New Batteries, More Solar

There are some truths about modern living. One of them is that we’ve found ways to burn incredible amounts of energy. Fridges, freezers, TV’s, computers, digital cameras, iPads, etc – all add to an ever-growing list of things we’ve begun to think we can’t live without. Well, that trend has certainly crept into boating.

Although I wouldn’t say I have incredibly complex systems onboard – I do have some that require quite a bit of energy. The windlass, autopilot, fridge, freezer, navigation equipment, lights, and watermaker (among other things) all run off of 12V. I have to constantly feed energy to my battery bank to keep all of that stuff working.

My batteries were headed downhill pretty quickly. And my charging systems couldn’t keep up with demand. So I opted to take a whack at both problems, with an eye toward making myself less dependent on burning fossil fuels for energy. Gas/diesel is expensive. And there’s a sneaky cost-center n the other stuff that you run through: filters, oil, impellers, and general wear and tear on engines as you run them in a highly corrosive environment.

I had 4 x 75W (300W) of solar panels onboard when I purchased S/V NOMAD. That was barely enough to keep up on sunny days. And it often left me really low when I was sailing – with all of the gauges, the autopilot, etc. Which left me motorsailing too much for my taste. Part of the solution is a larger solar array. Part of the solution is a more efficient solar charger (MPPT). Part of the solution is a larger battery bank to house more power. I did all three.

Over the last few days we’ve dramatically improved the energy systems onboard. There is currently 4 x 140W of solar onboard (560W), being regulated by a MPPT controller/charger. There are 8 X new 220 amp/hour 6V batteries wired in, for a total of 880 amp/hours. We also rewired my alternators on both engines, to better make use of the engines charging capabilities. I’m adding a better marine house-bank battery charger shortly.  The biggest time-suck  was trying to figure out the wiring mess left by the previous owner.  We had to trace and label almost every wire onboard.  On Day 2, Josh actually said:  “I hate the guy who owned this boat before you.”  I think that’s a common emotion among sailors – a general sense of disgust for half-assed jobs completed by a previous owner.  It seems like you spend a few months paying for the sins of the previous owner.

Wiring Mess

Here’s the new solar mounted on the arch.  The panels were not the same size as my previous ones, so the process was a little complex.  Hell, it took a full day to find stainless hardware to mount the panels.  And it took another full day to cut the teak supports that we needed to mount the new panels. On the side of the side of S/V NOMAD, I’m mounting two more 85W solar panels to the lifelines.  There will be a total of 730W of solar onboard.  That’s a fair amount of solar.

New Solar

Solar From Below

 

While we’re talking about it – that arch is a nifty addition.  I run two trolling rods off of it, it has a fish-cleaning table, it has lights mounted under it, it houses my solar, we hang gear and people in the hammock under it, and it has antennas for my AIS, VHF, WiFi, SSB.  Super useful.  By far one of my favorite things onboard.

Back to power:  you can make wind into power as well, but for the cost and complexity of wind-power, you can buy and install quite a bit of no-maintenance solar. Solar doesn’t make noise. Solar doesn’t require maintenance. And solar doesn’t pose safety hazards in high wind. I’m sticking with solar.

We’ve also installed a new fridge to replace the old, non-working unit in the galley. It’s a large front-opening fridge, so it won’t be the most efficient unit – but it’ll be damn nice to grab cold water or cold beer from the galley without heading downstairs to my under-bunk freezer.

With all of this, we’re slowly chipping away at things that dramatically improve my ability to take my sailing house around the world. It’s taking time, but I’m getting there.  It also appears that we’ll have a new crew member shortly, and if she can handle boat-life we’ll have all of the major roles filled:  captain, cook, and mechanic.

Thinking back to my time before this adventure in the States, and I realize I’ve come pretty far already.  And with the boat tightened down, we’ll be off sailing and diving around the world in no time.  On a well-designed, well-equipped, and well-crewed boat.  How’s that for changing your life?

New Batteries, More Solar

Refitting S/V NOMAD

Things with Josh onboard are pretty good. We knew we needed to kick ass on the boat projects – with so much to accomplish. On the flip side; I do have a little boat-family here. And the views can be astonishingly beautiful.   There are monkeys around, and I have a mooring ball in the case of bad-weather. In addition, we’ve seen some decent fish when we’ve managed to squeeze in a couple of dives. Big Dog Snapper and even a nice Black Grouper the other day.

But, it’s time to really crank out the work onboard. So we did.

Refitting S/V NOMAD

The first step was getting all of my tools laid out, and in working order. The saltwater eats everything. During the tool-cleaning, Oliver came over – he’s a salty dude with a wood-working shop onboard. He’s making a solid teak table for me to clean fish, on my arch. He’s also making a nice teak table for my back deck. Handy guy, and some improvements that add both aesthetic and functional qualities.

So we bullshitted with Oliver. And then we planned the tables. Then we talked about the rest of the stuff we needed. Then we discussed solar panels and wiring and battery banks. Then a few of schools of Blue-Runner, Cero Mackerel, and Bonita started boiling the water around us. Josh grabbed his speargun and shot a couple without leaving the boat.   Boom. Fresh fish for lunch and dinner, and we didn’t even leave the boat.

Oliver said the fish were asking for it – they didn’t realize who’s boat they were around. Fair point.

