I left off last post as I was boarding a plane from Houston to Panama, with only half of my boat-gear.  On this flight a couple of pretty women took an interest in  me and so we exchanged numbers and names on the plane, much to the surprise of many of the passengers.  Never they mind, this is S.O.P.    

On the flight, I napped for a few minutes and read.  Real sleep continued to evade me, but a nap was progress.  

Joy, Back in Panama

When we landed the girls found me again and cut in the customs line so we could talk.  They seemed fun and adventurous.  To that end, I could think of few reasons to not have them onboard.  It soon became obvious they would visit NOMAD. 

As I walked out of the gates in Panama City, I was greeted by Teena (other crewish) and Roger (our taxi driver).  We went straight to the hotel, dropped my bags, and went in search of a good meal and a good drink.  It was also Dec 31st – meaning we needed a party.  The good news is that the meal, drinks, and party were easy to find.  And find them we did, complete with a ridiculously dangerous fireworks show that you can only get in near-3rd world countries. 

The next morning we were a little hungover.  I’m functional in this state, so I was up and starting to accomplish what I could this fine (New Year’s) day. I needed boat stuff, a ton of groceries, comms, an iPad repair, SIM cards, etc.  Naturally, this was New Years Day,  there wasn’t much we could do (everything was closed) – but we did try.  That evening the girls I met on the plane (Bobbeye and Alexis – hey girls, miss you already) came shopping with us and we arranged to get out to the boat the following day. 

Around 1PM the next day we loaded too much food/drink and too much boat-gear into a 4WD vehicle and took off toward San Blas.  A short stop for food and then we were suddenly unloading all of this into a launcha, the very same launcha that picked me up three weeks ago from NOMAD (this will be important as the story progresses).  We double-checked everything and made sure we all understood what was happening and then we pushed off toward NOMAD. 

Now,  NOMAD was in The Swimming Pool, and the drivers of my launcha knew this and had – just a couple weeks before – picked me up on NOMAD in The Swimming Pool.  So getting back to the boat wasn’t a huge concern of mine – we were going home and we would be there by sunset.   Surely.  

So when the launcha driver stopped in Yansaladup (many miles from The Swimming Pool and NOMAD) and inquired as to where my boat was – I was surprised.  My boat was another 10 miles away – exactly where I’d left it and where this very man picked me up just a few weeks before.  Even if he was stoned, this shouldn’t have happened.  When the driver told me he didn’t have enough fuel to get out to my boat, it was hard to hide my frustration.  We had reached the point that I was doubting his mental faculties.  Now I had myself, three guests, and two months worth of food (some of it needing refrigeration) – and we had no way to get that to my boat, nor anyplace to spend the night until we could regroup.  Light was fading fast, we were cold and wet, and there was no easy solution.  But I had a couple of tricks up my sleeve and I knew more than a couple people around here.

As we pulled into the nearest island chain, I heard the launcha driver trying to figure out his next move on the phone.  He was trying to justify his mistake and patch it up as best he could – but he’d effed up badly.  Very badly.   It was, after all, his only job to know where boats were and to deliver people to them.  Incompetence is so common here, but this was above and beyond. 

As we pulled into Chichime (still many miles from NOMAD), I saw friends on the islands.  A huge wave of relief washed over me as I recognized a good friend and fellow Texan – Steve.  Steve has a beautiful and large and fancy and expensive 44 foot Leopard catamaran.  And we needed something like that to sleep on tonight, since our launcha driver failed us so completely.  Luckily for me, it wasn’t a group of guys I was asking to put onboard Steve’s boat – but a group of beautiful women.  So he said yes and we began the process of unloading the launcha onto Bad Kitty. 

That night we came to the decision that we would all sail together on Steve’s boat (Bad Kitty) to The Swimming Pool.  After all Steve needed some fish and I could (minimally) provide that for him, since he’d been such a gracious host.  Of course, Steve was doubtful about The Swimming Pool providing the kind of fish I said it could – but I know this spot and I know it well.  To that end, I would fill his freezer- providing the weather wasn’t overly strong. 

Underway

The next morning we pulled Bad Kitty’s anchor, stopped by a friend’s yacht to pick up groceries to deliver to another friend in The Swimming Pool – and headed towards NOMAD.  Finally.  The girls began to get seasick, despite a tiny swell and sea-sickness pills.  As we arrived and NOMAD came into view I couldn’t help but do a little dance.  Finally, finally, back home.  FINALLY.  I promised myself to think hard before I left her (NOMAD) again.  

