Tag Archives: Boqueron

Well — THIS SUCKS!!!

I live online. It’s my connection with the world outside mi barrio de español. Since I’m moving I had to make sure I would  be able to get online. Last week I went down to the Cable (Cah Blay) Onda offices in downtown David to check whether or not I could get their service at my new house.

“Oh, yes,” the girl said, “we have service at Brisas de Boquerón.” Great, but I didn’t want them to cut the service off immediately and leave me in the cold since I haven’t quite moved into the new place yet. Poco a poco it’s getting done. Well, today I went down to Cable Onda to set up installation at the new house. Guess what? Well, here, this map will show you what I mean…

Service ends

You’ll probably have to click on the pic to enlarge it, so I’ll explain what it shows. See those yellow stick pins in the upper portion of the photo? That’s where my house is. The two yellow stick pins are where THE FUCKING SERVICE ENDS RIGHT NOW!!! That’s right, there’s no cable yet on the street where I live, and they have no idea when it might be strung. That really, REALLY SUCKS!

When I moved into the house here in Boquerón the barrio wasn’t wired for cable t.v. or internet. So what I used was a USB modem from the cellular company, Claro. It plugged into a USB port on the computer and, while slow, it was good enough to get most of the sites I use, like this one. It looked like this and it cost me $40/month for unlimited access.


It was okay, but when Cable Onda came around and offered faster internet speeds for the same price, I took them up on the offer, and by and large have been happy with the service. I say by and large because in the last month there have been several times when there was ZERO access, generally after a major thunderstorm moved through the area, and the outages were up to 20-hours long.

Well, after finding out I couldn’t be hooked up at the new house I immediately went to Claro and got their WiFi router service. Same price as I’ve been paying, but slower speeds but it’s better than nothing. And the reason I got the router was so I could download my free Kindle books to my tablet. Originally if I wanted to download books I’d ordered I either had to go up to the InfoPlaza at the town hall or use the country’s free WiFi system at the bus terminal. Not critical, but kind of a pain in the ass having to go to those places. The Claro router looks like this:


The router costs $80 if you go pre-paid which is what I used to do with the USB modem. HOWEVER, if you get a contract then the router is FREE with the plan I’ve chosen. And I was able to get on a contract. The agent, a young man named Kevin who spoke excellent English (our whole transaction which took well over an hour was conducted in a melangé of English and Spanish simply because I feel uncomfortable talking to Panamanians in English) asked me if I had credit here in Panama, a requisite to getting a contract. I said I’d never bought anything on credit here so I doubted I’d qualify. “Wait a minute,” he said, “how long have you had Cable Onda?” I told him about two years or so and he went to his computer and, sure enough, because I’ve been such a good customer with them I qualified to get a contract with Claro!  The contract is 18 months, but I can quit at any time with 30 days notice but there is a penalty and that’s that I’d have to pay the full price of the router.

The thing’s working fine. I’m giving it a test run right now writing this post. Well. that’s it. I’ll still be able to get online even if it isn’t the way I’d hoped it would be, but, as we used to say in Antibes, “c’est la vie.”


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If I Can’t Have A Shantyboat

Then I want to live HERE …


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The Ultimate In Cool

I’ve got a big post coming up about hammocks in the works. My hiking brother, Jeff, calls them “Bear Piñatas.” But if you’re a boat nut like me they don’t get much cooler than this…boat

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Some might say I’m a bit strange, and I won’t argue the point. Some might say I live a minimalist lifestyle and I’m not so sure that’s entirely true but there are hints of it.

Almost all of us gringos grew up with hot water for bathing. Hardly any Panamanians did. In fact, there is a belief among many Panamanians that hot showers and baths are actually bad for one’s health. In fact, I had a neighbor lady tell me just that within the last week!

