Friday, 27 October 2017

The Passage That Wasn't Meets Military Escourt and Some Crazy History

Dear Mr Pelican, must you sit there and poop all over our bowsprit? !
After my last post, leading up to our second attempt to cross the Pacific, we were so encouraged and boosted by everybody's well wishes. We felt confident and happy to be taking on this 40 day passage, (again). However, the morning we were to leave, we discovered one of our water bladders had leaked over 100 litres into our bilges.
Over two days of various fix-it attempts and cleaning out bilges left me feeling rattled, my confidence also washed out into the bilge. I experienced numerous moments of nautiousness and feeling weak kneed.
We ended up buying 160 litres in 5 litre bottles and stashing them throughout various nooks and crannies of the boat. Then Dave found a solution: clamping the area around the small hole with two pieces of wood meant we could refill the tank up to around 100 litres.

Anchored out back of anchorage. Photo: Eli.

(Refilling the tanks requires ferrying jerry jugs by dinghy back and forth a rather decent distance, due to extreme tides, to the dinghy dock ashore where, thankfully, there is free, potable water).
Neighborhood view courtesy of Eli.

With that hurdle over, we tried to leave the next morning but the rain poured down so heavy, with no let up in sight, often white out conditions and poor visibility. We made the decision not to leave based on the fact that with the weekend boat traffic returning from the islands and the white-out conditions, it could be potentially dodgy. Besides, this is supposed to be "cruising," how necessary was it to rush off into a 40 day passage, starting out with soaking wet, grumpy crew?! - Movie day.

The fattest, brightest bumblebee I've ever seen! 

Following morning, sunny day, engine on, Dave just finished manually cranking up 150 feet of chain, hauled up the oversized anchor... when the engine cut out and does not start. What now?! Drop the anchor.
We read through our trouble shooting manual and spent the day trying to fix the problem: air in the fuel. Our fingers were raw and blistered from maneuvering the lever to bleed the lines. Still nothing. Late afternoon some friends came over to help work through the problem and we finally got it fixed.
Fourth attempt, we were determined to leave but Dave suddenly became overwhelmed at the prospect. Some time and discussion passed, he managed to push past it and we finally left the anchorage.
Up anchor: Dave hard at it, Salem on bowsprit as mostly
silent moral booster, Eli hauling up water to wash stinky mud off chain.

We left in pleasant conditions, and good spirits, happy to be finally leaving and tackling this part of the journey we had talked about for years. There was no wind so we were motoring, but had expected this to be the case based on other cruisers' experience of this section of the run.


We had alotted the boys an evening time slot each for the watches, with either Dave or I dozing in the cockpit with them. They knew what was expected of them, including filling in the log book, checking on bilges, engine gauges, wind direction, course direction, and of course, traffic. They took their job seriously and it enabled Dave and I to get longer stints of sleep.
I enjoy getting into the swing of passages, and night watches, having the time to myself to read, write, exercise a little, watch the conditions outside. Admittedly, it takes me quite a few days to get over the nautious/zombie mode so nothing much is done unless it's absolutely necessary, including meals (I try to have a couple already made before leaving). Things are pretty basic.

We were keeping in touch with our friends on S/V Rosanna on a daily basis who had left a week before us. We both had the same satellite tracking device which allowed us to txt each other. This was a great moral boost and we were plotting their course on our chart to get an idea of their track.
Day 4 Dave retreated quietly to our cabin, thankfully we were still motoring so the boys were oblivious, but Dave was immensely overwhelmed. Mostly at the prospect of being so far from land and our lack of experience. I messaged our friends ahead: they stressed that they had really struggled in the area we were in; one day they'd only made 10 nm (nautical miles) in a 24 hour period - ugh!
I messaged another cruiser friend in Australia. She got in touch with New Zealands' Bob McDavit, long time sailor and legend weather guru. From our position, he prepared a text message of upcoming weather and his recommendation of course.


We were almost in line with Isla Malpelo and Colombia. The forecast was of course different to when we left and not in our favour: we were to expect head winds for the next 600-1000nm in the direction we needed to head. Eli and I managed to convince Dave to try tacking back and forth as suggested by Rosanna. For 8 hours we headed North as close to the wind as we could, (in the same direction we'd come from) then South, almost following the exact same track. Due to our sail configuration, we could only sail at 55-60 degrees off the wind.
At the end of the day when Dave measured how much forward (or westward) movement we had made, it was all of 1 nautical mile!! This was a very daunting prospect as we considered the math of making 1 mile every 8 hours and needing to cover 1000 miles in miserable head winds and a two metre swell due from the South.  It became all too apparent that with our lack of experience, our boat not being set up well enough to sail into the wind, Dave not being in a happy or secure state of mind, we could not continue on our proposed course.
Day 5, 5pm and 400nm offshore, more tears were shed, as we turned the boat around and made the very slow sail back to Panama.


