My Boat - Water Taxis

Over 900 pounds gone.  Still counting.  She floats on the water, not in the water.   Sure hope I get her back before the water taxi operators go on strike, maybe that's just a rumor.

Strange place.  They complain about too much competition.   There are ten idle boats at Bocatorenos Botas because they don't have captains.

Some guy picked me up this morning and wanted $25.  That's $4 a mile.   I gave him $10.  We argued.   "Nobody would do that for $10."  Red Frog is right across the way.  That's a $4 or $5 ride apiece for two or more. I pulled out my cell phone and read him 10 names that do.  Hey capitan, I didn't arrive yesterday.  He told me to stop using the co-op  The dispatcher and my regular drivers stood behind and just shook their heads.   I saw him again on the way back out of town.  He scowled.  Another operator was glad to take me home for $10.

I was at the gas dock with the taxi driver, Eddy.  Victor asked me, "Jim, when do you get your boat back?"  "You know Worth?"  He laughed, "Eventually."

Dock Posts

Today I plan to put on some dock posts.  There is no way to tie my boat on both sides and the dock is at a height that the gunwhale alternates between being above the dock and below the dock.  When the tide pushes the boat toward the dock and rises or falls it damages the rubrail.  An Indian would simply pick up a one hundred pound rock and drop  it on the posts for hours on end.  I am not in that kind of shape.

My gardener has left to attend a religious retreat in David until March and I can't find another willing to do the work.   So my alternative is to boat 12 miles, pick up a special pipe, go to town, try to find an adapter, go to a friends and pick up a high volume water pump and then blow a hole in.  Installation should be but a few minutes.   I then have to return everything.  This is far more work on my side and will cost far more money.   

Maybe I should just ask around some more.  Coffee on the deck while I mull this over.  I really need to build a boat house.  

A Couple of Projects

I am trying to help a friend start a water purification business. Things are different out here on the fringes of nowhere. It's two boat rides, a taxi ride, a four hour bus ride and another taxi ride to get to anyplace that sells water purification equipment, in a city that requires none. Thousands of bottles of water are sold here daily. Resorts try to by five gallon bottles and find that they are not available at any price. Maybe I'll get into that later.

Chris a strapping 41 year old from Belgium, his girlfriend Alexandra in her mid 30's from Spain and his daughter, Noa, a 6 year old trip and a half, set off to the most wild island in the area, Isla Popa, on Saturday where Alexandra had the misfortune of purchasing 4 hectare of land in the interior of the island. For some crazy reason Chris thinks that getting water from the spring there is a good idea. Water weighs over eight pounds a gallon. We hope to need thousands of gallons a day. His boat could readily acommodate the 12 tons that three thousand gallons would weigh. Pumping it onto the boat with his 8 hp bilge pump with a three inch fire hose could be done, but the foredeck would certainly be crowded with plastic storage tanks and the water would have to be transported down a river by smaller boats, it would take at least a score of trips.

Whatever, let's go check this place out. The threesome showed up at my house an hour and a half late. Saturday was mother's day and the gas dock was closed. Not only that, but they showed up without enough gas to get back to town with the expectation that I would have a bodega filled with tanks of gas. We took some from my boat and found an open Indian gas dock and procured 5 more 1 gallon water bottles filled with gasoline. My cell phone was out as I had changed carriers to MoviStar as Mas Movil network connections never worked, although their voice coverage is excellent. Hey, you have a smart phone you may as well have data, right?

We headed south the length of Bastimentos and onward to the leeward side of Popa. Alexandra directed us to a bay with mangroves. Beside a house behind some mangroves was the opening of a river. The river was wide and deep, easily navigable. No doubt that many caimans could be spotted here in the night. We pulled up to a well constructed dock made of Nispero, a local hardwood that is denser that water, too hard to drive nails in and insect resistent. A mighty fine dock led us past a bodega and terminated in boggy ground. Damn! Why did I even ask if I needed rubber boots? They were back in my bodega, taking them would have been effortless.

We sought a spring and some tanks. Down a boggy trail, a turn on the banks of a small channel. I stepped on a board crossing the channel and was not surprised when it gave way. Up a hill, down a slope. Chris wanted me to go first. “Hey bud, the first guy wakes up the snake, the second one pisses it off and the third one get's bitten. Well, that's for palm vipers. These fer-de-lances are something else."  A fer-de-lance is a highly venomous snake that packs a lot of venom and a bad attitude. They don't sneak away as most snakes are likely to. They will do more than hold their own, they will attack.

We finally found the tanks. I stepped up on the concrete. Rip... more testicular exposure. At least I'm wearing underwear. The tanks were dry. The intent on buying this land was to create a jungle resort. I like the jungle, but not this jungle. It's not the jaguars that swim over from the mainland or the fer-de-lances or the twelve foot bushmasters that bother me. It's the utter absence of air movement and swarming biting insects.

My feet twisted and slipped in my “adventurer Tiva” sandals. There is was no way the straps were adequate to hold my mud covered feet while descending steep slopes. I have sent more than one pair of sandals to a very early retirement under such conditions and I took them off. The trail was narrow. Too narrow. Isla Popa is teeming with snakes that can easily strike four feet. This trail was but a couple of feet wide. The adjacent foilage would readily conceal grave danger.

This is crazy. I didn't even bring my machete. I thought we were going to walk on cleared trails. No reply except from the little girl behind me. Daddy had the intelligence to stay out of this.

