17th April, the day before the Easter holiday marked four years since we lost Dad and I took some time to reflect at the start of the day, before heading to Karla's for breakfast. Next stop was Charlie's for groceries and we were pleased to learn that he would be open on Good Friday and Saturday, only taking his usual Sunday as holiday.
We had planned to dinghy over to Panamarina for lunch but the wind was up and the water too choppy for our little dinghy and engine. Instead, Pete had a second shot at sealing the bathroom window with sikaflex, as it was still leaking and the sikaflex appeared not to have set first time around. It was Rivals Round in the Superleague, so we listened to the Castleford -v- Wakefield game online at BBC Radio Leeds. After the pre-game interviews and discussions and before kick-off, the commentators left the mic open, presumably by accident, as their very unsuitable conversation was being broadcast. As well as offensive language, they, or someone else within listening distance, discussed an unfortunate incident with a young lady, at a bottomless brunch event. I am sure there must have been complaints. The match was quite entertaining too.
In the afternoon, Tom messaged to see whether we wanted to go to Panamarina for dinner. The wind had dropped and the sea had calmed, so we agreed to go with him in his large and powerful dinghy. On the outward journey, we made it through the reefs with ease, following close behind a local boat. We sat outside the restaurant, chatting to a Dutch friend of Tom's and watching the spider monkeys coming and going across the track. As a result, it was after 6pm by the time we ordered food. The ribeye steaks were thick cut, tender and perfectly cooked as usual. You really can't beat it for US$13, including a plateful of fries. By the time we were climbing in the dinghy, it was dark. I laid on the bow of the dinghy, wearing my head torch, which was the only light we had. We located the entrance to the mangrove cut through and wound our way around the curves, with me angling the torch towards the shore so that Tom could see where to steer. As we approached the reefs it became difficult to see where we were and the light didn't shine far enough ahead to see the coral heads. We touched a few times, even moving slowly. Tom's dinghy has a solid bottom and survived but our dinghy would have been ripped to shreds. Pete and I decided that we would only go to Panamarina for lunch, from now on.
Good Friday started off wet and we spent a few hours listening to the rugby, Hull FC lost to Hull KR and Saints lost to Wigan. The intermittent rain stopped and the sun came out, so around 11 am we met up with Tom and went for a walk, missing the Leeds Rhinos -v- Huddersfield game, which Leeds won easily. From the marina gate, we turned left and walked along the road for approximately 40 minutes. There wasn't a pavement but traffic was light and nobody drives particularly fast and they are good at pulling out around you. We were looking for a small church, where we would take a right turn, along a dirt road, through a small village, with the requisite dogs roaming around and then uphill into the forest. We saw lots of different butterflies, including a beautiful, graceful blue morph, with its five inch wingspan. Pete had one in his collection but it was far better seeing one in the wild. Unfortunately it was too far off to photograph. Further up the hill, as Pete was photographing another butterfly, I saw something unusual. It was small and black, with iridescent turquoise markings. At first I thought it was a spider but then it hopped and I realised that it was a frog. Pete and Tom managed a quick look at it but it hopped off before Pete could get a decent photograph of it. Pete identified it as a poison dart frog. We continued uphill until we came to a junction. The dirt road went left, through an iron gateway. Straight ahead was a grassy track, which Pete and I climbed to see where it went. All we could see was more forest and jungle. We had no signal, so couldn't check the route on Google Maps. We decided to retrace our steps and look for the dart frog again, which we saw very briefly, in a flash of colour. We also saw another blue morph. When we arrived back at the church, we went straight across at the crossroads, down towards the sea. Here, the beach was covered in sargassam seaweed, several feet deep and the smell was horrendous. We quickly returned to the road and marched the 40 minutes back to the marina, where we ate lunch at Karla's.
We went to see whether Luis was around, to discuss our A-frame modifications but he wasn't there. Our camping gas bottle was in his container but still empty. We were also unable to find out whether our lithium batteries had been delivered as the marine shop was closed until Monday, Alex and Annabelle having a well-deserved three day break. Pete went to the Terpel gas station shop and was horrified to find that they weren't selling beer due to the holy day. However, he managed to get some and a bottle of wine from the liquor shop, in the white container, which was open for once. We spent a pleasant evening in the cockpit, had aubergine and mozzarella in tomato sauce for tea and slept comfortably.
On Saturday, we lazed around until 10am and then I set to deep cleaning the galley, taking the stove to pieces to get into all its nooks and crannies. We listened to the Catalans -v- Salford match, sitting in the cockpit, while watching the storks strutting up and down the pontoon, while next door's cats went berserk. Various wading birds came to balance on the lines in order to fish. Luis messaged to say he would come round in the morning; Easter Sunday!
Happy Easter! It's awfully humid and we spent the morning sitting on board, under the fans, waiting for Luis, who never showed up. We had an early shower, a beer at Nancy's and returned to cook a curry for tea. It was starting to get dark when Pete found a cockroach in the cockpit. He killed it with the roach spray and disposed of the body overboard. Our neighbours had left two bags of rubbish and an empty pizza box on the pontoon between us which was very likely what had attracted the roach. In the end, as it didn't appear that the neighbours were going to dispose of their trash tonight, Pete picked it all up and took it to the bins. They didn't mention it next morning but they haven't left any rubbish there since. We had torrential rain, so had to close up and go early to bed. It was uncomfortably hot and humid on board overnight, although the second half of the night was dry.