Interestingly, after 4 very gloomy, bleak days, blue skies emerged and shortly after, we were entertained by a pod of large black dolphins that showed off their bellies appearing to be spattered with pink paint!
Even though Equador and Colombia were closer, we knew there would be issues with our paperwork, namely our "zarpe" (exit paper) stating Marquesas as our next port of call. Due to the huge drug trafficking issues in the area, not sticking to our proposed plan, would most likely spark a lengthy investigation. Going back to Panama we could claim boat problems and not have too much issues as we hadn't gone ashore anywhere.
We had used up almost all our funds; our boat was booked in for storage in French Polynesia, flights booked from French Polynesia to NZ, so we knew we could afford to fly home with enough up our sleeve to get a vehicle and go back to saving again, camping at my parents' place. Now, our only option to get home would be to sell Ula, dirt cheap, cut our losses and hopefully get enough for flights home.
For the first time, Dave felt like he could relax and enjoy the slow sailing. I on the other hand, anticipating what would need to be organized once we returned to Panama, felt impatient, wanted to turn on the motor and hurry back. But, we didn't have the diesel, I would have to find the patience and deal with it!
The aluminium gaff that holds up the top of the sail, was making a horrible sound as it slapped around as a result from us rolling about in the swell and not having enough wind to keep us steady or propell us. This further compounded on my impatience and emotional state of mind, producing a grumpy outcome.
Day 7 with still very little wind, Dave and Eli decided to give the bluper a go. Best decision ever. It provided better speed, motion, comfort and quietness for two days and a night.


The grim looking stormy sky motivated us to pull it in for the following evening before it got dark. Just as well, 'cos things got a little crazy trying to haul it in!
Day 10 Salem turns 11!! We had been hoping to make landfall for his birthday, but due to the light winds we were still another day away. He had such a great attitude and actually relished in the fact that not many people get to say they spent their birthday in the Pacific Ocean..the Gulf of Panama, no less! Salem received a much desired hawaiian sling, some birthday cards from his brothers and our friends on sv Bonaire, who had sneakily provided me with a little package of goodies before we left, for this event.
 His good attitude was well rewarded with some interesting occurrences:
- we were entertained by a swordfish jumping out of the water multiple times;
- a bright yellow bird landed on the lifeline next to us in the cockpit, scooted along closer to us, so I gave Dave some of my bread to hold out to it. Little bird then flew through the cockpit, landing on my plate for a bit, then flew up on top of my head for a while before finally taking off again! (Hmm, perhaps it's time I did something with my nest-like hair!).
- a soft glowing sunset with our landfall in sight, was met with a huge pod of hundreds of dolphins, as far as the eye could see, doing all sorts of acrobats and squeaking away.
What we thought could potentially be a boring birthday turned out to be one that will be hard to beat!

Chaffing down breakfast so they can get ashore!

We dropped anchor for the first time in 12 days at the private Isla San Jose, with an idyllic long, white sandy beach backed with green foliage and coconut trees to greet us. As soon as we dinghied ashore, the two younger boys ran a good stretch to the river running out into the ocean, where they began to build a dam and ride the fast flowing current down on their bellies or boogie board.


We enjoyed putting our legs to more use, found some large holes in the sand where turtles had obviously been to lay their eggs, and cracked open oysters in the hope of finding a pearl, being the "Pearl Islands."


We found out about a famous pearl from these islands called "La Peregrina"...
The story goes that the pearl was originally found by an African slave, then "given" to Don Pedro de Temez, the administrator of the Spanish colony in Panama. The slave who found it was rewarded with freedom.

Interesting tracks.

The pearl was carried to Spain and given by Temez to the future Phillip II of Spain who gifted La Peregrina to Mary I of England in anticipation of their marriage.
After her death in 1558, the pearl was returned to the Crown of Spain for the next 250 years.
In 1808, the elder brother of Napolean, Joseph Bonaparte, was installed as King of Spain. When he was forced to leave five years later, he took among other things, La Peregrina. When he died, as stated in his will, the pearl was left to his nephew, the future Napoleon III of France. During Napoleon's exile in England, the Emperor sold it and eventually came into the hands of Duke of Abercorn. The first time the pearl got lost was in a sofa at Windsor Castle; the second time during a ball at Buckingham Palace. The Hamilton family owned the pearl until 1969 when they put it up for auction at Sotheby's in London. Richard Burton purchased La Peregrina for $37,000 giving it to his wife, Elizabeth Taylor, as a Valentine's Day gift during their first year of marriage.
At one stage, the pearl went missing, but later discovered one of the dogs had been chomping on it. There's some debate as to how it was found, or more importantly, from what end of the canine!
Taylor commissioned Cartier to redesign a necklace with La Peregrina taking centre stage.
In December 2011 La Peregrina sold for a record price of more than $11 million (£7.1 million)!!
For more history details, check out Wikipedia.