I made a run to shore, as I heard the vegetable truck was coming. I got fresh veggies, headed back to the catamaran, and made a ridiculously good ceviche. No leftovers, we killed it; proof that it was ridiculously good.

Fresh Ceviche

Then we started to figure out the mess that is my boat’s wiring. If a boat is more than a couple of years old, and has complex systems – the wiring is always ridiculous. Mine is no exception. It’s actually a little daunting.

We managed to figure out the wiring (for the most part), and Josh ended up with fiberglass all over his arms. Bummer. But we had an epic dinner, had some wine, and watched a beautiful sunset. It can be a really good life, even when you’re working hard.

Right now, I’m convinced that having a mechanically/electrically savvy person onboard is a pretty big plus. The amount of things we’ve worked out, looked at, and accomplished is astonishing. And we didn’t even work all day; we took breaks to shoot fish and bullshit with carpenters.  Next up is actually wiring in the new batteries, and then adding the new solar.  I’ll write a bit more about the technical aspects of this at some point.

The next real hole in the crew is someone to cook and clean, while the dudes get dirty. That will round out a pretty solid crew onboard S/V NOMAD. Then we’ll be able to make real headway on the refit, have set roles onboard, and get back to sailing around the world. Oh, and another separation of duties means I’ll get to spearfish a bit more – which was the plan when I started this adventure.

Refitting S/V NOMAD

New Gear, New Crew

There’s been a bit of a delay in posting, but I’ve been a little busy and connection here (as always) is spotty. The good news is that I have quite a few stories. So, here goes.

New Gear, New Crew

I’m doing some pretty big projects onboard. The two immediate ones are replacing all of my batteries, and doubling my the amount of solar I have onboard. These aren’t cheap projects, and they’re heavy and bulky. Not too much fun. But they’ll be a huge improvement, and the energy system onboard is important.

I also needed to pick up my newest crewmember – Josh. I’d like to share the email he sent me that got him onboard, it’s funny. When he said he was coming down – I told him to pick any date, and I’d arrange for him to come down. Once he bought his ticket I started sending him boat parts to bring with him. Add my boat parts to that the fact that he owns a freediving/spearfishing store – and you’ll begin to understand how the guy ended up with 4 oversize bags.

The kicker is that the date he picked ended up being in the middle of the Christo Negro festival. For those of you that are Spanish-challenged: The Black Christ Festival. My take on all organized religion is pretty much the same: it’s dumb. I will say that I believe the Black Christ Festival is especially dumb, up there with Mormonism and Scientology. In my book, a religion is especially dumb when it interferes with my plans.

Fiesta Christo Negro

This festival happens once a year, a few days long. I don’t know exactly what they’re celebrating, but there’s a black Jesus and a bunch of people crawl down the only two-lane road on their hands and knees. That effectively blocks all traffic, down the lonely road upon which there is access to Panama City.  This  interferes with my plans, and therefore makes this particular religious holiday especially dumb.

Since I couldn’t just leave Josh in Panama City with over 250 pounds of oversized baggage, I took the opportunity to jump in a taxi and have a local navigate this festival. Then I arranged for Josh to be picked up at Tocumen Airport and dropped off at a ratty (but cheap) hotel in Panama City – where I’d be waiting.  Done.

I arrived a night before Josh. I had a couple of things set up with local friends. All of these things involved a bar. So, when I woke up the next morning a little hungover I was hardly surprised. But I only realized the extent of my adventures the previous evening, when I walked downstairs and the front desk attendant and bag-boy gave me some sheepish looks. Apparently, it had been a good night.

New Crew

Josh arrived. Turns out he’s a young dude, ex-military, with long blonde hair and tattoos. We have some stuff in common. After the standard small talk we went and grabbed a beer. We both share a distinct distaste for the state of Western Civilization. I call it White Picket Death. White Picket Hell might be a little more accurate. You get the point.

Enough Gear?

The next day I’d arranged a taxi to pick me up and squire me about town on the hunt for solar panels, 15 new batteries, marine wiring, and a host of other hard-to-find boat parts. The taxi I’d arranged bailed. He set up someone else to pick me up. She was horrible.

This remarkably unpleasant lady agreed to $15/hour. Assured us it would be less than $100 per day.   Then she proceeded to explain that she needed to do many family errands. We were done by 5PM, but it was a long day. When she dropped us off at the hotel – she told us she needed $180. Bullshit, says I.  No chance.

She threatens to call the cops.

I tell her my room number, ask her to call the cops and send them to my room – I’m tired.

After dropping off all the day’s trophies (boat parts) in the room, I headed back downstairs. The cabbie is still there, yelling Spanish into her phone. I tell her I’m headed to the bar – she can send the police there, but I need a beer and some food. I’m long past stressing out when people try to rip me off.

After all of her shenanigans, she agreed to $80. I made sure that she wouldn’t get any more gringo business. Another example of the constant fight against the Gringo Tax.

The next day I had another taxi driver (with a pickup truck) arranged to drive us back to Puerto Lindo. That was a fair drive. Especially considering the poor guy would be hauling 15 oversize batteries, 4 large solar panels, 250 pounds of dive gear, and two gringos.

He picked us up from the hotel expecting to drive straight to Puerto Lindo. But we needed to pick up those batteries. And those solar panels. So we did. He was a little stressed, but we made it out of the city before noon. That’s success.