Monday wasn't a holiday in Panama, so everything was open and back to normal.

We hung up our wet gear and went out for coffee and to buy provisions. We had lunch on board and hunkered down for the afternoon, listening to the rugby, as the rain continued. There were occasional dry spells but not much sunshine. At around 6pm, we were able to connect to shore power. We went ashore to shower, now that we had access to the marina facilities and I was surprised to have warm water. After a quick drink in the bar, waiting for a downpour to end, we returned to the boat to find that the power had gone off again. We were back to using the Luci light (inflatable, solar light) in the saloon, to save the batteries. We didn't have a bad night's sleep, despite the heavy rain, mosquitos and the fenders squeaking as they rubbed on the pontoon. Early morning, we heard a thud, as the side of the boat hit the wooden edge of the pontoon. The fenders had moved along the rails, due to the constant rolling, leaving the widest part of the boat exposed.
We headed to the bar for coffee but it was closed. As the WiFi was on, we stayed to take advantage of that and ended up stuck there for three hours, when a violent thunder storm hit, bringing with it torrential rain. The rain was cascading off the roof like a waterfall. We stayed put for lunch. There's no official dockmaster at the marina on Sundays but Pete collared one of the marinaras, who agreed to let us move to an inside berth which was now available. The Polish-flagged boat next door had a young German couple on board with their young daughter and two cats. They explained that many Germans register their boats in Poland as it's much cheaper. One of the cats, Minerva, gets on and off the boat and goes for walks around the marina. The other one stays aboard at all times. Before long, the power came back on. At twilight, we were chatting to Fabia, next door and we were bitten to death by mosquitos. We fitted the mosquito nets to the hatches, sprayed, lit a lavender incense stick, plugged in the mosquito repeller and turned the fans on, which we could now use with the shore power. We had dinner on board and played Backgammon for the first time in a while. I am easily winning this season's tournament, so Pete is not enjoying playing. There was another storm, with lots of thunder and lightning but no rain here. We had a fantastic night's sleep, with airflow, no rain and no rocking. I feared I would fall out of my bunk due to the lack of motion.
Now that we were in the marina, we could set to doing the maintenance jobs which cannot safely be completed at anchor. Today's mission was to change the motor in the anchor windlass and see whether we could turn the gypsy round, as the teeth have worn away on one side. The motor was changed without issue but Pete couldn't get the gypsy off the windlass. He had removed the woodruf keys but there appeared to be burrs holding the gypsy in place. Our neighbour lent us a bearing puller but it wasn't quite big enough, so Pete headed out into the boatyard to find someone with a larger one. With the right sized tool, the gypsy came off but unfortunately the plate on the outside was bigger than the one on the inside, so it couldn't be turned around. With the windlass in one piece again, Pete refitted it in the anchor locker, we tested it and it was working. The old motor, which had been repaired last season, went in the spares box. The work deserved a beer, so we went to Nancy's at the Blue House, on the far side of the marina grounds. Back on board, we measured our cabinet to see whether the new batteries would fit or whether we would need to add a platform for them to sit on. We were pleased to find that the batteries would fit nicely, without any work. We had another great night's sleep, with no rain.
On the 15th April, our cruising permit arrived. It had taken 35 days, way longer than the 20 days we were told. We were now legal in Panama, although it seems the only people who ever want to see the permit is the marina office staff. Today's job was to remove the heat exchanger, on the engine, to check for debris. Pete pumped the antifreeze out into a 3 litre coke bottle, then, having closed the engine seacock, removed the cover on the impeller, to drain the sea water, via the impeller, into a bowl. Despite the bowl, the bilge ended up full of dirty, brown water. Next, Pete disconnected the water inlet pipe. There was so much calcification that the pipe and therefore the water flow, was restricted to less than a centimetre. The end of the heat exchanged was also covered in calciferous material and shredded weed. It was no winder that the engine was overheating. I suggested that we soak the pipe in white vinegar, to dissolve the limescale, or whatever the chalky deposit was. To remove the heat exchanged, Pete had to move the alternator and the fan belt. Because they build the engine, then spray paint it red, all the nuts and bolts are covered in paint, making it difficult to undo them, so it was a beggar of a job getting the nuts on the alternator undone. This end of the heat exchanger was also covered in the calciferous deposit. I went to Charlie's to buy more white vinegar to fill another coke bottle, so we could stand the heat exchanger in it. As well as soaking everything, I used an old toothbrush to clean everything. Pete also wanted to change the pencil anode on the engine but the used one was well and truly stuck, so he went in search of a workshop with a vice and plenty of wrenches. By the time he returned, everything was clean and ready to go back onto the engine. We put everything back together, opened the seacock and started the engine. It sounded much better but there was a leak from the front of the heat exchanger. Pete drained the antifreeze again and the seawater again and moved the alternator, which was much easier this time and took the cap off the heat exchanger. The o-ring, which looked specially designed for here, with a ridge on each side, was not sealing effectively. Pete tried again but we had another, bigger leak. Everything was drained and taken apart again. This time, we decided to use an ordinary o-ring, both having come to the conclusion that the old one had started life ordinary and had been compressed to form the ridges. Third time lucky, there were no leaks. I then had the wonderful job of emptying and cleaning all the bilges. It was disgusting but they looked great by the time I had finished and I managed not to break any fingernails. We would be able to see next morning whether there had been any slow leaks. We went for a shower and then to the bar for a well deserved drink. Tom arrived and was planning to eat, so we stayed for tea too. There was only a choice of ribeye steak or a burger. I chose the latter and the guys had steak and I think I won, as the steak was small, thin and overcooked. The burger and fries were at least edible. We slept well again, pleased with our work that day.
