San Blas Islands
Paradise in pictures is not always as it appears. So rather than a picture postcard, here is the truth as I experienced it.
Paul, our captain, had a certain aura about him from the minute I met him. He came across as jaded and lackadaisical. Early on he made a comment about America (USA) and its issues.
That’s alright, I thought, I don’t agree with everything my country does either. So we had a “bash USA” session and I figured…everything was good and we got that out of the way.
I was ENTIRELY wrong. I would spend the next four days listening to Paul’s rants and conspiracy theories about The States. For the most part I zoned out or chose to “explore” other parts of the boat. My fellow passengers were not always so lucky. They had to endure multiple lectures and informed me that Paul’s rants seemed to increase in volume whenever I was nearby.
Now let’s set the scene: a 50 ft sailboat with wood interior and a lovely Diesel engine that remained on for the majority of the voyage. There was no actual “sailing” involved. Seasickness consumed two-thirds of the passengers, though Paul insisted it had nothing to do with his sailing tactics (which involved him setting the autopilot and waiting for it to beep at him.)
So those were all the rough parts. Now that we have gotten that out of the way:
The San Blas Islands lie off the eastern coast of Panama, in the Caribbean. From a distance they look like tiny tufts of hair sprouting out of the blue waves. The sand is a shocking shade of white and coral reefs are plentiful.
The Kuna, or indigenous peoples, spend their days harvesting coconuts, catching lobsters, and picking up litter that washes ashore. Most of them live part time on the islands and the other portion on the mainland.
I was lucky to have met a wonderful group on the boat (with the exception of Paul). On the first day we swam to shore, set up hammocks, and lounged around lazily for most of the day. I decided to snorkel after lunch. Bad decision on my part, since a storm was brewing and visibility was quite awful.
Each day was complemented by delicious meals cooked by Paul’s partner, Sindry. She was lovely, personable, and an excellent chef. One night we had curry, the next day mini-hamburgers, then fresh salad and pork grilled over a campfire. Lobster pasta was followed by burritos and quinoa salad.
Day two was spent on a larger island. Paul actually came ashore and assisted with grilling the pork. I was in the ocean for most of the day, exploring different snorkel spots. The coral was not as colorful as I expected: predominantly shades of orange, yellow, or brown. A school of fish surrounded me, so thick in number that I couldn’t see the sandy bottom only four feet below me.
After lunch and a Cocoloco (coconut with rum) I was determined to get past a reef where the waves were breaking. Paul mentioned it was extremely difficult, which only increased my resolve. There was a point at which the waves didn’t have white caps. I knew this was where we would break through the wall.
I swam through a maze, constantly looking for the path of least resistance, with Nora close at my heels. Finally I found it…a gap! Fighting against the push of the tides, I kicked continuously until I was past the wall. Nora joined me a moment later.
To our disappointment the reef was not as amazing as we had expected. After floating along it for a bit, Nora suggested we head back. I wanted to go on towards one of the other islands but the fear of being alone beyond the reef overcame my desire to explore.
It was so much fun!!! I didn’t have to do anything, I just rode the waves towards shore. I screamed gleefully through my snorkel, “Wooooo!” The next wave came, “Woooo!” Then another, “Wooo-oh-shit!”
Coral!
Less than a foot beneath me, coral as far as the eye could see. Another wave threw bubbles up, obscuring my view. I was pushed down, closer to the reef. How close, I couldn’t tell. I kicked as hard as I could while attempting to keep my body flat against the surface. Another wave. My leg struck coral. I bit my tongue against the pain and tried to focus on moving forward. More bubbles, another wave. I reached my hands in front of me to shield my face in case I came to a wall. The coral was inches from my body. Another wave. I began using my hand to pull myself over the reef. My kicks were strong but shallow.
After what felt like ages, but was probably less than a minute, the coral gave way to a sandy bottom. I was safe. The first thing that came to mind was Nora. Had she been as lucky. Bringing my head over the surface I spotted her several yards away and headed towards shore.
Both of us had been scraped up a bit. My leg and hands burned from where they had touched the reef. It was a familiar feeling, I had experienced it before in Hawaii. However, it was completely new to Nora.
After an hour or so the pain had subsided enough and we ventured out to a neighboring island. The reef leading there was deeper, colorful, and sported unique fish.
The third and final day on the islands was my favorite. We built a hammock colony and the snorkeling was phenomenal. Among the fish I spotted a reef shark, a pufferfish, and a mantaray.
Trash was the only downer. The beach was absolutely covered with it: everything from a syringe to parts from a floor waxer. It was a reminder that nowhere in the world is untouched.
Since most of us had been sick the night that we headed from Panama to the islands, we decided it was best to remain drugged up on motion sickness meds for the journey through the open ocean to Colombia. Pretty much everyone spent the 36 hour journey alternating between sleeping, waking up for the toilet and meals, and sleeping.
We were all more than ready to be off the boat by the time we arrived in Cartagena. The things they don’t tell you: since you don’t truly shower for several days and you’re constantly exposed to salt, sand, and sun, you may develop acne or rashes on parts of your body. You will smell lovely! Not really. There is also a chance that you will have land sickness for a few days. This means you will still feel like you are on the boat and experience nausea, dizziness, balance issues, or a combination of the three.
What they also might not tell you is that over the four day journey you might form lasting friendships. Our group met up several times in Cartagena. Some of us traveled together and others made plans to meet again in other parts of the world.
Paul’s pessimism and diesel engine may have put a damper on the voyage, but it brought the rest of us closer together.