New Batteries!

Car Trouble

We made it more than halfway without issue. I was feeling pretty good about things. We didn’t accomplish all of the goals – but we managed to get the big-ticket stuff; I had my new crew and his bags, we had the solar panels/batteries, and we were almost home.

Then I heard our cab driver curse in a couple of languages. Shit. He ruined his clutch. We tried to get him to his house in Colon, but halfway up a hill his truck completely crapped-out. No bueno. We couldn’t push with nearly a ton of gear (literally) in the back of his truck.

Switching Trucks

Long story short (after the long story, of course): we transferred all the gear/parts out of the broken truck to another taxi. Then we pulled the broken taxi to the taxi-driver’s house. Then we continued to Puerto Lindo. Then we unloaded all the crap into a launcha (panga, if you’re more familiar to the Mexican terminology). Then we unloaded it all onto my catamaran. The additional weight dropped S/V NOMAD an inch in the water. Christo Negro.

Then we found that my dinghy’s gas tank had been stolen. It doesn’t take them long to steal your stuff around here. And it’s a great reminder that I need to leave this thieving little village sometime soon. Luckily I had a spare onboard, so we weren’t completely stranded.

We ate and drank at Han’s little restraunt/bar. Rob and Laurie invited us for drinks. I finished off the Scotch onboard. Then had a cigar. In this States, this could have qualified as a disaster of a trip. In Panama, it was an epic success. Josh got settled in and found a thousand different places to sleep onboard. We had a good night.

A Hammock Under the Arch

Of course, the real work had only just begun.

New Gear, New Crew

The Gringo Tax

Not much going on here besides a massive list of boat projects that I keep adding to.  It’s time for a pretty serious refit, and I finally know what I want done – though figuring out how to do it isn’t all that easy. The good news is I have some pretty salty folks around me that I can ping with the occasional question, I’m aware of the right forums, and I have a dude coming down to help me start checking things off that list.  I’ll need all the help I can get, me thinks.

So rather than bore you with the last few days of relative non-adventure (and how I have to learn to clean my own dishes again) I’ll take the time to write a bit about subjects.  There’s so much that happens outside of the day-to-day, that it’s hard to capture it all.  But here goes.

The Gringo Tax

In Mexico you can often get away with being white, without the Gringo Tax.  I managed pretty well through several adventures.  But the further South you go, the more conspicuous you are – with your Gringo clothes, white skin, and broken Spanish.  And in Panama – the skin tone is even darker than it is elsewhere in Central America – making you stand out all the more.

So I try to go incognito when I need to get business done.  Dirty clothes, some stained Crocs, and a beard several days old helps.  Then I speak as much Spanish as I can, or bring someone fluent.  Every little bit helps.  The absolute worst thing you can do is attract attention to yourself being a Gringo.  Don’t get crazy with the hair.  Don’t wear an outlandish watch.  Don’t wear super-bright clothing.  Avoid fancy backpacks.

Even then, though, you’ll get the Gringo Tax.  It takes many forms:  the run-around, the outright lie, the double-price trick, the hold-your-stuff-hostage trick, and last (but not least) – the hike-up-the-price-after-the-service-is-complete trick.  All are various forms of thievery, but you can hardly blame someone  for trying to make a buck off of you, when their week’s pay might be $100.

A buddy of mine, who also bought a Lagoon catamaran in Panama is black.  When we broached the subject of the gringo tax, he told me how his girlfriend (Asian) was regularly charged 2x for fruit when she went shopping.  He knew this, because he would go behind her – speak Spanish, and be charged 1/2 price.

A fun version of this happened yesterday, when I went to get my rust-bucket SUV fixed.  So here’s an example. This shit’s real.

The Gringo Tax:  An Example

I needed to get my SUV fixed.  Without my SUV, my refit is going to be very, very difficult.  And my SUV was broken:  it had a serious wobble at a certain speed.  I thought it was probably a tire – but there were no visible bubbles on the tire, and after getting a (highly-recommended) mechanic to look at it in Colon – he diagnosed a worn bearing.  I told him clearly (with the help of a translator) that I would like him to:

• Check the bearings to make sure that was the source of the wobble


• If so – call me with a quote to replace both bearings (left & right side)


• If that was an acceptable price,  I’d have him do the work


• At that point I would need to know if he could finish the work that day (or if I’d need to ride a bus back to Puerto Lindo)

He agreed.

But here’s what actually happened.

I did some other shopping – including trying to find a couple of oil-seals to replace some old ones in my saildrives (translation:  more boat-parts shopping).  After not hearing from the mechanic’s shop – I called.  He said that he had already replaced the bearings on one side – the car would be ready at 2PM.  Well, without a price agreed upon – this was a recipe for disaster.  I asked him for a quote.  He said call back in 30 minutes, and assured me the bearing were the source of the wobble.

In 30 minutes, he wasn’t answering his phone.  I wasn’t happy about that, but I had plenty to do so I called a taxi and kept searching for these elusive boat parts. I found a passable solution around 3PM.  At which point I received another call from the mechanic, telling me my SUV was ready.  Still no price.

