Anam Cara Adventures

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Portobello and Linton

We arrived in Portobello after our passage from Bocas exhausted. A quick swim and some food, and we collapsed into bed and slept like two logs. Portobello would have been nice to see, and we wanted to catch up with our friend Russell on Aspara, whom we hadn't seen since Jamaica, but the weather prediction drove us out of Portobello the next morning. Strong westerlies and squalls were in the forecast, which would make this bay incredibly uncomfortable. We headed out to seek shelter in Linton, further east along the coast. The anchorage there turned out to be incredibly crowded, so we ended up dropping the hook infront of the small village, Puerto Lindo. Expecting a southwesterly wind, we were horrified as the wind increased steadily out of the north instead, and by dinner time we were rolling so much that I couldn't wash the dishes from fear of getting seasick. It turned out to be the worst night we ever had at anchor. From gunnel to gunnel we rolled until dawn, with squall after squall dousing us in torrential downpours. We were lucky our anchor held, but sleep was completely impossible. I tried to wedge myself between the dinning table and the settee to hold my body still enough to sleep, but even that didn't work. When the long awaited morning finally came around, we were sitting in the cockpit looking a bit forlorn. A kind frenchman coming by in his dingy in a full suit of foul weather gear against the driving rain, must have taken pity on us, because he turned around and after "welcoming us to paradise" told us where we could anchor. He has been in Linton for eight years, and has two boats moored there. For the first time in eight years, one of his boats had dragged anchor, and ended up on the beach. Little did we guess it was just the beginning of lots more to come... With his help, and some other kind cruisers who knew the bay well, we were led between a narrow channel that is surrounded by reefs into the northeast part of the anchorage. With sunshine and clear water we could have found this channel easily ourselves. But after the rain the water was incredibly muddy and visibility close to zero. Needless to say, we were most happy when we were finally anchored in calm waters! Another boat (Teal Sea) we had met in Bocas had also relocated there, after dragging anchor in the night and almost ending up on the reef. For three days it rained, and other than a very pleasant visit with Debbie and Craig on "Teal Sea" we spent the days resting and couped up on the boat. When it finally cleared up we took the bus to Colon for provisions!

Colon - the city of muggers

Colon - a city we had been warned about innumerable times. One should not walk even one block for fear of getting mugged or killed. Our friend Alex on Splendid, who we found anchored at Linton, drew us a map on where to get off the bus and shop. The bus ride of two hours started out in a spectacular rural, mountainous, landscape. Jungle, cattle ranches, and beautiful beaches eventually gave way to horrendous slum-like tract housing. Once in the city, we drove along miles of what is known as the "free zone", a huge duty free commercial area at the entrance to the Panama canal. Here goods are imported and sold from all over the world, which adds to the huge revenue of the Panama Canal, which keeps this country financially and politically very stable. When we finally recognized the stop to exit the bus, we found ourselves amidst much traffic, street vendors, and people. After weeks in the company of mostly ourselves, the noise and bussle felt overwhelming. Walking only where we were told was safe to walk, we noticed that every shop had armed guards or cops at their doors, giving us a certain sense of security. However, when we finally hailed a cab to take us two blocks away, he insisted that we call him on the phone when we were done shopping, so he could pick us up at the store's doorstep! We realized that he took our safety seriously, and so he got the job of driving us around to where we needed to go. When we finally arrived back at "Hans' Restaurant", a little seaside tavern where we could safely leave our dingy, we had bags and bags of goodies. We commented to Alex how many cops had been in Colon, and how relatively secure we felt. His answer: "The cops are the ones who tip off the muggers as to who to mug!". You know what they say: "ignorance is bliss"!

Toilet Challenges

Finally the food was stowed, the boat was ready, and the weather perfect for leaving for our long awaited destination - the Kuna Yala, or San Blas Islands. We arose at dawn to get an early start, only the darn head (the marine term for toilet) wouldn't pump out. Dang! Of course it was full up and beginning to stink. Dave thought he could quickly open up the pump and service it, as he had done in the past, and we would be on our way. "Quickly" became a day and a half job which I loathe to even describe. Suffice it to say, it was horrendous. To top it all off, we missed our weather window and had to sit out the next front with ample rain and squalls on the boat. Friends were due to arrive via air from California in the Kuna Yala in a few days time, which forced us to leave as soon as we possibly could. With the wind on the nose and a huge swell we set out at dawn... conditions we would definitely have waited out otherwise. Such is the problem with deadlines on a boat. As a result we had a slow, arduous motoring trip, burning a whole load of fuel, and arriving almost at dark in Porvenir.

