What a Gas!

Panagas propane refill site, about halfway between
PanamaCity and Colon.  

“Propane?  Oh, that’s about a half hour’s drive, between Panama City and Colon.”

We couldn’t believe it – a city of 1.3 million or thereabouts residents who actively use propane and yet the fill facility is a long haul away.

“Why don’t you offer some of the other cruisers a refill when you get yours done?” "our" taxi driver Fred suggested.  “Split the cost.”

Fred, trying to figure out the charges
from Panagas.

After our offer on the net, we found ourselves with 9 propane tanks to fill, coming from two anchorages, La Playita, where we were, and Las Brisas, the other side of the peninsula.  Right after our offer, a local business got on the net announcing laundry service and propane pickup and refills.  It was a little awkward that we happened to be at the dock the same time the service was, which ran $25 for the service plus the cost of the actual refill.  Our cost would be Fred's fare, split among us cruisers getting refills, plus the cost of the propane fill.

Caged!  This was as far as the Panagas
folks let Wayne go. 

Fred, the cruiser-oriented taxi driver cheerfully helped us round up and load all the tanks, and away we went to take care of the propane, and several other errands along the way.  It was a hoof, though a pretty drive through the jungle.  Fred had to stop off and pick up long pants from one of his relatives as Panagas requires their customers wear closed shoes and long pants on their site.  Not counting the stops, Panagas was about a half hour drive, one way.

Upon arrival, "Half an hour," we were told the tanks would be ready for pickup.  

Locals line up for awesome BBQ stand a block from Panagas,
off the old highway between Panama City and Colon.

We took a little road trip to kill time, returning 45 minutes later.  We still had another 20 or so minutes to wait.

I ventured off to the BBQ place a block back down the road.  It looked tantalizing when we passed it and its smoky scent made my mouth water and my nostrils tingle.  There was a lineup of locals, a sure sign of seriously good cheap eats.  A quarter of a chicken was $4; I passed on the sides, though they looked pretty good, too.

BBQ scent? Moutwatering. Taste? Divine.

"That was good!  Where did that come from?" Fred asked as he sampled a hunk, devouring it rapidly.  I'm betting his future Panagas trips will include a stop at the stand.

Round 1 of Panama propane tank refills.

There was no per-tank breakout from Panagas, so we were in a bit of a conundrum on what to charge. Total cost was roughly divvied out per tanks, with more for the larger tanks and less for the smaller tanks, and as well we divvied up the cost to pay Fred for his time.

By early afternoon, everyone had their tanks back, including a few we delivered directly to their boats.

The next morning on the net, one of the cruisers complained about the cost of his refill. 

Wayne discussing reimbursement cost for the propane run
with the Panama City cruisers whose tanks we picked up,
got filled and returned.

Wayne explained how he calculated the cost, noting it cost no more than if he filled his tank himself in the states.  Allen of Nauti Nauti quickly chimed in and thanked Wayne for providing the service.  I won't deny I wish the complaining cruiser paid $25 plus the cost of his refill, or made that trek with 8 tanks besides his own.  Guess that goes into the category of no good deed goes unpunished.

Nevertheless, I'm betting there were 7 happy cruisers and I got some really excellent BBQ out of the deal.  And Fred was pleased with several cruisers asking for his assistance.

Ironically, the next day we saw a panga leave our anchorage in Taboga with about 30 propane tanks!  We couldn't help but wonder if that might've been easier.

Journey awaiting diesel outside Flamingo Marina;
Panama City in the background.  

Location Location

This blog was written anchored off Isla Contadora, Las Perlas PANAMA (N08.37.393 W79.01.870) though our propane hunt occurred when we anchored in Panama City's La Playita (N08.54.519 W79.31.497). After Las Perlas, we're off to the Galapagos!  Cross your fingers for us our gear box doesn't prompt us to return to Panama City first.