Over the years I’ve had situations where hot water wasn’t available at the turn of the tap. When I lived on my shanty boat in New Orleans I didn’t have hot water. When I wanted hot water to shave I had to put a pot on the stove and warm the water up. No big deal. I worked at a boat yard and did a lot of paint “prep” which consisted of spending eight hours a day with an electric sander in my hand making dust, much of which covered me by quitting time. Back at the boat I had a shower head rigged to a hose supported on a 2X4. New Orleans has a pretty hot climate most of the year, and the water in PVC piping that serviced my dock was rarely cold. Tepid to warm would be the best words to describe the water temperature so it was pleasant. In the three or four winter months I had a good friend who lived on my route home from the yard and he kindly allowed me to shower at his place. So things worked out pretty well.

The next time my living conditions didn’t have hot water on demand was when I bought my much-missed Nancy Dawson, a Kaiser 26 sailboat. I took off on her for nine months and single-handed to Mexico, Belize and the Rio Dulce in Guatemala It was always hot there so when I was in the salt water areas I’d dive off the side of the boat, climb up in the dinghy and lather up with Joy dishwashing soap (the only thing that produces lather in salt water) and then I’d rinse off with fresh water. That’s necessary because salt from the sea drying on your body will eventually give you a rash. When I returned to the States I lived for close to two years in a boat yard and then at a marina for another four years or so, and each place had shower rooms so hot water was not a problem.

In the first year and a half here in Panama I was house sitting at a place for two six-month stints and they had an on-demand hot water heater. The place here in Boqueron also has an on-demand water heater that doesn’t work simply because most of the time the water pressure isn’t high enough to trigger it. Now, I haven’t gotten used to cold water showers, though I have to say the water is never cold as it is in the States, but it’s still cold enough that I don’t find it comfortable most of the time. The exception is on really hot days in the middle of the afternoon then it feels good to get in the shower.

For shaving I do what I did on the shanty boat. Heat water in a pot and use that. I wash dishes in cold water and since most houses in the country don’t have hot water some brilliant people have created a soap that lathers up in cold water.

So, how do I deal with the cold water showers? Well, one way is what I would call a “modified sponge bath.” That is to say I stay out of the main stream of the water and use a soapy face cloth to wash myself. I don’t mind sticking my head in the cold water to wash my hair, though.

But I DO like warm water to shower with. For quite a while I used a “Sun Shower.” One of those four-gallon plastic bags that you lay in the sun for a couple of hours and it heats up the water.


Does a damned good job, too. You can scald yourself if you’re not careful. The problems I had with it was hanging it up in the shower compartment space. Fresh water weighs 8 lbs. a gallon, so hoisting the 32-pound bag was a bit of a pain in the ass. Also, since it’s gravity-fed and the shower head nozzle was only about three feet off the deck I had to squat down to get under the water stream. It wasn’t a lot of fun to use, but I did. The biggest problem  was keeping the inside of the bag clean. Green slime would build up and eventually, even bleach wouldn’t get rid of the crud.

The end result for getting a hot water shower comes in the form of this thing.


It’s designed to spray toxic chemicals on weeds. I’d tried a smaller version years ago on the sailboat. It only held a gallon of water, and the spray nozzle wasn’t worth a damn. I think I tried it two or three times and gave up. But I decided to try again. This one holds 2-1/2 gallons. I did cut the hose and nozzle off of the sun shower and rigged it up to the new setup. A little bit of black spray paint et voilà as we used to say over in Antibes, France.

This certainly does the job though it’s no where near as exhilarating as standing under a REAL hot shower. I set it outside in the sun for a few hours and the water heats up nicely. A few strokes of the pump handle and there’s a decent flow of water. There’s a thing-a-mah-jig by the squeezer on the spray handle that allows for a continuous stream. Since the capacity of the unit is only 2-1/2 gallons you can’t stand under the hot water stream for a long time, but it’s enough to actually provide TWO Navy showers.

A Navy shower is essential for shipboard life where fresh water is limited. What you do is get wet, shut off the water stream, lather up, rinse off. It works. Another feature of the new set up over the Sun Shower is that the neck of the bottle is pretty wide, so if it has been a cloudy day, or I want to take a shower early in the morning all I have to do it put on the big pot of water, heat it up and pour it in to the container with the cooler water and then I’m able to get a comfortable shower.