The next morning, we treated ourselves to breakfast at Karla's Fruit. Pete loves the banana smoothie. I like the omelette, the ham and cheese toastie and the fresh fruit bowl, so alternate between the three. Back on board, we back-flushed the watermaker, necessary because we weren't making water in the marina and checked the bilges, which were nice and dry. Pete replaced the alternator and the fan belt and started the engine, which was running sweetly. We could see water flowing freely through all the transparent pipes and there were no further leaks. I spent the rest of the day catching up on writing the blog. Pete went to see Luis, as recommended by Alex, about modifying our A-frame to take an extra solar panel. Luis asked him to return at 6pm. We were having a drink in the bar and were joined by Alex, from the marine shop (Sudinapa), so Pete missed his rendezvous with Luis. We returned to the boat and Pete was asleep by 7.30pm. Our critical jobs were complete.

Safely anchored behind Polish, we put the dinghy in the water, lowered and fixed the outboard in place and headed for shore, to have tea at the Black Pearl. We bought some beers at the gas station and returned to the boat, to sit on the foredeck, where there was the slightest breeze. There was a sudden grating noise; we had touched the reef. Pete pulled some chain in to pull us away. We went to bed and soon heard the grating noise again. It was dark and moving would be risky, with so many unlit boats at anchor or on mooring buoys around us. We decided to put the kedge anchor out to pull us side onto the reef. We dragged the anchor up from the aft cabin and affixed the chain and rope and piled it all into the dinghy. Pete rowed out and threw the anchor over the side, returning to the boat to give the end of the rope to me. I pulled the rope in until it grew taut and then kept pulling to bring the stern round until we were well off the reef. Then we had a good night's sleep, waking only to close the hatches when it rained, at which point it became hot and humid in the cabin, with no battery power for the fans. We woke at 6am to find that everyone was facing south, other than us, as we were held facing east, by our kedge. The New Zealanders behind us were moving, probably because they had come close to touching a yacht on a buoy, as a result of turning 180 degrees. Alex, from the marine shop, told us that the mooring buoys are illegal but the authorities don't do anything about them and the increasing number is making it difficult to find a safe place to anchor. Boats at anchor typically have 40 metres of chain out in 12 metres of water, whereas moorings may only have a few metres, meaning the boats swing very differently as the wind or tide changes.
My first job, even before getting dressed, was to change the bedding. I might as well do it while I was sweaty! Once dressed, Pete retrieved the kedge anchor, safe in the knowledge that we were facing the reef, not stern on to it and then we lifted the main anchor and moved away from the reef and away from boats on buoys. That meant going further out, to a less sheltered area but we would be safer there. We dropped with 9 metres under the keel and put 35 metres of chain out. We were now confident that the sea bottom here was sand and mud and excellent holding, so were less nervous about anchoring at depth. We were ashore by 9am. We spoke to Annabelle, in the shop, who informed us that our batteries hadn't arrived as they had been out of stock in Miami and missed the ship. She hoped they would arrive next week but would follow up with the carrier. Next stop was Klara's Fruit, for breakfast, Pete enjoying his usual banana smoothie. Then we paid a visit to Customs as we hadn't received our Panama cruising permit. He checked through his pile and it wasn't there, so he phoned Panama City and confirmed that it was still there and would be in Linton on Friday. We had coffee at the Black Pearl and bought provisions from Charlie's, including a pack of ribeye steaks. Charlie told us we could but mobile top up cards at the Terpel (gas station) shop, so we headed there, buying beer as well. We also located the laundry. Then we spotted Bill, from Perfect. We had knocked on their catamaran, in the yard, earlier but had received no response. Bill told us they had hit a reef after leaving us in San Blas and the sacrificial piece of the left hull had broken away. The cat was in the yard for repairs and they were heading home to the States for a couple of weeks. Their cat is a custom-built Maverick and the company owner has stopped building boats and moved on the camper vans. All he could do was send the specifications over for someone to manufacture a new hull but that would probably be quicker than building one and shipping it from Europe anyway. We returned to Muirgen to put away our provisions and do some admin jobs. We had been charged another month by Digicel France, although we had only signed up for a 12 month contract, which had expired in February. I opened a case with Revolut, mainly to prevent us being charged for any further months and then I located the original email with the contract and emailed Digicel to request a refund and to cancel the contract. Responses from both companies was surprisingly quick and the contract was cancelled and the cancellation fee waived after we provided proof of moving outside the area of coverage.
Next up was troubleshooting our engine overheating and anchor windlass problems, so I retrieved the manuals and found the relevant pages. I deduced that the likely cause of our engine problem was fine weed blocking the heat exchanger. However, while we were at anchor it would not be safe to start dismantling the engine, or the anchor windlass, for that matter. We messaged Cortney, at Bocas Marina and Boatyard again, as we hadn't heard anything from him or Fabian and we wanted to get dates and prices confirmed.