So I headed back to the shop.  The guy met me and told me it was going to be $60.  Deep breath, he’s not trying to screw me.  But there was a kicker:  the bearings weren’t, it turns out, the source of the wobble.  So I’d just paid him to replace the bearings and they didn’t need replacing.  After replacing the bearings, the mechanic had come to the conclusion that it was one of my front tires.  I didn’t have the energy to argue about $60.  Since $60 wasn’t going to kill me – I just got in the SUV and left.  I chalked the whole thing up to The Gringo Tax.  It wasn’t over, though.

Now I needed a tire.

They sell second-hand tires here, and based upon the general state of my SUV – I decided that was my best option.  I went to the “best” place for second-hand tires in Colon.  They, of course, didn’t have my size.  But they had something close – for $35.  The tire they brought me was badly warped and completely unusable.  No dice.  They had one more option – it seemed better so I agreed to $30, mounted.

So they took the offending tire off the SUV, took it off the rim, and put the new tire on the rim.  It held air, which was a good sign.  But, of course, as soon as they lowered the weight of my SUV onto the second-hand tire – it immediately started hissing like a cobra.  We ran some water over it to find the hole – located it, and patched it.  Then remounted the tire and dropped the SUV on the tire again.  It hissed again.

This time we managed to locate no less than 3 additional holes.  And they still wanted $ for this tire.  No dice.  So I asked about a new tire.

Good news:  they had something close enough.  Bad news:  it was $135 for an off-brand tire.  I was stuck – I needed a new tire and they were going to charge me to remount my old one anyways.  And if I didn’t get a new tire put on, I wouldn’t know if that was actually the cause of my (initial) wobble.  On the other hand, if I mounted a new tire, and the SUV continued to wobble – I could take it back and argue with the guy who did the bearings.

Completely fed up with arguing, waiting, and the language barrier – I conceded to the new tire.  That’s one less thing I have to worry about.  They put it on, then added tax to the $135. Then charged me an additional $3 to mount the tire.  Jesus, this Gringo Tax can get pricey.

Moving On

I’d like to say there are some lessons to be learned here – but I’m not sure if there are.  It’s more about learning to deal with (and minimize) the inevitable speedbumps and roadblocks when you’re traveling in South/Central America.  If you’re traveling as a backpacker – I don’t think this stuff is as prevalent.  But if you’re traveling via motorcycle, car, or boat (things that need parts/fuel) – it’s just part of the experience.  You’re going to get bent-over.

The silver lining, in my case, is that I now have a working automobile again – which is super-important to this upcoming refit.  Now I just have to get through Black-Jesus Day in Portobello.  That’s a real thing.

The Gringo Tax

Freeing the Captives

Zero real boatwork.  Nada.  Zilch.  That’s the reality of the last few days.  We’ve been pretty busy doing nothing.  I haven’t even made it to shore to drop off my car at the mechanic.  And there have been social commitments. Lunch at the local marina.  Eating and drinking under my trampoline-tent-thing. Dinners on friend’s yachts.  And an epic party on Rob and Laurie’s yacht- Southern Comfort.

 

It’s A Small World

We’re in a pretty remote place.  Puerto Lindo can be a beautiful place, but it’s not easy to get to and though it’s popular with cruisers – there are more interesting places.  That said – it seems like everyone ends up here.  Even if it’s just stopping through between San Blas and Shelter Bay (a marina).  Tons of sailing bums cruise through here.  And the anchorage is small enough that we notice all the new boats.  And last night every boat in the anchorage got an invite to Rob’s party.  Most showed up. Many were familiar faces.

Eating

It’s funny – when you have very little that you must do, you find yourself thinking about food alot.  Which leads to really planning meals.  And then you spend inordinate amounts of time cooking.  That’s a massive change from what I’d do when I was in my previous life.  I used to just call in delivery.  Or pick food up from a local store.  Or have my ex-girlfriend pick it up from somewhere.  Needless to say – there’s been a huge shift in the food department onboard.  I think Damo helped with that, we spent a lot of time talking flavors and ingredients. I think it’s also a result of having people to cook for.

All that said – the most popular meals are super-simple.  Good cheese, olives, salami, and crackers is a hit every single time.  Add some wine, and you have something people will fight over.  Those kinds of meals are best under the trampoline-tent.  It’s really hard to duplicate that experience – eating great food, drinking wine midday, with view that’s to die for.

Tent-Lunch

 

 

The Party

With the Aussies leaving, things were supposed to begin winding down.  It’s been quite the opposite though.  Aside from fixing an issue with the head (which, I’ve decided, is the worst job in the world) and sealing some hatches – we’ve been slammed with social obligations.  Mind you, this is a great problem.  Arguably, one of the best – second only to too many big, dumb fish.

Hatchwork

It all kind of came to a head yesterday.  It started out yesterday morning.  I was reading in my cabin when I heard one of the girls jump into the water, and then crack up laughing.  I got up and went outside.  Chels told me to look at Rob’s boat.  It was a sight.  He’d strung up every flag he had onboard.  It was, at this point (8AM), that I realized I was going to be drunk that evening.  Possibly very drunk.  Rob loves a good party, and loves throwing them.  So when he heard the Aussies were leaving, he found that to be an excellent excuse to host a shindig.

Aussie Treats

I took it easy all day – I didn’t even have a drink with lunch.  Chels and Sarah drank Sangria with lunch. I was in full-blown party-prep mode, meaning not a drop of alcohol before the party.  I figured that would at least allow me to be able to weave my dinghy back from Rob’s boat.