Surprisingly the boat was in good condition.  There was the mold-farm, but that is the nature of leaving a boat locked up in the Caribe.  Batteries were full.  Water was full.  Both of which were important, considering I now had three land-lubbing ladies onboard – afterall, it takes months to develop water and electricity discipline.

Dinghy-grocery moves (and Steve/Bad Kitty)

The rest of the day was spent moving things from Bad Kitty to NOMAD, saying hello to old friends that were in the area, and drinking our celebratory drinks.  More friends showed up – hey Lisa, you still have my pans :)   … Everyone was asking for fish.  But when we headed out to the reef – it was too rough, even for me.  And so we ended up eating spaghetti and making plans for tomorrow’s fishing escapade.  We drank and talked and Lisa stopped by so we could catch up.  She reminded me that it was a year ago that we met – on New Years on an island named Yansaladup.  It’s been a wild year.  

The girls

Good days

The next morning found Bobbeye and Alexis leaving abrutly, in search of a reliable internet connection that proved impossible to provide the night before.  Something about work.  And it was another moment in which I was reminded how good my life really is – to not be controlled by such outside forces.  I was sad to see them go, but such is life.  With the girls gone and hangovers to nurse – the rest of the day was spent resting and cleaning.  That afternoon I got in touch with Kenny who is now in this area (Kenny, can’t wait to see you dude!).  Having good friends around you makes all the difference in the world.  

At some point Steve began telling me (again) how few fish there were in The Swimming Pool.  I told him I would fill his freezer in less than an hour – depending on some amount of luck with weather/fish.  Steve told me that he bet we would be eating SPAM for dinner.  I knew better, and always appreciate a spearfishing challenge.

After all of his chiding – I picked him up in the dinghy that afternoon and we went outside the reef.  The rolling waves were steep and every bit of 8 foot – crashing into the reef with a sound that is exciting to me, but terrifying to others (I soon found out).  Steve was at the edge of his limits – his knuckles were white and when I was laughing, he was tight-lipped as we jumped and crashed through the surf to the outer reef.  It’s always a bit dicey getting outside, but we made it.

As I found the nearest honey-hole and dropped the anchor – Steve decided he would stay in the dinghy.  It was too rough for him.  And, of course, he didn’t think I would find fish.  As I rolled into the water – he said “Just think about SPAM.”  

Three minutes later I put the first of the fish into the dinghy.  No big deal to me, but Steve was a bit surprised. 

Within twenty minutes I’d speared Black Grouper, Dog Snapper, Triggerfish (Teena placed this order), and Yellow Jack.  And I’d seen a Goliath Grouper the size of a Volkswagen Beetle.  Stoked?  Yep.  My first dive back at The Swimming Pool and I’d landed another Black Grouper.  At this point we had fish for a week, and the dinghy was rolling precariously over the steep and near-breaking waves – so I called the trip and we navigated back to our catamarans.  As I jumped into the dinghy with the last fish – Steve said:  “Thank God you’re done, I was sure these waves were going to flip the dinghy.”  

Once back at the catamarans we cleaned the fish and planned our dinner, which was to be held onboard Bad Kitty.  I actually took a shower, put on clean clothes and even combed my hair.  We brought a bottle of red wine and the dinner ended up resembling a get-together in someone’s $1M condo downtown – but with better views.  Sometimes I feel spoiled.  And sometimes I feel like the most overworked and underpaid captain that has ever existed.  I suppose it all balances out. 

We talked until I’d finished cooking the fish – then we gorged ourselves on one of the best meals I’ve had in months.  At the end of it, as I stretched out on a cushion to listen to the waves break on the reef and the fish jump around the boat.

It wasn’t silent, but it was peaceful.  No car horns. No sirens.  No dogs barking.  No road noise.  No alarms.  No children screaming.  Just the sound of the breaking waves underneath a beautifully starlit sky.  We were quiet for a moment, just enjoying the silence, lost in not-so-deep thought.    

Then Steve verbalized what I was feeling.  He said, “What the f*ck would you do if you had to go to work tomorrow in Austin?”  We laughed hysterically at this.  

And as his words faded into the night, so did the very thought itself, never to be taken seriously. Joy.  Back in Panama.  

Joy, Back in Panama