It was really humid and uncomfortable on board. We sat in the cockpit and put some music on U-Tube, with the Bose loudspeaker and had a good singalong, in between taking refreshing dips in the water. We didn't think it was loud but when the guy from the big, posh, blue Polish boat next door passed in his dinghy, he completely blanked me. Later, after we had turned our music off, he played music very loudly and again once we had gone to bed. I didn't sleep. We had the nets in due to there being no wind, which meant that the mosquitos were out and it was hot and sticky on board. It rained, so we had to shut the hatches, compounding the problem and we rocked and rolled all night in the swell. However, we were safe and not touching a reef.
On Wednesday morning, I was up very early and managed to shower and wash my hair, in the cockpit before anyone else was up and about, in the vicinity. Next, I sorted out the laundry and applied pre-wash liquid to the collars of all Pete's shirts. We tidied the fore and aft cabins before the day heated up. By 0830 hours we were done. We went ashore and used the wifi at the Black Pearl. There was nobody there to serve us coffee and they now don't seem to open until 11am. For the first time, we went to Nancy's at the Blue House, across the yard, overlooking a swath of green grass and palm trees and the bay. We couldn't believe it when the bill for a large cup of coffee and a bottle of coke was only US$2.50. We went to Terpel for dinghy fuel and checked out the marina showers and toilets, which were surprisingly ok and had aircon, a major bonus. On our way back to the boat, we motored the dinghy around the anchorage to the east of the marina and studied the depth of water, in detail, between the marina and our anchorage. We would need to move to the marina for our batteries fitting and we were conscious of having touched a mud bank before. As we approached Polish's boat, he was just taking his fresh-baked bread out of the oven, so we stopped and picked up a warm loaf. We had roast beef, onion and piccalilly sandwiches for lunch; absolutely delicious. Pete spoke to Rick, a friend made in Grenada and he told us about a good friend of his, originally from Germany but living in the US for many years, who is currently in Panama, sailing his 62 foot ketch. I said, 'He's not called Tom, is he?'. Rick said, yes and his boat is called Pegaso. It was the man we had met several days in a row, in Banedup, at the beach bar, with his friend, Charles. We looked the boat up on Marine Traffic and found that it was in Linton Bay and looking out of the cockpit, it was less than 200 metres behind us. What a coincidence. Rick messaged Tom and we headed over in the dinghy, to say hello. Tom said he was planning to go to Panamarina for dinner, in his dinghy, through the mangrove tunnel, if we wanted to join him later. We agreed to return at 4.30pm and go in his dinghy.
All afternoon, the howler monkeys, on both sides of the bay, were howling away. A couple, on a boat, with young children, were howling back at them, to keep the kids entertained. At 1630, we took the dinghy and tied up alongside Pegaso and climbed into Tom's dinghy, with me stretched out over the bow, checking for the coral heads, as we avoided the reefs on the approach to the cut through. It was great going under the mangrove canopy, seeing the egrets off to the port side. We came out into a lagoon and could see the yachts and cats moored on trots. There were no pontoons, just a small dinghy dock. We skirted the reefs and docked the dinghy, tied off and walked up the road, where we found a small chandlery and a little French restaurant. The food was fabulous and cheap. I had osso buco, tender meat and carrots, in a beautiful sauce. Tom had a beautiful looking ribeye steak and Pete had shrimps in garlic sauce. We would be coming again. We left just before dark but we had only moonlight and my head torch by the time we emerged from the mangroves and had to negotiate the reefs. We thought we had passed them all successfully and Tom hit the gas, only for us to catch a rock, at speed. We bounced over it and continued back to Pegaso, where we collected our dinghy and returned to Muirgen. It was a rock and roll night on board again and it rained heavy once, after which we could re-open the hatches and benefit from a strengthening breeze.
On Thursday, it was sunny and we managed to make water until the tank overflowed. We went ashore for coffee and more provisions, gin, wine and beer. Tom came over for sundowners and we talked about his 20 year long project to map human knowledge across all languages. That led to discussions about dreams and other realities. It was a thought-provoking conversation. It was another night rolling in the swell but it didn't rain, the hatches were open and it was comfortable for sleeping.
I was up at 6am on Friday and managed to do 45 minutes of Pilates before the sun made it too hot and sticky. Pete dismantled the old cool box and I cleaned the bilges. We went ashore to collect the laundry before taking the dinghy through the mangroves, to Panamarina for lunch. I had the osso buca again, as it had been so delicious before. It was a big meal for lunch but you have to make the most of the opportunity. It was decidedly choppy returning to the boat but we managed it without incident. It was a cool and cloudy afternoon and we spent it listening to Hull KR -v- Wigan, while watching the yacht behind us, which was moored with a little chain and then rope, gradually move sideways towards a seemingly abandoned yacht. Eventually, Pete went ashore to try and locate the owner of the dragging yacht but to no avail. It was dark when the man returned and he seemed oblivious to the proximity of his boat to the next one. Overnight, all the boats turned through all directions, the wind rose and the swell was up and down. It rained on and off all night. In the morning, the rain was torrential and looked to be set in for hours. The yacht behind us had re-anchored, so presumably had eventually touched the other yacht during the night. Then there was a flying ant bloom and the insects were swarming all around the cockpit, before landing and slowly drowning in the puddles of rainwater. Yuk!