Kuna Yala at last!

Dusk was upon us, and the anchorage at Porvenir had four boats in it. To our surprise this meant we could not find a spot to drop the hook. Not that there was no more space, but the space available showed depths of 60 feet, and the anchorage is strewn with very shallow reefs. At this point in time our nerves were frayed, as darkness comes rapidly in these latitudes, and we were as yet completely unfamiliar with the area. Depths go from over 100 feet to two feet in no time at all, and we did not fancy a night doing circles with the boat... Finally, after much contention between us we managed to find an adequate place near the island of Wichubhuala, where we dropped our anchor in twelve feet at the edge of a very steep slope. Luckily the weather calmed right down, and our anchor held the boat in place. We checked in with the Kuna Yala authorities on Porvenir, and also bought our first mola. Molas are made by the Kuna women (as well as some men who may dress as women) and are stunning creations of embroidery, picturing abstracted sea animals, plants and geographic features of this area. You cannot help but want to buy some when you see them!

Wichubhuala was the first Kuna village we visited. The island is tiny, but has several hundred residents, all living in very clean thatched roof huts. The little alleys are narrow between the homes, and the people mostly very friendly. There are a few small shops, that all belong to the community. Here we could buy a pinneapple, a few carrots and some eggs. Slim pickings all around for those of us who are used to the endless isles in modern supermarkets.... But the local Kuna Indians all look remarkably healthy. They live on what the sea provides, and bananas, yucca root and sugar cane they harvest in the mountains, as well as a few things that are brought in from Panama City via boat. The Kunas are remarkable in that they are one of the very few Indian tribes that have autonomy over their own territory, and thus preserved their culture. The autonomy they enjoy today was hard was hard come by and paid for with a lot of bloodshed, initially against the Spanish Conquistadores and later, with the aid of the American Navy, against the Panamanians. Since 1925 the Panamanians officially gave autonomy to the "Republic of the Kuna", and thus the people here can maintain their ways and govern themselves. Each community is led by their chiefs, called "Sahilas", who convene every evening with their village to make communal decisions. Marrying outside of the Kuna Yala is prohibited, and anyone who does so, becomes an outcast. As such, the race and their traditions are kept in tact. They are peaceful, friendly people whose days begin early as they go out in their dugout canoes, "ulus", and begin fishing or foraging for food in the mainland jungles nearby, regardless of the weather. The women tend to the shops, or make and sell molas.

Friends Aboard

We picked up Jim and Tan at the small airport in Porvenir the day after Thanksgiving, and after a Kuna breakfast at the small hotel there, set off with them. It turned out to be a beautiful day, and we sailed calmly behind the barrier reefs of the Islands to the Hollandes Cays. Unfortuntately both Tan and Jim were so exhausted from their journey that they slept most of the trip. Dave even managed to hook a nice mackerel on the trawling line, probably giving Jim and Tan an overly optimistic view of cruising - truth is that was the first fish we have caught since the Bahamas, and not through lack of trying! As fate would have it, the good weather did not last, and our poor visitors woke up (at noon the next day from sheer exhaustion I might add!) to pouring rain and squalls. We managed to snorkel in between squalls a couple of times and land on Ilsa Tortuga, but other than that it was about sitting inside playing cards and catching up on worldly events. We invited our Aussie neighbours, Yo and Dan on "Jacana" over for dinner, and were astounded at the incredible Thai and Vietnamesed dishes they brought over. I was making Asian food also, so we had a sumptuous feast of Chinese Dumplings, Larb, Vietnamese salad, Asian coleslaw, and Chinese noodles with our freshly caught mackerel sauteed in garlic and ginger. I don't know if Tan and Jim enjoyed it as much as we did, as they live in San Francisco where good food is available in abundance, but to me it was as though I had died and gone to culinary heaven. Dan and Yo are great company, and we enjoyed them as much as their delicious food!

Squalls and lost boats

After we dropped Jim and Tan off at the Lemmon Cays, so they could catch a launch to Carti, and a subsequent car ride on the only road that connects the outside world with Kuna Yala, we met up with our friends Dave and Liz on "High Spirits". They had just "tied the knot" in Panama City, and so we admired their shinny wedding bands and congratulated them! They had a young german couple on board with them, who were enjoying the next cold front in Kuna Yala, with ample more rain and lots of wind! We anchored with them in the East Lemmons a few days later when a little bit of sun peaked out behind the clouds, and to our delight, encountered Dan and Yo on Jacana there too. That evening a girl on another boat had a birthday to celebrate, so we all took food ahsore to a small island, and had a party. "High Spirit's" Dave and his buddies entertained us all with fabulous live music all while the colors turned to gold in the evening glow of a beautiful day. Listening to the music, watching the final colors of the day turn the picturesque islands with their perfect palm trees to golden, I felt like pinching myself ... for this truly seemed like paradise.