More Misadventures - Panama's Big Tides

"You could just say, ' the tide went out'" quipped Gunnel,
with her penchant for simple understatement.

"I'd feel much more comfortable if we tied off to a tree," Wayne conjectured as we dragged our dinghy a long ways up the beach at Las Perlas' Ilsa Contadora, Panama.  

We've seen our dinghy "float" away before without us (click here to read about that misadventure). 

We've learned the hard way about 15 foot tidal swings here in Panama (click here for that misadventure) and about being cautious taking tides into account while anchoring (click here for yet another learning experience at our expense).  

Thus we dragged our dinghy a good ways up the beach, threw down an anchor in the sand and added a rock atop for extra assurance. 

An all-too-familiar view for us on Journey this year.  
Every time I get in it I wonder if it will be yet another "Oh s---" ride.

Previously, we'd delayed our trip ashore for a bit as we forgot to grab our dinghy anchor and extra line for it.  We compounded our error by stalling out our outboard motor just short of the boat, while the current swept us past the boat.  We had to row back to the boat, not easy to do anytime, less so when there's four of us in on 10'3" dinghy. 

Wayne then sussed out what the problem was this time with the motor, which happily(?) was as simple as knocking the kill switch off.  Much quicker to "fix" than the ethanol ("Deathanol" - click here on what not to do with your outboard motor) which we, ummm, errr, forgot and put in our outboard again this year.  Arg!

Back to the beach....

Along came a spider... We came across
this cool specimen on our Ilsa Contadora
walkabout.  It was BIG!

We "anchored" our dinghy in the sand, and headed out for a wander about Contadora.  I chose Contadora because of the glowing Cruising World report... lovely beaches, caves, etc.  I was on the hunt for the caves* as it piqued my interest enough to recommend Contadora over the other 200  Las Perlas islands to choose from.  Wayne's folks wanted to inquire about the ferry, which departed from Contadora and was their ticket back to Panama City.

*It is a stretch to call what exists at Contadora a "cave."  Apparently the interpretation is much broader when seen from the perspective of a three-year-old cruiser than a more jaded adult.

No swimsuit.  No problem.  Playa Suecas nude beach on
Panama's Las Perlas Ilsa Contadora.

As we headed down to the shoreline near our boat, we noticed a nude beach sign, "Playa Suecas, Nude Beach.  No Voyuers."   In fact, we did see some swimsuit-less folks on the beach when we came in.  It's why we opted to beach where we did, to protect their "privacy."  

Meanwhile, Wayne and I were hot, sweaty and didn't have a swimsuit on us as we were prepared for walkies, not a swim.  We looked longingly at the beach.

A mere 2 hours or so later we arrived back at the beach where we'd left our dinghy and to our dismay, the "far enough away from the water" view was replaced by a moonscape of jagged rocks between our dinghy and the water.  At that, it was a substantial distance before the water was sufficiently deep the rock-strewn and live coral-laden bottom was safe to bring out dinghy over, much less drop the motor down and run the engine.

Wayne, Gunnel and Phil hanging out in the shade
on Contadora while deciding what to do next.

We embraced the adage "a rising tide floats all boats" -- especially after we saw a 10 foot tide difference resurgence in the two hours we waited to gas up outside Flamingo Marina in nearby Panama City.

Wayne's Dad Phil and his wife Gunnel opted to use the time to grab some lunch.  

Wayne and I were unable to resist the lure of a cool dip in Ilsa Contadora's waters.  It would be an understatement to say we were not at all bothered by a lack of a swimsuit.  

These Contadora beach rocks were a striking mix
of pastel mint green and orange.

We were however, thirsty, and as always, I was hungry.  

Luckily, there was an au natural couple headed back to their boat in their dinghy.  I flagged them down.  Turns out, we'd met in Shelter Bay Marina and traveled Panama Canal together.  I thought they were "our kind of people" when we met; little did I know (note - not sure if they are "out" about their nudity so boat and cruiser names are omitted).  With a laugh, they gave me a ride back to our boat.  

