Albrook

[Kyle]Maryanne wanted to get the lay of the land while I was still here so we spent the next day learning the bus system and going to the Albrook Mall.

Albrook is THE main bus terminal in Panamá City and also the biggest shopping center I have ever seen, ever. The place is complete chaos.

Yep! Just one of the MANY food courts at the mall

We started by focusing on our needs. We topped up our sim card for our Panamá phone and found the gigantic grocery store. Mostly, we were there to see what sorts of things they had, so we didn’t buy much. We then went for about a three-mile walk while never going outside. There are so many stores that sell stuff nobody needs {and a few selling stuff that we wanted anyway!}. We walked by at least five different food courts. At one point, we even saw a little electric train to transport people from one side to the other.

It was overwhelming. By the time we left, I was completely malled out for the rest of the year. Poor Maryanne is going to have to dive into that mess to top up on perishables before we leave. I’m glad we did the super big shop in Colón. It would be a real nightmare trying to get three carts of groceries home on this side.

[Maryanne]This mall is so big (the biggest in Central America), and even has a Hotel for when you get totally lost and can't find your car to get home!

Casco Viejo

[Kyle]Still being the weekend, we decided to go see Casco Viejo (Spanish for the old Costco) {yes folks, kyle IS joking here...}, which is the medium old part of town, post 1671, after Captain Morgan sacked the even older part of town (Panama Viejo). The marina, which was normal on a weekday, was filled with people standing next to coolers and waiting in a wide line for the ferries to Taboga. Since Casco Viejo was only about three and a half miles from La Playita, we decided to walk the distance.

As soon as we got to the road on the causeway, we intercepted the route of a triathalon being held. One ultra fit person after another zinged by us as we walked. It reminded me of my marathon days and also made me feel tremendously out of shape. At the other end of the causeway, where the runners switched to bikes, we found a guy selling shaved ice for 75¢ ea. After shaving the ice off of a big block, he added the requested flavors and then dribbled on condensed milk. While that seemed strange to us, it was actually a very nice touch.

Panamania Shaved Ice drink has a few extra toppings (and calories) compared to the Italian Grattachecca I had in Rome

We walked with our ices to the Balboa Yacht Club. They have a nice restaurant/bar, but otherwise it didn’t seem appreciably nicer than La Playita, certainly not $140 per week nicer {although they do have showers and laundry which we are lacking!}.

A walk along the causeway and beyond held some interesting views - Kyle is particularly taken with the older buses in Panama - recycled USA school buses tricked out by the driver.

We walked along the waterfront towards Old Costco {yes, kyle IS still joking}. The neighborhood began to deteriorate considerably. We ended up skirting the edge of some abandoned buildings at the edge of the slums. We knew it wasn’t much further, but we were beginning to get nervous about our surroundings. We passed an intersection and about half a block later, some kid around thirteen started yelling at us, asking us where we were going. I turned and waved a hand in a gesture of, “No, thanks. Leave us alone”. He paused for a while and then started calling out to us again. I turned around and gave him the two-handed Italian, “C’mon, What’re you bugging us for?” I noticed then that he had a stick about the size of a baseball bat and he was following us. He kept yelling at us and we just ignored him. I stole a backward glance and noticed another kid with another stick behind the first. We were approaching a heavily populated construction site guarded by police with military weaponry. We knew we would beat the kids to the site as long as they didn’t break into a full run. We kept walking like we belonged there and were able to bid the police, “Buenas Dias” as the kids turned back.

Our street ended, requiring us to go one block in to keep on our course. At the next intersection, the neighborhood worsened. We could see an even worse high-density shantytown further on. We were starting to feel very conspicuous, like rabbits in a field of coyotes. Some of the people in front of the shantytown started walking our way.

“Oh, shit. We have to get out of here, now!” we tried not to look lost as we turned back.

We were still in sight of the police we had passed a block before. Maryanne spotted a vacant cab and flagged him down. For three dollars, he drove us the remaining ten blocks to the Panama Canal Museum, saving us a walk that looked like it was going to cost us a lot more.

When Kyle is ready to swing $cash for a cab, even I know it is time to get out of dodge..., this picutre omits the braying pack of kids

There are several Panamá Canal Museums in the Panamá City area. This one was supposedly the real official one. It was really well done and they clearly had a decent budget for the exhibits, but the museum focused on what had to be THE most boring aspect of the canal’s history – all of the paperwork involved in it’s years of operation. They had original copies of all of the pertinent treaties signed during its various administrations as well as original purchase orders and memos decreeing who was to be responsible for what section.