“Noa, I am going to take you back to your dad.” Noa speaks English and Spanish, some Swedish and is learning Russian. No, dad was just standing back there and a six year old who can spot and catch a gecko and tell you its sex in seconds wasn't going to miss out on the walk.

We found the tanks, they were bone dry, pipes were broken. This place was ill maintained. Alexandra had been paying Fidel, the jeffe of the Ngobe community called Popa One was being paid to keep the trails cleaned and things in order. He was taking the money and not doing anything.

“Let's get the hell out of here.” Back to the boat. A beach sounds welcome. We headed to the other side of the island and docked at one of the most expensive resorts in Bocas. Four people were playing frisbee on the beach. I knew them all. Well, all the beaches are public property. I knew the resort operators and walked to find them and say hello. A dozen other people where there. I knew them all. These are people I hang out with on occassion. “Jim Schmidt, I'm glad you could make it!” Make what? What is going on here? Most of these people never leave town and we are a long boat ride away. It was somebody's birthday.

We are celebrating John's birthday for the fourth day. Oh oh. With this crowd? Up to the bar beside the infiniti pool, hell, I know everybody here except for one. “Who's he?” “A paying guest.” He was a big time movie producer there with his wife. I met another couple later. The rest of the place was filled with people I knew.

A twenty eight year old Swede came up to me and told me that girl I was chatting up the other night was here. So she was. A spectacular 40 year old redhead who is living with a guy I know. Chatting her up? Hardly, but it was great conversation. She is a research scientist working on a cure for aids and an associate professor of marine biology. Generally. "chatting" up does not involve discussions of graph theory, the relative biomasses of reefs, (I had just finished reading a long article on that the day on the topic) a superficial discussion of "String Theory" a mathematical attempt to reconcile quantum mechanics with general relativity and a wide variety of other topics. One of my better chats recently. We chatted until just before dawn.

We mingled freely with the jet set and two other research scientists that were friends of the redhead. A bonfire was lit, a stainless propane grill was filled with wood and dinner was cooked. Filet mignon, sea bass, succulent ribs, eggplant, garlic bread, potato salad, pasta salad, mixed veggie salad. It was quite a feast.

More drinking, people had long moved on from beer and wine to rum and tequila. Groups would disappear and then reappear, unsurprisingly energetic. It's Bocas. More drinking. Then came the dancing. Dancing progressed to dancing on the swings that serve as seats at the newly formed bar, then on the bar, people hanging from rafters on their legs, pole dancing. Then it got wild. By three I couldn't talk with anybody. Incoherence ruled. “Sorry, but it's my bed time, I wake up at dawn.” “Did I say something to offend you? I'm sorry.” No, you just said the same inane thing five times in a row.

My room had been cooled down to frigid. I don't have air conditioning at my house. I'd rather have fresh air. It drops down to the low seventies at night and my house is well ventilated. Three hours later one of the revelers stumbled up the hill messed up out of his mind. Massive amounts of alcohol, cocaine and LSD had taking its toll. He entered his room, fell down, crawled to the toilet and vomited blood. Are we having fun yet?

I went out in search of coffee. The paying guests were at the breakfast table, getting ready for a four mile sail to the Zapatillas for only $500. How many times have I sailed 20 miles in the last month for nothing other than my share of the food bill? I don't know.

I sat at a table and laid out plans to turn the property in to a reptile zoo. I said we could have it ready in two weeks, as long as we didn't have to wait on anybody. This pleased Alexandra.

Drinks and breakfast were not gratis. “What do I owe?” “What did you have?” “Last night I had dinner, five bottles of water and this morning breakfast and five coffees. “That'll be $18.”

The latest to crawl to bed was awakened around noon. “Are you coming back with us?” As he couldn't walk to the dock, the answer was no. We said our goodbyes, got in our little launcha with a 40 HP, toured around for a bit and they dropped me off at my house. “Nope, I have no need of town this evening, see you tomorrow.”

Today I took my boat to town and sat on the dock waiting for my friend to show up. One of the employees, who is miffed at me for failing to return his tools. I couldn't return the rusty things, I had thrown them out. I came into possession of them which I walked onto the dock and took my toolbox out of his hands. The toolbox had been stolen off my boat at the same place a few days earlier. This three hundred dollar waterproof case, which I bought for $30 from sailor as it was no longer fit for his computer had been on my boat and docked there four times a week for the last six months. He said he found it in the water. Maybe he did. Most of my tools were missing. But it's hard to believe he didn't know that it was my toolbox.

Noa was sick, Chris asked me to come to his boat. “Boy, you look tired, I thought you were going to have an easy night.” “XXXXXX sent out a distress call last night (VHF 68). He had driven his boat (a 28 foot Caribe Pro fishing boat) into the mangroves.” “So?” Well, it turns out he was hauling ass. He didn't simply brush into the mangroves. The bow of the boat was eight feet into the trees and the outboard was stuck in the sand. Had the water been deeper, the boat would simply have filled over the stern and sunk into the depths. Chris had pulled him off and the idiot limped home.

We met the Indian Chief with the layout of my design a list of tasks and deadlines, clear these trails to a width of ten feet, no vegetation higher than two inches. Clear a 30 meter area near the dock. Dig a big pond to be used for Tilapia and place the dirt on the other side to raise it up, sloping it so that it would drain. “Now the snakes, tell him to have his people catch one of every type on Popa, except the Fer-de-lance and bushmasters. That should take him a day. Tell him we will pay him ten bucks apiece. We need a baby boa and a big one.” The guy agreed although Indians are terrified of snakes, $10 is whole days labor.