I tossed down my trusty kayak, paddle and loaded up a cooler with cold drinks and nibblies, sunscreen, a sheet to use as our beach blanket, my underwater goggles and a swimsuit and wrap for when we needed to rejoin Wayne's folks (C'mon, even if your parents know you're a nudist and lord knows they've seen us nude from the day one, how many of you would want to hang out with them nude?  Forget about even asking if they want to or not!).

That was the first clear water we've seen this year cruising since Florida's Dry Tortugas, unless you count the water in Muriel Hemingway Marina outside Havana Cuba.  And we'd yet to take any kick-back-on-the-beach time yet this year.  We were told by a local resort employee the waters had just finally cleared from the plankton that muddied its clarity.

Wayne's folks returned from their lunch.  The water rose enough to dinghy back.  Wayne ferried his folks to some private time for themselves on the boat whilst we worked on eradicating a few tan lines while we swam.

Spikes like the set that embedded itself into
my scalp at clothing optional  Playa Suecas Beach,
Isla Contadora, Las Perlas Panama.

Meanwhile, in heading back to our shady beach "blanket" I managed to thunk my head, HARD on the tree branch that shaded our blanket. It HURT.  Bad.  So I reached my hand atop my head and felt the top woody edge of a 2-pronged thorn.  I tore it out and my hand filled with blood, which also began running down my face.  For those of you who've never experienced minor head wounds or been around someone who has, the cuts just bleed a lot.  They may smart, but they look much worse than they are.

However the blood caught the eye of some other nudists, who promptly showed up with some disinfectant, which staunched the bleeding fairly quickly, while sterilizing the wound.  I was grateful as warm seawater offer the perfect petrie dish for bacteria.  Used antibiotic ointment after to promote healing and prevent infection.

Our now properly parked dinghy at Contadora's Playa Suecas beach.

The rest of our stay on Playa Suecas beach was so blissfully uneventful we decided to spend another afternoon there before we begin the 1,000 mile grind of 24/7 passage through the doldrums to Galapagos.  We realized that despite beginning our cruising in early December this "year" that in the over 2 1/2 months, we'd yet until that day, kicked back and enjoyed some relaxing beach time, with our without our swimsuits.

PS We returned to Playa Suecas beach today and were surprised by a film crew.  They were filming a French "Survivor" segment at the beach and were apparently unaware it was a nude beach.  Didn't prevent us from having a great time anyway. 

Location Location
We're anchored off the clothing optional beach of Playa Suecas, Ilsa Contadora of the Las Perlas chain of islands of Panama (N08.37.393 W79.01.870).  All too soon, we'll be headed off to the Galapagos, and beyond.  The state of our worrisome gearbox will likely be the biggest determining factor, though at the moment, we're pleased to be "stuck" here.

Panama’s BIG Tide Surprise = Serendipitous Stop

This photo’s for Jodi of Blue Pelican.  Snapped him when
I was kayaking too close to his Panama City roost.

“All that’s left is refilling our diesel and water tank.  As long as we leave by noon no problem making it Las Perlas.” 

Famous last words.

When Panama City’s La Playita Marina informed us we couldn’t come in until 1 pm as the tide was too low (plus $30 extra for the pleasure of pulling up to their dock to fill), it didn’t occur to us to ask Flamingo Marina if the same was true for them.  I new sailed to Flamingo Marina until someone waved us down in a panga, turning us back by telling us “The dock’s depth at low tide is 2 feet.”  It was low tide.

Taboga… a pastel-box pretty village
a mere 7 ½ miles from Panama City.

Amazingly, just two hours later, the dock was already back up at 12 feet.  In the interim we lunched and kayaked.  It was a lovely afternoon on the water, albeit not what we’d planned.

Wayne's dad Phil, me, Wayne, and
Phil's wife Gunnel, enjoying our supper
at Taboga’s Calaloo restaurant.