Conspicuously absent was any of the information we were actually interested in seeing, like how the canal was built or how any part of its infrastructure worked. I was hoping to fill my brain with impressive factoids about what an impressive piece of engineering it was, but instead, all I learned is that bureaucrats can take the fun out of anything.

The central plaza - Plaza De La Independencia and the Iglesia Cathedral - on the weekend the square was filled with stalls (and bicycles) selling tourist memorabilia

Having finished with that, we left the air conditioned museum and stepped into the steaming square adjacent. Casco Viejo is in the midst of a major renovation. The area is a juxtaposition of gorgeous 17th and 18th century architecture and crumbling ruins in a various states of decay between functioning buildings with just enough exposed brickwork to have an artsy feel and ruins with only part of the outside wall standing. It was all extremely charming and seemed to have just the right amount of each level of dereliction. Since the climate is very hot here, most of the buildings have big airy verandas, mostly of wrought iron, that make the place feel alternately like part New Orleans or part Charleston, depending on where we were. {Maryanne: I felt the place had a Cuban feel to it (especially in the areas most neglected), and as we'd turn a corner into a new plaza, we'd then decide it had an Italian feel to the place... Whatever the feel (which I guess is Panamanian), it was an amazing place to wander around it}

Scenes from our walk about... Casco Viejo is a real mix of derelict, ancient, modern, slum, chic, and beautifully renovated. It's a UNESCO world heritage site too

We had an aimless, zigzagging amble back and forth across the district, using our sense of, “Ooh, let’s go see what that is!” to guide our way. When we got hungry enough, we tried a couple of highly recommended inexpensive places in our Lonely Planet guide, but they were both closed. We resumed our wander, now fueled by the urgency of hunger. We passed by a Cuban bar that didn’t seem to sell food. We continued on, but both simultaneously decided it was too interesting to pass up. We needed to get off of our feet for a while, anyway.

A very fun stop at the Havana Club Bar!

I had an amazing mojito. Maryanne had a Cuban beer – Palma Christo. I felt so naughty having a sip. There was Cuban jazz playing and the only four other patrons were all wearing Panamá hats. It really felt like we had stepped into Cuba.

On our random route we also stumbled across the official residence of the President - the white house in Panama. Apparently he rarely resides there, but has great views across the water to the modern Panama City.

We continued on until we found a pizza place on Simón Bolivar Square run by real Italians. When our waiter learned we understood some Italian, he did a whole back and forth with us that was just beyond our level. In the process, he sold us a bottle of Sicilian wine to go with our meal. We had started by looking for one level above cheap street food, but ended up having a pretty pricy meal. The meal was pretty mediocre, although the staff was endearingly optimistic. What we really paid for was the setting on a beautiful afternoon in the perfect little square.

Pizza at Parque Bolivar

Before leaving we took a waterfront walk to peruse (and purchase) some native Panamanian items and spotted the old jails (gaols) now converted into art galleries and restaurants (and a wedding chapel!)

We took a cab back to the Balboa Yacht Club with the idea of having a couple of drinks with the sailors there. The crowd turned out to be a lot of tourists and the place felt like a Chili’s on a busy night (we keep forgetting it's the weekend!). We skipped it and walked back to La Playita along the causeway.

The walk home reminded us of Italy or Greece. Everybody seemed to be out on an evening stroll with their families. Everybody was smiling and enjoying themselves. Parents were teaching their little kids how to ride bikes, lovers were cuddled up on benches or at the bases of trees watching the sunset, groups of friends on rented pedal cars were trying not to crash their way down the path.

We made it home just as the last of the light bled out of the sky. We tried to stay up longer, but we had walked too far and had too much sun. We found ourselves quickly nodding off, so we called it an early night.

[Maryanne]Please don't worry, we've since established the bus routes so that we don't have to walk through any uncomfortable neighbourhoods for any future visits!

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

[Kyle]Owing to the exertion of the previous day, we planned to do not much apart from some high quality loafing. The one thing that I did want to do was install our new LifeTag system – an electronic man overboard device. I figured it would be pretty easy: read the directions carefully, drill a few holes, and splice a few wires – done.

