The Las Perlas islands consist of 3 largish islands, and dozens of smaller ones, with numerous rocks Las Perlas Islands, Panama and Passage to Galapagos
and shoals as well (far more at low tide than high tide) located in the Gulf of Panama. We spent our first night at Contadora, an inhabited island about 38 miles from Panama City, where wealthy South Americans have built fabulous homes. We anchored on the north side because the wind was from the southeast, and had the anchorage below several lovely homes to ourselves. We hopped in the water to clean the water line, but found the current far too strong. As the tide changed we found ourselves amidst a stream of huge logs and trees which floated past one way, then came back the other way. We could have built a log house with what floated past! The water was murky and uninviting, and the shore did not appear to welcome yachties so we stayed aboard and left in the morning. Sailing around the western end, we found many more yachts anchored on the south side, perhaps because of easier access to shore, but it could not have been as comfortable in those winds as where we anchored.

We anchored for lunch off a lovely beach on Chapera, where Judy worked on the water line, while Bryan removed and cleaned the hoses on the aft head which had stuffed up again. It seems that once it gets badly stuffed, you may get it going by cleaning one portion of the system, but it soon packs up in another portion. Pounding on the hoses to break up the deposits may help temporarily, but soon the deposits cause blockages further down, and you just have to break down and remove the hoses for a thorough cleaning. Not a fun job, but unfortunately part of the boating life. The scenery and snorkeling were very nice here.

In the afternoon we motored (virtually no wind) around to the western edge of the islands, intending to anchor for the night in a recommended anchorage at the southeastern corner of Isla Bayoneta. Along the way we saw several rays jumping well out of the water, often in groups of 2 to 4. It wasn't until I got the pictures into the computer that we realized they were manta rays, probably devil rays, a small type of manta. We must have seen dozens of them jumping from the glassy seas, all around us for as far as the eye could see.

The wind came up in the late afternoon, and the recommended anchorage looked very exposed and choppy, so we hurriedly checked out a few others near by that turned out to not be any better, before plunking down the anchor at dusk at the northern end of Bayoneta in an area not shown on the charts as an anchorage, but which had more protection than any of the recommended anchorages. We were in a small area bordered by Isla Bayoneta, Isla Gibraleon and Isla Casaya. It was fairly high tide when we anchored, and we realized what a good job we'd done of reading the sketch charts when the next morning we saw all the reefs, shoals and rocks around us at low tide. We'd picked a perfect spot. The next day brought lots of rain and gray, so we stayed put another night, and never saw another yacht the whole 2 days we were there. We did see a few small local fishing boats pass by at a distance. When the sky cleared for awhile in the afternoon, we dinghied over to large sandy shoal exposed at low tide. We saw several mounds of partially digested fish left by the pelicans that flew away upon our arrival. Then on to a beach on Bayoneta, where I found several shells. Despite the poor weather, we quite enjoyed this anchorage, and its isolation. I cooked and baked and put more in the freezer for our upcoming passage.

Next stop was Don Bernardo bay on Pedro Gonzalez island, a lovely palm-ringed beach with several other yachts at anchor, including our friend Mike on Wanderlust, whom we'd met in Colon. He's the single-hander who couldn't walk for 12 years after a hang-gliding accident, who learned to sail in the last 5 years after inheriting a small sailboat. He just bought his second Hunter, which he first told us he was taking back to California, but then later changed his mind and decided to join the coconut milk run across the Pacific with us and several other boats. He had some friends aboard, but was mostly immersed in trying to fix his generator.

I snorkeled from shore out along a group of small islands then back to the boat, and saw several new species of fish, plate-sized rays with a lovely pattern, and some gorgeous pink and white birds on the islands. The water was fairly murky, but pleasantly warm.

The next morning we sailed in light winds and bright blue sunny skies to the island of San Jose, the most southwestern of the Las Perlas, anchoring all by ourselves off the mile-long Playa Grande beach on the eastern shore, where we found enough protection from the southeasterly swell from some rocks extending out from the shore. We anchored well off shore since we knew the tide still had much lower to go. At low tide we took the dinghy ashore, winding our way through rocks invisible at high tide, to clean the dinghy bottom of the crud it had accumulated in the weeks in Panama. We spoke to Wanderlust on the radio, and learned he'd gone on to the next bay south, where since our cruising guide had been written a small resort had been built. He was still having generator problems, but intended, like us, to head out for the Galapagos the next day.