Filtering our diesel as we fill is a slow process.  It was too late for Las Perlas that day.  Las Perlas islands were over 30 miles away.  We were ready to blow the large popsicle (shaved ice – more about that in a future post) stand known as Panama City.  “It’s not too late for Taboga,” Wayne countered.  Taboga we went; it was about 7-8 miles from Flamingo Marina.

Corvina cooked in an outstandingly garlicky
sauce served on the side with a delicate
coconut-milk rice and a banana waldorf salad,
sans celery, shredded carrot and walnuts.Thanks for dinner, Phil & Gunnel!

Two hours later we dropped anchor.  After a little kickback time while we waited for the ferry to leave where we planned to adopt as our dinghy dock.

We fell into our dinghy and headed into town.  “Fell” because there was some stiff chop.  Our dinghy bounced up and down; entering and exiting it was all about timing.  Yee-hah!  Ride ‘em cowboy, bouncy.  Add to that a little extra “Whoa!” excitement when the bench sit I was sitting on collapsed beneath my butt.

Fortunately, our timing was good.  No cruisers were damaged in transit.

Note the small kayuka at the side
of the panga?  It’s the Tobago way to
dinghy out to the fishing boats tied off
to small mooring balls in the bay.

Taboga is a pretty little town.  Looks like someone used bright pastels to color the quaint stucco homes accented with designerly wrought iron balconies.  Bright yellow stucco walkways with white balustrades lined the waterfront, the soccer court and some parkway squares.  The streets were clean and a lovely jasmine fragrance perfumed the air.  The brisk chop misted the walls as it slammed against them.

Alas, it appeared the sidewalks rolled up along with the ferry’s departure.  After a bit of a walkabout, and a chat with a B&B proprieter who apologized that it was her chef’s night off, we planed ourselves at the one restaurant that was open, Calaloo, as the viewpoint Vereda Tropical restaurant didn’t open until 6:30 and the prospect of a rough dinghy ride back in the darkness was not appealing.

Tobago fisherman opens the floating live bait well
before heading out for bigger fish to fry.

We toasted over a tasty Spanish sangria, and enjoyed a delicious meal at the festively appointed Calaloo restaurant and made it back to our boat before dark. 

With full and satisfied bellies, we watched the depth drop below our boat, from over 21 feet when we anchored, to 12 feet, and we know it was not yet low tide.  Despite the darkness, we opted to re-anchor; we’re glad we did.  By morning, we were sure we’d have grounded at our first anchorage point, and been stuck there waiting for a rising tide to float our boat.

This beach dramatically shrinks and expands
with the tides.  The pelicans couldn't care less.

Instead, we enjoyed a glorious orange dawn, the prettiest we’ve yet since in Panama – and perfectly dinghy-able beaches appear that prior we under a swirl of turbulent water.

We lazily watched the fishermen paddle their kayukas out to their pangas, load up for fishing from their live well buoys and begin their day.

And then we set off at last for Las Perlas, grateful for the happy accident that landed us, totally unplanned on Taboga.  For cruisers looking for a peaceful place to hang out close enough to Panama City for parts and provisioning runs, check out Taboga!  There’s a ferry that runs between Taboga and Panama City several times a day, for $25 round trip.

Sunrise in “our” Taboga anchorage.

Location Location

Taboga (N08.47.733 W79.31.497 – before we re-anchored to not bottom out at low tide) PANAMA, just 7.5 miles from Panama City’s La Playita anchorage and  Flamingo Marina. 

Panama's Truth Or Consequences

Universal political statement.... The three
hear-no-evil, see-no-evil, say-no-evil monkeys as seen in Panama City.

Sailing to Panama is one thing.  Checking into and out of it is another.  Even in a 1977 boat, we find the latter -- customs, immigration, cruising permits, VISAs is expensive, time consuming, confusing and frustrating.  Comparatively, getting through the intimidating Panama Canal is a cinch.

Why the confusion?