I checked the weather forecast and it suggested we would have rain for the next week, with very little respite. Our batteries were flat and there was no prospect of them recharging with no sun and no wind. We donned our showerproof jackets and went ashore to see whether there was room for us in the marina. The marina office entrance was also full of drowning flying ants. They were everywhere. The rain must have triggered a blooming. We were told that there were no berths available on the inside of the marina but we could come alongside on the outside, by the lift out and fuel pontoon. We had a look and it looked ok, so we went back to the boat, put our fenders on and prepared to up anchor. Lifting the anchor was a struggle. The chain was slipping off the worn out gypsy and Pete was having to pull it up by hand. The anchor was deep in the mud and I had to motor over it several times to pull it out. Eventually, the anchor was up and we made our way slowly through the narrow channel to the marina, almost touching the mud before turning to starboard towards the berth. Pete reversed down towards the hoist and then approached the alongside berth, portside to. The slight breeze was blowing us on and there were no issues coming in or tying off, with the dockmaster and another boater assisting. Unfortunately, maintenance was taking place on the electrics, so we were unable to plug in to the power, which was frustrating given that was our main reason for moving to the marina. However, we were told that the power would be restored by the end of the day. It also turned out that the outside berths were very rolly, due to the wind and swell but hopefully we would be able to move inside the marina before too long.

We started the engine at 0702 hours on Monday morning. There was a light breeze, which would hopefully pick up throughout the day, allowing us to sail. The swell forecast for today was much reduced from prior days but still up at 1.8m, hopefully slightly behind us. If it was on the beam, we would be rocking and rolling all the way to Linton, around 50 miles west of us. Pete lifted the anchor, with the windlass needing help again and then went below to wash his hands, while I started to pilot my way out of the anchorage. We were familiar with the reefs here and knew that we could trust Navionics for pilotage. As soon as we were clear of the reefs, to the north, we turned the few degrees to get head to wind and raised the main sail. We turned to port onto a course of 326 degrees, about 35 degrees off the wind. It wasn't sufficient to sail, especially with only 5 knots of wind but the main sail was providing some lift and helping to counteract the roll of the swell. We needed to clear the shallows north of Porvenir before we could turn further to port and off the wind enough to put out the gib and sail. We inched round to port but the wind angle didn't change, evidence that our forward motion was creating most, if not all, of the wind. Despite having scrubbed the log wheel yesterday, we weren't registering any boat speed. The wind continued to drop until we had no wind at all. There was no chance of getting the gib out and sailing. The current also seemed to be against us, judging by our speed over the ground, under engine. We couldn't even muster 5 mph. At 1045 hours, we dropped the mainsail, fed up of it filling and collapsing in the swell, which was increasing as we approached the Escribanos Banks, with shallow but variable depths. We cleared the banks, passing between the major shoals and then the engine overheating alarm went off and we had to shut down the engine. We had barely any wind but I deployed the foresail in hope of creating some forward motion and a little steerage. There were shoals to the north of us and reefs close inshore, to port, although a way off. The sail didn't help very much but we continues to travel at around 1.2 mph, albeit in a south-westerly direction, more towards the shore than the required direction of travel. At least we were drifting away from the shoals. Pete topped up the antifreeze and after 20 minutes we restarted the engine, with low revs, initially. We now had a nerve-wracking journey ahead, wondering whether we would make it to Linton and if so, whether it would be dark before we arrived. We looked at an option to go to Turtle Cay, 10 miles this side of Linton, if we were late. Gradually, we increased the revs up to 1500 to pick up a little speed but we were still only averaging 4.7 mph. We could see a squall coming and hoped that it would bring some wind for us to sail. It did and we soon had both sails up, enjoying 7 knots of wind on the beam. It lasted a whole 3 minutes before we had to put the engine back on. The wind had come round slightly more west, so the sails weren't collapsing as much. We decided to leave both sails up, under engine, not very professional but it was necessary to ensure a timely arrival. We were now maintaining around 5.5 mph, with an occasional jump to 6 when there was a gust of favourable wind. The swell was a little more on the starboard quarter and the current was easing too. We started to breathe a little easier. A couple of distant squalls provided a bit more breeze now and again. At 2 o'clock, we had a visit from a finch, white and black, with a yellow crown ans
d stripes on its wings. It clung on to various sheets and halyards, to rest and flitted about pecking at lines and chrome. Eventually it left, flying back towards shore, a couple of miles away. Hopefully it made it home. As we closed in on the headland east of Linton, the breeze picked up to 8 knots and we wished for it to stay that way, in case of engine issues on approach to the anchorage. At 1630 hours, in the shelter of Isla Grande, we rolled away the foresail and then dropped the main. Having turned southwest, the wind was directly behind us and felt non-existent. Nevertheless, if we had an issue with the engine, we could still deploy the foresail and turn into the wind to fill the sails and steer away from danger. Yachts came into view much sooner than on our previous visit. The anchorage must be busy to have yachts anchored so far out. We knew that we wanted to anchor behind Polish, on the south side, where the depths are a little more shallow and we had been comfortable before. We dropped the anchor with 7.7m under the keel and landed with 8.9m, after reversing the anchor in. We had 35 metres of chain out. There was a New Zealand yacht in front of us, to port and Polish to our starboard side. We were a little further south than last time and the southside reef wasn't too far away from us but hopefully we were ok. We heaved a sigh of relief; the journey was over, without another engine overheat.