We were fashionably late to the party, having to get some beer from town beforehand.  With that accomplished we headed to Southern Comfort (Rob’s yacht).  Onboard were all of the usual suspects and some newcomers – most passing through.

A Full Driveway

Everything started off pretty innocently.  Small drinks and sober people.  Naturally, after a couple of hours that changed.  I was several Rum’s deep, so I don’t remember recognizing other people being drunk.  And when the boat’s rocking – you all end up walking in zig-zags anyways.

The Crew

Eventually there was some dancing.  Then there was some more drinking.  Then everyone started to go home.  Then we decided to leave.

A Full Boat

I wasn’t capable of operating my dinghy at this point, and friends being friends – they made it pretty clear that Chels was “driving.”  But before that happened I managed to fall off my dinghy, just to make sure everyone knew my condition.  Then we made it back to S/V NOMAD and Chels tipped me off the dinghy again.  That’s borderline mutiny.  I would kick her off the boat, but, well – she’s leaving…

Anyways – that was the girl’s last night here.  The captives are free.  Tomorrow they’ll be gone, and I’ll work on getting my life back in order.  I’ll definitely pull the tools out and get to work. And my alcohol consumption will drop dramatically without the Aussie vagabonds encouraging my bad behavior.  Sarah is heading back to Austrailia shortly and Chels is heading to Costa Rica.  Hearing about Sarah going back reminded me of how much I really, really will hate to go back – if I ever do.  Going home seems like quitting, right now.

The next crew-member on this little adventure is supposed to be a handy guy, and with the complete lack of productive action over the last week – it’ll be really nice to have somebody who can handle a wrench.

 

Freeing the Captives

Chilling Out

Well, I haven’t done anything really dumb in a few days.  I haven’t shot any fish.   No boat projects.  I haven’t even been freediving.  For the most part – I’ve just been running errands, hanging out, and enjoying some (needed) down time.  I have a new crewmember joining soon, and Chels is leaving soon – so that’ll shake things up around S/V NOMAD.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It’s back to monsoon weather.  Which means that daily/nightly there are rainstorms.  There were a couple that came in about 4AM, with 30 knots of wind.  Those were interesting, and I was glad to be in a protected anchorage, hanging on a mooring ball.  It starts slowly – a bit of wind, a couple drops of rain.  I’m at the point, though, that I can tell when we’re going to get weather – you just feel it.

The wind picks up and starts whistling through the rigging. The night gets darker. Then the boat starts struggling against the mooring/anchor line.  It’s a weird, jerky motion – and it’s the official sign that you need to be up and looking around.  Other boats are probably dragging anchor, even if you’re not.

I won’t say who – but there have been several pretty salty folks pulling anchor, dragging hundreds of meters until they finally get hooked again.  That’s some dangerous stuff.  Even if you’re hooked, you really have to be watching out for the other boats in the anchorage.  The French seem to be the worst offender, from a nationality standpoint.  That’s a broad generalization, based upon a tiny sample size of evidence that I didn’t scientifically collect – so take that with a grain of salt.

Colon

My car’s trashed.  There’s a U-joint or something that’s causing it to wobble around on the front tires.  No bueno.  The local crew won’t fix it, so I have to drive it to Portobello – but I’ve been lazy about that.   Which leaves me riding the bus.  That hasn’t been too bad – but it hasn’t been great either.  Chels and I went into Colon with a small army of local cruisers.  Then Rob and I took another trip.  No biggie, but the buses here are appropriately named “Diablos Rojos” – the Red Devils. The bus drivers are nuts.  Maximum capacity is stretched.  The mechanical condition isn’t great.  But we’ve survived.

I’m starting to get the hang of getting into and around Colon, without driving.  It’s not bad, especially if you have a couple of people that need to go to the same places.  That said – Colon is a shithole.  If that sounds harsh, I invite you to go stroll around the streets there.  But do so with the right amount of money, so that if you are held at knifepoint they won’t get too much.  Be careful going without money though – because then you might just get stabbed out of spite.

Friends, Plans, Projects

I’ve largely decided that I won’t be sailing across the Pacific next year.  Unless something changes again.  Really, I just want to get the boat tightened up – there’s so much work to be done before I can be 100% confident in it and myself. That confidence is important.

After removing that schedule-pressure, I’ve started to chill out.  It leaves me in San Blas for Christmas, with the family.  Maybe from there I’ll head to Puerto Rico.  Maybe Belize.  Maybe Columbia.  With another season on this side – the options are open.

I wrote a list of all of the boat projects.  It was long.  There’s so many, I can’t even begin to list them here.  There are solar projects, engine projects, bilge pump projects, battery projects, refrigeration projects.  The good news is that I have a dude coming down to help out.  An extra set of mechanically-inclined hands onboard will be nice.

 

Aussies on the Boat

Well, Chels is leaving soon.  Just about the time you get a crew-member trained, they need to leave.  She’s got some surfing and such to do in other countries.  Her last few days have been fun though.  The big event around the anchorage is that Sarah showed up.  She’s another Aussie chick and a friend of Chels’.  Traveler, likes the ocean, etc.  Anyways – having the girls onboard is fun.

