BOUND FOR COSTA RICA VI: RIO SANTA LUCIA; ISLAS LAS SECAS; ISLA LADRONES
At sea between Islas Las Secas and Isla Ladrones, Western Panama, Monday, December 14, 2009
The weather has been nearly perfect, unless of course you are trying to sail! Blue skies and smooth seas. No wind at all. Even the huge ocean swells coming in from the Pacific seem so totally unthreatening to us as to be almost invisible. We see them rolling up on the beaches and rocky coasts in the distance, but otherwise pay them no heed. A gentle up and down.
Sailing teaches patience, one says, especially that is, if you don’t have an engine. In fact, whilst we might be tempted to wait for a decent wind, we are now forced to motor if we intend to be in Golfito, Costa Rica, to check in before the weekend. Kathleen’s departure is getting close; so is Christmas. We consider motoring all night across the big bight that makes up the Pacific coast of Western Panamá. We neither of want to do over-nighters and, certainly not with the noisy, hot engine running. Conveniently, there is a whole series of islands at 25-35-mile intervals, which allow us to day-hop. We count out the days and the islands and make a plan.
Rio Santa Lucia is a relatively wide, deep and navigable river that flows into the Pacific some thirty miles north of Bahía Honda. Given some extra time, you could motor some ten or twenty miles up that river for supplies, and there is even a road out to the Pacific highway from one of the villages. Clearly this is not like isolated Bahía Honda, in other words. The area of Rio Santa Lucia, like everything else around here, is very hilly and many of the slopes are devoted to ranching. You can see the cows with the binoculars. There are also villages and either large hotels or private resorts both up on the hills in prominent spots or along the beach in pretty bights in the coast. At night there are actually electric lights to be seen in the distance, and after dark while we are sitting out in the cockpit drinking what it getting to be the last of our cheap Clos wine and Balboa beer, we can actually see Saturday-night fireworks just over the horizon to the north; some bucolic fiesta, no doubt. There is a constant though not heavy traffic in fishing lanchas and even dugouts in and out of the river. In the distance we see heavy, tropical rain squalls coming across the mountain divide from the Caribbean, which after all is only a few miles away. The rain never reaches us, which is too bad since we are set up tonight to catch rainwater. There are no-see-‘ems, though I don’t suppose we can list them under traffic. At night you might better call them a natural disaster.
The trip up the coast has been hot but uneventful, although when we leave Bahía Honda we circle in behind Isla Meridor; it is really charming back in there and it would save a lot of time on a passage to avoid going into Bahía Honda. We are still getting tremendous heat and a lot of exhaust smoke from around the engine. Kathleen even notices ‘sparks’ near one of the joins of the exhaust pipe. I think it is flames from the engine/manifold/muffler. This doesn’t make us feel any better. By the time we arrive inside the swiftly-flowing river mouth at Rio Santa Lucia the temperature in the cabin has risen to nearly 39o C (102 oF), and it is going to take hours for everything to cool down. Since getting shade in the cockpit during the day is problematical, we have determined as a rule now to get started as early in the morning cool as possible each day, and be finished in time for swimming and cooling off in the early afternoon. But at Rio Santa Lucia I resolve first to address the exhaust-pipe issue before departing.
At one time I would have been much more flummoxed by this engine than I am now. Thanks again to Tom, the Polish mechanic, I am able now to take a lot of things apart and fix them myself. I don’t mean, for example, that I could actually repair an alternator. But I can get it off the engine or adjust the tension of the belt. I can also test it for electricity, and generally diagnose the problem. I reckon, aside from the physical demands, I might even now know how to lift the engine and take it apart step-by-step; putting it back together might be a challenge of a different order! All this makes for a much less antagonistic view towards the engine. And, this morning I dismantle the various external bits and pieces to allow access to the back of the engine without having to lean uncomfortably over the block. I then climb nimbly inside the engine room (I have been losing weight on the boat so ‘nimbling’ has actually become easier). While Kathleen hands me tools and materials, I cram bits of asbestos matting into the gaps of the exhaust-pipe clamp, and then seal everything over with a special muffler paste used to seal joints. The goop seems to harden like steel when it is heated up, as I have discovered from using in it on the other joints. While I am at it, I also tighten the belt on the alternator and determine that I might profitably replace the light, white-plastic water-hose running from the WhaleGusher30 bilge pump; the hose seems to be slightly cracked at the top and is dripping a bit onto the starting battery. I put a plastic cover over the battery and make a note to buy more plastic hose. No rest for the wicked! With such activities does one fill one’s day aboard a cruising boat! I impress even myelf with how quickly everything gets done and how handy I am becoming.
