, fresh water and vinegar down the heads,
polishing the rub rails and finding more problems with the gel coat and
cetol, and perhaps five million other delectable items requiring attention.
Chichi handled most of this with equanimity, but John got depressed,
tired, irritable. In our two weeks in the Bocas Marina, our only fun
was an evening with Tom and Susan aboard Limerick, greeting Lee Lamb (from
Indianapolis) aboard Serenity, and taking a dinghy trip to Bastimientos for
several hours on a beach with a couple of Italian guys we met on the trail.
The guide book tells is that the Archipelago de Bocas del Toro is one
of the finest outdoor travel destinations in the world, but you would never
know it from our experience in the cage. We'll get over it, and we
will enjoy the region when we return in September.
Highlight: Ray Kennedy walks by, sees our hailport, and says hello.
Turns out, he is the brother of Bob Kennedy (husband of Sheila Suess
Kennedy), clients and friends of ours from Indianapolis. He showed
us the home he built on Canero, a world class project, first class, wonderful
view and wonderful place.
09-20.547N
082-12.686W
Anchored
Near Bastimentos in Hospital Bite
Near Bocas del Toro, Panama
Thursday, June 1.
With a one knot following current and a respectable wind, our sails and
motor pushed us here in 18 hours, much less than the 40 John predicted, assuming
five knots over the water.
Unless getting hit in the head in the middle of the night is viewed as
exciting, this was a routine and straightforward trip from San Andres to
Bocas del Toro, where Pachamama will spend three months while we head home.
(The hit in the head was a flying fish, very unnerving.)
We are curious about our next marina because rumors abound that Jimmy
Buffett either is there, was there, or will be there.
The following email was sent to us by Goerge and Mecca
Manz
Hi everyone. Hope you are well. Below is our latest update. It is a long
one, so go get another cup of coffee; sit back and enjoy. Mecca and
George . .
Yes, there is something harder than cruising! Having just spent the last
30 days backpacking thru Central America (from Guatemala to Panama and back
– 18 bus trips, 27 taxi rides, 6 airplane flights, 3 nights sleeping on buses,
16 nights in hotels, 10 nights aboard our friends’ sailboat “Sand Dollar”,
33 restaurant meals, 18 border crossings, and 6 different currencies), we
feel qualified to declare that backpacking is a harder mode of travel than
cruising. We also now understand why most backpakers are in their 20’s!
Of course, cruising has never been portrayed as hard. Instead, it conjures
up images of a gorgeous couple lying in a hammock on the bow of yacht, drinking
Mai Tai’s and saluting a picture perfect sunset.
But, those of us who have been cruising know very well the fallacy of that
image . . . we know the truth. We know that weather is King. We know
we must respect the sea and dare not tempt Mother Nature, lest she unleash
her wrath of power upon us. We know about dragging anchor in the middle of
the night; engine breakdowns and electrical problems; trying to repair sails
in stormy seas. We know what it is like to run out of drinking water, propane,
fresh vegetables. We accept life aboard as not often being comfortable .
. . scorching sun, cold rain, dark nights, salt and sand and feeling grubby.
Wishing for a hot shower and an ice cold beer. But, at least we have our
home with us; we can fix a steaming cup of coffee when we want to; we can
use the toilet when we need to; we can generally travel at our own pace;
and we can go just about anywhere we want to go.
Backpacking is a different story. You have no home. All your belongings (and
anything you accumulate along the way) must be carried on your back or mailed
home. We started out with 1 medium and 1 small back pack each – carrying
a total of about 40lbs. It’s amazing how things add up . . . water, books,
cameras, binoculars, raingear, toiletries, clothes. Then we mailed a large
15lb box from Panama City to our home in MN (filled with wooden, paper mache
and straw masks, paintings, baskets, and other items we picked up along the
way). We returned with one large bag and 3 backpacks – carrying a total of
about 90lbs. It’s amazing how we accumulate things . . . pottery, straw baskets,
more masks, molas (hand sewn reverse appliqued cloth from the Kuna Indians
of the San Blas Islands, Panama), and a hammock!
Bus travel is by far the most popular mode of transportation throughout Central
America.
While “chicken buses” are fine for local travel, one would not want to go
long distance or international this way. There are a few international bus
lines that offer “luxury” buses (air conditioning, movies, sometimes food).
We chose Tica Bus and were able to travel from Guatemala City to Panama City
for $78 each; quite a deal considering the distance, and the alternatives
(flying one way, would have been about $350 each).
Bus travel is nice in that you can sit back and let someone else do the driving
(we would not have wanted to drive our own van . . . between the paperwork
hassles at each border, the lack of signage for finding our way thru cities
and towns, and the cost of gas – it would have made the trip unbearable).
By busing, you get to see much of the countryside, small towns, people and
local scenery that you miss if you fly. And, of course, you are sometimes
forced to “stop and smell the roses” along the way. For instance, when we
left Guatemala City, they didn’t have seats available for us to go straight
to Panama City; so, we got tickets only to El Salvador. That meant we had
to stay “overnight” in a terribly decrepit part of old San Salvador; stay
in a dank and dingy hotel and then wake up at 1:30 to catch our 2:30 a.m.
bus! Lovely memory.