Bloody Mary (left) and Elizabeth Taylor.

The sun hadn't even got out of bed next morning when we heard a lancha pull up alongside next morning, someone was yelling right outside our bedroom ports, "Ula, Ula!"
Took us a while to wake from our dead sleep and stumble out with slightly more appropriate clothing for visitors - they were not backing down. We were greeted with five large military men, AK47s and other such weapons attached. My hazy interpretation was that we needed to leave - immediately. Now our cruising guide said that in spite of the island being private, it was fine to anchor and explore ashore. My confused look prompted the Captain to explain some more..we need to leave now because a bomb will be going off in a couple of hours ashore and we couldn't stay there. Dave figured it must be a mosquito bomb to keep all the flying annoyances at a minimum, being a private island at all.
There was a slight hitch however. We couldn't move. We had just filtered through some diesel the night before between tanks and were planning to bleed the lines that morning. There was no chance our engine would start without us going through this lengthy procedure. Out came our Spanish for cruisers guide and I frantically looked for the explanation to convey to the impatient military guys. This led us to a very hasty Superior jumping on deck, helping Dave with the anchor while the other guys set up ropes, and before we knew it, we were being towed at 5.6 knots - the fastest Ula had been in months! Along the way, Dave queried the Superior about the "bomba." "Mosquito?" he asked,
"No."..chemical bomb.
"For mosquito?" Dave asked again, to which the hand gesture was made of a hand slicing through the neck, no, chemical. He proceded to enlighten us on the situation..
In 1940 the Americans decided to trial a chemical bomb, intended for the Vietnam war, but, it never went off. Today of all days, a decent artillery of US military were here to safely dispose of the bomb and they needed a 3 mile radius!!
The bonus to all this was that they towed us to an even better spot than before to set anchor..





Having explored ashore and bled our lines allowing us to once again motor, we felt compelled to continue onto the next island of Pedro Gonzales. Ensuring an extra 3 mile wide gap or more, was between us and San Jose, we meandered along and were met in the late afternoon by the most wonderful surprise. A yacht was in the anchorage, not only that, as we neared, we discovered it was in fact our good friends from SV Bonaire!! This was the second time they welcomed us back from our Pacific ordeal relieving us with warm encouragement, as they paddled over to us by kayak this time!

Eden and Sam returning from island in background. 

The next week or so the two boat kids met regularly after school work and chores. They explored, swam, paddled, played football, snorkelled, dug holes etc.

Eden also had the privileage of celebrating his 8th birthday with friends.


Cake by the ocean!

Emily and I got into the wonderful routine of an early morning swim (sometimes paddle) ashore, walking the length of beach, while hording more treasures of shells and stones (much to our husbands' disdain), then a return swim back to our boats.

One morning we even discovered mama turtle tracks going up the beach, and returning back down to the sea. Under the branch of a tree where the two tracks met was a rounded scuffed up area where we presumed the mother must have laid her eggs before returning!

Dave managed to spear a couple of fish with his spear but Salem unfortunately didn't see any.


It was a much needed reprieve, but before long, the restlessness was mounting, knowing it was time to get back to civilisation, and Internet, get serious about marketing our boat and figure out a plan.

Photo courtesy of Bonaire. 

So many years of reading about other couples and families living the sailing life, I always felt sad when they decided to sell up and settle on land. Yet here I am facing the reality that it is also my story. I expect the adjustment will take some time, I find living in a house with its constant bills, shut off from nature and its inability to move places, the everyday routine of land life to be rather claustrophobic.
On the flip side, living in nature also keeps you on alert all the time, any random squall (which tends to pop up regularly) has the potential threat to life and home. So it will be nice to be able to relax a bit more.

Happy wife happy life they say. Dave has done his upmost to achieve this, he's been stressed and stretched beyond his physical and mental capacity, fighting the fears within. Five days out at sea they resurfaced to an alarming new level. He could no longer accept the uncertainty of 40 days or more of open ocean and whether he could as Captain make sound decisions or judgements to keep the crew, his family safe. So I can tell you that in fact a stressed out husband is not a happy place to be at all.
Another in Las Perlas archipelago. 