We play canasta in the afternoon after we arrived here in the Rio Santa Lucia. But I am feeling flah – not to mention that I am losing abysmally to Kathleen. I beg off for a nap. Later we make a meal of pickled dorado and noodles as well as Olivia’s bananas from Bahía Honda, for dessert. The fish is great and the bananas are fat and sweet. Kathleen has baked a loaf of white bread while I napped, and, when we get hungry later, we slather peanut butter on it and chow down. Hmmmm! As usual, we are early to bed, falling asleep to the sound of parrots and howler monkeys.
We are late getting started this morning because of the engine work, I mentioned. Nevertheless, by 0915 the anchor is up (I am getting pretty fast at hauling it up by hand) and we are headed out through the river mouth. The current has scoured the bottom and our ancient depth sounder registers 40-70 feet. We are bound for the Islas Secas, and it looks like motoring all the way since the sea is glassy. We can see Las Secas straight ahead of us, the tiller pilot keeps us going in a straight line and it is not really necessary to be handling the tiller at all. Kathleen moves forward near the shrouds to sit in the shade of the big red mainsail and to read. I retire to a berth below with a book. It is only 17 or 18 Nm to Isla Cavada, the largest of the Secas where we want to anchor. We were there nearly exactly two years ago on our first trip up from Ecuador to Panamá.
We arrive and are anchored in clear, clear water by at 1400. Las Secas are privately owned by an American who had been ‘developing’ them as an up-market Club-Med type holiday camp. Charging $600 a night to get a taste of simplicity. Unfortunately, the man was killed along with his ten-year-old daughter two years ago when his private plane crashed in heavy rain into the high mountains in-country. The Yurts are still there, however, so maybe the project is going forward. At night there are only our anchor light and one light on the beach near the hotel, although before dusk two people, obviously tourists, come to the gap between the two islets to explore where we were happily skinny dipping off the boat.
The good news is that my ‘fix’ for the exhaust pipe seems to have cut out escaping exhaust fumes altogether, and it seems to take longer for the engine room to become hot. Of course, with so many exposed pipes, exhaust manifold, muffler, etc. it is obviously going to get hot in there. But at least there is no more smelly smoke. Captain Ronnie, Boy Spot-Welding King of the World, strikes again!
We had several alternatives for getting to Punta Burica, the long cape that forms the border between Costa Rica and Panamá. There is a small protected bight just north of the cape on the Panamanian side. We could stop overnight in the Isla Parida. This little collection of rocky islands is just off Boca Chica and has always been a favourite for cruisers in Western Panamá. The Marine park at the ex-penal island of Coiba and not only have the prices been jacked up to an astronomical level, someone has made the Parida Group into a Chiriqui State Marine Park and they want now to charge each person and each boat for energy or anchoring. This is infuriating, since they do nothing that I can see to look after things there; it is meant anyway to be left natural, and the only costs are therefore for men to come out in pangas and collect fees.
The alternative is Isla Ladrones (Thieves Island), which are much smaller and farther out to sea. They are also about halfway to Punta Burica. Since we are out of money (we didn’t want to be carrying a lot of U.S.-dollar cash if we were moving into another currency in Costa Rica) and don’t fancy having to pay for anchoring and the like, we opt for Ladrones. On a glassy sea, we have the engine started at 0615 and are motoring out of Isla Cavada.