Inconsistency.  

We're not sure how much is due to the recent government change, accompanied by an accompanying major turnover in staff, change and opacity as a norm, and our ignorance on not knowing when to push back and how.  We hear a wide range of experiences from other cruisers and from locals....

When we arrived in Panama, tired out after our overnight passage in, our first stop was at Bocas del Toro Marina, to top off our fuel tanks.  Seeing our dutifully flown yellow quarantine flag, the marina folks let us know they were unable to serve us until we checked in, and directed us to the local Port Captain to do so.

Several hours later, the Port Captain, his new supervisor, plus someone from immigration, agriculture and garbage.  All told, including Wayne and me, that totaled 7 people on our tiny boat, each requesting paperwork, duplicate copies and money.  This in 100 degree heat, high humidity and a narrow ~150 square feet area, while we were sleep deprived.  

Fred, 'splaining.  His Panama City-based taxi service caters
to cruisers.  We wish we'd tapped him sooner.

We were surprised the price tag, including "service charges" set us back $513; the most expensive, paper-intensive and time consuming check in of the 15 countries we've visited so far cruising.*  An understatement:  It was not a pleasant experience.  

*None of this includes the canal charges, which once reimbursed for our deposit, will run us about $1200 including ~$100 rental of specially required ropes and fenders. It did, however, include our cruising permit.

When the time came to move from Bocas toward Colon, the feedback was mixed on whether or not we needed to formally check out with Bocas' Port Captain.  It was a weekend, and the cruisers on the local VHF net figured if we did, there might be an extra weekend charge.  We opted to ask forgiveness rather than permission, given the lack of clarity and our prior experience with Port Captain.

As we prepared to leave Panama City, our last Panamanian port, we knew we needed to check out formally.  Whatever the next country we would visit would require that, our "Zarpe."  

Our anchorage neighbors, Jodi and Stephen of Blue Pelican raised their eyebrows when we said we didn't officially check out of Bocas or Colon.  Another cruiser, they warned, had to go all the way back to Colon to fill in their missing paperwork when they tried to check out.

We checked in with the Panama City Port Captain in Flamingo Marina, nervously, amid many questions.  Fortuitously, we'd opted to pay Fred, a cruiser-friendly taxi driver to assist us on our exit prep.  Fred used to manage the La Playita marina, and it just so happens was on very good terms with the local Port Captain.  We wondered how many laws we'd unwittingly broken, and felt grateful in the sense we dodged a potentially expensive paperwork nightmare.  An hour later we left, papers in hand.

Later that day, chatting with fellow cruiser Allen of Nauti Nauti, he said he too got dinged on "service charges" entering Bocas.  He heard others who insisted on going to the port rather than complying with the Port Captain coming to them, avoided those service charges.  Allen also declared that he discovered the check in-and-out at Panamanian ports between your entrance and exit is not required.  "You have to know that, and push back authoritatively," he explained.  Often it seems the Port Captains and other officials do not know, and it requires demanding them to verify the current process to clarify what is -- and isn't -- required.

Common  Panama City commercial delivery vehicle; this one's
at Alderbrook Canal Mall Casa Baterias.

Along the way, we discovered from Fred we could've purchased the two batteries ordered via Shelter Bay's chandlery (which Fred punningly referred to as "Shelter Pay") for at least $50 less each than we paid in Panama City at Casa Baterias.  Further the old battery cores the chandlery associate told Wayne, "Oh, you don't need to worry about those -- I will take care of them for you," were likely worth about $75!

How much could we have saved?  We're not exactly sure.  Adding it up would be painful.

We're not proud of our ignorance, though hope other cruisers can benefit by learning from our mistakes. 

Recently, Nicaragua began making noises about offering a competing canal solution.  Who knows if or when that will happen. Nonetheless, we sure like the idea of some potential competitive alternatives to Panama's lock on a shortcut between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.  

Another pleasant Panama City
 La Playita sunset.

