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.

Pluie de Nuit departed the anchorage at West Lemon Cays a few minutes before us and we could see the 34 footer riding the swell as she progressed slowly between the reefs. We followed, confident in the Navionics chart this time, so using a little more power to counteract the wind and swell on the nose. When we were well clear of the northern reefs, we turned to starboard and put the foresail out and we had a good downwind sail, through the Eden channel. From there, Gael and Cecile headed in a more southerly direction, whereas we turned slightly more north, heading for Holland Cays. There were a fair number of boats out sailing today and they were mostly heading in the opposite direction. As we were on a port tack, we had to give way. One of the catamarans was actually Graeme and Aye, who we had hoped to meet up with but they were making their way back west, to reach Colon before the strong winds forecast for the end of the week. Five miles out from the Cays, we lost the wind, which would have been on the nose anyway, so we put the engine on and rolled away the sail. Using the Navionics chart we assessed the various anchorages, where we could see other yachts and catamarans, deciding which would provide the best shelter come the winds on Friday. A lot of boats were tucked well in between numerous coral heads but we didn't trust the charts to go in those tight, shallow places. People who have been here a long time use the Bauhaus charts, which we didn't have. Those charts show the waypoints into all the little anchorages and were prepared by Mr Bauhaus over the years he spent in San Blas. We could see rain coming towards us and hoped we might just manage to get ahead of it but the squall caught us for a couple of minutes. We eventually settled on the Hot Tub anchorage, a large lagoon protected by islands to the west and northeast and by a reef to the south. There is an entrance on the west and east sides, both very narrow and shown as five metres on the chart. We took the long way round and took a gamble on the east channel, as we could at least see the waves breaking on the reefs here. Pete took the helm and I went forward to see the best route through. The reef off the island to starboard wasn't shown at all on Navionics but could clearly be seen and we made it through without issue, before heading towards the anchored boats at the other end of the lagoon. It was squeaky bum time as we passed in front of a catamaran and the depth dropped to 0.8 metres below the keel, before climbing quickly to 8 metres. We anchored with 3.5 metres under the keel, dropping the anchor on sand and letting out just over 20 metres of chain. The holding was excellent here. Pete put up the anchor ball, noting that the yacht alongside also had one up. They must be Brits, we thought. It wasn't long before Mike came over to see us, having determined that we must be British, given the anchor ball. He turned out to be South African but his wife, Laura, is English although South African born. Mike said he sometimes flies his motoring cone when under engine with a sail up and joked that he flies ball, diamond, ball when too drunk to sail (means restricted in ability to manoeuvre). Mike confirmed that there are crocodiles here, so to look carefully before and during snorkelling anywhere near the islands. Laura had taken a jump when kite-surfing and landed on top of one quite recently. We were impressed that they are still kite-surfing at 70 years of age. Mike generously gave us the password to his Starlink, so we could get online, with Pete's sim being very patchy out here. While we were talking, the boat from Lemon Cays passed, at high speed and Stacey's dad shouted and waved to us.
Next morning, we had a visit from a Guna family in their dugout canoe. We gave them water and lollipops, for which they were grateful but they were asking for magazines, maybe paper which we didn't have. More yachts were arriving and it was starting to get busy in the anchorage. Pete's beer supply ran out, so he took the dinghy round to Banedup, 1.8 miles away, to buy stock from the bar there (where we had anchored when we first arrived from Santa Marta). When he returned, he reported that the anchorage was quiet and flat calm, so would be the place to be when the strong winds hit on Friday. After tea, we visited Mike and Laura, on Gilane, for a chat and a beer, then returned to Muirgen to relax in the cockpit before bed. It was a comfortable night at anchor.