Admittedly, bus travel has its disadvantages. For instance, you have little
to say about when you travel . . . if the bus leaves at 3:00 a.m., then that
is when you go (the worst buses we had to catch were at 2:30 a.m., 4:00 a.m.
and 5:00 a.m.). If the bus doesn’t stop overnight, then you sleep in your
seat, in a contorted position. We had two,18 hour bus trips and one 25 hour
trip – stiff necks are just part of the bargain; seems the buses think they
are carrying frozen fish and therefore, keep the air conditioning on full
blast. Despite our jeans, long sleeved shirts, jackets and a throw over us,
we froze. Of course, the minute we got off the bus in the blazing heat (at
the border crossings – which often took 1-2 hours); we sweltered in our long
pants and shirts! Meals are often “iffy” . . . if the bus doesn’t stop
for breakfast or lunch or dinner, then you get none. But, there are small
things to be thankful for . . . the long-distance buses had toilets.
Of course, they were only to be used for #1, so if you had to do #2, well
then you were just SOL (pun intended).
Perhaps the worst part of being at the mercy of the buses, their routes and
schedules was being dumped in the middle of a large city in the middle of
the night. The taxi drivers know the routine, so the minute you step off
the bus they are like vultures going in for the kill. They each have a “deal”
for a hotel (of course, they get a commission for getting you to that hotel).
And, of course, because it is oh, maybe 1:00 a.m. or so, you don’t dare take
your chances at suggesting the taxi drive to a hotel that you’ve chosen in
your travel guide to see if there is a vacancy – because who knows where
he may take you. And, since you don’t know what the price is for a typical
taxi ride in that city, they get twice as much as usual – but, after all,
it is the middle of the night. And if the hotel happens to be only
2 blocks away (like the one we ended up at in San Jose, Costa Rica), you
don’t dare walk it because, first of all, you probably don’t know it is that
close, and second, the bus stations are in the worst part of every city and
you just might not make it there.
In fact, in Managua, Nicaragua, the bus station is in such a bad section
of town that even tho our hotel was only 1 ½ blocks away, we
hired an escort (for $2) to walk with us to the bus terminal at 4:00 a.m.
We were quite glad we did – as we walked down the middle of the street; a
man appeared out of the shadows and entered the intersection. As we passed,
he whistled and at the next intersection, another man appeared. Looking at
them, we could not tell if they were there to harm us or protect us - as
no harm came to us, we suspect it was because we had an escort.
Ah, taxis . . . in Managua, taxi drivers didn’t necessarily want to take
us where we wanted to go - they wanted to take us where they wanted us to
go. For instance, we wanted to go to an artesians’ market in the center of
the city – but, two different taxi’s wanted to take us to a similar market
30 minutes outside of the city. When we said “no”, they wanted us to hire
them for the hour or the day and wanted to take us on a tour of the city.
When we said “no”, they started driving us out of town to take us to the
out of town market. After much discussion, we finally ended up at the market
in the city. But, we had many moments where we wanted to say “what part of
‘no’ don’t you understand?”
Back to Managua, many of the streets have no names and those that do have
names don’t have any signs; consequently, taxi drivers often have no idea
where they are going. Of course, even with a map of the city, you don’t know
where they are going either because there is no way to communicate where
you are or where you are going.
Of all the countries we visited, Nicaragua was the most depressing. War and
oppression have taken their toll. You can see it in the faces of the people.
Poverty is prominent; jobs are difficult to come by. The 21 year old grounds
keeper at the hotel we stayed in is the oldest of 10 children. He is very
thankful and lucky to have a job; but he works 12 hours a day, 7 days a week,
30 days a month. His total pay for the entire month is $8.50. He works to
help his mother support their family. He really wants to learn computers
so he can get a better job, but he cannot imagine how this will ever happen.
He has no hope.
As experienced travelers, we are accustomed to “going with the flow”, but
border crossings challenge even the most experienced. We had a record crossing
thru 4 countries in one day – El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa
Rica. Imagine, 6 times off and on the bus, 6 times standing in lines for
our passports to be stamped out and then in, 4 times going thru customs –
agents rummaging thru our belongings.
Leaving Panama was a scene . . . at the border they unloaded all the passengers
(54 of us) and stuffed us into a round room. They placed all our luggage
in the center of the room on the floor; 3 mean-looking agents brought in
a dog; for 10 minutes the dog sniffed all the bags; he didn’t find anything.
The agents then bounced a ball over the luggage while the dog chased the
ball and sniffed different parts of the luggage for another 10 minutes; the
dog still didn’t find anything. The agents randomly searched back packs and
hand bags of several people and finally let us go. They were not interested
in us gringos. . . it was obviously a local they were after. Back aboard
the bus, police stopped the bus four times within one hour and checked all
passports. They questioned one woman, but didn’t take her off the bus. Newspapers
the next day said something about two fugitives - a man and a woman on the
run – drugs and money. Guess they thought the woman looked a lot like one
of the fugitives.