Where was I at with all of this? Yes there were times where the enormity of it all felt overwhelming and scary but I kept feeling it would pass and things would get better. Seeing Dave stressed, his face gaunt with worry definitely brought my stress levels up.

Photo: Dave, inside our cockpit! 

Much to Daves dismay, I have a slightly higher tolerance level to living in crusty sea dog conditions if it means we get to enjoy some exotic locations. He realized the discomforts of life on a boat, namely: no decent comfy couch, no watermaker, shower and washing machine, no oven for decent meals, far outweigh the small pleasures. He loves his comforts.

Our friends on Lungta (background ) inspired us to have
 a go at sailing off anchor also - successfully I might add! (Thanks Bonaire for photo).

The practicalities of maintaining this lifestyle, the money we've poured into it and would still need to invest, along with the amount of work Dave was having to do weighed heavily on him, on us. It definitely took its toll on our family relationships at times.

The boys are upset (as am I), to be ending this but they are amazing at adjusting and looking forward to home, whatever that may be. We tried the best we could with the little we had to make this work.
Photo: Bonaire. Outside Pedro Gonzales village.

We had some fun, saw and experienced unforgettable places and people. Now it's time to let this boat go and find a new adventure...
Thanks again Bonaire crew for photo.

Ula is for sale.

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

Pacific Crossing Attempt Round Two


A month has vanished already since our u-turn escapade two days into the Pacific (see previous post for more details).
Time-wise, we could've been potentially almost nearing the Marquesas..or not. It was a good show of  seamanship on Dave's part to make the call and return to sort out the issues.
There's been tough times, mentally and emotionally, anchored back in Las Brisas, Panama city.
We've had a decent amount of intense thunderstorms...


 Lightening hit a neighbours' boat, taking out some of his electrical gear, another bolt appeared to hit the water between us and our friends, but thankfully no damage. 


Background hill seems small compared
to massively high cloud! (Salem paddling in
foreground).

The distant booms of thunder, sounds like cannons firing. As it closes in on us, it sounds more like an ear piercing, drawn out crack like the skies are ripping apart.  



I used to enjoy thunderstorms back in NZ, and I'm more at ease with them here now, having endured a good few months of Panama's specialty. But, there's still the odd one that makes me jump, as it tries to stir up the frazzled nerves! 



Perhaps they have actually assissted in motivating us to keep pushing forward, in pursuit of the Pacific crossing.  An edgy reminder not to get too comfy here.


Quick pic through the bus window!

Then there was the week of the cadaver, when we thought we were watching a mooring buoy floating toward us. As it neared, a local panga with some officials motored around it, took lots of photos, wouldn't touch it, made phone calls and left again.  The grim realisation struck us, this was the body of a dead man heading right for our boat.  He floated right around our bowsprit and almost up to our boarding ladder on the other side before moving on out of the anchorage.  The boys were down below at the time but were aware of our conversation.

Navy spent a good hour trying to figure out how to
manoeuvre cadaver.

 They came up for a look at the beginning, when it was still a way off but we shooed them off downstairs before it neared and you could begin to make out body features and clothes.  It was a good excuse for them to go watch a movie! Our deepest condolences to the family, he appeared to be a local fisherman.
Lush neighborhood; taking a wander while waiting for my laundry.

Then there was the week of the night noises. They were quite loud and sporadic and only at night, of course.  We checked the anchor chain to see if it was hitting the hull - no.
Looked through the rigging if there were bats flying into it - no.    
Checked the water if objects, (preferably not cadavers!) were bumping into the hull - no.   Night after night we were getting woken by these noises, almost like someone was whacking the hull with a fish!  In tired desperation I emailed a few sailing friends to see if they could offer up any help, concerns of our aluminium hull in the forefront of my weary, over-imaginative, mind.  They were able to ease that notion with some good advice, and after checking off several suggestions, we concluded it must be fish (nocturnal ones at that)!!  Sure enough a few days later, talking to another cruiser, with a fiberglass boat, he also confirmed the same loud, under hull, spontaneous fish slap sounds - phew!  A couple of weeks since the noise has receeded somewhat and we're not getting woken as much.  Admittedly, Ula has grown a fairly decent green moustache along the waterline, so that probably doesn't help.

On our way to get supplies: Casco Viejo (old town) to
left.