Happy birthday, Joanna and Heidi. We decided to leave the Hot Tub and anchor off Bug Island, Banedup. Pete had difficulty lifting the anchor as the teeth were wearing out. He had to help by pulling up the chain by hand, taking care not to get his fingers in the way of the windlass. Mike had told us that the west channel was the better one to use, as the bottom was soft if you happened to touch, so we went that way, even though it was the longer way around. I think we must have gone over the reef shown as being further south as our depth went down to 0.2m under the keel, before slowly rising again. We rounded the big reef and once in deep water, we dropped the holding tank, where the sewage could disperse away from islands, people and boats. Now familiar with the reefs at Banadup, we made our way into the anchorage and headed towards the beach at the northeast end. We dropped the anchor in 2.9m and after letting out the chain and reversing, we ended up with 7m under the keel. To port, we had a small, grey catamaran called 'Selah', which is apparently the word for the short time to relax between the reading of the psalms. The weather was cloudy but very warm, a forewarning of the impending storms. Throughout the day, the anchorage filled up as boats tried to find a sheltered place to stay. Valencio came by selling his wares, beautiful embroidered wall-hangings or table mats. He told us we were safe here from the storm. He thought he would be back tomorrow, if we changed our mind about buying but then he would stay home, on the mainland, for 3 days. Our next visitor was a veggie boat and we bought a bottle of Merlot, 12 beers, half a dozen eggs, potatoes, onions, peppers, tomatoes, cucumber and lettuce, which cost a whopping $51. All the veggies went into a cloth bag for weighing together, as the price is per pound, whatever you buy. We were now stocked up with fresh produce. Late afternoon, we rowed ashore and dragged the dinghy up the beach and went to the bar for a drink. It's a pretty place, with swing seats around the bar and hammocks and tables in the water with palm roofs. I was a little perturbed by the Doberman wandering around, although it seemed friendly enough. We ate on board, without any further alcoholic beverages. During the night, the wind picked up and there was heavy rain and sheet lightning. We made regular checks of our position. Pete went up into the cockpit to look around and all was ok. As he laid down again, in his bunk, he noticed a light going by us and jumped up to see whether another boat was moving. Then came the shout, 'Donna, get the engine on. We're dragging.' We were very lucky, as we had somehow managed to pass sideways between the Najad and the large catamaran than were behind us. They must have swung in opposite directions, leaving a gap for us to slide through. There was no moon, due to the clouds but the occasional flash of lightning helped us to see the boats around us. I put the deck light on, so Pete could see to take the bridle off and bring the anchor up, while I took the helm and steered to avoid other boats and the small reef, off the beach, to the west of us. It was a tense time. Coincidentally, I was wearing the same nightdress as the night we had to re-anchor in the storm in Antigua the previous year. I think I should get rid of it now! With the anchor up, we swapped places and Pete steered us forward, back towards the beach, using Saleh and the yacht at the other side to guide him. I shouted as I thought there was a large plastic bag in the water but as we moved alongside it and the deck light caught it, it turned out to be an eagle ray. It stayed with us as I dropped the anchor, on free-flow, so it went down fast and let over 30 metres of chain out, before I tightened the clutch. We ended up with 8.9m under the keel and about 5 or 6 metres further from the beach than before. We left the bridle off, just in case. Pete dosed in the cockpit until dawn. I went below but was far too keyed up to sleep and without the bridle on, the chain was grating noisily. In the morning, Pete snorkelled to check the anchor and said the tip was dug in but in sand and weed, so we reversed it in, put the bridle on and, just to be on the safe side, we put the kedge anchor out as well, at a slight angle to the CQR. 2 anchors are better than 1! If we dragged again, we would return to the Hot Tub. We had a visit from Rob (NZ; Wife is Maggie) from the Najad, who asked about our adventure in the night. He had seen us go by but thought we had just arrived and were being brave coming through the anchorage in the dark and the storm. He was very thankful we hadn't hit him when we said we had dragged.
When we had been at anchor for 12 hours, we decided it was safe to go ashore. The weather was more calm than it had been in the night. At the bar, we met Tom and his friend, Charles, who were on a 60+ foot monohull, anchored on the outside of the reef, in 15 metres. Charles commandeered me and had a lot of questions about where we had sailed, my favourite experiences and so on and he was happy to chat about his life and relationships. We were there for 2.5 hours and I had just 1 Aperol spritz. Back on board, we found that our last packet of mince was off, so we ended up with chilli from a tin, spiced up with onions, peppers and a drop of vino tinto. It was actually quite good. With the wind howling and nervous from the night before, Pete slept in the cockpit to keep watch. I couldn't sleep, so took a watch at 2am, telling Pete to go to sleep down below. I played spider solitaire on my phone, looking up every couple of minutes to check our position. Normally, we are critical of boats having coloured lights and strobes but tonight it was helpful to have a bright blue light on the boat to our starboard side, slightly aft, as it was easy to see our position relative to him. Rob's white anchor light, at the top of his mast, was also very bright and visible. We were swinging through an arc of about 90 degrees. Saleh, to port, was swinging too but the yacht to starboard wasn't moving much at all, so I suspect he had a kedge anchor out to keep him straight. That meant that we were quite close when we swung towards him. After 90 minutes, I went back down below and turned to face the cockpit, where I could see Rob's light ranging left to right, as we swung. It wasn't as windy as expected and we didn't drag, although it did rain and I eventually fell asleep as the dawn broke and I slept late.