Location Location

Tomorrow we leave Panama City's La Playita anchorage (N08.54.519 W79.31.497) for the islands of Las Perlas, rough 30-35 miles away and a half-day's sail.  Las Perlas will be our last stop in Panama before we make our longest passage to date, to the Galapagos.  That's about 1,000 miles and likely will take us a week and a half.  After that, we're looking at over 3,000 miles, nearly a month's 24/7 open ocean sailing, to get to French Polynesia.  We are enjoying the drier Pacific side weather, with lower humidity, and pleasantly cool mornings and eves.

Murals of Panama City's Casco Viejo

One of several folks depicted as flying on this building.

Wayne kicked us off the boat.

How could this mural not catch your eye?

It wasn't a reverse mutiny; he just needed to get boat work done and didn't want us underfoot.  

One of the more subtle bits of wall art in Casco Viejo.

Stylish graffiti at a school basketball court in Casco Viejo.

This waggish art was on a building in state of ruin.
We did not try to "Come on in."

Thus, Wayne's dad Phil and his wife Gunnel  and I taxied out Panama City's Casco Viejo (Old Town). Casco Viejo is a picturesque jumble of beautifully restored architecture and ruins, fringed by barios.

Historical / culturally themed mural.

Due to Carnival (more about that in a future post) the area was relatively quiet, with many businesses and the Canal Museum closed.  The uncrowded streets offered ample opportunity to photograph many of Casco Viejo's delightful murals....

Panel from a long, bright series in front of a Casco Viejo building
under restoration.  The fanciful building on the right in this mural
represents a real architectural award winning building in the city.

Last bridge in Panama Canal before entering the Pacific ocean.

These lilies are on the same building as the flying man mural.

Location Location

Now that we passed through Panama's skinny part (via the Panama Canal), we're on the Pacific side in the La Playita anchorage (N08.54.519 W79.31.497).  We're targeting this Friday to sail to nearby Las Perlas area, about 33 miles away.  

Twiggy-like figure with a puma head.

Yes, that's Bugs Bunny shooting pool!

This vibrant showgirl mural is one of a series
along this Panama City wall.

Panama Canal Transit: Survived!

Sunset and a faint rainbow over Colon port across from our
rocky "anchorage" outside Club Nautico the night before
we began our Panama Canal transit.

We were ready with bells on our toes at 1500 hours (3 pm EST), Friday February 13th, our scheduled Panama Canal transit.  Ok, maybe not bells on our toes, but we were at F flats anchorage at the designated time, with crew, lines, and tires as required (click here for more on our crew and prep).  

The monkey fist weight is attached to a
long line thrown by the canal crews to link
 to transit vessel's more robust lines which
are attached atop canal wall points
inside the lock gates.

However, our canal transit time kept getting bumped.  We waited, anchored, motored and re-anchored as requested.  Finally, the car carrier they delayed us for, motored through F Flats, and we followed, along with the other two sailboats we would "raft"* to through the locks.

Jose, "our" canal advisor transfers
the line attached to the monkey's first
back to the canal crew.

Eventually, despite 20+ mile an hour winds and darkness, we worked our way through the first set of Atlantic/Caribbean Gatun Locks towards the Pacific Ocean.

Jose knew his stuff, and also
enjoyed strutting his stuff
for the camera.

*Rafting is when boats are roped together.  In this case, the was a catamaran, "Bonobo", in the middle, another monohull sailboat, "Sea Wolf"  on one side of the catamaran, and we were on the other.  There was a car carrier freight in front of us, and our trio brought up the final boats, all linked across together, passing through the canal that night.

That night, we went through Gatun's three sets of locks, which together moved us nearly 100 feet above the Atlantic water level.  Each lock acted as an "up" water elevator.  Our job was to keep the boat from hitting the steep cement side of the canal, while they flowed in the water between each sealed gate (lock) and we progressed through it to move us up to the level of Lake Gatun.  