On the boat works side of things, one concern was with all the motoring we'd done (over 4 days), the batteries didn't appear to be charging.  Upon returning to civilisation, checking the alernator belt, proved to be looser than it should which wouldn't have helped for much charging to occur.  Running the engine after readjusting it however, still seemed to not improve the situation. Having a bit of a dig around, Dave discovered a wire had come loose from the alternator.
With that all fixed, the solar regulator appeared to stop working, meaning that all of a sudden our batteries were potentially under threat of becoming fried! A few days of going crazy with all electrical items on, at peak sunshine, throwing towels over the panels and researching the mindfield of information on solar regulators, we amazingly managed to purchase one close by.  Dave was in the process of trying to install it when he discovered a small random fuse near one of the battery banks had blown. Upon replacing that, our orignal regulator kicked back into gear!  Looks like we have ourselves a spare, and at least now we have a bit more of a vague idea about how that area works.

These buildings never cease to amaze us!

Dave has also pulled out all our ports (windows), scraped them back and re-bedded them. Upon inspection, some were ok, most not so much.
He altered the cockpit clears to better keep out the rain, installed a carbon filter for the head, installed a stop-valve and altered the plumbing so there's no chance of sea water popping back up the pipes and into our head (bathroom).
We also managed to source through a local contact, two more portable water containers, (originally used for molasses, we think!) adding another extra 150 litres or so.

Classic urban South American scene, reminds me of Brasil.

A top priority for the boys that we've just managed to sort out, we bought a harddrive for our friends to copy their library of movies, books and audio books, numbering into the thousands, I think.  This will definitely help eleviate the boredom issue for the long, slow passage.

Salem skurfing behind friend's dinghy. Glad to have them back for our last week.

Once again, having to stay put in one place has allowed us to meet some more great people, that has helped ease some tension in the process.  Another bonus has been reuniting with a couple we've met up in every port, and celerated my birthday with us, have come through the Canal and are on the same mission as us.  We have the same sat phone/tracking device, making communication easier and plan to leave together.  We will be meeting up in Las Perlas islands, on the West side this time, for a night or two, before pushing off.
We have an 8th and an 11th birthday to celebrate at sea so hopefully we'll have our sealegs by then to find creative ways to make them enjoyable!
Because it is now so late in the season, we've had to once again re-adjust the plan.  It is still safe to make the crossing but we are out of time to get our boat to NZ in the safe weather window before the onset of the cyclone season.  Looking into prices, cruisers blogs/reviews, emailing for availability, we have managed to secure a spot to store Ula in the Pacific. Airfares are about a quarter of the Caribbean fares, so we intend to return to NZ for a year and a half to save. That way, we can hopefully enjoy the Pacific on our way home, attempt #3.


Fish market.

So, we've got some more spares, supplies, re-provisioned. Eli and Salem have started doing water runs in the dinghy, to the dinghy dock where we can get free water. Just need to top up diesel and petrol and will hopefully be on our way in the next day or so.  My stomach is starting to produce butterflies as I type this, but I'm also hopeful, confident (in faith), we just need to get this done - give us at least 40 days.
A huge heartfelt thanks to all who sent encouraging messages to us over this last month particularly, has really helped boost us along.  Not to mention all those who have helped us practically, over the last few years, put up with our ramblings, our ups and downs through it all to get us here in the first place. My brief thanks doesn't truly reflect the deep grattitude we have, we really appreciate you all...
See you on the other side😊

Friday, 11 August 2017

Crossroads in the Pacific

Umm, perhaps we better wake the Captain!
Water spout in action.

I am weary that my posts seem to of the haphazard, high drama nature. I assure you this is not our intention, we would much prefer to live a "boring" existence that nobody particularly cares to read about (dont get me wrong, i really appreciate i have readers out there). We really do try to research all manner of things and gather as much information as possible from others. I suppose it comes with the territory of going to new places and having little experience.
So I'll pre-warn you, unfortunately, this post is no different...new experiences, different dramas!
We had planned to take up a mooring at the Balboa yacht club after the canal transit, for a night, almost under the bridge of the Americas where we could get ferried to land. Our new concern was the 5-6 metre tides on this side, (as opposed to approx. .5m Caribbean side), making sure we anchor out far enough, then the prospect of paddling a long way into shore with no outboard. One of the linehandlers was quite persistent that we should drop them off at La Playita where it would be free to offload them instead of Balboa for the $20 fee. So rather than picking up a mooring ball, dropping off linehandlers with launch, resting and celebrating our canal success, we agreed, as we had planned to anchor at the end of the 6km long causeway eventually anyway.
Salem's shot looking across the causeway to Panama city.