In the morning, the guy (Frank) from Selah shouted over to invite us for coffee. We thought perhaps he wanted to ask us about our anchor drag experience. However, it turned out that they weren't aware we had dragged either, although they had noticed we were further back than before and thought we had let more chain out. Frank and Suzanne were from British Colombia and Alberta, in Canada, two states I visited when I was 15 years old. The coffee was very good and I had two cups; unusual for me. Suzanne also brought out homemade cookies and a bowl of pineapple and watermelon. Frank provided lots of useful information and showed us the Bauhaus charts. He told us which app we would and sent a link to the charts to download. We agreed to meet them around 4pm in Ibin's bar / restaurant, on the other side of Bug Island. We went ashore and walked around the island. On the northeast side, there was a lot of debris, washed up and several places where people had burned their rubbish, leaving behind burned cans and bottles. We found Ibin's, built on stilts over the water, facing the reef and the full force of the northerly wind. We shared a pizza and watched the swell rolling in and crashing into the reef. There was a torrential downpour, so we had to move undercover. We followed the conch shell lined pathway across the island to the leeward side and called into the bar there for a quick beer with Tom and Charles, before rowing back to the boat. I ordered early Mothers Day flowers for my Mum, as she was going away early in April and I wanted her to enjoy the flowers before she went. It was a struggle keeping the mobile signal long enough to choose, checkout and pay but eventually I was successful. We had one drink, back at Ibin's with Frank and Suzanne and had an early night. We didn't eat, feeling bloated from the lunchtime pizza. We put the drag alarm on and hoped the batteries would survive. I struggled to sleep, perhaps due to the major dose of caffeine in the morning. At 3am, with the batteries showing fair to good, I switched the instruments off, as it wasn't really windy any more.
After a few days of cloud, the sun started to break through on Sunday morning. Out beyond the reef, you could see the big rollers coming in and the monuments of spray when they hit. It was a little swelly in the anchorage but there was no wind. Frank called by to say they were going to do a rubbish burn later, if Pete wanted to join them, which he said he would. Frank agreed to pick him up around 1pm, as he has a larger, faster dinghy and engine and they go to the uninhabited island opposite. I watched a beautiful turtle off the bow of the boat. In the afternoon, we went ashore for a beer but the beach bar had no ice, so we walked across the island to Ibin's, where the lovely Ibelisa runs the show. We decided to stay for an early dinner. Pete had lobster, which he said was delicious and tender. I had tune, pan-seared in garlic butter, which was equally as good. We chatted with a group of people from the US, who were on a charter catamaran and they were amazed that people actually did this for most of the year. We also met Mark and Lainie and ended up returning to the boat in the dark. We laughed at the toilets at Ibin's, which are in huts made of palm leaves but have air freshener spray, which would just go out through the walls and roof. At 1am, we were awoken by a long, shrill whistle, followed by a commotion on the beach. Then there were fast dinghies coming by to go ashore, more shouting and then the dinghies returned. We surmised that people from some of the charter boats had stayed out late, or been left ashore. By 0115 hours, all was quiet and calm again.
On Monday morning, we awoke to see a very high tide. There was hardly any beach visible in places and all the logs from the beach were floating in the water. It was only half moon, so we weren't on springs and there's hardly any tide here anyway. The waves were still crashing into the reef, to the north, so perhaps it was that which was causing the rise in the water level, as the reefs to the south and the 2 islands form a lagoon. Pete went ashore to pick up the bread that we had ordered from Ibin's. We had ordered a small focacia but the one that he gave us was about 10 inches, by 6, by 3; enormous. It was also delicious and still warm. We gave some to Frank and Suzanne. A local Guna came by in his dugout canoe and asked for 10 dollars for anchoring. He had what appeared to be official receipts but Pete refused to pay. Eventually the man shrugged his shoulders and left. Having already paid for a cruising permit for Panama, another one for San Blas, plus a tourist fee per person, it seems somewhat unreasonable for anchorages to charge as well. Nobody can own the sea bottom. It may only be $10 but if we visited 15 anchorages in the month, that would be $150 on top of the $335 already paid. There was a mass exodus of boats today, following the stormy weather but a few new ones also turned up. Bill and Carol had invited us over for drinks, on Perfect, at 4pm and we were half way there, rowing the dinghy, when an official Guna Yala Congresso boat pulled alongside Muirgen and beckoned us back. Pete thought we were about to have our hands slapped for refusing to pay the anchoring fee. However, it turned out that they just wanted to see our San Blas cruising permit, so all was well. We had a good time on Perfect. Bill and Carol had also heard the whistle in the night. We all agreed that the crowds of backpackers, who come in on the big scruffy old sailing boats, on their way to or from Colombia, are spoiling some of the islands. They are like floating hostels, with 18 bunks below decks and the guests are screaming and partying all day and half the night. Bill played guitar and sang a little, including one of his own songs, a sailing song. Carol and I saw an eagle ray jump twice. It wasn't just a small jump and a splash but 2 major leaps, 2 to 3 metres high, with a glide through the air with wings turned up. If only we could have frozen the moment long enough to take a photo. However, the image is now immortalised in my memory. It was a quiet and calm night on board, the boat facing northwest, as there was absolutely no wind. Pete was worried that we were dragging, which made me nervous and unable to sleep, even though I knew it was just the way we were pointing that had altered the proximity of other vessels. There was lightning and a little rain and then it felt hot and humid.