Like I said, I don’t recommend that people live as I do. Most wouldn’t want to, but I’m adaptable. You have to be, after all, to live for nearly six years on a 26-foot sailboat.


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Moving —

Well, I knew the day would eventually arrive when I’d HAVE to leave my home of the last four years.
The owners came down for a “vacation” on the 6th of September, and as we had agreed four years ago, when they came down I would go somewhere else. The evening before I left the owner told me that because I would have to pay to stay somewhere they weren’t going to ask me to pay rent for the next THREE MONTHS. That sounded good to me.
While the house has been up for sale for the last couple of years only ONE person has ever come to look at it, and the agent who has had the listing for the last year did NOTHING at all. Never saw or heard from them. But for some unknown reason I had a bad feeling that something was up with the owners.
When I got back to the house after ten days away,I was told they engaged a new agent to market the house and that the agent wants the house empty. Sort of like with Jolie Aire when we got back to the States, but this time I don’t have my own place to move into. At first the owners told me I needed to be out by the 20th of October, but I got it extended a little bit saying that people generally don’t want to start a rental period until the first of a month so now I have until the first of November to find a place.
After being blind-sided with the news I immediately went to my neighbors and told them what was going on and asked them to inquire around about possible rentals in the area. They know I don’t want to leave Boquerón and they’d always told me not to worry, they’d help me find a place to live. But Boquerón is a small town so it might be tough to find a place available though I’ve seen “Se Alquila” (For Rent) signs around from time to time, but those come and go. I put up a notice in a Yahoo Group, Gringos in David, which is actually how I found out about the place I’ve been living. I’ve found a couple of rental ads, all a bit more expensive than here, but not a whole lot. I’ve been paying $175/month plus another $30 for yard maintenance. The places listed are about $250 plus yard.
I’ve got a contingency plan if I can’t find something I like right away. My gringo friends (I don’t have many) Kris and Joel have a neighbor lady who rents out rooms in her house. I’ve met Cedo a couplBoquere of times and we get along, so I’ve asked Kris to talk to her about the possibility of me renting a room for a while while continuing to look for a long-term rental.
The day after the owners of this house left to return to Texas, my neighbor, Genito, came over and said he knew there there was a house for rent and that we should go over and talk to the owner of the house at two that afternoon. The owner of the house in question is Geraldo, and he lives just a couple of blocks away. The house he has for rent is brand new down in what is called Las Brisas de Boquerón (Boquerón Breezes), just a little over a kilometer down the road from where I’ve been living. It’s a recent development built in the last couple of years. The houses are small, only slightly bigger than the one I’ve been living in. The neighboring houses are closer, too, but none of them have forty fighting cocks which is probably a big plus as far as tranquility is concerned.
The place is unfurnished although Geraldo said he had a spare stove that he would install at no extra cost. But everything else I have to buy. I priced out an apartment-sized fridge for $230 in David, though delivery is extra.
Now, the good part is it will actually be cheaper living there. For the last four years I’ve been paying $175/month plus $30 a month to have the yard taken care of. Electricity and water are extra, of course, but they’re cheap. My electric on a BAD month will be close to $30 (that’s right, THIRTY. There’s not a number missing.) Water is nearly nothing. Maybe $40/yr. It’s not metered so I have NO IDEA how they judge the payments which usually run a couple of bucks a month.
The NEW house would be $120/month. That’s ONE HUNDRED TWENTY DOLLARS (BALBOAS) A MONTH! Fifty five LESS than I’ve been paying. I had to ask Geraldo TWICE to be sure I heard right. So with electric payments and water. And the timing works out just right. He’s finishing up painting the inside and I’d be able to start moving things into the house the last week in October but he’d let me have things like a fridge and furniture moved in before the first of November.
I was kind of unsure about whether I want to move there. The place is a quarter of a mile from the main road, double what I have to walk here to get to the bus and some days my hips are screaming when I get to the bus stop and are worse coming home with a heavy load of groceries. So I told Geraldo that I wanted to think things over for a couple of days but I was 95% sure I’d take it. And we left it at that.
The next day Genito came by and said he new of another place for rent that was just a couple of blocks away by the Centro de Salud (health clinic). He knew the woman who owned the house and had her grandson come down to talk to me later that afternoon. He told me the house was renting for $140/month and would be available the first of October. I went up to see it the next day. I wouldn’t let my dog be sick in that place. What a mess. It’s a lot larger than the place at La Barriada but totally unacceptable. For example, the sink in the kitchen doesn’t work and you have to take your dirty dishes OUTSIDE to the laundry sink to wash them.
I said, “Thanks, but no thanks,” in Spanish of course and a couple of hours later went down to Geraldo’s and gave him a deposit for the tacky little house there. Actually, while the house is a bit tacky and tiny the neighbors are probably going to be okay. The guy directly across the street from me is in the Policia Nacional. Two houses down on the right on the same side of the street is owned by a professor at UNACHI (Universidad Autonima de Chiriquí. And a couple of houses away from him, on the other side of the street, is where Geraldo’s sister lives.
Here are a couple of photos and a map…
blog house
La Barriada
my new house_Fotor
Geraldo opening the front door
The back yard
The policeman’s house (with car)
policeman's house


