January 13

Eventually, a few projects need to get done. Watermaker filter wants replacing and a second Racor, to replace the execrable fuel filter/water separator from Dahl, has been neglected in a locker since St. Maarten. That forgetfulness thing can sometimes work to advantage, but I really ought to free up the space and chuck the junk.

Half the trip to Isla Pinos (Kuna call it Tupbak for the whale it resembles), being in the lee of several islands, was mostly unaffected by the nine foot northerly sea. One may rightly infer at this point that the other half was a tad lumpy. Anchorage, not well protected, is also subject to some motion. Good sleeping if roll remains minimal.

Seven boats here have been invited to some sort of drinking party at the local village. Spirits? Didn't know Kuna indulged. Something made from sugar cane was the cryptic comment. Rum? Maybe it's just sweet water. Report to follow.

- Later

The stuff is called chicha. Cooked and fermented in partially buried ceramic pots with ground coffee beans, it leaves one a drunken insomniac. Abstinence at this celebration, which purpose will be elucidated on the morrow and would be inconceivable at home, was scarcely an option.

Suffice, for now, to say that it was a fascinating (there's that word again) experience and perhaps a rare one for non-Kuna.

Jack