ISLAND PARADISE; PAEAN TO A GUARDIAN ANGEL
Isla Espiritu Santo, Islas Las Perlas, Panamá, Thursday, 26 November 2009
Thanksgiving Day in the U.S.A.)

Island Paradise

Dare I say it? We have finally left Panamá City! In fact, we have a Zarpe
(departure certificate) from the Republic of Panamá. "Destination: Costa
Rica via Islas Las Perlas." We have left twice before and had to put back,
the last time for four months to repair our engine, transmission and
exhaust system. But, until we actually left the anchorage, I was almost
afraid to even mention the word "leave." I accept that life can sometimes
appear to be a cosmic joke, but I don't really want always to be setting
myself up.

The contrast between, on the one hand, this quiet little anchorage,
Espiritu Santo, nestled alongside the larger Isla del Rey, on the one
hand, and Panamá City's Las Brisas de Amador is enormous. The first thing
we notice after arriving here on Tuesday afternoon after an overnight stop
at Isla Contadora is the infinite silence. I don't mean just the contrast
to our noisy Lister engine; there was no wind for sailing and the engine
had pushed us along at 4-5 knots as we rode the outgoing tide for these
final 18 Nm. We are used to Lister and accept that he is noisy and hot.
But, the anchor down and the engine off, suddenly the cabin fan becomes
the noisiest things around. When we shut it off too, the ticking of the
engine as it cools off immediately becomes intrusive. When Lister finally
puts himself into standby mode, it's the ticking of the cabin clock that
draws our attention.

Another thing we notice immediately while we are quickly pulling on the
sail covers and rigging the sun awning and wind scoop is how clean the
water here is compared to Amador in Panamá City. No one in his right mind
would swim in what is a big sewage pool for the runoff from Panamá City.
I've actually done it because I had to clean the barnacles off the prop at
one time or another. But I always came back aboard wondering if I was
going to get some 'orrible disease. Here, we rig the swim ladder as well
and, when all the rigging of covers and awnings is complete, I jump
straight in to cool off. Wonderful!

The day-sail over to Isla Contadora from the City on Monday started off at
0700. There was a light northerly breeze and we were full of good hopes
that it would carry us all the way to the islands. We had the anchor up
and the sails hoisted within fifteen minutes and were able to say goodbye
to Tom Lewandowski as he motored into work.

We were soon doing 3.5 to 4 kts on a nice reach. It's over 33 Nm to
Contadora and we needed to keep up this speed if we were going to make it
by nightfall. We don't after all have radar, and as a matter of prudence
we never enter an unknown harbour at night. But, we know the anchorages at
Contadora and decide risk it.

Halfway to the islands, however, a large black front begins to move out
from the Darien coast. Will it engulf us? I keep an eye on it from the
cockpit while Kathleen is below working on a proofreading job. As it grows
darker ahead of us, I call down to her to take the tiller, and we begin
rapidly to shut down the hatches and portholes in preparation for heavy
rain. These squalls are usually initiated by a sudden fierce burst of wind
that can shred your sails. A deluge of rainwater inevitably follows. About
a mile ahead of us I can see the heavy rain on the waters and a grey,
impenetrable wall of falling water. You can actually see the well-defined
line of rain moving towards us across the waters. It's "All hands on deck"
to drop the headsails hurriedly, and prepare to heave to. The wind hits us
while I am still out on the bowsprit and securing the jibsail. I give up
on harbour furling and use the halyard to tie the sail down. After five or
ten minutes the wind is gone again, and the sea is being flattened by
truly huge raindrops. Drenched, I play with the mainsail and the tiller
until Vilisar is slowly bobbing up and down in now quite calm sea.
Confident that we are all right, I go dripping below to dry off. It's not
at all cold, but we decide to have a cup of tea anyway while we wait for
the squall to pass and a new wind to pick up. At one time all this might
have frightened us a bit. But, are getting to be old hands in this sort of
situation now.

Eventually the sky begins to brighten and the patter of rain on the deck
and coach house roof slackens somewhat. But it is clear that the weather
is more than just a localised squall, and there won't probably be any more
wind for a few hours. If we want to lie to our anchor by dark, we need to
throw on the engine and get going. This is always an unpleasant decision
since it means noise and heat. But, soon Lister is putting along at 3-4
kts over a flat sea.

We make it to Contadora's north anchorage just after dark - we use
flashlights to pass signals between the foredeck and the cockpit - and
anchor off the familiar white pier in 30 feet of water. We get a little
northerly blow in the night and I let out more rode. It gets a bit rolly
but the next morning arrives calm and nearly windless and we use the
engine the whole way here to Espiritu Santo.

Whereas sometimes the Espiritu Santo anchorage is quite full, there are at
present only three other boats now. They are more or less permanent
residents by now: Lumme; Sea Fury and Little Qwin. We know these cruisers
and have brought various goodies for them from various people in Panamá
City. But we like to have our privacy and anchor a good distance away from
them all. Before the village visiting begins we are content to just enjoy
the silence and tranquillity. Soon there will be other cruising boats
arriving from Ecuador and through the Canal from the Atlantic.

Paean to a Guardian Angel

We cannot leave Panamá City without a big tribute to Tom Lewandowski. I
have perhaps mentioned him before. When we put back to Panamá City with
engine trouble, we initially started work on the engine with two other
mechanics. They were all right, but they gave up on us for one reason or
the other. Tom took over the job after others had taken the engine apart
and left the major engine bits scattered around our main cabin. Tom had
never worked on a Lister diesel before. But he has terrific intuition
and mechanical instincts. After it had all been put back together and
found to work, it turned out that something had broken in the transmission
and everything had to be pulled out again. A small gear spindle had to be
fabricated by a machine shop in Panamá City. The instruments had also been
smashed whilst the engine was hanging and swinging from the mainsail boom
and had to be replaced. Finally, the old galvanised pipes that make up the
dry exhaust broke off at the bronze flange where the exhaust passes
through the hull. The last yard of pipe had to be replaced, requiring a
clever hand for the makeshift.

Tom stuck it out to the end where others might have thrown up their hands
in despair. Even when you understand what needs to be done to repair a
marine diesel engine, transmission, electricals and exhaust, don't believe
for a moment that repairs are going to be easy. Inevitably, everything has
to be done in a hot and cramped space, using one's left hand to fiddle
with a nut or bolt that is out of sight behind something else. Tom is
quite tall and crawling into the small engine room was no small feat in
itself. And, we are talking in our case about an antique engine (it must
be 36 years old at least now and no longer being manufactured), which only
increases the "challenge," as Tom liked to call the job.

So, here's a big thank you to Tom Lewandowski. He has soloed around the
world on his re-built yacht Luka and is organising an Around-the-World
Sailing Rally for the near future. You can check this out at
www.soloaroundtheworld.com. We hope to run into him and his wife Beata
again soon. Maybe even here in the islands if he can ever stop helping
people and get sailing again.