The day after Sarah came in, I was supposed to be up at 6AM.  I was heading back into Colon.  But since it was a celebration night, we had a little party onboard S/V NOMAD.  Sarah broke out the cards and we started a game of Kings (a drinking game).  We had a great time.  Maybe too good.  Carla came over – I was completely outnumbered by both Aussies and women.  Surrounded by estrogen.  To be fair – these chicks are all the least girly chicks on the planet and they’re all rad.  I wasn’t in bad company.

The Estrogen Party

I woke up the next morning with a hell of a hangover.  I blame the Aussies.  While they slept in, I was up and headed to Colon with Rob.  I was so hungover and late that I forgot my damn coffee.  Three hours of sleep, a wicked hangover, and no coffee.  Poor Rob was headed to Colon with a real monster.

When I got back to Puerto Lindo I wasn’t sure what to expect.  The girls had made the catamaran into a cave by curtaining all the windows.  There was mounds of chocolate on salon table, and they were watching movies.  They were seriously suffering too.  Apparently they didn’t even hear me leave in the morning.  They’d had a productive day though – they’d managed to scrub all the decks and kayak into town.  It’s nice coming home to clean decks.

Check out their candy stash. And check out how happy Chels is to get some chocolate.

Candy Monsters

The girls are pretty much at home on the boat.  They’re sleeping soundly, eating well, and showering on the decks when it rains.  When people love the ocean, this life comes pretty easily me thinks.

Rain Shower

With all of the social activity (there’s a pizza night tonight, we did a lunch at Panamarina, we have monkey-feeding, etc) and the rain I haven’t done much as far as boat projects go.  But that’s fine.  I have time. 

Chilling Out

Heading Home

Well, we spent a few weeks in San Blas.  It was nice, but Damo needed to get home, we were out of food and my list of repairs was rapidly growing.  So we headed back home, to Puerto Lindo.  Honestly, there are better ports (than Puerto Lindo) to refit a boat.  And better countries than Panama.   But I have a mooring ball, a vehicle, and a pretty neat collection of cruiser-friends here.  So – Puerto Lindo was our destination when we left San Blas.

Cartagena was a little too much of a sail for us, considering how many kinks I needed to work out.

Heading Home

We left Coco Banderos in the morning to head back to Chichime.  We spent an afternoon diving in Chichime, then went ashore and had a beer or two.

The Crew’s Last Dive in San Blas

Then we spent the last night in San Blas with celebratory drinks.  Waking up happened early enough, but when I woke up I was reminded of the Scotch I’d consumed – my head was a little cloudy.

Picking up from an anchorage and getting underway has become second-nature for myself and the crew.  It happens without me even saying much.  I’m thinking that it takes 3 weeks or so for a crew to get in that groove. At about 3 weeks, I start saying things like:  “we need to pick up the dinghy on the davits”  and the crew starts saying things like:  “did it 10 minutes ago.”

So, without much fuss – we were out of Chichime heading back to Puerto Lindo.  We were greeting with flat seas and no wind.  It was hot, and we were motoring.  After a couple of hours – the wind picked up, right on our nose.  I could make some tacks, but the amount of wind we were getting made the extra distance incurred from the tack too much.  So we motored, and lost half a knot to the headwind.

By 10 AM I was hoping the Wind Gods would change the angle of the wind.  Or, at least, increase it to a useable speed so we could sail and tacking would be worth it.  The Wind Gods heard me – they opened up to about 12 knots (still on the nose) – which wasn’t much, but enough to make me put out the headsail and actually sail a bit. The wind also cooled things off.  It’s funny the difference that makes.

Our fishing wasn’t going well – we trolled through several baitballs and right through birds working the surface:  no dice.  There were also huge logs drifting everywhere and grass patches that looked more like islands.    So whoever was at the helm really needed to pay attention.  After a few hours of pulling in lines to de-weed them, we got sick of trolling.  Rather, we decided to do something we’d threatened to do the night before – jump in.

Damo Suited Up On The Weed Line

So we buzzed some floating grass-islands and I managed to see some chicken-dolphin (small Mahi) under the weedline.  Since I wanted to be onboard in case something went haywire – Damo went in.  We talked about not shooting the chicken-dolphin unless that was the only thing under the weedline.  Damo took his floatline rig in, and by the time he’d gotten into the water – we’d drifted over it.

So I jumped in and untangled his line as he pulled it out.  I didn’t put on a mask, so I was a little nervous splashing around on the surface next to this weedline in the middle of the Caribbean.  Too much big stuff hangs out underneath those weedlines.  Like big, offshore sharks.  When I was back onboard, one of those sharks, completely visible in the crystal-clear water – buzzed S/V NOMAD.

Bird Action Over Damo

Damo kicked around for an hour or so – just hanging out and scoping the fish underneath the weedline.  Eventually he headed back, so I angled the catamaran so we didn’t wrap up his floatline and he back onboard.  No fish?  Nope.  He’d seen plenty of bonita, blackfin, and some chicken-dolphin – but he was holding off so I could jump in and land one.   Unfortunately we’d burned our time, and needed to get back underway or we’d be trying to moor in the dark – this headwind sucked.

