South America!

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On monday the 16th of June we met the people we would share the boat with; 2 English, 2 Germans, 2 Australians, 2 Americans, us, and a French girl. Quite a mix, all with the same goal of getting down to Colombia and mostly sailing for the same reason, that being theres no road and its funner than flying and not that much more expensive. Some are backpacking like us, some are heading there to fly back home, 2 are on their way to visit a friends grave in Venezuela, and all of us are eager to set sail.

Preparations take most of the day monday which means we get a late start and will sail through the night, taking turns in pairs at watch. After packing the boat full of what seems like an excessive amount of food, water, and backpacks we crank the anchor up and follow the coast as the sun goes down. Guido, our German captain, gives us all an introduction. ''Welcome to seeadler'' he says, ''its very safe boat, I live on it for 15 years, don't fall off the boat, when theres no moonlight I can not find you, and guys pee off the side not into wind.'' That was about it.

Guido is a cool guy. He bought the boat in Holland and it stays anchored near his place in the jungle of Panama when he's not sailing around. He's got lots of stories about high seas and pirates and if you've ever got a half hour to kill you can ask him what the difference between a normal mile and nautical mile is and which is better. He was raised in Germany and has the typical ambition and drive to go with it, to make sure everything is ''sufficient'' as they say. How can you be better than the Germans.

I get up at two o'clock in the morning after a few hours of sleep, groggier than cheese and crackers but awake, it's time to do a two hour watch. Guido explains that the autopilot is on but we need to keep an eye out for cargo ships that will crush us in the rare chance that we cross paths. ''Crush us'' he says again as he slams his fist into the palm of his hand with a loud sound for emphasis. Okay got it Guido, he's off to sleep for a bit but never longer than 30 minutes till he's up and saying, ''what, everything is all right?''. Just shy of four o'clock we ease in between two moonlit islands and drop the anchor.

We wake up the next morning with a perfect palm lined beach on either side of us close enough to swim to. These are the San Blas islands, inhabited by the second smallest race on earth, the Kuna, who live in little huts and are very friendly but extremely hostile to anyone who tries to take their land or destroy their traditional way of living. ''Guido, Amigo!'' some village fisherman who are on their way back in yell to the boat, they have a fresh catch so we head to the island and grill some fish and crab for lunch. Day turns to evening and we light a bonfire near the beach and have a little party. Someone sits down beside me on the log and I feel an arm around my shoulders. Who is it? My new Australian friend Luke? Could it be the French girl? Nope, its a Kuna man in his ginch and he seems really happy to have found a party, he spends a while greeting everyone then disappears every now and again silently into the bush.

The morning of the third day we begin cruising through the rest of the islands, there are 365 of them in all. Most of them are uninhabited and many not much bigger than a tennis court, all of them are nearly perfect. We make it to the last two islands and spend the late afternoon diving off the boat and swimming to beaches, enjoying the last bit on land before we hit the open see. The next morning we stop to get our passports stamped out of Panama so we can continue on. The sea is calm and it's not long before we can't see land anymore. I've got the early watch this evening from ten to twelve and am snoozing about five minutes after it's done.

I wake up and the boat has a much greater rocking motion to it. Up on the deck a few people are sitting around because they have also woken up early. The wind has picked up and the waves are five or six feet big, making walking around a bit of a chore. By lunch the appetites are smaller and we don't make much for dinner either because its hard to stand in the kitchen. I go to bed early and somehow manage to fall asleep as it get's dark and the waves begin to really pound the boat.

Now it's twelve o'clock and time for my watch again, no need for anyone to wake me up though as it's too hard to sleep or stay in the bunk without holding on. I get up top and Guido is running around tying up coolers and equipment as everything flies around the deck. The wind is screaming and the thirteen to fifteen foot waves toss the boat around like a pinball. The sails pull the boat sideways at a steep angle and water washes onto the deck getting us wet, it's not cold though, this is the tropics and it's still hot at night. The sea is 10 000 feet deep here an we're 100 miles from any land. No choice but to ride this one out as we struggle to go faster than one mile an hour against the wind. Luckily with five watertight compartments and a strong steel hull this is just what Seeadler is built for, high seas navigation. She takes everything the sea throws at her without a problem. The horizon spins for a second and I close my eyes to make it behave, I open them and the twirling starts again and I'm nautious. What's going on? I'm tougher than this. Guess not, it's my turn to be sick. I lean over the side and my dinner goes to the whales this night.

As the sun comes up the wind starts to taper off and the waves are smaller. We eat a decent breakfast, then as we kill time by telling jokes, naming countries, and reading, the sea calms right down and the wind carries us towards Colombia at six miles an hour. At this rate we'll be there in just under 24 hours and it's now a waiting game. Some fins appear in the sea fifty feet from the boat and we realize some dolphins have come to join us. Eight or ten of them ride in front of the boat and play around by swimming upside down and zig zagging around for a few minutes before splitting up and taking off a few minutes later. Brian, the American guy, cooks an awesome spaghetti for dinner and we're in the bunks early. The sea picks up again but it's nothing compared to the night before.

I get up to the deck at two in the morning and the sea is glassy calm and there is a nice sight on the horizon, lights, orange lights, the kind that cities are made of. It is now the early morning of the seventh day and we are getting close. Guido is playing some kind of weird thumping techno beats over the stereo as he guides the boat past an island with a blinking lighthouse on it. With a bright moon shining behind the boat I sit on the bow and joke with my watch partner. We mostly talk about the first things we'll do back on land then head down for a bit more sleep.

Two hours later we are woken by the loud rattle of the anchor chain being dropped off the ship. The chain is coiled up about a foot from the head of mine and Dane's bunks so we hear every link of it clang up through the guides and splash down into the salty harbour. Outside we are faced by a line of shiny Colombian skyscrapers towering over a historic spanish walled city that I will later discover is the most beautiful city I have seen.

Danes flying out in a few days so we're seeing a bit of the coast before he leaves. Has been really great having him to travel with as well as my sister earlier. We came to another city on the bus today and were pulled into a bit of a scam where we paid way too much for a bus that wasn't even going to our destination. We were rescued by a friendly lady and a mysterious stranger though who worked together to send us on our way at the proper price. I'm back on coffee now too, theres guys who run around the streets with thermoses and it's strong and cheap and I have about 15 of them a day. I think I like it here.

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Photos

kuna fisherman
dive 60 ft for over 4 minutes to find lobster

Comments

[barrygahan]

Great blog
I wish we had time to do this trip (in reverse) from Cartagena, but we have to fly instead. San Blas islands look beautiful.