On April 23, we rigged our whisker pole for the first time since the one time we tried it out back in the Virgins just after we bought it, and otherwise cleaned and stowed the boat in preparation for the 850 mile passage to the Galapagos, which would be our longest passage yet. We set sail about 9 am, in 13-20 knots of wind from the NW - a nice downwind breeze which had us flying along at about 9-10 knots. We were sailing wing and wing with the genoa poled out to windward, which worked quite delightfully with Lizzie, our windvane, doing a marvelous job steering. This all worked well for about 45 minutes, when the telescoping pole de-telescoped suddenly, leaving enough slack in the guy lines for the pole to change direction from athwartship to forward where it did no good. We took it all down, and realized we couldn't lock the pole in its extended position - either it's broken, defective, or we just don't know how to lock it correctly once fully extended. We found the wind had altered enough that we could sail nicely on broad then a beam reach, making 7-8 knots in 10-13 knots of apparent wind. Fortunately we didn't have winds directly behind us for the rest of the passage, so never missed the pole.

Our passage to San Cristobal island in the Galapagos took us 8 days, with winds that varied from almost non-existent, to a few patches of 20 knots plus. At times they were on the nose, requiring us to zig-zag along our course, but mostly they were just enough ahead of the beam to allow us to sail our course on a close or beam reach. We motored about one-third of the time, mostly when there was next to no wind. We spent many hours sailing at 2 to 4 knots with winds of 5 to 10 knots, and many hours at 5 to 6 knots when the wind rose above 10 knots. As we progressed southwestward, the wind shifted from the northwest, to mostly southeasterly then southwesterly. We had currents of up to 2 knots helping us in the beginning, then slowing us down most of the rest of the way. We went days without seeing another boat, even though several left Las Perlas the same day we did, including Gannet and Wanderlust. We did check in with the Pan Pacific radio net each morning, and kept in touch with family and friends via email. We learned that Ian on Gannet had turned back to Panama because of crew issues, and several other boats either diverted to Ecuador for fuel or mechanical problems, or turned around and went back north. (Ian has since found two young Belgians to join the crew and headed off again toward Galapagos.)

Wildlife highlights of the passage included the small bird, probably a kind of finch, that joined us for several hours, flitting around first in the cockpit then down below, before flying off again. Unlike birds that alight on boats out of sheer exhaustion, shivering and shaking then dying, this bird seemed quite OK - just a bit tired and very curious about life on a boat but not at all interested in the food we offered. Another day we had a pod or 20 or so pilot whales swim past us on all sides. Having never seen them before, I originally thought dolphin as I saw several pairs of them gently arching out of the water all around us. But they were bigger than dolphins, with much larger bulbous heads and slower movements. We also had some kind of boobie birds circle around us for hours far out to sea, but never land aboard.

One very surprising aspect of the passage was how cold it was the last few days, especially at night. It seemed the closer we came to the equator, the colder it got. Wonder what Al Gore has to say about that? The cold Humboldt current that attacks the islands from the south must have been flowing considerably north of the islands as well. We were colder than we'd been since leaving Michigan in January, and took to wearing several layers of shirts and fleece vests and I even put on socks to make it through the night.

On April 30 we crossed the equator about 5 pm in very light airs. We were motor sailing, and hove-to for a little ceremony to mark the occasion. We popped open the Vieuve Cliquot champagne that our friends Dominique and Michel on Blythe Spirit had given us for this express purpose before we left St. Thomas, donned silly masks made by the Kuna Indians, bared our bodies to the sun, and made toasts to King Neptune and prevailed upon his generosity and good will in our future wanderings. We followed this with a wonderful steak and baked potato meal complete with place mats and cockpit light - a far cry from the simple meals we'd been eating out of our new "china" - two dog bowls that make eating underway far easier when the boat is heeling way over. Once the meal was over and the lights were doused, a quick look around revealed the first boats we'd seen in days, three well-lit fishing boats trying their luck just outside the Galapagos protective area. A long night of motoring with almost no wind and heavy fog brought us into San Cristobal in the morning's light.