So we were off again.  The wind picked up for brief gusts, but then would die down again.  It wasn’t the “set it and forget it” type of sailing, and it wasn’t fast sailing.  Nonetheless we made 7.5 knots at one point and averaged almost 5.  Not horrible, and we didn’t burn too much diesel.  By 3 PM I’d called ahead to a friend in the anchorage to make sure my mooring ball was clear.  When we got into the anchorage, Rob was sitting in his dinghy holding our mooring ball for us.

Rob Waiting On Us

He handed it to Damo and just like that, we were back home.  Naturally, Rob and our other friends (Harry, Linda, Laurie, and crew) were all having drinks and we were invited.

Too Many Hands…

So we went and started the story-telling.  We had some good ones.

In Puerto Lindo, seems there had been some changes.  It’s funny how far away I was from Western civilization, but how our little group of friends was just like a community.  In fact, this little community was – in many ways – tighter than any I’ve had back home.  Within minutes, we were told all of the major happenings around here,  being fed drinks, and they even got the captain some 12 year Scotch as a welcome-back.

• Andy, with the Catana, had put his boat on the reef in San Blas. He’d almost destroyed it and had only owned the boat for about a month.  Major, expensive bummer.


• A Frenchman had gotten stranded at sea in a shipping lane and called a launcha to drag him back into the harbor (20 miles).  That’s a long tow.


• A few boats had drug anchor. No surprise. 


• Alex was gone in New York, he’d bought a second boat. Twice the problems, now.


• Other friends had taken to feeding the monkeys and defending them from the locals.  We were replaced. 


• Another couple of boats had been robbed.  Nothing major, but a disturbing trend. 

And there were rumors floating around that we were coming in crippled.  Well, we came in a little worse for wear – but we came in under our own power, with both engines, and no immediate needs (water, medical, etc).  So I think we did just fine.

We had dinner at Han’s.  There’s nothing quite as nice as coming in from sailing and having someone else cook fresh food and hand you cold beer.  I consider that a win.  

Heading Home

Coco Banderos

So, apparently there are some pretty large saltwater crocodiles around here. I was aware that they made it to the islands nearer to the mainland. I was not aware that they made it to the islands further offshore. Neither was Chels. Neither was Damo. We got schooled.

Saltwater Crocodiles in San Blas

After a bit of diving in the Hollandes, we took off the rest of the afternoon. We lazed around under the tent up front. We drank some wine. We generally just killed time. It was nice.

I was deep into some twisted fiction when Chels took off on her surfboard. I really didn’t even hear her go. But I did see here paddling later. Then I went back to the book.

Thirty minutes later I thought I heard her yell at me. That’s not a good sign.

I saw her paddling back, and yelled back at her. She seemed alright. I turned down the tunes onboard and went back up front to make sure there wasn’t any kind of emergency. I heard her yell again, I answered, she asked to be picked up.

I assumed she’d picked up an inquisitive shark that was following her. No big deal. But I jumped in the dinghy and sped out there. When I got there she was clearly freaked out. She told me there was a saltwater crocodile out there larger than my dinghy – and it had popped up right next to her.

Being a skeptic by nature, I had to see it for myself. So we took off in search of the beast. And we found it. There wasn’t much exaggeration on her part – it was all of 10 feet, swimming in the open ocean just a ½ mile from S/V NOMAD. We followed it for a bit, and then decided to go get the camera.

When we got the camera, Damo wanted to see it too – so he came along. The last place we saw the crocodile was very near Roberto’s little hut, so we went by and told him it was headed his way. We figured he’d want to know as they had a baby and some dogs running around. He wasn’t surprised, and said that one lived in the mangroves “aya.”

Well, it was more like “aqui” than “aya” – but whatever.

We never did find the croc when we had the camera. But let’s say that we avoided the general area for our water-activities.

Cocos Banderos

Getting into Cocos wasn’t too bad, despite it being a bit crowded.  We arrived on a Saturday.  Unbeknownst to us, that meant that all of the rich and famous from Panama would be powering their mega-yachts out to Cocos.  Once there, all of the mega-yachts stern-tied to the islands and dropped massive tenders.  Those massive tenders were buzzing around the harbor, pulling kids on wakeboards when we arrived.

So, after dodging all the wakeboarding children in Cocos, we managed to find a spot and drop our anchor. The noise was a little annoying, but it didn’t bother me nearly as much as it did Damo.  He didn’t like it at all.

S/V NOMAD in Cocos

After setting up our trampoline-tent-thing on the front of the catamaran, we chilled and read.  It was semi-entertaining just watching the insanity of the uber-rich, taking full advantage of their weekend.  But as it neared sundown, I got bored and decided to head out for a quick dive.  Chels was game, but Damo wanted to get his evening stretch-session in – so he stayed back.

Diving in Cocos

We were running out of daylight by the time Chels and I got out to the reef.   So the vis wasn’t great, but there was a little life.  I started working my way around the ledge, but there wasn’t much home.  I lost Chels pretty early on, as she was distracted in the shallows and I was swimming out to the deeper water.  I managed to see her head back to the dinghy, so I knew she was find – but we weren’t being great dive buddies.  So I came back.

I was giving up on the idea of decent fish at this spot, and the water was turning darker as we lost sunlight.  I switched my attention to trying to find lobster, or the elusive Channel Clinging Crab. I love those crabs.  I’d been searching for one the entire trip, thus far, and hadn’t found one.  They’re delicious.