We were alone in West Lemons, other than the unattended catamaran further inside the lagoon. We had a swim to cool off, dried off and then a big, old, Canadian flagged boat came into the anchorage. They dropped anchor on our starboard side, a comfortable distance away, which we were pleased about as they only had a kedge anchor, 10 metres of chain and then just rope. We decided to take the dinghy across to the island with the beach bar, across the reef. It was a bit of a choppy ride and the swell was crashing up on the beach. We carried the dinghy a good way up the beach, so the surf wouldn't pick it up and then tied it to a rope on the beach. We ordered a drink and then food, lobster for Pete and a whole, deep-fried fish for me. Pete selected his own lobster from a crate that a Kuna dragged in from the reef. Just before the food arrived, we noticed that the Canadian yacht was moving. Pete borrowed some binoculars to watch what was happening. The yacht was re-anchoring, presumably after dragging its anchor. We kept an eye on it while we ate our food. There were too many fries and potatoes, so we had to leave some. We returned to Muirgen and indulged our carb comas.
Two German yachts arrived, anchoring one behind the other and south of the other, older yacht, Don Quixote. They were followed in by a charter catamaran, full of Texans, which anchored behind us. All was calm but we were expecting storms overnight again. The storm hit at 8.30pm, just as I was laying down to sleep. Pete was already snoring. There were some strong gusts, followed by torrential rain. It was only 10 minutes before we heard shouting and I jumped out of bed. Don Quixote was dragging its anchor again and was now south of the two German boats. How they hadn't hit either one, I don't know. Pete also got up to watch what was happening. The young man and woman on board managed to anchor again and everything went quiet. To be on the safe side, we put on our anchor drag alarm, although we were pretty confident that we wouldn't drag. However, all the boats were swinging a lot, which makes you nervous, so we didn't get much sleep until after 4am, when the wind dropped off. We slept late but not deeply and it was breezy and cloudy when we awoke. Nobody else had dragged anchor during the night. We noticed that Don Quixote now had a Bruce anchor down, in addition to the kedge. Bizarrely, he took the Bruce up again later in the day, leaving just the kedge again.
On Saturday afternoon we had a visit from Olaf & Moni(ca)), from one of the two German boats. They stayed for a quick beer and we talked sailing experiences but they had to leave to complete some repair jobs on board, having suffered damage on passage to San Blas. We agreed to meet in the bar around tea time, along with their friends. Meanwhile, a Kuna paid us a visit selling undersized lobsters, a small octopus and even a young turtle. Pete considered paying to release the turtle but figured that would only encourage the capture of more. It's not lobster season either and the quantity and size of the lobsters offered for sale was disgusting. We were quite upset by the incident and Pete made his feelings clear to the man.
At 5pm we headed for the bar. We waited for half an hour, then ordered food, deep-fried fish and fries, with coleslaw. Our food arrived just as the Germans arrived. They also ordered food and we apologised as we hadn't realised they planned to eat too. Michael and Jen were planning to go through the Panama Canal and Olaf and Moni were going to be their line handlers. They hoped that they would bump into us again, later in April or May. Tomorrow, they planned to head east to Holland Cays, so we gave them all the information we had on the anchorages, accuracy of Navionics and the restaurant / bars. We returned to the boat in the dark and went straight to bed, sleeping until 3.20am, when it rained and we had to close the hatches.
On Sunday we slept late and awoke to a bright and sunny morning. I did 90 minutes on Duolingo to ensure that I didn't get relegated from Pearl league. The Mexican on the Polish flagged boat left. It was a struggle getting the kedge anchor up with no windlass and everyone was happy that the yacht was downwind and unlikely to hit anyone. The morning was very busy with tourist boats passing through, between islands. We counted fourteen visible at one time and they just kept coming. It would be busy at Chichime and East Lemons, where the bars and beaches are. With the sunshine, we were making water by 10am and managed to keep it running for over four hours. Belle Amie (Olaf & Moni) and Seven (Michael & Jen) departed, calling close by to say goodbye and they would be in touch. My next job was to try to top up the Movil account, via the app, so we could renew the data pack, which was due to run out. I tried several credit and debit cards but received an error each time. I eventually decided that the problem was that the top up was in the local PAB currency, not $US, which seemed odd because the charges are always in dollars. I checked Revolut and it didn't list a currency for Panama. A boat came by selling fresh caught fish, which was very welcome as we were out of fresh food and I really didn't want another deep-fried dinner. The tuna we selected was $3 but we didn't have change, so were presented with another fish for $2. This one had nice white flesh. Pete went over to the bar and bought fries and coleslaw for our lunch. The afternoon was hot, before turning cloudy later, so we swam a lot. At 4.30pm we headed for the bar, as we wanted to buy garlic potatoes to go with the fish. Blanco was there and Stacey's mum. Henry Chechen, of flipflop rescue fame, was also there and another guy, all dressed up in tight white jeans and a fake Channel skin top. I was encouraged to practice my Spanish with anyone and everyone. There were lots of photos taken and exchanged too. Later, there was going to be a wedding, followed by fireworks and Blanco tried to press us to stay. It was also his 42nd birthday the following day, so we bought him a beer and then he returned the favour. His wife lived and worked on a different island. He told us he has six children, the eldest being 19 years old and in the police force. We also spoke to two Italian couples who were staying the night in the cabanas. They said they were basic but clean and functional. One of the mean was fluent in English and Spanish, unusual for an Italian, in my experience. Eventually we took our leave, with our portion of garlic potatoes, which were delicious with the fish. It was a fitting and beautiful final night in Guna Yala. We stayed up until 9pm but didn't see any fireworks, so they probably happened while we were both in dreamland. We would have an early start in the morning, as it would be a long, slow ride to Linton.