In truth, the job wasn’t all that bad. Our main trouble came when we installed the optional switch to give us the option of not having it on all of the time the instruments are powered. The system consists of two transmitter/receiver types: one type for the boat and one type worn by one or each of us. If the boat loses the personal signal, it screams like crazy. If the personal transmitter/receiver loses the boat for more than ten seconds, it stops transmitting to save the battery. In this way, shutting off the boat’s system will save the batteries on the portable units. Thus, we can use them when they are truly needed, such as when the weather is really bad or there is only one of us on watch.

I decided that instead of a flip switch, which I thought would stick out too far and be easy to catch on, I would install a nice, low profile rocker switch. It was a good idea, except that instead of a medium-sized hole, we would need a small rectangular cutout through the intervening bulkhead. The hole was too small for a hacksaw blade, so I ended up drilling a lot of holes and then using the dremel to connect the dots. Then I filed away the edges of the cutout to make the edges smooth.

The whole switch operation turned out to require more time and energy than installing the rest of the system. That was okay. These things happen. Our real problem was that the boat and I were covered in a heavy layer of fiberglass dust. We took care of the boat with a brush and dustpan. Even though it was dark by then, I jumped in for a swim, soaped up, and then jumped in again.

Poor Kyle working while he should have been enjoying his anticipated day off!

Somehow, my nice, lazy day ended up finishing late with me in desperate need of a bath. Even afterwards, I spent the night covered in the itchy, scratchy stuff that I couldn’t get off.

[Maryanne]My contribution to the day was much less... I read a book, and occasionally poked my head in at the work Kyle was doing and offered helpful comments such as "shouldn't that wire go here, and not there?". The Lifetag system was a Christmas present to ourselves (kind-of), and will set of really loud alarms if either of us fall overboard, and also marks the 'lost person' position on our chart plotter so we can turn the boat around and go back easily. We have some long passages planned this year, and I will sleep better knowing that I won't be waking up to an empty boat any time soon, and if I do, it will be really soon after he tried to jump ship without me, and I can haul his ass back into the boat!

[Kyle]About an hour after sunrise on Saturday, the first party boat showed up at Taboga. We could hear them approach from about a mile away. Their sound system was already blasting terrible dance club music. Fine. It’s Saturday. We weren’t sleeping. For some reason, if I imagined it was coming from a beach bar instead of six jerks who had unilaterally decided that the island was going to listen their stuff, it seemed less inconsiderate, so I just did that for a while.

Another boat showed up with their speakers blasting different music. Not a different kind, it may have been the first guy’s stuff on a five-minute delay. Now we had this war of the sound systems as each boat tried to drown out the other’s music. Five more boats showed up with five more soundtracks. We couldn’t hear each other talk, but we also couldn’t enjoy the music since seven different songs all played at once is only slightly less chaotic than a construction site. We weren’t close enough to any one set of speakers to drown out the rest. In the direction of Panamá City, we could see half a dozen more on their way. Taboga, which was such a nice place during the week, seemed to be going for a lower class Cancun vibe on the weekends. We decided we needed to get the hell out of there.

After a short sail, we were out of the chaos and back in our old spot. La Playita seemed so much calmer, even with all of the ferry and launch wakes plowing through the anchorage. Sunset was much more pleasant there amongst all of the other cruising boats.

Because it’s There...

[Kyle]Actually, that is not technically my reason for climbing a hill. My reason is to see what it looks like from up there.

With only the vaguest rumor that there was a path somewhere that led to the top of at least one of the several peaks on Taboga, we struck out to find it and see for ourselves.

Taboga is swamped by the residents of Panama City at the weekends, but we were hoping for a little more peace during the week - climbing a hill meant we had the place to our selves, I suspect ANY day!

Of course, by the time the expedition was all loaded with water and provisions and loaded into the dinghy for the trip ashore, the sun was getting pretty high in the sky. As soon as we left the beach and stepped into the windbreak of the island’s tiny roads, sheltered by buildings and trees on either side, the airless heat became instantly oppressive. The town was very pretty, though so we didn’t mind having a look around too much. The Catholic Church on the island is supposed to be the second oldest in the New World, dating from 1542, but we were unable to go inside and have a look.