The next morning, you guessed it, the next weather system had arrived 24 hours earlier than predicted, and we found ourselves bouncing up and down in quite a chop. This was due to get much worse and last an entire week, so we pulled up our anchor and headed for shelter near the mainland. Jacana had the same idea, as did a couple of other boats. We found Nalia to be a very protected deep inlet, and aquainted ourselves with the local eight foot crocodile, who swam back and forth around our boat. For days and days we sat inside our little boat, becoming more restless and damp by the minute. It poured and poured. Never before in recorded history of 73 years has Panama experienced so much rain! We listened to the radios and heard about gale force winds tossing the boats around in the less protected anchorages, and counted our lucky stars for the shelter we were enjoying. One day a Columbian trading boat sank on a reef nearby. The next night it was a sailing boat that hit a reef not far away and sank also, inspite of heroic rescue attempts. The Panama Canal was closed down due to flooding. Entire villages were swept away in the Kuna Yala. Two sailboats were washed out of the Chagres River, which is the home to a dam forming part of the Panama Canal. One of these boats was completely lost. We could do nothing but sit and wait it out. In between rainstorms we managed to have two more excellent dinners with Yo and Dan, who also enthralled us with their adventures. Having been almost around the globe in the last eight years, we heard about them anchored in the midst of the giant tsunami that hit Thailand some years back. Luckily they survived the ordeal unharmed, and helped rescue other people washed into the fury of the sea from the land. We were sad to see them go and wished them well on their journey west, where they intend to transit the Panama Canal and head back to Oz. Eli and Dave on High Spirits also joined our little anchorage after the first night, and we were treated to Panamanian food and card games on their boat too!

Dave has started calling the San Blas the "No Sun Blas" Islands, and with good reason. We have been here for almost four weeks now, and have had about four days of sunshine in between all the wet and stormy days. Our poor boat has suffered hugely, as we have leaks galore. All our chainplates are leaking, and the wood is getting damaged inside the boat. It pains me to see it happen. So intense has it been that even our bed gets wet as the rain enters through the anchor locker. Our entire existence revolves around trying to dry out clothes, food lockers, our bed and a whole raft of other things. Being couped up together in very tight quarters day after day leads to some interesting relationship dynamics. We find ourselves much more easily irritated and have on occasion had temper outbursts which we have never experienced before. I believe this is what confinement does to our spirits. We spend many an hour conjecturing about global warming, and when we think back about the weather we have experienced thus far, it has been overall lousy. Even in the Bahamas the last two years we were faced with front after front, and now, even though according to our cruising guide, the fronts "rarely" make it this far south, we have had more gale force winds and fronts than anything else. We are still hopeful, however, that the "winter trade winds" that normally blow here around this time will still appear, and that we will get to go snorkeling in the sunshine!

Speaking of global warming, Eric Bauhaus, who wrote the Cruising Guide for this area, states that every year he has to take islands off the chart as they disappear under the ocean surface. What will that mean to the Kuna Indians, who mostly live in small huts right at sea level? What we do know is that they spend much of their time canoeing to the mainland transporting sand back to their tiny villages to keep themselves above water!

On the reef

Cruisers communication is via VHF radio, and so we keep ours switched on most of the time. Sitting up after dinner, wondering how much stronger the latest front was going to become as the wind howled through our rigging at our latest anchorage, we suddenly heard Dave on "High Spirits" blast through the radio.

"Pan Pan, Pan Pan, this is High Spirits, our anchor has just been tripped and we are dragging towards the reef. Please, we need some assistance!"

Our hearts in our throats at the desperation in his voice, we felt totally powerless being more than fifteen miles away. Luckily we could hear other boaters on their way to them in their dingies. The wind was blowing gale force at this point, the night being pitch black, and of course, inevitably it was raining. Not easy conditions to go out in a tiny dingy to help someone. But everyone bravely did their best, I am sure, as two boats went hurtling towards the reefs. The next transmission was Liz's desperate voice in Spanglish:

"Please help us, we are on the reef! Por favor, alguien, please help us!"