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Still Around

No, I haven’t died.

No, I haven’t given up on blogging.

Nothing noteworthy has been happening.

I get up in the morning, drink a cup, sometimes two, of locally-grown coffee. A couple of times a week I go into DahVEED and do some grocery shopping. I surf the net. I read. I listen to a book from Audible on my smartphone. I go to bed and then do it all over again the next day.

Next month I’ll have stuff to write about. The owner of the house I rent, his wife and her sister are coming down for a couple of weeks from Texas and I’m going to try and go through the process of changing my “carnet,” which looks sort of like a cheaply-laminated high school I.D. card to an E (extranjero) cedula.

That’s it.


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Transiting the Panama Canal

From the time I was about eight years old the only thing I wanted to do on my life was to be on a boat. Perhaps it might seem a bit odd that I never wanted to sail around the world single-handed in a small boat or to simply sail around the world at all. But while I did read all the books I could find about the subject it was never something I wanted to do myself. Too damned much water, if you ask me…

I looked to do things that were probably a bit more readily achievable. For instance, I wanted to cruise the Intracoastal Waterway along the east coast of the United States.  In fact, I’ve now done that half a dozen times. The very first time I did it I ran the entire 1,090 trip from Mile Marker  Zero to Fort Lauderdale, SINGLE-HANDED in a 43-foot Hatteras tri-cabin motor yacht in 1974. But to get to what is also called the ICW, I had to leave Burnham Harbor in Chicago and travel the lengths of lakes Michigan, Huron and Erie and then the Erie Canal from Tonawanda to Albany, and down the Hudson River. I dropped the owners of the boat off in Stamford, Connecticut where their daughter lived so I went up the East River, under the Brooklyn Bridge and past the UN building. When shed of those two I proceeded, with my deck hand, back down the East River, past the Statue of Liberty and then offshore until reaching the Chesapeake Bay and Portsmouth, Virginia for the start of the ICW. My deckhand had to leave there and return to Mackinaw City, Michigan.

In the United States the Mississippi River is mythical. Who has read Huckleberry Finn and not wanted to raft on that river? Well, I did for a short ways one drunken night my first year in college in Canton, Missouri, some 35 miles north of Twain’s birthplace in  Hannibal, but that’s a story for another time. In 1975 I helped a young couple bring their 51-foot sailboat from the same harbor in Chicago that I’d departed from a year earlier. We went down the Illinois River, entering the Mississippi at the Cairo locks and went all the way down to New Orleans where we re-stepped the mast (can’t pass under the bridges and a lot of overhead power lines on the Illinois). From there we sailed to Bahia Mar Marina in Fort Lauderdale thus completing what is known as “The Great Loop,” a circumnavigation of the eastern half of the United States.

