Im back in Turtle Cay Marina which is only 5 hours sailing from the San Blas Islands where I was fortunate enough that Ooroo was struck by lightening. Fortunate that I now get to spend another year sailing, and this time with my Jules, my kids and her kids. Ooroo will become the family home. Yes, the work on board is costly and frustrating and the climate the oppressive. But I'm here, in this eclectic country of madmen, mercenaries and magnificent.

When living in Vanuatu they had a similar three "M's", however my use of the word "magnificent" was in Vanuatu the word "missionaries". Thank god I don't have to worry about them. Well not yet. I do plan on being around for the Black Jesus (Christo Negro) festival in Portobello in October. At least it is believable that Christ was somewhat blacker than white. Who knows, I may become a believer yet.

With the fear of alienating myself from the madmen, let me say now that eccentrics are somewhat mad and I haven't alienated myself from a large chunk of my eccentric friends. In fact I like eccentricity.

In the cool light of day after arriving here from NY after a long trip, I discovered I had no beer left in my boat. The South African guy I loosely employed to open my hatches and air my boat had failed dismally in his duties. He said "I may have drunk some of your beer and took a can of span or two" adding that there isn't a shop for miles...which is true. Firstly I don't and never will have cans of spam onboard and secondly I had left at least two cartons of beer. That "I may have" was in fact "I drank all of your beer". I found empties stashed in the vanity which was moldy because he probably sat there on the loo drinking my warm beer as the rain came in through the hatches he obviously forgot to close. On closer inspection he also drank every opened bottle of spirit, leaving a childlike one centimeter of grog in the bottom of each. Bailies, Vodka, JD, Gin, cheap Rum and my favorite Old English Harbour Rum were the casualties. He inhaled about 4 liters of hard liquour, warm and probably sitting on my loo.

A little worried about the other 4 boats he was also looking after, I tactfully suggested that the Harbour Master to warn the other boat owners. One came back today to find a similar situation.....except he had 4 cartons of beer and loads of vodka....also inhaled.

Madness is a funny thing. Maybe I'm mad. But on a scale of 1 to 10, I may scrape in at 5. It would be higher if I stole and bitched. It's the bitching that really surprises me. In Portobello, down the road I have only met a handful of people who tell me....even when I was a complete stranger, who they hate....and with long monologues, why? This is a community of only about 20 or 30 live-aboard sailors that have escaped something, sailed into the sunset and ended up in Panama. Maybe they had big plans to cross the Pacific but instead either ran out of money, lost their crew or got scared. They rot with their boats...and make drama when none really exists. No hash harriers, poker nights or tennis....just 60c beers. If I were a journalist and wanted some great material, all I would have to do is listen...the stories are free and rich in expletives.

The mercenaries are more my style. They tend to be the ones bitched about. Is it jealousy? They are the sailors who had a life...also escaped, to perhaps set up a bar, a small business, buy some land, learn the language and try to make Panama home. And a lovely Latino girl their wife.

They are quicker to laugh, tell a story that makes me laugh and have a rich history of doing stuff. Mercenary is perhaps a harsh word. In Vanuatu it was get rich schemers who swapped a Land Rover for a mile of beach front land. Here it is more along the lines of buying that land, legally, jumping through third world hoops to get the permits required and then try to actually make a difference....to there bank account.

Captain Jack is an example of this. His boat is right next to mine which he is rebuilding plank by plant. Called "Fantasy", his boat was used in that old TV flick "Fantasy Island". His tender is called "Tattoo". I had to laugh when Gemma who is working on the boat with husband Ray starts yelling "the plane the plane", when in fact she was looking for the wood plain. Jack a retired chemical company executive has a bar in Portobello and serves the sort of food "he" wants to eat. I like his tastes as the Thai influenced meals are wonderful. To keep the madmen out he charges two dollars a beer. His dream is to develop what he described as a paradise beach side land into a completely off the grid community. I think he will do it.

Ray on Night Hawk, mentioned earlier is a Master Shipwright, who for those that an afford him (and he worth every cent) makes a wonderful living fixing anything that floats. Mercenary includes those who go about their stuff making money so that they an continue the wonderful life at sea. He and wife Gemma, also fall into the Magnificent category because they are quick to help you, offer non egotistical advise and you can have a chat with them that is not restricted to what happened yesterday and who they hate. The expression non egotistical advice is an important one. It means those who don't make you feel like an idiot because you don't know the different between a clew and tach. We are all in different stages of being sailors and it's important to encourage not ridicule, teach not preach and offer whatever assistance you can without expecting anything but a new friend in return.

Right now as I do almost every day I'm watching a indigenous Indian from Bocas del Toro cutting the grass with a whipper snipper (weed whacker). He lives with his family in a tin lean-to down the road. Rain or shine he comes every day and systematically cuts every blade of grass in an area the size of 10 football fields. It's like painting the Sydney Harbour Bridge but alone. He is magnificent in the fact that when he gets to the end, he starts all over again....with a smile.

But magnificent is more aligned to generosity. Whether it be Yogi, the quick to joke marina manager who will offer you a seat in his car when you need supplies down the road, his wonderful wife Maria Teresa, who will great you with a kiss when you have been away from her little beach bar for more than 24 hours or the blow in sailors who will drop anything to assist you in a time of need. They share food, wine, spares and labour.

I'm an especially happy camper as my French mates Xavier and Alexandra just returned for San Blas with a big bag of live lobster hanging off the back of there cat "Namaste" . They are cooking me a magnificent lobster pasta dish tonight. I have the recipe. Xavier and Alexandra are the quintessential sailors you would like to sail with, anchor next too and break bread with. I offered some sail cloth so we could make a sun shade on the bow of Namaste. They bring great wine to the meals I cook. We can share taxis, provisions and laughter. Generosity isn't an afterthought...it's just how they are.

Alexandra just asked me if I would like lemon pie or a chocolate mango pie with the dinner..."chocolate and mango please" .

I said to my lovely NY friend Diana that I only attract good people. She reminded me of a few occasions to the contrary. I think my mind has the simple capacity of remembering good, eccentric and magnificent, learn from the mercenary and selectively leave the madness behind. This sailing life needs them all. The three "M's" make for a richer world, much like the three "R's"