We felt sick with concern for our friends, who at this point are obviously pinned to a shallow reef, and unable to get off. Back and forth this went for the good part of an hour, and finally, finally we heard Liz on the radio saying "Thank you, thank you!". What a great relief to us all to know them safe, and all those who helped in rescuing them. We are ever so pleased that we didn't have to tally another loss of a boat, of somebody elses life savings and dreams, in this case people we know and love, and thus making it even more personal and closer to home. We all know that any of these things can happen to us, and we are always grateful to see everyone stepping up to the plate to help.

Reflections on eating

After weeks of bad weather all our fresh food stocks are basically gone and we find ourselves in an interesting position. The road to Panama City is closed due to the mud slides, and the boats that provision this area are not making the journey either. What that means is that all the little shops have sold out of fresh food also. We have one egg left, a few grapefruits and onions. Other than that, it is about eating pasta, rice and home made bread and yogurt. We are craving protein, but catching fish is not that easy. For the first time I get a sense of what subsistence living is all about. And that brings me to another point, which is about vegetarianism. For many years in my twenties and early thirties I was a strict vegetarian, believing that this was the way to engender the least damage ecologically on the planet, and cause the least suffering to animals. I am beginning to view things somewhat differently, partly as a result of reading Barbara Kingsolver's excellent book, "Animal, Vegetable and Miracle", which I would highly recommend, and partly due to our current experience. Years ago I would not even dream of killing a mosquito. But now I realize that we are killing living beings all the time just by being on this planet. When we clean the hull of our boat, we have to scrape the barnacles off, thereby anihilating their existence. We have ants on board which are eating our wood and thus our home. It's either them or our home. The flour we buy here for our bread is full of weavils, which we patiently sift out before baking bread with it, but we can't keep them as pets, so they have to go also. The list is just endless. I still believe in treating all beings kindly, and if you have to kill, to do so humanely with reverence, gratitude and discernment. What Kingsolvers book has brought home to me is how sick and ridiculous our food production system has become, not only from the point of view of mass animal holdings that are beyond cruel, but also in as much as the cost we pay for large scale farming and shipping of food items across this planet in a crazy attempt to capitalize on everything from bottled water from New Zealand to grapes grown in Chile and sold in the northern hemisphere when grapes are out of season, which of course is most of the year. Think about it! Turkeys that we eat for Thanksgiving and Christmas are bred for only one purpose - to be fattened and slaughtered come the Holidays. That they can no longer mate and reproduce on their own, nor can they stand up without breaking their legs thanks to their weight seems to be beside the point! So the dilemma remains - what to eat!!!??? Well, the answer in part, is to grow your own, or at the least buy locally grown and produced food as your very first choice. What does that mean to us here? Well, I suppose catching fish, eating coconuts, and yucca root (if we can develop a taste for it) and sprouting beans (but wait, where do they come from??). But therein is the next dilemma. There is not much fish left here. And the Kuna seem to disregard the size of the fish and lobster they pull out of the ocean to sell or eat. We have overfished the sea, and sadly that is in great evidence here also. While it looks like paradise on the surface, the impact we have all had on the planet makes its mark here too, even in one of the remotest and least complicated places left on the planet.

The tiny shops here are at such large contrast with any supermarket we know. We are already wondering how we are going to provide food for our next visitors. If you are lucky, you can find some eggs, potatos, carrots, onions and cabbage, mostly partly rotten. The flour I have described to you already, and the rest of the food is in cans with descriptions such as SPAM on the labels. For us, who are really spoiled in comparison, a very simple existence...

In any case, I shall now stop rambling lest you think the lousy weather has gotten to me. I would however recommend you read "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" if you are inclined, if nothing else you will get some fabulous recipes out of it, including how to make your own mozarella, which I have successfully managed to do once (the second time, when I was going to show off to our gourmet cook friends on Jacana it turned into something resembling ricotta cheese more than mozarella... oh well!)

Cheers, Dear Friends, and have a wonderful Holiday Season! We will report again, hopefully with some better news on the weather! As I sit here writing, the wind is picking up again, after another short interlude of one sunny day! At least we had one.