However, on approaching, we had some concerns about the anchorage with only 3 boats in it. The guy was now saying Playita was on the other side of the island. Having looked at my cruiser guide many times, I had doubts and brought it out to confirm. We decided to try and drop them off around the other side of the island, at the marina but as we came around, the wind was suddenly strong in our face, the anchorage ahead looking wild and stormy to our weary eyes. He was gesturing towards the very expensive Flamenco marina, which he had assumed we would be going to! We did a loop in front of the entrance, big rocky walls either side, trying to suss out the area. We thought maybe we could just drop them off and go anchor. The wind was strong as I tried to make allowances coming into the jetty, still managing to cut into the slip foam with the bowsprit chain! We were met with an entourage of marina crew speaking fast Spanish and giving us the impression we shouldn't be there. Glancing down the jetty, I was stoked to see the very famous "Sea Shepherd" on the same dock. (We were later informd they had been detained there by the Panamanian authorities for what they do best: protesting/getting in the way of fishing operations they deem dodgy.) I was instructed to call up the main guy on the vhf but communication was getting no where with them. Dave in the meantime, went down and talked to the sea shepherd guys who took him on board and advised him on a map the best place to anchor. By this time, I was tired and stressed about getting off the dock and out of the entrance in the strong wind, let alone trying to anchor and get these people off our boat- there's no way we could row ashore safely.
Photo: flikriver.com; captions mine.

We got out fine, found a spot, anchored, made sure we were holding, and called out for help on the vhf for a water taxi or someone to help. A neighbour came over raving about how dodgy the anchorage was, he'd draged three times, but he didn't know of any taxi and his dingy wasn't up to taking people. Then he rambled the same thing another 3 or 4 times. While sitting, waiting to make sure we were holding, We finally managed to wave down some guys on a panga, paying them to take the people, lines and tyres ashore just before dark. Such an unfortunate way to end what was an enjoyable transit, the emotions caught up with us as we wondered what on earth we were doing this for.
Las Brisas anchorage looking across to Panama city. 

Turns out, after a good night's sleep, it was a good anchorage, we didnt drag, it had a free, guarded dinghy dock, as opposed to the other expensive side, and we ended up getting ourselves a new outboard, which after one paddle ashore, fully paid for itself!!
Classic example of tides: high tide...

...low tide (notice the horizontal I beams).

Another busy week, getting supplies, thanks to our awesome taxi guy: geto, who knew all the right places to go, loads of groceries...
Trip 2 of 3. Three full trolleys!
Boxed and delivered free, then 3 full dinghy trips.

..water, diesel, petrol.  The kids doing some shopping with their pocket money at the massive mall and getting more clothes as many things are perishing!
Awesome twisty building downtown can easily be seen from anchorage . 

Panama Canal administration building. 

Then there was the local fruit and veg market..
Grains, oils dried beans etc.


Pineapples 3 for $1!!!

$6 stalk of bananas


Citrus department.

Got to meet up with a couple of kid boats, get some playground time, which only just opened next to the anchorage.
4pm onwards, water spurts start, lit up with different colours.

Checked out a small rainforest park right close to the anchorage also.


Eli's shot of Senor Iguana.


Spot the tiny orange, red a and brown frogs.
Photo: Eli.


Red eyed tree frog (see below) sleeping! Photo: Eli.



Can you see the well camouflaged big green
frog on the top leaf? !  Photo: Dave.
The more prepared we became, the more at ease we felt about the big trip looming. It was really nice to know that an Aussie family and a kiwi guy and his dad were all on a similar mission.. to Panama's Las Perlas islands first, then on with the crossing.
Our first city anchorage, Panama city.

The day we were to check out, I remembered to turn on the vhf to listen in on the cruisers' net. To our horror, we learnt that a boat between Galapagos and Marquesas had sent out a mayday. They had a 60cm crack between the keel and hull, taking on water, bilge pumps not keeping up and their dive/repair attempts were not working. Then we realised we knew the guy, we'd met him at Bonaire boatyard, he was fixing his rudder at the time and would often send the kids to the shop to buy him food in exchange for iceblocks! We'd kept in regular contact ever since. By the time we caught wind of the news, he had called off the mayday, had managed to run a tarp under the hull, used the engine's intake hose to pump out the bilges and eased off the standing rigging, thereby lessening tension between the mast and keel. They were hopeful to continue the 1600nm themselves. We were obviously relieved to hear they were doing ok but it does play in the back of the mind...what are we doing?!
Lot's of humpback whales and their calves
about. Photo: Eli.