At sea between Islas Las Secas and Isla Ladrones, Western Panama, Monday, December 14, 2009
The weather has been nearly perfect, unless of course you are trying to sail! Blue skies and smooth seas. No wind at all. Even the huge ocean swells coming in from the Pacific seem so totally unthreatening to us as to be almost invisible. We see them rolling up on the beaches and rocky coasts in the distance, but otherwise pay them no heed. A gentle up and down.
Sailing teaches patience, one says, especially that is, if you don’t have an engine. In fact, whilst we might be tempted to wait for a decent wind, we are now forced to motor if we intend to be in Golfito, Costa Rica, to check in before the weekend. Kathleen’s departure is getting close; so is Christmas. We consider motoring all night across the big bight that makes up the Pacific coast of Western Panamá. We neither of want to do over-nighters and, certainly not with the noisy, hot engine running. Conveniently, there is a whole series of islands at 25-35-mile intervals, which allow us to day-hop. We count out the days and the islands and make a plan.
Rio Santa Lucia is a relatively wide, deep and navigable river that flows into the Pacific some thirty miles north of Bahía Honda. Given some extra time, you could motor some ten or twenty miles up that river for supplies, and there is even a road out to the Pacific highway from one of the villages. Clearly this is not like isolated Bahía Honda, in other words. The area of Rio Santa Lucia, like everything else around here, is very hilly and many of the slopes are devoted to ranching. You can see the cows with the binoculars. There are also villages and either large hotels or private resorts both up on the hills in prominent spots or along the beach in pretty bights in the coast. At night there are actually electric lights to be seen in the distance, and after dark while we are sitting out in the cockpit drinking what it getting to be the last of our cheap Clos wine and Balboa beer, we can actually see Saturday-night fireworks just over the horizon to the north; some bucolic fiesta, no doubt. There is a constant though not heavy traffic in fishing lanchas and even dugouts in and out of the river. In the distance we see heavy, tropical rain squalls coming across the mountain divide from the Caribbean, which after all is only a few miles away. The rain never reaches us, which is too bad since we are set up tonight to catch rainwater. There are no-see-‘ems, though I don’t suppose we can list them under traffic. At night you might better call them a natural disaster.
The trip up the coast has been hot but uneventful, although when we leave Bahía Honda we circle in behind Isla Meridor; it is really charming back in there and it would save a lot of time on a passage to avoid going into Bahía Honda. We are still getting tremendous heat and a lot of exhaust smoke from around the engine. Kathleen even notices ‘sparks’ near one of the joins of the exhaust pipe. I think it is flames from the engine/manifold/muffler. This doesn’t make us feel any better. By the time we arrive inside the swiftly-flowing river mouth at Rio Santa Lucia the temperature in the cabin has risen to nearly 39o C (102 oF), and it is going to take hours for everything to cool down. Since getting shade in the cockpit during the day is problematical, we have determined as a rule now to get started as early in the morning cool as possible each day, and be finished in time for swimming and cooling off in the early afternoon. But at Rio Santa Lucia I resolve first to address the exhaust-pipe issue before departing.
At one time I would have been much more flummoxed by this engine than I am now. Thanks again to Tom, the Polish mechanic, I am able now to take a lot of things apart and fix them myself. I don’t mean, for example, that I could actually repair an alternator. But I can get it off the engine or adjust the tension of the belt. I can also test it for electricity, and generally diagnose the problem. I reckon, aside from the physical demands, I might even now know how to lift the engine and take it apart step-by-step; putting it back together might be a challenge of a different order! All this makes for a much less antagonistic view towards the engine. And, this morning I dismantle the various external bits and pieces to allow access to the back of the engine without having to lean uncomfortably over the block. I then climb nimbly inside the engine room (I have been losing weight on the boat so ‘nimbling’ has actually become easier). While Kathleen hands me tools and materials, I cram bits of asbestos matting into the gaps of the exhaust-pipe clamp, and then seal everything over with a special muffler paste used to seal joints. The goop seems to harden like steel when it is heated up, as I have discovered from using in it on the other joints. While I am at it, I also tighten the belt on the alternator and determine that I might profitably replace the light, white-plastic water-hose running from the WhaleGusher30 bilge pump; the hose seems to be slightly cracked at the top and is dripping a bit onto the starting battery. I put a plastic cover over the battery and make a note to buy more plastic hose. No rest for the wicked! With such activities does one fill one’s day aboard a cruising boat! I impress even myelf with how quickly everything gets done and how handy I am becoming.