Customs in Nicaragua had a unique approach. They made each of us get
our checked luggage and drag it over to the customs desk. The customs agent
stood beside a large traffic light (red and green) with a big yellow button
to press; each passenger had to press the button (actually you had to bang
it with your fist) . . . if the light turned green, you were free to go;
if the light turned red, your bags were searched.
No long distance travel thru so many borders would be complete without at
least one good scam. Depending on the border and the arrangement with the
bus company, you either stand in the immigration line yourself or the bus
operators take passports and money and do the paperwork for the entire bus.
Several times going south, the Tica Bus operators did the paperwork for the
entire bus; so, we didn’t think it unusual when they did it on our return
trip north thru Honduras. However, this time, it appears, the operators pocketed
all the money and failed to get any of our passports stamped. Of course,
none of us realized this at the time. The operators didn’t return passports
until we were an hour away from the border (they stapled the old yellow tourist
visa for Nicaragua making it look like it was for Honduras). Anyway, to make
a long story short, without knowing it, we illegally traveled thru Honduras
for several days, going to a lovely town in a valley near Tegucigalpa and
then cross-country to the Guatemalan border. Upon presentation of our passports
leaving Honduras, the immigration officers were puzzled because there was
no stamp for entry . . . we explained that the Tica bus operators were “ladrones”
(thieves) and the officers simply waved us thru. Really, they could have
given us a hard time, but they just shook their heads and waved for us to
pass on thru. Guatemala never questioned anything and gladly stamped us into
the country. Happiness is.
At least we didn’t get scammed by the money-changers. At the borders, the
money-changers are the equivalent of the taxi vultures . . . swooping in
for the kill. No matter how many times you tell them you don’t need or want
to change money, they ask again. Oh well, they have to make a living too.
Fortunately, every country accepted U.S. Dollars. In fact, we never changed
money. We used dollars and would receive change in the local currency. For
the most part even local businesses gave us good exchange rates. The only
difficult part was keeping the conversion rates straight and remembering
what country we were in.. . . 7.5 Quetzales to the dollar in Guatemala; in
El Salvador they only used dollars; 18.5 Limpera to the dollar in Honduras;
15 Cordobas to the dollar in Nicaragua; 500 Colones to the dollar in Costa
Rica; 1 Balboa to the dollar in Panama.
On to the highlight of our adventure . . . the San Blas Islands of Panama
and the Kuna Yala Indians. Since George’s cruise thru the San Blas Islands
around 1990; we have been trying to return to that magical part of the world.
In fact, that was the goal when we left the U.S. in 2001. . . we wanted to
get “Sailabout” back to the San Blas Islands. Well, as you all know, we got
stuck in Guatemala. We blame our friends, Cade and Lisa Johnson aboard “Sand
Dollar” for this. They were the ones who got us involved at Casa Guatemala
orphanage. They sailed on . . . but, we stayed behind and built the bunk
beds; and then we fell in love with the country. So, it is only fitting that
they are the ones who now provided the opportunity for us to visit the San
Blas.
Our trip to the San Blas has to be the most spontaneous travel we have ever
done. Within hours of a quick email, we taxied to the airport, bought plane
tickets for 6:00 a.m. the next morning and hit the grocery store (to take
sacred fresh vegetables with us to the boat). Four flights later (island
hopping in a 16 person plane), we were sailing aboard “Sand Dollar” to the
Cocoa Banderas Islands – idyllic white sand beaches, thick, lush coconut
trees, beautiful water colors. We spent a lovely 10 days aboard - enjoying
pot-lucks on the beaches (with other cruisers), snorkeling and spear fishing
(Cade speared 2 beautiful snappers, but he and George had to ward off a large
black tip shark in order to keep the fish for our dinner). Aside from sharing
a nasty head/chest cold among the four of us, we all enjoyed our time together
and we thank Lisa and Cade for their wonderful hospitality.
Having returned to the Rio, we are happy not to be traveling for a while.
The new owner of “Sailabout” should be here in about 2 weeks. As soon as
we officially hand the boat over to him, we will begin our 3700-mile drive
home (maybe around the first of July). Should be interesting. We will, as
always, be loaded down (it’s amazing how much stuff we had on “Sailabout”
and how much of it will be going home with us). To make matters worse, we
had a 13’ cayuco (wooden dugout canoe) made and will be strapping that to
the top of the van to take home (now all we need is a rocking chair up there
and we will look just like the Beverly Hill Billies).
Making a cayuco is fascinating. Our friend hired a local wood carver to make
the cayuco for us. The carver went to the forest and picked out the tree;
but, had to wait until the right phase of the moon to cut the tree down.
After cutting the tree down, he left the tree in the forest to dry for 1
month. We have just received word that the carver has recently finished the
cayuco. Our friend will deliver the cayuco to us this Saturday – can’t wait
to see it.
So, the conclusion of our latest adventure, is that backpacking is definitely
harder than cruising – especially since we are accumulators and collectors.
However, it is one of those things we better get used to because when we
look at our list of “things to do, places to see, people to visit” . . .
backpacking sure looks like it will be part of our future.
On that note, we will leave you all with a warm good-bye. Hope you are enjoying
your summer. Would love to hear from you.
Mecca and George