"Plan B" - our cleat-to-cleat bow rafting, after our chock
(the metal piece to the left of the parallel wood slats) snapped.

Most of it went smoothly.  The process involved catching a thin rope thrown by Panama Canal crew from the upper side wall of the canal to us, with a small fist-sized weight called a monkey's fist to catch the end of the line, tie it on to some thick lines on our boat, and alternately tighten and loosen our line from our boat's bow and stern to keep us tracking cleanly though the canal locks.

A "BANG" sound Wayne described as sounding like a canon shot ricocheted across our boat.  It was the awful sound of our port (left side) chock snapping in two, with the latter half disappearing into the lock, gone to us forever.  The chock held the line connecting our boat to the catamaran rafted to our right.  As the water roiled from the hydraulics of a gate opening, and the car carrier's propellers churning the water that much more, I gasped in fear of the adjoining rope pressure's shift from the "sturdy" chick to our far less robust stanchions.  Fortunately, the hydraulics calmed quickly, and our stanchion took very little stress before we scrambled to come up with an alternate solution.  We retied our bows from cleat to cleat, bypassing both the chock and the stanchions.  It worked.

Ron, handling our blue bow line link to the canal crew.  That little
dot" on the left wall is the canal crew line recipient for
the boat on the left side of our three boat raft.

While the distance we traveled was only a few miles, we did not finish our run through Panama Canal's Gatun Locks until around 10 pm.  We tied off to the same sailboats we rafted through the locks, untied, and re-rafted to share a mooring ball at Gatun Lake at about 10:30 pm.  At 11:30 pm it was lights out.

At 6:25 am the next morning, Jose, our next canal advisor clambered aboard and by 6:30 am we were off to complete the remaining set of locks.  That involved dropping back down the near 100 feet we gained, to return to the level of the Pacific ocean.  

Canal lock gates closing behind us.

Our ~50 mile trip out was relatively uneventful; a good thing.  It's far easier to release line when you're dropping back down the locks to the ocean than it is to keep your boat stable while getting elevated up to a higher level, as we were the prior day when our chock exploded.  We successfully transited the final locks and dropped our hook in Pacific Ocean about 2:30 pm Valentine's Day.

Canal lock gated opening to let us through.

We did not eat our Havana Hash on passage (click here for that GWT original recipe), though we did enjoy a good late lunch of Asian chicken noodle soup, coffee and pancakes in the morning and a lunch salad of beets, oranges, hearts of palm and kalamata olives in a viniagrette of pumpkin and olive oil and balsamic vinegar with a dusting of black pepper.

Jose avidly describes the changes the new canal locks will bring. 

Our friends Ron and Tricia left to return to their rooms in Panama City where they would not find themselves sharing a place to sleep on a boat that sleeps two well, four moderately and six, especially when in rains (and it did) terribly.  That and they had Valentine's dinner plans.  We were grateful for their excellent company and assistance, along with Wayne's Dad and his lovely wife Gunnel, still aboard with us anchored in the Pacific off Panama City, PANAMA.  Ron was snapping lots of photos our first night through the canal; hopefully some will make their way into a future blog.

As for us... it's not every day you get to spend Valentine's Day crossing from one ocean to another in less than a day.

Jose attempts to jump ship from our small, low freeboard
Pearson 365 sailboat to his pilot boat home in 20 knot winds.

Location Location
We're in the La Playita anchorage  alongside Panama City (N08.54.519 W79.31.497).  We'll be here at least a week doing boat maintenance and repair, topping off our provisions for the South Pacific and enjoying Panama City.  We may even be able to catch part of the Carnivale here before we take Wayne's Dad Phil and Gunnel with us to Las Perlas before we head off to Galapagos and we head home.  I write this blog rocking back and forth in our rolly anchorage.  "Calm anchorages will be a thing of the past," Wayne let me know.  Ah well; it's a fair price to pay for the adventure of a lifetime.