We play canasta in the afternoon after we arrived here in the Rio Santa Lucia. But I am feeling flah – not to mention that I am losing abysmally to Kathleen. I beg off for a nap. Later we make a meal of pickled dorado and noodles as well as Olivia’s bananas from Bahía Honda, for dessert. The fish is great and the bananas are fat and sweet. Kathleen has baked a loaf of white bread while I napped, and, when we get hungry later, we slather peanut butter on it and chow down. Hmmmm! As usual, we are early to bed, falling asleep to the sound of parrots and howler monkeys.
We are late getting started this morning because of the engine work, I mentioned. Nevertheless, by 0915 the anchor is up (I am getting pretty fast at hauling it up by hand) and we are headed out through the river mouth. The current has scoured the bottom and our ancient depth sounder registers 40-70 feet. We are bound for the Islas Secas, and it looks like motoring all the way since the sea is glassy. We can see Las Secas straight ahead of us, the tiller pilot keeps us going in a straight line and it is not really necessary to be handling the tiller at all. Kathleen moves forward near the shrouds to sit in the shade of the big red mainsail and to read. I retire to a berth below with a book. It is only 17 or 18 Nm to Isla Cavada, the largest of the Secas where we want to anchor. We were there nearly exactly two years ago on our first trip up from Ecuador to Panamá.
We arrive and are anchored in clear, clear water by at 1400. Las Secas are privately owned by an American who had been ‘developing’ them as an up-market Club-Med type holiday camp. Charging $600 a night to get a taste of simplicity. Unfortunately, the man was killed along with his ten-year-old daughter two years ago when his private plane crashed in heavy rain into the high mountains in-country. The Yurts are still there, however, so maybe the project is going forward. At night there are only our anchor light and one light on the beach near the hotel, although before dusk two people, obviously tourists, come to the gap between the two islets to explore where we were happily skinny dipping off the boat.
The good news is that my ‘fix’ for the exhaust pipe seems to have cut out escaping exhaust fumes altogether, and it seems to take longer for the engine room to become hot. Of course, with so many exposed pipes, exhaust manifold, muffler, etc. it is obviously going to get hot in there. But at least there is no more smelly smoke. Captain Ronnie, Boy Spot-Welding King of the World, strikes again!
We had several alternatives for getting to Punta Burica, the long cape that forms the border between Costa Rica and Panamá. There is a small protected bight just north of the cape on the Panamanian side. We could stop overnight in the Isla Parida. This little collection of rocky islands is just off Boca Chica and has always been a favourite for cruisers in Western Panamá. The Marine park at the ex-penal island of Coiba and not only have the prices been jacked up to an astronomical level, someone has made the Parida Group into a Chiriqui State Marine Park and they want now to charge each person and each boat for energy or anchoring. This is infuriating, since they do nothing that I can see to look after things there; it is meant anyway to be left natural, and the only costs are therefore for men to come out in pangas and collect fees.
The alternative is Isla Ladrones (Thieves Island), which are much smaller and farther out to sea. They are also about halfway to Punta Burica. Since we are out of money (we didn’t want to be carrying a lot of U.S.-dollar cash if we were moving into another currency in Costa Rica) and don’t fancy having to pay for anchoring and the like, we opt for Ladrones. On a glassy sea, we have the engine started at 0615 and are motoring out of Isla Cavada.
posted by rjb @ Saturday, December 19, 2009
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