We found some appropriate screening, sourced out a free supply of wood, secured the use of a complete woodshop on Wednesday for free, the same day we get the wood. I created a tour itinerary and a brochure.

We needed some wood cut so I went to see my gardener who had disappeared. It turns out that he is on a religious retreat hours from here and won't be back until March. No problem, we'll find somebody else to cut down some trees for wood to make the planks.

Next stop was an Indian Village, for no apparent reason. I ran into a guy who wants to rent my house. He is running some crazy sort of charity that teaches Indians that don't have clean drinking water how to surf. All of his volunteers are paying hardbodied twenty something females. He said he needs some private space. Maybe he needs to get away, maybe he needs some private room for other purposes.

“Did XXX disturb you last night?” “No, what are you talking about?” “Didn't you hear him yelling? I was scared, we all hid upstairs, locked the doors and I pulled out a knife.” “From XXX?” “Yeah, he was yelling like he was possessed. He said he wanted to kill somebody and then started screaming at the Indians.” “XXX?” No, really? “Yeah, it was really scary.”

I knew I had to check on him. I went over, stepped off the dock and two dogs came down barking furiously. “Chris, hey, I'm afraid of dogs, call them off.” “Not gonna happen bud.” “Hey, Jessica. High Hayu.” My dogs often go to visit him. He looked fine. We talked for a bit and left with the dogs.

Back to the boat. We stopped by the Swede. He had run up a $183 bar tab and was lamenting same. Hell, that only counts what he drank before he started helping himself to the whisky after the bar had closed.

The woman who was coming to visit today? Who knows? Last time I heard from her she was flying from LA to New York to pack. She was to be here today. No postings on Facebook, no messages, no emails. Whatever.

It's Bocas.   

Something Different

It's been an endless cycle of boating, sailing, snorkeling, swimming and beaches.

Now I have to get my boat in the shop to lose 700 pounds of water laden "closed cell" foam which lies beneath the deck and the aft storage cabinet for another 800 pounds.   This should take a few weeks.

What to do without a boat?  Every time I leave the house I'd have to call a water taxi.

Fortune knocked.

A friend told me that she would like to come back for a visit, starting in 5 days for a month.  Great! My boat is in the shop, let's go to the mountains while I get my boat rebuilt and then we can come to Bocas.

So I laid out a few things to do. She said it sounded awesome and asked if she could bring a couple of friends.

She is a set designer for movies. She is black, most of her friends are gay black males.   I didn't ask who is coming.

Ok, to the most remote parts of Panama, where there are nothing but Indians, no electricity, no telephones, no restaurants and no lodging.   I'll stay with an Indian I met after a seven hour trek over the continental divide.

This should be different.

What the fuck are you doing?

A friend was going to take three people out on a cruise for the day in gratitude for their assistance in the recovery of a stolen dinghy.

I showed up a Casa Verde at the appointed hour and my day began with


She: "Here are your sandals."
He: "Thanks. Where were they?"
She: "In the trash."
He: "Thanks, I didn't know where I put them."
Me:  "Why did you put them in the trash?"
He:  "It's my birthday.  I am drunk."

The Water Taxi 25 boat, a behemoth that seats 80 and is powered by twin 350 HP V8 outboards crowded into a sleep, bore down on me, and tied off, unleashing a torrent of Panamanians from Panama City intent on celebrating Panamananian independence from Colombia.  The crowd and their luggage reduced the dock to mayhem for half an hour.


I left to provision for our sailing trip.  A friend had agreed to take three people to Starfish Beach on a boat stocked with rum and pretty young things.   Upon my return there were a dozen people sitting in my boat.  I rushed over and confronted them "What the fuck are you doing?"  My friend Carlos came over and advised me that these people were his son and friends and that they were going on the boat.  Oh, ok, I'll shuttle them over.  The stoned kids looked very relieved that I didn't rip their heads off.

My boat was to function as the tender as the dinghy's were not operational.  I tied her off and she was towed behind the sixty five foot trawler.  I set up camp and dozed for a bit.  When I awoke I saw Carlos standing by the back of the boat with lines in hand.  The man is far from a sailor.  I popped up to observe his activities.  He was keeping the lines clear of the  "What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled.  Damn, my boat smacked into a swimming deck support that was missing the deck.  "It's ok, everything is ok."  "No, Carlos, see that fiberglass on the support and one over there.  Yup, two holes punched right through the hull. Jesus, Christ!"

Chris came down.  "I asked him to watch the lines so the wouldn't get caught in the prop."   Wrong guy or wrong task.  Oh well, it's but a couple of hours of fiberglass work.

We spent the day on the beach flirting with the girls picked up a few extra and returned to town.

On the way the three guests of honor were severely inebriated.   One of them poured out the last of two rum bottles into glasses and through the bottles into the ocean with a triumphant double fist in the air.  "What the fuck are you doing?"  I sternly rebuked him, "Malo, malo, el mar  no este para la basura."  He sulked.  I was castigated, "Do you know who that is?" "Yeah, I know, that doesn't give him the right to use the ocean as a trash can."

I took the first load of passengers to the dock and returned for the profoundly inebriated.  Helping the girls was one thing but these three guys were completely hammered.  I had to catch one by the armpits.  His sandals fell into the ocean.  Another stumbled on, tripped and I had to catch him and make him sit down.  The third fell on the other two.

I made my way to the dock one of the guys stepped off, missed the dock, almost smashed his face and tried to climb out of the water by hanging onto a hammock.  It's pretty damn easy to just pop up on the dock.  If one is really out of shape a ladder is available.