Here’s a picture of me at the helm of the sailboat in the Illinois River and my old girlfriend and the true love of my life, reading as we cruise along. (You can read my story about her here in the post “The $16.25 Divorce”)

On the River copy

I often thought sailing across the Atlantic Ocean was doable  and I did it in 1991 on this boat after spending three years in Europe (France and Spain).

Jolie Aire-Golfe Juan

Of course I’d always thought cruising Australia’s Great Barrier Reef would be fantastic, but barring that I settled for sailing the world’s second-longest barrier reef, in Belize, SINGLE-HANDED on MY OWN sailboat in ’92…

Nancy Dawson


The one thing on my nautical bucket list that I hadn’t done was a transit of the Panama Canal. What lead me down the path to expatriating to Panama came about in a discussion with my good friend Stefan. I suggested to him that he should go over to Sicily and meet his family members. His dad was directly from Sicily and his mom is first-generation in the U.S. I said that, for my part, I’d like to come down to Panama, have a tee shirt printed up that said, “I can handle lines,” and hang around the Balboa Yacht Club and see if I could hook a ride through the Canal. All yachts that make the transit are required to have four people to handle lines at each “corner” of the boat. Well, that never happened though I did visit Panama several times before making the move here. I visited the Miraflores locks twice and have had drinks at the Balboa Yacht club with friends, but never did get that tee shirt made up.

Last month my Facebook friends Julie and Steve King emailed me and said the new boat they were running was coming to Panama from the island of Saint Martin heading to Quepos on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica. Well, it took me about a millisecond to respond that if they were going through the Canal they’d need four line handlers and that I would love to be one of them if at all possible.

Last Saturday/Sunday I took the midnight bus from David to Panamá (That’s how Panamanians refer to Panama City, $12.70 after receiving the Jubilado discount) and got in there at about 6:30 a.m. I then took the bus to Colón ($3 and something and an interesting ride across the isthmus.) THEN it was a $25.00 taxi ride out to Shelter Bay Marina, a location that gives new meaning to the term “Middle of Nowhere.”  Then Julie, Steven and I had out first face-to-face meeting though we’d been writing back and forth for a couple of years. I also met Danny, the Tasmanian Devil and Mike a lost Swede.


This is NOT the boat I was on, but is a sister ship. Colombo Breeze is an Oyster 61 Hull #11.

In the afternoon the “admeasurer” came aboard to actually measure the length of the boat and get other information so the Canal could levy the appropriate charges ($1,400 and a tad more). Four sets of 100-foot long lines were delivered to the boat. These are required in case the yacht is going through the lock by itself in which case it will be centered in the lock by itself (extremely rare) or “nested with other yachts on either side in which case the outside boats run their lines to the lock walls as the boats are lifted up to Gatun Lake through three locks or back down to sea level on the Pacific side via the Pedro Miquel Lock and the two Mirflores locks. He told us to monitor the radio and be ready to start the transit the next day, Monday.

In the morning we received word that we needed to be out “on the flat” at 1600 hours to pick up our pilot, Geraldo, to go through the Gatun Locks. We made it out to the flats on time and shortly afterwards our pilot, a rather young man, came aboard and we headed to the first lock and got our first glimpse of who we’d be sharing the locks with…

Big ship entering Gatun lock

The big ships enter the locks first on the upward lifts followed by the smaller ones. These positions are reversed on the other side of Gatun Lake and as our second pilot explained it is so that if, for some reason, the large ship has problems the gates can be opened and the smaller vessels can leave. The working barge is the Port Louis (and YES, it does have a pronounced list to port) is from the Netherlands and is working on the Canal enlargement project. After the white, Sierra Queen entered the lock and was secured mid lock, the Port Louis entered and tied up astern of the big ship with their port side against the lock wall. We came along and secured ourselves to her starboard side and went with them through the three Gatun Locks up into the lake casting off the lines and re-tying them at each stage. When we exited the final lock the Sierra Queen disappeared into the dark and we were directed out of the shipping lanes to a large mooring buoy where we spent the night. The Port Louis anchored nearby. We were to go down with them in the Pedro Miquel and Miraflores locks, which was great because we’d gotten to the the Dutch skippers and everyone knew just what to do.