We awoke to an email from Pantaenius saying the underwriters still won't insure us for Caribbean cruising, despite us no longer going to Guatemala this season. They seem to change the rules, to suit themselves, as they go along. We were moving on today, so I made the most of the Starlink access and did a quick Spanish lesson on Duolingo, to protect my streak of days. We had fresh pineapple, lovely and sweet, for breakfast and made preparations to leave the Hot Tub.
With the anchor lifted, I headed towards the exit at the east end, which we were now very familiar with, rather than take the shorter route west, where we had come close to grounding the previous week. As soon as we cleared the reef and had a little space to turn into the wind, we raised the mainsail, following with the foresail, on the port side, once we turned to starboard. The wind was light and we consequently had a very gentle sail, whilst maintaining around 4 knots, speed over the ground. I took the opportunity to exercise with the dynaband, while we remained sheltered by islands and reefs. Once we reached an area open to the sea, in the Canal Mayflower, the swell increased, causing us to roll and the sails to collapse and bang. Pete kept control of the mainsheet, to ensure the boom didn't crash to starboard. As we approached East Lemon Cays, now back in the shelter of the reefs, we rolled away the foresail and then turned head to wind and dropped the main. Pete tidied the sail into the sail bag and we zoned in on the entrance to the anchorages. We could see the reefs on both sides quite clearly but were unsure of the depths in between, as we dare not trust the Navionics charts. Pete took over the helm and I played lookout on the bow. Pete purposely kept close to anchored yachts, on the premise that the water must be deep enough there. The anchorage was busy and there was no room in the shallower waters, so we continued on, towards Nugnudub Island. We passed through deep water and then the depth started to fall and we eventually dropped in 8.9m under the keel, laying out 40m of chain. Pete put the boat in reverse with high revs to dig the anchor in. Almost immediately, the local Kuna arrived, selling bracelets, ankle bracelets and wall-hangings. I bought a bracelet and an embroidered wall-hanging, depicting toucans. We gave the young boy a lollipop, his mother a bottle of water and the father requested a cold beer. When they left, we finished switching off the instruments, fitting the bridle to the anchor chain and putting up our anchor ball. It was bright and sunny and the batteries were full, so we put the watermaker on. The anchorage was truly beautiful, surrounded by small islands, with white sandy beaches and covered in palm trees and the sea was a rich turquoise. Nugnudub, 100m to starboard, was especially pretty, with its manicured grassy areas and an archway, inviting you ashore from the dock. This truly was paradise.
Early afternoon, an Argentinian yacht passed us, close by to port and promptly dropped anchor and finished rather too close in front of us. We were wary, as he had just dropped the anchor and waited, without reversing. Would he hold? We soon found out why he dropped where he did; his friends were on the yacht in front of us. We went ashore in the dinghy, to have a drink at Nugnudub. It was reported that you had to pay $3 per person to land there, as they like to call it a park but we weren't asked to pay, either on landing, or when we ordered drinks. The island was lovely. The managers were keeping it very clean and manicured but it was all done in a very sympathetic way. There were lots of handmade, wooden tables and chairs, under the palms and beneath palm umbrellas and at night, there were fairy lights everywhere. The music was great too, with Genesis, Tears for Fears, Elton John and many other bands and it wasn't too loud. We were paying our bill at the bar and ended up talking to an American guy, JP, which led to us having another drink, with him, his friend Vern and 2 of their young, female crew mates (all platonic). They had been sailing around here for years and provided us with lots of useful information and their contact details, so we could ask them questions whenever we needed to know anything. We eventually took our leave and returned to the boat to make a vegetable curry, only to find that we had no curry sauces left. We souped up a tin of chilli instead. At bedtime, we set the anchor drag alarm and Pete slept in the cockpit until 3am, keeping an eye on things but it was calm overnight and we didn't drag and neither did the Argentinians. The current caused a slight rock for a couple of hours but it wasn't uncomfortable.
On April Fool's Day, we were abruptly awoken by a local, alongside is his dugout, repeatedly calling, 'Hola'. It was too early but he wasn't giving up. Pete got up to tell him, 'No, gracias'. It was a beautiful, calm, sunny day, with clear blue skies. After breakfast, we donned masks, snorkels and fins and finned over to the reef but it was a mud bank, covered in sea grass and there wasn't much to see, so we finned back to the boat, against the current. At least we were getting a workout. We arrived to find two ramoras under the boat. They were about a metre in length, very sleek and silver and they were very curious. I snorkelled up the side of the boat and they came alongside we, maybe 8 to 10 inches away, to have a look at me, looking at them. They decided that, interesting though I was, I wasn't suitable for clinging onto for a free ride. I wondered briefly what they would taste like but couldn't bring myself to catch, kill and eat one of a pair.
Not long after getting back on board, we had a visit from a local dugout selling fresh bread. We bought four small rolls. Before we could even finish this transaction, a fully-laden veggie boat pulled along the starboard side and we were able to buy vegetables for making coleslaw, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, a dozen eggs, chicken sausages, beer and cans of sparkling grapefruit juice. We asked them about top up cards for the mobile and they said they would bring us some tomorrow. They introduced themselves as Manual, Arsenio and Tommy. The bill was $50 which seemed very reasonable with 24 cans of beer and 12 of pop. After lunch, more locals arrived selling fresh fish, they had caught that morning. We bought a small tuna and another, slimmer fish, which had lovely white meat. We were fully stocked up with fresh food and it seemed like this was the place to be. We could hear the great music from the shore too; it was perfect.