Here’s me searching for them:

Searching for Crabs in San Blas

Anyways, after spending some time with my head deep into holes – I managed to catch a glimpse of a giant pincher a couple of inches from my nose.

It surprised me a bit, but excited me even more.  The trick now was to get the damn thing out.  But he was big, deep in the hole, and it was getting pretty dark.  I signaled Chels to show her, but it was so deep into the hole and so dark – she couldn’t see it.

I quickly decided not to try to wrestle with him, those pinchers would maul me.  Which left me trying to angle a giant speargun into a tiny hole, and then trying to shoot at the area where I suspected his body would be.  Well, I tried and missed.  So I spent the next 15 minutes diving and trying to recover my stuck spear.  With the spear out, I was out of daylight and the crab was out of sight – deep in the hole somewhere.

So I made one quick round on the ledge and came back to the hole.  Lo and behold, when I stuck my head into the hole again – I got a face-full of pincher.  Stoked!  This time the angle was better, but the light was worse.  I took a deep breath, lined up and pulled the trigger.   The hole erupted in a mass of legs and pinchers, which meant I’d won.

Naturally, the crab made himself pretty big in the small hole – which made getting him out tough. But another 15 minutes and I had the crab out of the hole and was completely stoked.  I won.

Crab Dinner in Cocos!

 

We hauled butt back to the boat, narrowly missing a reef in the waning light.  When I got back to the boat Damo wanted to know how we did – I was all smiles when I showed him the crab.  Those damn things are hard to find.  Even harder to get out of their hiding places.   And this one was a fine specimen, much larger than any I’d seen before – including those in the Kuna boats.  Damo didn’t really care as he couldn’t eat shellfish, but I was stoked.

Pincher to Hand Comparison

Back onboard I had a celebratory drink and got the pressure-coooker going.  It was crab-time.  A little while later we pulled him out, cracked him open, and found only a tiny amount of meat.  We were stunned.  So much work for such a small reward!  I’ve literally seen more meat inside a small Blue Crab, and this one was 5X the size.  Crazy.

Nonetheless, it was super tasty.

Cooked Channel Clinging Crab

Long story short (after the long story) – the Channel Clinging Crab is delicious.  But it’s a lot of work for a small reward.  As such, I’m not making nearly the effort in bringing them onboard next time.  A single fish could supply 10X the meat at half the effort.  Of course, there are very few fish that equal the taste of these particular crabs.

By nightfall, every single motor-yacht had left our anchorage.  It was peaceful.  We all slept soundly, woke up early and went for another dive.

Broken Spears and Big Fish

I had a couple of locations marked to revisit, and we did so (thanks Mark, I kept your secrets).  It was beautiful diving, but it wasn’t incredibly productive.  That said, I did have an interesting experience with a big fish.  Typically not a game-fish – but out here with no Ciguatera…

So I’d been investigating holes and ledges for a half-hour.  Nada. There were some small snapper – but I’d been hoping for some big Dog Snapper, a nice Grey Snapper, a Mutton,  a Grouper…  Hell, anything tasty.  And flirting with the idea of not bringing home fish led me to my next decision.

I was hiding under a ledge at 50 feet when I noticed a shark coming toward me.  I kicked toward him to get a better look and realized it was a massive barracuda.  Like really big.  And we see some true monsters in the Gulf.  This one was bigger than anything I’d seen before.

I knew shooting him would be something akin to a bomb exploding in the peaceful water around me.  Things would go from peaceful to chaos instantly.  But he was massive.  And I honestly didn’t think people would believe how big he was.  And we had some friends around to share the fish (we eat them here, there’s no cig).  So I sat there, holding my breath and pondering the situation.

He was the same size I was, minus my fins.  Massive.  And toothy.  Clearly not worried about me.  In fact, he started pressing me a bit – getting in my face and a little territorial.

We used to shoot them for chum (burley) in the Gulf.  And some real monsters too.  They have a tendency, when they get larger, to charge you or anyone else in the water after they’re shot.  I’ve dodged a couple of these toothy missiles, post spear-in-fish.  So I looked around and I was alone, which was good as I’d only have to worry about him charging me.

Then my first contraction brought the issue to a head:  shoot or not.  Make a decision, Nate.   I aimed for his head, hoping for a stone-shot – but he was even larger than I thought, making him a little further off and my shot a little off the mark.  Good visibility does that to you.

When I pulled the trigger, it was like somebody had pressed a big, red button – labeled “Shitstorm.”  Immediately he charged me.  I was on my way up already though, and managed to dodge the spear as it whizzed past my face.  Then the line started screaming off my reel.  I tightened the drag.  It was still going too quickly – so I grabbed the gun as tightly as I could.  I was expecting a little water-ski adventure.  Then nothing.

NOTHING.  I pulled on the line:  nada.  Following the reel line through the reef I found a tiny piece of what had been a brand-new 7.5mm spring-steel shaft, neatly parted.  Dammit.  That has literally never happened to me, despite landing tuna, wahoo, marlin, amberjack, etc.  Crazy how powerful this fish was.

I spent the rest of the time diving and following around fish with the camera.  Which was surprisingly rewarding.

So – again – long story short:  I lost the biggest barracuda I’ve seen yet.  To a broken spear.  Jeez.

Coco Banderos