After a couple of false leads, we finally found a map of the island in the unoccupied lobby of one of the island’s hotels. It directed us out of town onto a road with no shade that gradually started climbing along a line of telephone poles that were headed toward the summit. The effort of lifting our weight up the hill in the tropical sun quickly turned a nice stroll on a warm day into an almost unbearable, sweaty slog. Every time we rounded a corner and saw more unrelenting hill waiting for us, we would groan, put our heads down and keep climbing. Every time we had a chance to walk through ten feet of shade or a breeze would make it down to us, it would briefly feel as if we were a hundred pounds lighter.

Oh yes, the top, we were there for the views I recall...

When we finally made it to the viewpoint at the top, we were staggering like shipwreck victims in the movies. The viewpoint was part WWII lookout post, part abandoned radio tower foundation. We could see Begonia and all of the other boats anchored below. Even the big ships looked like bathtub toys. We could see the anchorage at a Playita with The skyline of Panamá City behind. In the distance were the mountains of the Continental Divide, separating East from West.

Closer examination revealed that we were about ten feet below the highest point on the island, which lay a short walk away at the adjacent VOR station (a type of aviation navigation aid). We made our way over there and found 360° views of the Gulf Of Panamá. We interrupted a group of about fifty vultures that must have been waiting for two exhausted sailors to show up.

We disturbed an awful lot of these fellas as we approached the VOR

So that’s what it looks like from up here. With no more up left, we started heading back down. What a different character down has vs. up. We were suddenly back to having a pleasant stroll, albeit a warm one. Maryanne found a trail that looked a little more worn than a lot of the Leaf Cutter ant highways we had seen earlier. We followed it and descended into a pleasant, shady jungle. Vines draped off all of the trees and all of the tropical plants we pay a fortune for in the U.S. were just growing everywhere. Philodendrons carpeted the jungle floor.

In short order, we found ourselves on the town’s narrow roads surrounded by dogs and chickens. We found a restaurant on the beach where we were able to stuff ourselves complete with two ice-cold beers each for $15.

A jungle trail led us back down to the water - and more Catholic shrines

The very minute we got back to Begonia, I was in for a refreshing swim that almost instantly removed all of the excess heat I had been carrying around all day. Time for a siesta, some food from the resident chef and sundowners with the pelicans.

Taboga Island

[Kyle]With Begonia back in order and with some time on our hands, we decided it was time to enjoy panama and do what we do - go sailing.

Actually, the last time we had the sails up was the day we arrived in Colón over two months ago. Considering the surprises some of the other systems had given us, we weren’t entirely sure the day would be trouble free. We decided to take it easy and sail to our first Pacific Island.

The anchorage on the north side of Taboga Island is only six miles from where we were at La Playita. It lay just on the other side of the Balboa explosive cargo anchorage, where the big oil tankers like the Mobil Pearl wait their turn for a northbound canal transit. From La Playita the peaks of Taboga could be seen rising up behind the anchored ships.

We started both engines without trouble, put them into gear without trouble, and motored clear of the hazards west of the entrance channel and into the anchorage. As we were leaving, we passed a big powerboat whose various alarms we had been hearing for the last few days. We had also heard someone whistling to get someone’s attention, which we often thought must have been us, since we were nearby. Once we passed by their stern, I saw their alarm system – an African Grey Parrot! Of course! I whistled back a few of the noises my greys liked and we spent the next mile or so having an animated conversation in Parrot. I think by the time we were out of earshot, I had taught him the theme to “The Andy Griffith Show”.

The wind started dying the moment we left La Playita. By the time we got to the explosives anchorage, it was six knots from dead ahead, the same as our speed. When we shut down the engines and coasted to a stop, so did our wind. Oh, well. Even if we did end up motoring the last four miles to Taboga, I still wanted to put all of the sails up and have a good look at ‘em.

I took my time, cranking slowly at the halyard winch, pausing every now and then to check that everything was going smoothly. When I was done, I had a look and was pleased to see that everything was still in good order. To our starboard, in the direction of the mainland, ripples started to appear on the water. I watched it come closer for a minute, and then returned to the cockpit.

It was not just Begonia catching the wind, but the brown pelicans were out too

As I sat down at the helm, eight knots of cooling breeze arrived. The mainsail filled and Begonia started moving forward. I unrolled the jib and we were suddenly going eight knots ourselves! We decided not to head directly for the anchorage, but instead to go the long way around the two-mile long island.