Off the Beaten Path

Boxing Day, December 26th, 2010

We are alone at Golondrina Bay, Dave is sleeping on the settee, the wind is howling outside, and there is more rain falling... It is Boxing Day, and we think about our families and friends, missing them and wondering what they are all doing. Eating left-overs from their respective Christmas traditions, sharing time together which has become so precious in the "modern" world. We find ourselves in a very different reality with many new experiences to relate. Together with our friends Russell and Jeannie on "Aspara" we have sailed east to the more remote areas of the Kuna Yala, taking advantage of the unusual northwesterly winds, and a few days of relatively nice weather. For almost a week we enjoyed sunshine (halleluja!) and have had the priveledge to visit the most traditional and least visited villages of the Kuna. "Mamitupu", a small island partly covered in dense traditional bamboo homes, the other half almost deserted as it is believed to be haunted, delighted us with many many curious and joyful children. They followed us around the village, waved to us, asked us for sweets and showed off their home made kites. Many women in traditional hand embroidered dresses waved us into their small huts to show us their molas or pottery. We watched them baking tiny loaves of bread, of which we bought dozens at 15 cents a roll. We also witnessed how simple their existence is by seeing men and women alike relieve themselves all around the island, using the sea as their toilet. Unfortunately that is also where the plastic diapers end up floating around. Plastic, I have come to conclude, should be prohibited in such places, as it is treated just like banana peels or mango seeds that you can just spit out when you are done. As a result we see plastic bottles, medicine containers, diapers, shoes and many plastic bags floating in the sea and lining the beaches. The fact that it doesn't decay hasn't quite sunk in yet. To our shame, we have paid Kuna's to take away our garbage bags in the belief that they would be burned or taken to a landfill, only to see the same bags floating around our boat half an hour later. We have watched them throw the garbage out of their canoes, and so now we have to find ways to burn our own garbage, and dispose of organic material overboard.

In spite of the less pleasant aspects, the people in Mamitupu were delightful and helpful. We met Pablo, an unusual Kuna in that he has lived previously in the UK, and now runs a small hotel of thatched huts on the "haunted" half of the island. He actually has a wife in England, and invited us to spend Christmas with him and his family at the tiny hotel. He sold us homemade coconut soap, and also runs a small coconut oil press which is sold from the island. We asked him about the amount of rain we have been experiencing - "never before" was his answer. The local "Nele" or Spiritualist on the island had predicted at least one more episode of such weather (hopefully this is it!). Sadly Mamitupu have lost all their crops which they planted up their nearby river. Now they are hoping the government will help them out, or else face a lot of hunger. The Ulus that visited us on our boats on their way back from the jungle sold us a few green mangos, bananas and yucca roots, which is all the fresh items we have seen available.

Christmas would have been fun at Pablo's place, but the weather forecast drove ous out to more sheltered anchorages. To our very pleasant surprise we were spared the squalls for some days, and instead of squalls enjoyed a few gorgeous days around the Island of Aligandi. At one day anchorage we both agreed we had landed in Paradise. Three small atolls, palm trees, turquoise waters, and the backdrop of the mountains and jungles of the mainland to the south made for a perfect setting. While at the beach a small offering presented itself to us in the form of a small ray who swam up to the beach with a mortal wound. It's sting/tail had been bitten off and was bleeding profusely. Most likely it would have died, so Dave put the poor thing out of its misery with our spear and we enjoyed the tender meat for dinner the next day.

Jeannie and Russell kayaked over to this little Shangri-La from their anchorage at Golondrina Bay, and together we visited the small atoll that has three small huts on it you can rent out. An eighty year old charming Kuna named Sammy welcomed us and proudly showed us around. At their small restaurant we met three young local fellows who were beginning their Xmas holidays with a few drinks, and all in a very happy mood! Desperate to improve their English, they were keen to chat with us, and we got to hear from them what life is like for them living in Kuna Yala. They were all flying out to Panama City for the holidays to visit family, but given the choice, living in Achutupu, their small village, is far preferable to living in the city.

"The sea and the jungle provide for us - fish, lobster, bananas.... and we live for free!! No theft, no murder, no crime here. This is paradise!" they told us. We had to agree with them as we looked out over the gorgeous water across to the wild and roadless jungle behind us. Nevertheless, they want to learn English and often send their children away with their wives so they can receive a better education. We found them incredibly engaging, friendly and bright.

Ailigandi and crocodiles

In the late afternoon we pulled up our anchor and motored to Golondrina Bay where we intended to anchor in a very sheltered place next to Aspara. To our dismay when we entered the narrow channel into the bay we realized that somebody had placed a fishing net right across the entrance. This meant I had to turn the boat around in a very small radius, which is not easy to do. With the wind pushing us sideways we suddenly heeled over to starboard, and I knew instantly we were aground. AHHH!@! Dave quickly jumped in the dingy and fortunately managed to push the bow around, and Anam Cara floated free! Yipppeeee! The evening thus saved we took the next best anchorage in front of the island village of Ailigandi.