The soaking guy tripped over a chair, a second walked into the bathroom and fell down, his legs sticking out of the door and the third asked if I was his friend and would I buy each of them a beer.  "No, vamoose. Necessito dormile.  Muy barracho."

Cops.  I guess they are the same world over.

Snorkel, Snorkel, Snorkel

Time to get in shape.  I've taken to snorkeling combined with vigorous swimming.  Not much to report, the usual, get some pretty girls, go boating, go to beaches, go snorkeling.

Last night I got in a cab and a rescue diver told me that he knew a bunch of pretty girls who wanted to go out with me.  I didn't know them, but they had heard of me.  Nice to have the town recruiting for you.  I met one of them, she was damn cute and assured me that her friends were even cuter.  Ok, why not.  Let's hope the weather clears.


Yesterday I snorkeled at Coral Gardens, then Hospital Point with Bill, an all round nice guy with a varied background in modeling, film production, running fish charters in Hawaii and a dive operation in Guam.

The reason there are so few posts is that there is nothing new to report.  I'm fine.  Thanks for asking.

Next week we are planning a three day trip to Blue Fields and my property in Aguacate.  We'll be camping, fishing, snorkeling and generally just hanging out.  Time to start recruiting pretty young things to fill up Chris's 65 cruiser.

That's the update from Bocas, I'll let you know if something interesting happens.

Hospital Point

Photo Album for email subscribers

Catching up

Saturday

A day on Emilio's boat I took the lovely Nicole, a 31 year old Brazilian German.   Emilio offered her the oppportunity to spend the night on his boat.  She declined and stated that she was staying with me.  I ran into  a travel buddy of hers and Saturday night asked him to take care of her as she seemed more baggage than companionship.   He met a woman at the Aqua Lounge that some suspected was either a pro or a guy.  I am not sure what that meant, but I think that Nicole ended up saving him from a night he would have ended up regretting.

Tuesday

As I was leaving my house the head of judicial investigations called me wanting to borrow $250 for a couple of weeks so he could pay for his son's hemorrhoid surgery.  Apparently he was bleeding pretty badly in a hospital in David.

Met another Nicole, a very sweet, very pretty, well educated 25 year old from Virginia.  

Got reports that my neighbor took out his boat at 8:30 on Monday night to go out into the Caribbean and kill himself.  He is in his mid fifties, has cancer, wears diapers and is not a happy man.  Another neighbor had seen me coming by at that time and wondered if I had seen him.  It had been very dark.  If he was out there, he was running with his lights out.

Sitting on a dock in town waves crashed over the dock and up through the slats.  One computer power supply met a salt water demise.

Took some guys out to Los Secretos.  Doug did his usual, "I will pitch in for the gas."  He pissed off everybody at Los Secretos and gave no money.  I left him on Bastimentos.  Two more guys wanted a ride, they wanted to check into a hostel on Carenero.   After they checked in they didn't return for half an hour. I left them on Carenero.  When a guy is doing you a favor, you don't make him wait for you.

Wednesday

My neighbor returned home with some tale of swimming six miles in the open Caribbean in a life jacket and returning without his boat. Swimming in a life jacket is seriously hard work.  Pete flew around in his plane looking for the abandoned boat without success.   Nobody felt the need to go out in bad weather to search for an abandoned boat.

Back to Red Frog where I took I took Nicole and a couple of her friends from Red Frog to Old Bank were we visited a bunch of friends of mine and returned after many hours on the water to a very poorly cooked dinner prepared by the staff at a resort on Red Frog.  I docked the boat at 8:00.   I had two tanks of gas, a box of tools and a propane tank on the boat.  I escorted the girls through the jungle in the darkness.  Forming a human chain holding hands.   Apparently my night vision was a whole lot better than theirs.  When we arrived I realized I had left my backpack on the boat.  I didn't feel the need to cross the island twice more as there was not much of value in the backpack, a kindle fire and a bag of change that amounted to over $100.00.  By 9:00 a water taxi operator was waiting to take the crew to Aqua Lounge.  I greeted the operator and left for home.  I really didn't need to participate in the madness.   Yup, the Russian girl and Nicole entertained the place by pole dancing while an appreciative crowd gawked.

Thursday

Picked up my new prop.

Back to town to pick up another girl.  She spoke with me on the phone but failed to show for over an hour.  We left without her and went to the bat cave, visited some friends, went snorkeling and returned to a stir fry Thai dinner.

Friday

A twenty six year old German, her six year old daughter and a twenty something Argentinian girl will be escorted back to my house this evening after an afternoon on the water.

Fishing - Robbery

I enjoyed the day on the water with the girls yesterday and decided to take them out again.  At seven in the morning I boarded a sailboat on which they were staying, stuck my head through the entrance hatch to spot lovely Reva.  "Hey girl, get up, let's go to Dolphin Bay."  Straight out of bed and onto the boat.  That is low maintenance.  Two other girls joined us.   Not a dolphin to be seen.  That's a first.

I pulled up to a random house on the bay and called out.  A couple of watchmen came down and spotting the girls agreed that we could come ashore and they would gladly show us around.  There was not much to see.  Next stop?  Some wonderful snorkeling near Isla Christobal which terminated abruptly on account of impending bad weather.

A few hours on the dock, the weather cleared and we went fishing.  Two other girls asked if they could come.  We got some bait and headed to the south side of Solarte and fished without luck.  Well, my house is a sure thing.  Immediately they started hauling in fish.  I insisted that they throw them all back.  You don't eat your dock fish.