On Tuesday, after doing a beer run, we prepared to depart Bug Island, Banadup and return to the Hot Tub, just around the corner; a contrasting anchorage, with no bars, restaurants or tourists. First job was to retrieve the kedge anchor, in the dinghy. There was no need to lift the dinghy, for such a short trip, under engine, so the anchor was soon up and we were negotiating the reef to leave the lagoon. We were more confident passing through the reefs, at the east side of the Hot Tub, this time, having done it before. Mike and Laura were still there, on Gilana and we anchored forward of them and off to their starboard side. My phone immediately picked up their Starlink wifi and started pinging with notifications. Mike came over to chat and Bill and Carol arrived in their dinghy, having come to see what the anchorage was like. We decided to go snorkelling over by the mangroves, so took the dinghy. Pete was hoping to see a crocodile but we failed to see much at all. The water was shallow and very clear but there were only a few small fish, so it wasn't worth getting in for. We continued on to the reef. Here we saw one small yellow and black fish but nothing else. I wasn't wearing a hat or sunglasses, having expected to be in the water and I was starting to burn, so we returned to the boat. There we found a ray and two ramoras under the boat. Perhaps the best snorkelling was right here, on the sand. We saw the ray again later and Pete saw a large trigger fish while he was cleaning the boat bottom. There was a strong current, which was perfect for swimming on the spot beside the boat but I think I burned my nose and forehead doing this, with the sun reflecting on the water. We had an early night and slept comfortably, confident in the anchor with the shallow, sandy bottom.
Pete slept until 9am and woke to a sunny and breezy day. I would be keeping out of the sun today, even more so than normal, as my nose and cheekbones were feeling a little sore. We were hoping for a veggie boat, as we were out of fresh produce other than potatoes and onions but we were out of luck. We would need to get creative with our 3 packs of bacon. At 4pm we visited Mike and Laura for a chat. They said they had a PriceSmart delivery coming in the morning and the man might have extra items on board, so she would call Pete when the boat arrived. Otherwise, we may need to go to Green Island, which has 3 or 4 veggie boats a week. We ate the last of our chorizo sausages, in a Spanish risotto for tea. It was a breezy night and I didn't sleep, probably not tired after the good sleep the previous night.
We woke to find that Pete had missed a call from Laura at 9pm. She was going to order us some things but thought it might now be too late but she would try messaging the man. Their delivery didn't come. A veggie boat came into the anchorage but only went to the large catamaran with the Trinidadian lady on board. Laura said it was the guy who rips you off, so not to worry about him. She then sent a message saying there's a veggie boat at Ibin's, at 2pm, so Pete went over in the dinghy but the boat wasn't there. He returned with 2 bottles of Spanish rioja and more beers. 15 minutes after he arrived back, Ibelisa messaged to say the veggie boat had arrived and he would come by on his way home, this evening, or in the morning. He never came. A small cruise ship passed by, a very rare sight in these islands. A local dugout came by selling crafts and we gave them lollipops and water. Then we turned our attention to preparatory work for fitting the new stern light, which involved cutting a plastic board for it to afix to and drilling the required screw holes. Next we located the wires for the bow lights, under the headlining in the forepeak. With limited options, we made a potato gratin, with onions and bacon, for tea, which was actually delicious. We lifted the dinghy and played 3 games of Backgammon before bed and had the best night's sleep for a long time.