Julie, from Virginia,  without the slightest exaggeration, worked harder than the other four of us combined keeping us fed with such gourmet meals as crab cakes and a shrimp dish you wouldn’t believe in between getting up on deck handling lines.

Julie King

Julie, Steve and I sat around and drank some wine for a bit and then they went below to bed. It was such a beautiful night with a light breeze blowing that I slept up in the cockpit listening to the light slap of the chop against the side of a boat again. I slept well. Better than the night before in the chill of the boat’s air-conditioning. I drifted off to sleep hearing the distant sounds of work being carried out on the Canal’s new locks a couple of miles away, but it wasn’t enough to disturb me.

At a little after 7 the next morning the pilot boat came along side and we met Jorge, our pilot for the day…

Pilot jorge

What a great guy (Geraldo was, too, but we spent nearly the next 12 hours with Jorge.) His father was Finnish and his mother Panamanian. He graduated from the Argentinian Merchant Marine Academy. And worked in Traffic Control for several years on the Canal and ran Canal tug boats for nearly 16 years before becoming a pilot. His wife, who we didn’t meet, graduated from Kings Point, the United States Merchant Marine Academy and is a licensed Marine Engineer who also does work for the Canal.

Jorge is a highly educated, very well-read gentleman who speaks perfect English. I asked him how he learned his English and it was through his father who always spoke to him in English while his mother, and of course everyone else around him, spoke Spanish as he was growing up. It was delightful getting to know both of our pilots. The admeasurer said that pilots could often be jerks when they are assigned to guide a yacht through instead of a prestigious ship, but both Geraldo and Jorge were perfectly wonderful people and certainly made our transit something special…

Now to get to some photos…

 Capt. Stephen KingOur Captain, Steven King

Gatun Lake SceneryGatun Lake islandA couple of the islands in Lake Gatun. When the Chagres River was dammed to provide water to run the Canal locking system it became, at that time, the largest man-made lake in the world.

SmithsonianThe Smithsonian Institution runs the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute on Barro Colorado Island in Gatun Lake. To learn more about what it is and what they do here, check this out…http://www.stri.si.edu

Lighthouse 1One of the many unique Canal navigation aids used to guide ships on their transit. Besides the usual red and green buoys there also a large number of “range markers” through Galliard Cut that the pilots use to keep the large ships in the center of the channel.

Our buddyPassing our locking buddy Tuesday morning. We weren’t speed demons but we left this guy in our wake. So much so, as well as the big ship that was going to go through Pedro Miguel and Miraflores with us that when we got down near the Pedro Miguel locks we had to anchor for about an hour an a half until everyone caught up with us. Not to worry, Julie prepared an absolutely fantastic shrimp and pasta lunch. (Should have taken a photo of that, but you’d probably drool all over your keyboards and short out your computer circuits)

Noriega home

El Renacer prison – home of former Panamanian ruler Manuel Noriega.

Canal TugsCanal Tugs

Maintenance DepotThe Canal maintenance depot

Titan CraneThe crane, TITAN. It was built in Germany for WWII and was taken by the U.S, in reparations. Among other jobs it is used to remove lock gates for repair.

Moneky Hill and Centenario BridgeGold Hill, the highest part of the continental divide the Canal had to cut through. It was named “Gold Hill” to entice workers to come to Panama thinking they could get rich picking gold up off the ground here. That’s the Centenario Bridge, ahead. It was built by a French company and was the second bridge built over the Canal. A bridge, similar in design is being built in Colón, but this time by a German firm. Currently traffic traveling from one side of the Canal to the other up at Colón can only do so when the gates to the first of the Gatun locks are closed. They form a bridge for land traffic.