Off to Los Secretos to pay a tab.  Nick was behind the bar.  "So you're boating alone today!"  No bud, I've got five cuties down on the dock waiting for me.   "Are you going back to town?"  "Sure, I'll take you."   To no great surprise Nick was smitten by the Philipino.

We spend the next few hours chatting on the dock at Casa Verde.  The skinny train wreck from Spain told me there was a guy on my boat.  What?  That's thirty feet away from the eleven of us.  Sure enough, an Indian made his way off the boat and swam to the dock.  Another five gallon tank filled with gas was missing.  He didn't have it with him so he was obviously on his second trip.  Ballsy bastard.  The guard was lying in a hammock but two feet from the boat.

I went out front and down the street in the company of Joe, a great guy who knows a whole lot of shit.  Down the street to the worst part of town.  Two malientes said that the Indian had run behind a fish market.  Hmmm,  only one way in and no water on the sidewalk.   I walked back anyway.  Joe stood on the street and called out my name in a very non calm manner.  Two guys had been following me, one with a club and one with a hammer.  I turned around and yelled loudly, "Joe, what's up?"  The two fled.  Whoa.

We returned to Casa Verde where one of the waitress indicated that she spotted the culprit swimming out from under the dock. Another guy and I went after him.  Not a good plan.  He could have probably beaten one of us to death with the other.

Just touring around

I pulled into Casa Verde shortly after noon.  The girls were swinging in hammocks. "Is it ten already?"  "Give me a break it's been raining."

A long day on the water with many stops.  Finally I took them to Red Frog.  I figured once they got there they wouldn't want to leave and I was right.  The girls went swimming and laid out on the beach.  I passed a couple of hours in a hammock.

Boating the Police Around

My friend Michelle,  had her boat stolen from her resort in Loma Partida on Saturday.  She reported the theft but the police took no action.   She was advised that Jesus, the corregidor (Justice of the Peace) from Bastimentos was an effective law enforcement official.   Unfortunately there was no way for Jesus to get to Loma Partida, so I offered to take him out there.

I coffeed up and read my email.  Gary Moore posted that he would contribute $50 in gas.  I drove across the bay to Gary's boat.  I also picked up a petition on a request for improved police action to respond to a serious increase in the amount and violent nature of crime in Bocas to be delivered to Loma Partida.

Next stop?  The fire station to pick up some cops.  Jesus, the corregidor of Bastimentos was accompanied by a cop with an M16 and a Beretta 9 millimeter side arm an interogator.  I stopped off at a hardware store to pick up another gas tank as I had one stolen off my boat a couple of days earlier.  I also picked up ten feet of chain and a padlock.  These thieves are opportunistic, they don't travel with bolt cutters.

Off to the gas dock, waiting behind a string of water taxis, preparing for a busy weekend day.   One gets some interesting looks from the locals while traveling with a cop with an M16.  The water was calm, the skies were clear and the boat was laden.  Southwest to shark hole, southeast to Isla Popa.  Back to the cut, through the channel, east along the south shore of Loma Partida.

We finally arrived.  An Indian gave a statement that he had heard a guy at the Cantina the night the boat was stolen asking about Michelle, where she slept and if she had a security guard.   The Indian boarded the boat with us and directed me.   He told me to east.  Whoa! There is much coral out there.  He directed me with hand signals, following a map that exists only in his mind through narrow channels.  North, east, south, west.  We arrived at a dock and ascended a flight of concrete steps that were reminiscent of Mayan temples.  The rise was minimally eighteen inches.   Jesus scribbled on a receipt and we returned to De la Luna where the news was conveyed that Jesus had a name and knew where the guy worked and lived and he made a quick phone call to the chief of police.

We waited for a promised lunch that evidently was not forthcoming while we were harassed by a Capuchin monkey.  We were all hungry and made a hasty departure.  I stopped off at a local store.  No candy bars.  I bought several cans of sardines and we ate them on crackers and headed back to town.

We enjoyed cheeseburgers and some brews.  I invited lovely Natalie to join us.  The guy was to be off work at four and would be arrested upon his return.  I received a text message from him shortly after four and he told me the man was in custody.  Within hours he confessed, named his two cohorts and said that the boat was on the way to Santa Catalina on the Caribbean coast of Veraguas and that it would be transferred to Colon.

Natalie left to return to the US with tears in her eyes.  "Take care girl, come back soon."  "I'll get back as soon as I can."

I was chatting with Kamron as a panga sped by in the dark.  A short while later the sound of something not good happening.  A woman swam to shore.  "Jim, there has been a boat accident, boater in the water!"  It took me but a few minutes to arrive at the scene.  A few minutes later I helped a big guy on the boat.  The panga, unlit had run right over the back of an inflatable dinghy.

The police were on the shore, lights flashing, but, still they have no boat.  Kamron held onto the panga, the panga operator held onto the dinghy and I dragged it all to the landing near the ferry dock.   Carlos, the cop who had been on my boat earlier in the day.  I told him I wasn't involved and knew nothing, if he needed to talk with me I would be back at Casa Verde.

Bat Cave - Natalie and Anna

The rain subsided and I headed into town for a day on the water with some friends.  Natalie and Anna had seen little of Bocas outside of Bocas Town.

First stop was the school in Bahia Honda.  I was checking on the state of the water catchment systems for Joe Bass.  Three tanks.  Two on their sides underneath a building,  one with several quarter inch holes poked in it.  The third was located within a foot of the downspout that would have captured water if the tank or the downspout were properly located.