Friday morning, we had bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Laura messaged to say that our veg order would be coming later this morning, with theirs. Pete set to cleaning the cooker and the kitchen sink while I handwashed smalls, swimwear and nightwear. It would soon dry in the breeze, even though there was little sun today. We had the watermaker running too. Bill and Carol arrived on Perfect and anchored 100 metres behind us. Then the food boat arrived, so Pete went over to Gilana to collect our order. The boys were giving him all sorts of things, that he was sure we hadn't ordered, so he asked Laura to confirm what she had ordered for us and started giving items back. He came back with 36 beers, so it hadn't taken Laura long to work Pete out. He also brought back 9 x 1 litre boxes of Clos wine, bought from Laura at $4.50 a box, that they had in stock but weren't drinking. I hoped it would be drinkable. We did the wiring for the new stern light, pulling the old Navtex wire through with a string on it, then pulling it back with the new wire attached. It was fiddly and involved crouching in small, awkward spaces to help the wire through the various plastic pipes, without detaching it from the string. Bill and Carol called for a drink later in the afternoon and we shared knowledge of marinas, anchorages and our experiences. The big thing we learned was that there is much less lightning in Boca de Toro and even in Colon, than there is in Linton and San Blas. The lightning season starts later, is shorter and much less intense. So, we decided to look at lifting the boat in Bocas instead of Linton, after our lithium batteries have been fitted. It's about 180 miles from Linton to Bocas, so it's not too far, plus it's a beautiful area of islands to explore. An internal flight is needed from Bocas to Panama City though, to get home. We sampled the Clos Cabernet Sauvignon, chilled and it was actually pretty good, especially for the price. We messaged Ibelisa, in Spanish, to order some bread to pick up in the morning. During the night, it became very calm and then we were suddenly hit by strong wind and rain.
Pete took the dinghy across to Bug Island to pick up the bread order. He was gone almost 2 hours and didn't take his phone. I tried not to worry that he had capsized the dinghy, it being a little rough today and concentrated on doing Pilates, then learning Spanish. Eventually he returned, without bread. They only had coconut bread, had him wait for other bread to be baked and then had only baked more coconut bread. We set the watermaker running again and then finished fitting the stern light and were pleased to see that it worked. Then we fitted the bow lights, which required a lot of angle grinding. They also worked, so we were now legal again for overnight sailing, a must if we were going to Bocas. Next up, we bought 2 pigs; black with pink stripes round their bellies. Actually, we had a call with Jerry and Tegs, who had just taken delivery of 3 pigs, for their woodland, 2 of which we had promised to pay for, as their wedding present, 2 years ago. We had pasta for tea and Pete wasn't enjoying it so, while I wasn't looking, he decided to ditch his over the side but unfortunately the china bowl went with it. It was a beautiful, peaceful evening in the cockpit but overnight, we had strong winds, rain and lightning; a true calm before the storm.
During the night, the UK put their clocks forward, so we were now 6 hours behind, making it more difficult to time video calls. It was also Mothers' Day, so I placed a call home, catching my Mum visiting her friend across the road. Pete went ashore to burn our rubbish. While he was away, Perfect departed the anchorage and a Danish yacht arrived. When he returned, I reminded him about the bowl on the seabed and we both went in with snorkelling gear to locate it. It had been washed or eaten clean and was lying to the starboard side of the boat. Pete dived down to retrieve it and spotted the ray feeding under the boat. We watched it for a while. There was another large fish with it, picking up the scraps. There was also a miniscule yellow tang, just under the prop shaft, hiding from predators. Then we saw a large turtle, with 2 ramoras attached. It was using our anchor chain to scratch its shell. The Danes came by for a quick chat and it turned out we had met a few of the same people, including Rainbow. I emailed Claire Froggatt at Pantaenius, hoping that we would be able to upgrade our insurance to fully comprehensive now that we were staying in Panama for the hurricane season. It would be useful if we happened to take a direct hit by lightning. Next, I tried to create an account for Pete's Panama data sim. All was going well until the verification code didn't come by text. Perhaps it didn't work on Starlink wifi, only when the sim was active for data and calls. We only had 1 top up card left, which would last 5 days. We planned to leave in the morning, so went over to Gilana to thank Mike and Laura for their help and Starlink access but they were busy on the phone, so we lifted the engine and dinghy and took down our sun covers. It was another calm evening, so would there be another storm? There was a red sky after sunset but there are no sheep here! We played Backgammon again before bed. There was no wind or rain overnight until we awoke at 8am to a good breeze.