Ailigandi, as it turned out the next day, is a lovely village with mostly traditional houses, but also boasting a small hospital. This hospital reminded me of my days in China - very much the "Florence Nightingale" era, but providing many valuable services to this island and many of the nearby villages. Apparently it was built many decades ago by an American lady who, much to their original dismay, had married a Kuna from here. However, they grew to love and value this woman for all the good she did for them, and to this day her birthday is celebrated by all every September. Her grave is amongst their graves, and she is somewhat of an icon.

Dave and I went looking for provisions in the village, and were led around by two little girls who ran out of their houses to hug us and held our hands the rest of the morning. In one shope we found eggs sold to us by a very nice gay shop keeper with red fingernails and red paint on his face. Homosexuality is completely accepted here, and it is not uncommon to see quite a number of men dressed up as ladies or wearing jewlery and make up. I find it wonderful and refreshing, as these people appear to be totally accepting of everyone and very relaxed. In another shop we found cell phone cards, in another potatos and another some bread. Apart from that only canned goods. Christmas dinner, we hoped, might still materialize in the form of some fresh fish or lobster...

Laundry piled up in our shower, and being at the mouth of a river, we decided to dingy upstream to find clear water for washing clothes. Instead we found muddy water from all the rain, many trees half submerged, and the local cementery. We also got to see a nine foot crocodile perched on the shore. He opened his jaw when he saw us, but otherwise stayed motionless. That is until we decided to take a closer look on our way back down the river. Boy did we get a surprise! Within a nanosecond that big croc turned to face us with his jaws wide open and launched himself at our dingy. A few feet short of the side of our boat he disappeared beneath us. AHHH! What to do next??? I had visions of him jumping at us any second from under the murky water. Dave quickly started the engine, and I stood on the alert with a paddle just in case. Luckily we didn't see him again, but it sure made me respect the speed at which these animals can move. And he looked so statue like when we saw him at first... Later we reflected on what would have happened had we been a few feet closer - he would have ended up in the dingy with us. I dread to think!

Christmas

In spite of several attempts at spear fishing and pole fishing, no lobsters jumped into our pots, and Christmas dinner was beginning to look a bit meager... However, what one cannot come up with when faced with meager rations! Let me share with you our Christmas menus to give you a flavor of Christmas in these conditions.

Christmas eve we were invited over by Aspara. Russell and Jeannie cooked us a feast of ham, potatoes,onions and pinneapple. The ham came out of a can, but Russell barbequed it so cleverly that it tasted just divine. The onions were equally wonderful on the barbeque, and the entire extravaganza was finished up with homemade pumpkin bread (my last can!) and tea. On Christmas day, as it was rainy and cloudy, I cooked up a storm with anything we had left. Eggs, luckily were in abundance, and we had managed to find some fresh tomatoes on a Columbian trading boat. So we had tomato salad with my grandmothers delicious mustard sauce, quiche made with onions and dried shiitake mushrooms, followed by fried tempeh, mashed potatoes with mushroom and brewers yeast gravy, canned veggies, and a flan which I topped with pure chocolate sauce made from our Panamanian chocolate we bought straight from the farm in Bocas. A feast indeed!!! We had a ball with our friends, and talked at length with Jeannie about her extensive hiking experiences - the entire Pacific crest trail (several thousand miles!), the entire Appalachian trail and part of the US continental divide trail. She is quite the hiker!!! When we finally went to bed, we could hear Xmas in full swing in Ailigandi, which is just around the corner. Latin Christmas carols played until deep into the night, and I would have loved to have taken a peek at their celebrations, except that foreigners are not welcomed after sunset in their villages, and it would have been a dark dingy ride over reefs and other potentially dangerous obstacles... So we slept in our comfy v-berth and only wished we could magically beam ourselves across the Atlantic ocean to give our families back home big hugs and well wishes for Xmas.

Today we were hoping to make it to Ustupu, which, so we heard, has a cell phone tower. That would enable us to make phone calls and wish our families and friends Happy Holidays. Aspara left thirty minutes before us, and made it safely there. Those thirty minutes difference ended up costing us the trip, as squalls arrived and kept us inside Golondrina Bay. From there the weather has just deteriorated, and we are glad we didn't venture out into the reef strewn waters around here given the torrential rain and poor visibility. How long we will be trapped in here God only knows. But we hope to make it out as soon as possible and explore the islands and coastline further southeast of here.