Next stop, the bat cave.  I stopped at some Indian's house to see if I could get these people paddled up the river.  The Indian wanted to go in my boat.  Well, I don't need a guide, but I am growing weary of the dead trees that block the river.  The river was swollen and muddy from the rains.  Ok, we'll take my boat again, even though last time I swore I'd never take my boat up that river again.  I called Juan, who runs the property over which one must pass on the way to the cave.  The fee for crossing the land and a guide in the cave is $4.  No answer.

As we entered the river my four guests exclamed how cool this was.   There is a paucity of wildlife on the river.  Occassionally a bird can be spotted.  Once I saw a small caiman.  Getting up the river was easy due to the high water levels. On the trail we met Juan.  How he knew we were there is unknowable but he greeted us and sent his wife off to get head lamps.


We entered the cave, walked through shallow water as bats flew by and finally ended up wading in cool chest high water just before the waterfall.  We hung out there for a bit, jumped into the pool getting the mandatory Facebook pictures.  When we emerged from the cave, Natalie said, "That was the coolest thing I've done in Central America."  Glad you enjoyed yourselves.

Off to Clydes.  He wasn't home.  He was sure to be at Los Secretos.   We ascended.  Jack and Clyde were there.  Don and Amy were behind the bar.   One round and we headed out to Bastimentos.   A quick walk through town, a little time sitting on the point and back to town.

Ok, chica's let's do that again sometime.  I have a lot more to show you.  That met an enthusiastic response.

Foot Trouble

I called a water taxi co-op and caught a ride to town so that I could follow up  on my outboard repair.

The outboard wouldn't go into reverse without a horrible grinding noise.  I took the boat to Bocas Marine Tours (BMT) on Friday and chased down Chito, the mechanic that services all of their boats.

He had told me that he would call me at 11:00 but failed to do so.  I  can't go everywhere by water taxi.

Carlos at BMT decided that I needed his help in effecting the repair.  I guess I did as Chito would answer when Carlos called but wouldn't take my calls.  On the first trip Chito had concluded that the problem lay in the foot and was trying to pry out the plastic plug through which the drive shaft and the transmission shaft enter the foot.   He told me to come back at three.

At three I called and again got no answer.  Carlos called Chito and Chito answered.  He wanted me to come  down and see the problem.  Ahh, shit.  It takes a long time to get parts to Panama.

Another taxi ride to Saigon.   The foot was back on the boat.  Chito showed me a bushing that had found its way into the foot.  As the bushing was part of an electrical  assembly in the head, I could only conclude that Frank had somehow managed to get this part into the foot while conducting an unauthorized operation on the foot that I caught him doing.  He said he had been cleaning it.  Hmmm.

$150 later I was free to go.  I needed to get some gas.  Carlos insisted that I go to Isla Carenero to gas up.  No way.  I didn't know if I could make it on the gas I had and even if I could it was so near five that they would  likely be closed.   I headed off to the gas station with a five gallon tank in hand. It was but a half mile away.  Carlos was adamant that I wait for a taxi.  Why?  I'll be at the station before a taxi shows up.  I filled up the tank and walked back.

Carlos asked me to buy him a beer.  Seems reasonable.  We walked to a cantina and he ordered 10.  "Why didn't we just go to a chino and buy them?  This is an expensive way to buy beer." Not his money, he didn't care.   Back to town in the boat.  Carlos finished his beer and threw it overboard.  "What the hell is that, asshole?"  He proudly showed me the cap.  "I didn't throw this in."  What a dickhead.  I retrieved the bottle. As I dropped him off at BMT he asked for a tip.  "That's $10 in beer for an hour's work.  That's more than enough."

Back to Casa Verde.  A burger.  Chatted with Natalie for a couple of hours and invited her to go boating with me on Sunday.  She had been out of Bocas Town but once, on the sailing  trip the prior weekend.  "Sure, can Anna come?"  Why not?  Then Garrett and Scott wanted to know if they could come.  Man that's five people on the boat.  Ok, we'll go slowly.

Off to Lillies for some live music.  Lots of friends.  I  ran into a prominent citizen who is always very hammered every time I see her.  "Jim, where do you live?"  "I'm not answering any more questions.  You ask the same question ten times an hour, you can't remember shit."  Five minutes later she asked the same four questions she parrots.

"I'm not going to Aqua Lounge."  That was pretty random.  Nobody had said they were.

"I think my girls are at Iguana."  Unlikely, it's closed.  "Let's go to Barco Hundido."  I hate that place.  But I took her anyway.  She fell flat on her face while trying to walk down the street.  Yup, she definitely needs an escort.  Doubt I will be able to pawn her off on somebody.   The girls weren't at Barco Hundido.  She ordered a double rum and coke.  Jesus, woman, you can't even walk.

"Let's try Aqua Lounge."  Another place I hate.  I took her anyway.  Docking is always a problem.  One ties off and then has to walk on the edge of  2 X 6 nailed to wobbly posts for 30 feet.  I spied her passed out on a chaise lounge and made my exit.

Squall

A couple walked to the beach east of Red Frog and had their backpacks rifled.  The husband chased the culprit into the jungle and hadn't returned three hours later.  I went off to round up some Indians to conduct a search without success.  Then I went to Old Town on Bastimentos to recruit the the police, but they wouldn't go on account of the weather.  So, off I went in the dark to Colon to recruit a party.