Sightseeing boat approaching Pedro MiguelWe were to lock down through Pedro Miguel and Miraflores locks with one of the sightseeing boats that take people for excursions on the Canal. I had thought of doing this to make a transit. This boat was making a partial transit, just going through the Pacific side locks and a bit of a ways up the Galliard Cut, also known as the Culebra (Snake) Cut. I wouldn’t have been satisfied with just going part way up and returning. I’d have had to make the entire trip or nothing, and let me tell you, watching the people on that boat it would have been more exciting to die than to hang around on that thing as it locked through. The arrangement on the down locks is that the sight seeing boat would enter first and tie up on the right hand wall. Then our buddy would come in and tie up behind this one and we’d tie up alongside the Port Louis. After that a large ship would come in behind us and when they’d entered the gates would close and we’d drop.

Last to enterThis is the ship that came in behind us at the three down locks. I didn’t get any other pictures of it but I can tell you this: it filled the entire width of the lock which is 110 feet wide with, literally only inches to spare. It looked like you couldn’t slip a playing card down between the lock sides and the side of the ship. And when it finally came to rest its bow was no more than 50 feet from our dinghy.

Watching us in MirafloresSightseers watched us as we passed through the Miraflores locks.

Container Port in Pacific sideThe container port in the Pacific side after we had completed our transit.

Danny the Tasmanian DevilDanny, the Tasmanian Devil using a chamois to dry things off after a little bit of rain.

Mike JohannessonThis is Mike, our Swedish crew member. Most of the time when, we weren’t actually handling lines and when everyone was busy and there was no time to be taking pictures, he was down below, so I never did take his picture. This comes from his Facebook page.

We finally tied up at Flamenco Marina at the end of the Amador causeway. Julie got a break. We all went to dinner at the marina’s restaurant and had a wonderful, relaxing meal and pleasant conversation content in having accomplished our transit.

Wednesday I bid farewell to my friends who would be continuing their voyage up to Costa Rica come Friday morning. I caught a cab to the bus terminal at Albrook Mall and departed Panamá at 11:05. It was a bright, shiny Volvo double-decker. I was on the second deck by a window. They showed four movies during the trip. Three of them were totally in Spanish but the third one they showed was in English and Spanish with Spanish subtitles during the English parts It took a little longer than usual to get back to David because for about half of the distance, some 150 miles, the road west of Santiago is being four-laned. We got into David at about 6:40. The last bus for Boquerón leaves the terminal at 7. My duffel bag was one of the last to be dug out of the luggage compartment. I hightailed it (as fast as an old fart with COPD can hightail anything) and got up to the Boquerón slip just as the bus was pulling out. One of the nice things about living in a such a small town as I do, is that when I waved at the bus the driver recognized me and stopped to let me on. Believe it or not, I got the last seat available. ¿Que suerte, no?

So, what did I think of it?  To be perfectly honest it wasn’t as exciting as I’d hoped it would be, but it WAS great to meet the wonderful crew of Colombo Breeze and our Canal pilots. I’m extremely happy to have actually done it, but it’s not something I’d care to do again, if you know what I mean. I also learned a few things about myself. This was my swan song from spending time on the water. My COPD left me gasping for breath after the simplest of chores, though certainly not in any danger of keeling over in a dead faint or dying. But it makes me glad that I lived my life on the water and on boats while I was young and had the physical ability to do so. I have told young people for years: if you have a dream you’d better go out and do it while you’re able. Thank heavens I took to heart the advice Richard MacCullough spoke of in his book Viking’s Wake when I read it  forty-three years ago: “…And the bright horizon calls! Many a thing will keep till the world’s work is done and youth is only a memory. When the old enchanter came to my door laden with dreams, I reached out with both hands. For I knew that he would not be lured with the gold that I might later offer, when age had come upon me.”

To Julie and Steve King, I know I told you when I left the boat, but I need to say it over and over again: Thanks for your wonderful hospitality and the chance to close out my nautical bucket list. You have no idea how much the four days from July 13 to July 15th have meant to me.





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