Nevertheless, we had an enjoyable day's motorsail down to Isla Espiritu Santo in the Las Perlas islands, were met with some friends dinghying out to greet us and we spent a couple of enjoyable days between two anchorages with the two families.
Dave on a foraging mission.

Salem would much rather be the
one with the machete!

Oh so sweet.

So this is how they grow!

Inside Isla Espiritu Santo.

Windward side Isla Espiritu Santo. 

Eli's shot of a stingray.

Photo: Eli



Leo off the Aussie boat, also offered to help Dave figure out how to set up our light wind sail.
Eager to keep up with our Aussie friends who were doing Marquesas via Galapagos, we left a little later with them in our sights on the horizon. Being a much larger boat though it wasn't long before we lost sight of them but we knew we would meet up with them again in a month.
Putting one third of the bunch to use.
Can't help but sing.."hey mumbo, mumbo
Italiano, hey mumbo!" Then it's stuck in
your head for the rest of the day - you'll see..
You're welcome!

The next two days had been pleasant, getting into the swing of things. We had a current in our favour, so even though it was a light head wind most of the time, motoring along, we were making a good amount of mileage. The boys were very accepting of the big trip and were handling it well. Salem who had suffered seasickness the most, had managed the last two trips and this one without taking any pills, even managing to go downstairs. Eden would say he hates sailing 'cos it takes too long, then in less than an hour make a statement starting with.."this is the best day ever!" We had seen lots of whales breaching and spurting water in all directions, every day.
We even caught a tuna trawling! Our most success ever..thanks Eric for your recommendation.

Had one intense evening of very heavy rain, pooling up the ports, with some leaking dribbles inside. Dave also had a good amount coming into the cockpit that he was pumping out with our manual hand bilge pump.
It was nearing the second evening at sea, I proudly observed the following: Eli was sitting next to me in the cockpit, absorbed in whatever he was doing. He stopped, poked his head out past the semi-lowered tarp blind and mentioned the wind had picked up and changed direction. With that, he jumped up to the front of the cockpit, altered the stay sail and foresail, altered course on the autopilot to make the most of the wind angle, pulled out the roller fuler and just like that, we gained an extra 4 knots speed! I was so impressed with the awesome seamanship skills this guy was showing.
About an hour or so later, Dave woke up and asked me to see him downstairs. I couldn't help feeling "this can't be good," going by the stressed look on his face.
To my horror, he disclosed his concerns for our safety, the stress he was feeling and his absolute resolve to turn the boat around and return to Panama city. I was gobsmacked, and gutted, I thought we were doing well, but I was weary of the fact that if anything goes wrong, it's essentially on his shoulders to figure out a solution, being the onto it, practical, resourceful one of the family.
Seeing your best friend unhappy under that much strain I witnessed on his face is never nice, so, he turned us around.
I expressed in my pain, that I will love and respect his decision.
This is still difficult to write about. Eli and Salem in the cockpit at the time, piped up, "what are you doing?" Dave's answer to them was to our surprise, met with tears from the boys and much debate from Eli about how it's going to get better, this is our home even if it isn't super comfy and got all the "essentials," how he feels more at home amongst the sailors. We were all upset about not being able to rendezvous with our Aussie friends in the Marquesas. Salem and Eden had already gone through their arguments off the head of Colombia when Dave last said he was going to put the boat up for sale and fly home. This transformation in Eli though, especially under these circumstances was surprising, awesome, and all too bittersweet.
To make matters worse, we turned around in nice conditions and headed into the worst weather we've had yet generating off the infamous Punta Mala (bad point).
Dave's face within hours though, was already looking years younger up as he confirmed he felt better already at the decision. It took the rest of us a good 24 hours or so to come around to accepting it.
It takes alot of courage to stick to your decision or gut, when everybody is against it and not just try to please the masses, something I have always loved about Dave.
The morning we were to arrive back in the familiar anchorage of Isla Espiritu Santo, a dark heavy cloud band hung over Las Perlas islands, lightening sparking down between the hills. Do we head into that or continue north to Panama city? That was when I thought I was watching the all familiar sight of a whale spurt on the horizon to the north of the island..funny, it's staying up for a long time..wow, check out that cloudy finger..imagine if..oh, how bout that, maybe we should wake up Dave!
"Oh, that can't be good" came the weary response as Dave's eyes came into focus with the dodgy looking system feeding into the water spout.
It dissipated within 5 minutes or so. Dave was desperate for some rest and the weather looked to be slowly moving south.
We got settled into the anchorage, it felt gloomy and lonely this time though, knowing our friends had long gone.
Las Perlas. 