While crossing from Bastimentos through the channel a blow came out of nowhere.  The winds kicked up to sixty miles an hour.  A water spout rose to what I was told was a thousand feet in the air, but I don't know how that can be judged, although the event was televised live via weather satellites.  Roofs were blown off of buildings in town.  Boats sank.

I was just trying to survive.  My first thought was I should put on a life jacket, but I couldn't let go of the wheel without considerable risk of the boat being flipped. 

It really sucks when you can't see much past the bow through the torrents or the waves that tower over your head so you just point into the biggest thing coming at you and crash to the sea without any idea where you are because you can't see shit and you know that you are within a quarter mile of water with coral that lies but a foot beneath calm seas. 

The engine at full throttle spent most of its time driving the boat uphill over the ten to twelve foot swells.  West, head west.   Damn have I missed the whole island?  I should have been there a long time ago.  Just keep  heading into the waves.  Thank god I have a full tank of gas.  I could burn it all out just trying to keep afloat.  Finally I spotted a radio tower and made it into a bay where I took refuge until the storm subsided.

That was the longest two miles I've spent at sea in many a year.

I dropped off a guy at Aqua Lounge.  Did I want to hang around?  No, I can't stand this music.  I was just about to depart when the water taxis started arriving in droves carrying twenty young women apiece.   The nightly prowl was on.  Nope, I need a quiet night.  I went home.

Not every day is ground hog day.  

I've got the house listed for sale and a prospective buyer will be checking it out tomorrow.  Wish me luck.

Ground Hog Day

As my all time favorite guest tells me, my life is ground hog day.  Also known as same shit, different day.

Off to town at 2:00 to get Ana and Amaya, both 25 from Spain.  Ana is a Civil Engineer and Amaya is a geologist.   They were swarmed at Casa Verde.  I chatted and waited, and waited, and waited.  "C'mon girls, let's go."  "Jim, you're coming back right?" "Yeah, tomorrow."  "Damn."

Off to Bastimentos, a quick walk of the town, a little grocery shopping.  The girls made a spanish omelette at the Jaguars and we invited him for dinner.  Jaguar showed me the place to buy veggies for $.80 a pound, they are $1.50 a pound in Bocas Town.   I go through a lot of veggies.  Home, chat, to bed.


Saturday we went to town, bought food and drinks and sailed to Playa Estrella on Carlos' boat.  Well, we went under power.  It was estimated we used two gallons of diesel for the 24 mile trip.   We had seventeen people on the boat.  I would have burned twelve gallons of gas at $4.65/gallon.

Saturday night was Andy's Crawford's, benefit concert, everybody had a blast.  The Lemongrass was packed.  Go inside, listen to music, mingle, go outside, cool off, mingle, repeat.   Then off to the bookstore.  At two we gave up the ghost and went home.  Bookstore Dave wasn't there, he was recovering from a beating over the back with a baseball bat from one of three assailants who wanted his wallet.


Sunday we went fishing.  Ana had never been fishing.  The first fish she ever caught was a shark.  That's a nice little story to take back home.  




Then we went to the bat cave and walked all the way to the waterfall and swam at the pool.   Off to Clyde's island.  Verne wasn't there, he is in the states indefinitely.  I hope he is happier there.  Off to Simon's.  Back home for snorkeling, swimming, sitting on the dock.  Dinner, picture editing, chatting, to bed.  It was a late night and I only got three hours sleep.

Monday, off to Red Frog. Swimming in the surf, walking the beach, lying in hammocks, me reading a book the girls napping.   Back to town.  Dropped them off.  Adios chicas, keep in touch.

Ok, I missed posting about four or five girls in July.  It get's pretty friggin' monotonous to read doesn't it?

 Next up, a girl from Argentina.

Sailing to Playa Estrella

Fishing and Bat Cave

Mail Subscribers
https://picasaweb.google.com/111275040267764796607/SailingToPlayaEstrella?authuser=0&feat=directlink

https://picasaweb.google.com/111275040267764796607/FishingAndBatCave?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Gotta Have Connections

The problem with the starter on my boat was a bad connection inside the Perko switch, which is used to switch between batteries.  I really don't need a second battery as the engine is small enough that it is readily pull started.   The switch was yanked and the motor hard wired to the battery.

Victor wouldn't take back the part he sold me that I didn't need.  He and Frank pointed fingers at each other.  Frank told me that I bought it from Victor so I needed to deal with him. Victor told me that Frank was

Now I still need to get battery cables and replace the ones I have as they are oxidizing.  Salt water plays hell with copper.

A couple of minutes at Pananama Cable and wireless and I got a SIM for $1.98 with my old phone number back.

Another quiet day.  I need more of these.

Getting Wired

Hacked my way to the far side of this island.  Just a little exercise.  Nice path too.  But it ends in muck on the far side at low tide, shallow water over muck at high tide.   It's a path to nowhere, but there are some interesting things to see on the path.  This is where I take all the girls to see the rare frogs.  Usually I only have to travel 30 feet so this is wretched excess.  But it's me, what do you expect?  Simon is coming tomorrow to mow the lawn with a machete.  I think I will go with him to get about 150 pineapple tops to plant.   I need more fruit trees too.

Strange thing, for the last three days I have had buzzards in all the trees.  Never saw but one or two at a time soaring.  Now I have dozens of them in each of four different trees.

Went to town. So my power cables are shot and need to be replaced? Hmmm. I took a knife to the insulation, peeled it back two inches. Ok, all I have to do is cut off the cable and put on new terminals.