It was marvelous, relaxing sailing! We slid silently around the uninhabited side of Taboga, which is designated as a nature preserve. When I say uninhabited, I mean by humans. Taboga is home to half of the world’s population of Brown Pelicans, as well as large flocks of Cormorants and, for some reason, Turkey Vultures. I have never seen so many pelicans in one place in my life. They really are the most graceful, adorable birds, and they never seem to make a peep. Maryanne says their disposition reminds her of that of a kindly old Labrador retriever.

At the anchorage, which lies to the south of a narrow sand spit connecting Taboga with a small hill, we found the anchorage to be too steep to for our liking. We went around the hill to the less protected north side and anchored in flat sand along the shallow beach.

Watching the pelicans fish, and then simply hanging out in the anchorage enjoying the view - a nice relaxing day

It was marvelous to sail again. Begonia was loaded way down, with full food, fuel, and water for the extended passage to Hawai’i. We’ll need to replace what we’ve used since leaving Colón, but Begonia is basically as heavy as she’s going to get. It was gratifying to she that she can still kick up her heels and give a fast, comfortable ride in such conditions.

We split a bottle of wine that our friend Chris had given us in Norfolk as we watched the sun go down while pelicans and a few frigate birds soared in the updrafts to windward of the island looking for their last meal before roosting for the night. It was an altogether lovely ending to a great day.

Post Canal Blues / La Playita

[Kyle]After a late finish to our canal transit, try as we might, we couldn’t get out of bed the following morning before 10:00 (possibly much later!). We tidied up the boat and then went about addressing our mechanical problems. The port transmission was easy. The little wire through the pin that connects the cable and the shift arm on the transmission broke. I replaced it with a beefier one and it’s now back in commission.

{Maryanne: The engine problems had been so frustrating and embarrassing..., not to mention potentially very dangerous. Luckily everything had worked (with one work around or another) when we needed it to, but we like and need a reliable boat - we needed to address this and get to the bottom of everything that wasn't working so well!}

The starting problem was a little more vexing. We got out the electrical tester and slowly started eliminating one cause or the other. During a break in the process, I discovered that our starboard shower/bilge pump was no longer working either. I’d have to deal with that later.

Eventually, we determined that the problem was that our starting battery was just dead. Not discharged, dead. The start button repair was not related. It was just a confusing coincidence. Our final confirmation came when I hooked up our spare new bilge pump (which Maryanne insisted I carry home in my luggage) to the battery terminals directly and nothing happened except the voltage plummeted from 12.9V to 2V. {Maryanne: This had us perplexed since the voltage was reading well on the start battery so it wasn't 'dead' in the traditional sense, it was just the voltage was not really available as soon as any load was put on the battery - after eliminating shorts, and poor connections and everything else we could think of, we were left with it MUST be the battery itself that was at fault - despite working on our return to Panama and putting the boat back in the water, that must have been pretty much it's last breath. It was old, and it had spent the winter in the baking sun doing nothing at all.... I guess it was time.}

It was good to know what the problem was, but batteries are heavy and that one is in the back. Extracting it would be on tomorrow’s list. I replaced the new bilge pump, which for some reason had complication after complication that required I dig out more parts and more tools. We were back in the yard again. Since I was already working, I fitted a non-return valve into the port engine bilge discharge line too. When we were done, it was dark, I was exhausted and all I wanted was a shower.

The following morning we woke up naturally just before sunrise. After coffee and breakfast, I extracted the start battery from its home while Maryanne dropped the dinghy. We then rowed the thing to shore to see what we could figure out.

We got lucky. There’s a chandler right next to the dinghy dock, and they had batteries in stock. We paid for it, but batteries are heavy. I was in no mood to take a cab all of the way to the Battery District to save $20, or $50. This way, we were able to have them hold our purchase until we got back, so we could take a little walk around.

La Playita lies at the end of a long causeway that runs alongside the entrance channel to the Miraflores Locks and connects with the mainland. Apart from a couple of spots where they’re trying to cater to the Infinity crowd, the place seems pretty nice. The dinghy dock is reasonable, especially after having been in Shelter Bay. There are a few affordable restaurants and a mini mart where you can get wifi if you spend $3. The tables outside seem to be the sailor’s hangout. We were hungry, so we had a nice meal at a Colombian restaurant (also with wifi!) then returned for our battery.

Scenes around our new home...

After doing the morning’s battery extraction procedure in reverse, we found that it cracked the problem. Begonia is a fully functioning boat again.