Then Dave quietly broke down on the aft deck. He was disappointed we had turned back.
Rested up later, Dave expressed he felt it was still a good decision to make. I felt it was important to let him know that even though I respect his decision, I can't deny the fact that I'm gutted. He was 90% sure we would be flying home. I was 85% hopeful we would find a way to continue to the Pacific, in spite of the daunting feeling of having to repeat that passage.
For some reason I have this crazy notion that if we can make it to Tahiti, all our hard work, stress and endurance will have paid off.. the great reward. The day we had been dingying ashore to an island beach in Las Perlas with other cruiser friends, actually hanging out was the first day we've had. It seems a shame to not reap some more benefits especially for Dave's huge investment of stress and work.
We were just preparing to head off next morning when it clouded over with the look of heavy rain about to approach. Waiting in the cockpit, amused at what I thought was the familiar sound of a fishy boil up, my eyes were met with a different sight: 10 metres from our boat, water was spiralling in an upward motion! It moved parallel with the boat then headed to the end of the island, no cloudy finger to boost it's power though, phew!
"Death at every corner," to quote what one cruiser friend semi-jokes about the "cruising" life! Within minutes of that, the wind picked up with fierce intensity, bringing waves through that consistently rocked our bow up and down, pulling hard at the chain. We sat, concerned, discussing our options and course of action. Alright, I'd have to agree, this is not fun. All the tiring emotions welled from the last 72 hours, messing with the overwhelming scary situation we were in. All I could think to do was get busy: I tidied and made an early lunch, in case we needed to up-anchor. It helped. We then watched a medley of previously loaded TedX talks. These were a great distraction, uplifting, encouraging, funny, challenging, the boys loved them and at some stage the wind eased off while our anchor held.
We stayed on for another night, getting woken early morning by a consistent splashing noise outside our cabin port. It was still dark out but I could just make out the culprit for the noise: bats flying laps around our boat, dipping for fish every 4-6 seconds, no wonder I wasn't getting any sleep!
Another whale, this time close to the anchorage. 

Thankfully we had a very pleasant motor up (still no wind), regularly entertained by whales, sometimes within metres of the boat.
Meeting other cruisers that day our questions of storage were soon answered: there's no cheap, easy option on this side of Panama. Ecuador and Costa Rica were not particularly straight forward either, given our budget restraints.
Turns out we were probably in the safest place for the wind, as it hit like a battering ram through Las Brisas, Panama city.
It was of some reprieve upon arrival on land, taking the kids to the playground, we bumped into some friends with kids we'd met at Shelter bay. Having them there, and anchored close by, helped ease the discomfort and tension.
We researched. We figured out lists.
I realised it was a good decision. We got prices together. Dave courageously started working through the jobs. We listed the boat for sale, keeping our options open. Somewhere along the way we came to the conclusion that selling is not going to be a quick, easy out, we need to keep plodding forward.
There's been a good amount of tension, being in close confinement with arguing, fighting kids and the stress that ensues such decision making under a serious lack of resources, both locally and financially.
We have been feeling rather timid and often overwhelmed but throughout this time have been hugely grateful for the constant encouragement and timely words from close friends and family, regardless of our decision of which way we go. We couldn't have got this far without them. You know who you are, thank you.
I've noticed something over this last week : sitting in the relative safety of our anchorage (not including the days where the wind screams through threatening to drag us all out to sea or into each other), contemplating the possible outcomes of give up, sell up, go home to comfort vs keep on pushing to achieving the goal (which at this stage is very hazy), there has been a subtle change in attitude. Contemplating left us feeling timid, unsure. Now that we've started to progress through the list of jobs, as each one is dealt with, I believe we're getting just a little bit more courage. One could summise, that once we got proactive, only then did the courage follow, albeit a tiny ounce! Then just when we start to think, "yeah, we can do this," we get a knock back like intense thunderstorms cracking overhead and all we want to do is cower to land for cover and catch the first plane home!
Bridge of the Americas has disappeared, here we go again!

I've also noticed a change in courage for me, ie seriously lacking now. Or perhaps it's just that I'm not so blissfully ignorant now!
You'll be pleased to know, our mayday friend made it to the Marquesas under sail, 37 days. A large freighter passed by, and dropped off repair items to help. He is even courageously considering continuing to sail another 10 days onto Tahiti where there will be better repair facilities.
Las Brisas, spot Bridge of the
Americas in background. 

We are aiming for crossing attempt round 2, God willing. Prayers and encouragement much appreciated, we need all the help we can get!