Around 1630 hours, we went ashore to dispose of Pete's empty beer cans, which the bar were keen to have as they can weigh them in and we ordered a drink. The young man behind the bar told us we hadn't paid the entrance fee yesterday, charged us $3 and wrote our boat name down in an exercise book, saying it was a charge per visit. It later turned out that a visit was as long as the boat was here for without going away and coming back, which was fine. My Aperol spritz was excellent and attracted fewer flies than yesterday's margarita. From Nugnudub, we headed across the lagoon to one of the other islands and pulled the dinghy up on the beach. Pete asked for beer but they said they had no ice, so no cold drinks, so we returned to the boat. There we made coleslaw, from red and white cabbage, carrots, onions, mayonnaise, mustard and a little vinegar and put it in the fridge to chill. Next, Pete made machli masala, with the white fish and ceviche with a little of the tuna. We pan-fried small cubes of potato and had a superb meal for tea, followed by an excellent night's sleep. There was a rain squall at 0530 hours and I was up and about at 0615, feeling fully rested and raring to go.
I had fresh bread and cheese for breakfast. We were really living the good life, here in the East Lemons. The sun was shining and we were able to make water for four hours, without flattening the batteries. I managed to get the Movil app set up on Pete's phone, so hopefully, if Manuel and friends didn't return with the phone cards, we would be able to top up through the app. We were offered a magnificent red snapper but we declined, as we still had tuna left for our dinner. I regretted it later, as that was the last offering of fish that we received and we could have kept it in the fridge for the following couple of days.
I was sitting in the cockpit watching a yacht coming around the end of the island and said to Pete, 'That looks like Gilana, with the orange kayak on board, the wind turbine on the aft mast and those low windows.' Pete agreed and we had a look through the binoculars. Sure enough, it was Mike and Laura. They didn't head our way though, choosing to head up through Banadup S and behind the islands to anchor well away from most other boats. It was a long way around but they ended up anchoring about a mile in front of our position, on the other side of a reef.
We decided to take the dinghy across to yet another small island, that had a jetty and appeared to have a bar. There we were met by an excitable young dog, who tried to jump in the dinghy. He was very friendly and playful and wanted company. He sat at our feet in the bar and his name was 'Jallo'. The owners of the bar were friendly and welcoming but spoke no English and thought we were French. However, we did manage to converse quite well using my little bit of Spanish. The downside of this bar was the flies, although they eventually all congregated round the empty beer tins which Pete put on the far side of the table. We were also the only people there.
Back on board, we had the tuna for tea, which was beautifully fresh and delicious. We slept well again until it rained at 5am.
On Thursday, we had dolphins in the bay and we saw one of the ramoras again. I hoped that nobody had caught the other one. The anchorage became very busy with boat charters and the volume of the music was turned up at Nugnudub, with the genre changing to please the young people. A large cat pulled in and anchored close to the dock, followed by a charter yacht, which anchored too close alongside us. They all want to be as close to the dock and the beach as possible, so they can get their guests to the island quickly and cheaply. I gave myself a manicure and pedicure, while Pete watched the boats. Late afternoon, we went over to Nugnudub. They had run out of Aperol, so I had a G&T instead. Pete chatted to a few guys from London, part of a bigger group, who had chartered a skippered catamaran. They thought this was the best island they had visited, the others being too remote and quiet for them.
After dark, another charter yacht came in, somehow passing between us and the yacht to our starboard side. It had no navigation lights on, just a Luci light hanging on the pulpit and a red light in the cockpit. It obviously knew where it was going, as it anchored off the east end of the island and must have been close to the reef there. The yacht beside us had no anchor light either. People really don't know what they are chartering out here and there seems to be little or no regulations. The Argentinians left their fairy lights on in the cockpit and they were flashing all night. It was forecast to be stormy overnight and the weather did not disappoint. The lightning display was phenomenal and luckily only sheet, not fork. There was plenty of rain and the wind gusted strongly. The boats were swinging wildly from left to right and we were fearful of being hit by the yacht to starboard or by the Argentinians but at least we could see the latter. We didn't get any sleep until 4am when the wind suddenly calmed. When we awoke, the yacht and catamaran from inside us had both gone and were facing the beach, meaning they would have hit us if they had stayed, so it seemed they had at least been keeping a watch.
We were leaving today to find a better anchorage for the expected stormy nights to come. At least with the boats facing the beach, we were confident that our anchor wasn't under the Argentinian yacht. Pete had plenty of difficulty getting the anchor up though, as it was so well dug in. We departed at 0825 hours, before having breakfast and we were guided out through the reefs, into deeper water, by three dolphins. There was no wind and it was very humid. It was only 3 miles to East Lemon Cays, so we decided to motor there and take a look to see how busy it was. It's a deep anchorage, so we would want to be in the one area of shallow water, off the beach of the most northerly island. If it was busy, we would continue on to Isla Porvenir. As we motored north of the reefs, we could see that the only boat in the anchorage was the unattended catamaran, so we followed the Navionics chart, which we knew we could trust here and entered the lagoon, dropping 30m of chain at 2.9m depth and reversing into 4.4m under the keel. We were definitely on, as the anchor pulled chain out of the windlass. Hopefully, we would be comfortable here for the next few days.