No 00 terminals at Rukel, Chow Kai, Richards, Surte Bocas. That's it. I have no more choices. Every size but what I need. I took a 000 terminal and placed it on the wire, mashed living shit out of it and decided to solder it. I dispatched a guy to the hardware store. There was a 60 watt soldering iron at Chow Kai for $6.99 and a 40 watt soldering iron at Surte Bocas for $1.67. That's what he picked.

I had to laugh. No way that thing could ever put out heat as fast as this thick copper cable could dissapate it. Fortunately somebody overheard me and reached into his backpack and pulled out a propane torch and some solder. Ok, good to go.

Oh man there is a lot of water in the bilge that won't go to the back of the boat. I have to cut an access panel and put a bilge amidships. Oh and I need new hinges too. Yaaah! Yup better order another prop.

Went home. No hot water. WTF? Replaced the batteries in the hot water heater that ignite the flame. Nada. Down to the dock. Swap out another new tank for the new tank I just installed. Fixed. Now to piss away some more money to keep the boat running.

Well, I have a couple of lovelies visiting from Spain.  That should be a nice diversion.  We are going sailing Saturday on a friend's boat.   

Whatever, the chicken is done, the balsamic reduction is done.  Time for dinner.  Luego!

Water Catchment

A couple of jamokes came over to work on my water catchment system.

My catchment was highly inefficient. The downspout ran to the ground, under the ground, back up and finally reduced from a 3” pipe to a 3/4” pipe. The resistance caused much of the water to backup and go into the overflow before it reached the tanks. The pipes were easily clogged with debris that accumulates in the gutter.

A couple of elbows and a coupling later and the downspout feed the tank from the top with a three inch piece of PVC. A cotton T shirt was stretched over the top of the tank and covered with a screen. Any non dissolved debris is readily caught and cleaned up.

Minutes after it was completed it started raining. Even in the light drizzle I was accumulating water faster that I had been during torrents. Keep it simple.

The two tanks are connected by a three inch pipe with a “T” in the middle. This has been used to drain off overflow. I need to remove the “T” so that the water flows from the first tank into the second tank and attach another pipe to the second tank and connect it to the drain. This should be fun. Trying to insert a coupling or union on rigid PVC attached to tanks that weigh many tons. I guess I'll have to drain the second tank to pull this off.

It cleared up and I sharpened my machete and made a path almost clear across this island.

Start me up

I was supposed to take a couple of French girls around the bay on one of my famed introduction to Bocas tours.  They called me the night before.  I had never met them.  I did manage to get the boat started and get into town but wasn't comfortable enough with the boat to take on passengers.

Hmmmm.....  what a lovely pair of girls.   Oh, well, what can you do? They wanted to know if we could rent a boat and go to Zapatilla's and Coral Cay and Hospital Point my house.   By this time it was one in the afternoon.   Three hours had been pissed away with a Spanish idiot who thought the world revolved around him.  "I don't want to go to the beach."  "That's fine, you weren't invited."  "I want to go snorkeling."  "Then go fucking snorkeling, what does that have to do with us?"  "I want to be with you."  "Will you please just kindly go away?"  "Garrett from his hammock announced that he should kindly just go fuck himself somewhere.

Ahhh, who needs this?   I went off to see if I could find a starter motor.  Nope, none in Bocas, no surprise.  None Almirante, nor David, nor Panama City.  Not one in the whole damn country.   Ok, what to do?  Get one shipped in?   Send off my armature to be rebuilt?

I changed the oil in the boat.  Bought some starter rope, fashioned a handle out of a broomstick.  Bought a replacement paddle.  Stocked up on food.  The girl at the checkout counter at Super Gourmet wanted to know if I had started a restaurant.   Yeah, that's a lot of lunch meat.  I'm on kind of a sandwich kick now.

Ok, I think I'll go home and stay for two or three days.

Later Bocas.

Welcome to Bocas

Off to town.  A few things to take care of.  Trying to find a venue for a fund raiser for a local expat who just had open heart surgery in Houston and has no health insurance.

I pulled the boat into Casa Verde and told a friend that I was going to walk to see some other people I know at Mar e Iguana.  It's not more than a three mile round trip, but it was hot and the buildings block the breeze.  Nobody wanted to make the walk.

I took the boat to Frank.  Damn.  When I try to start her, "click, click, click,click". Plenty of voltage, good clean connections.  Ahh, Christ, this is not going to be cheap.  Turns out it was the Starter Relay Assembly.  Frank called it the solenoid.   Not quite my man.   The Starter Relay Assembly is a $400 part, the solenoid is a $15 part.   He procured one from Victor for $100, I'm sure it was salvaged from another outboard.

Then Frank told me I need a new bobbin.  What the hell is a bobbin?  He showed me one.  An armature.  Ok, I can get an armature rebuilt (that is a $450 part) or I could replace the whole starter.  I am not going to turn a $600 starter (plus shipping and duty, let's call it $800) into a piece at a time repair that would add up to much down time and $2000 in parts.  Or am I?

I walked back to town.   Garrett was calling out to me from the deck of room 301 at Palma Royale.  Right under the room Jimmy Buffett stays in.  What the hell?  A month ago you had $300 total to your name and were going to spend it all on airfare to get home and now you are in one of the most expensive hotels in town.  I walked up to see him.  "What the hell are you doing in here?" "I'm celebrating.  I got an extension on my unemployment." Wow!

Back to Casa Verde.  The guy who was making my console cover was beaming like a proud father as he slipped the tight fitting cover with room for the side lights and a slit for the throttle control.  It fit like a hooker's skirt.   People were laughing on the dock.  He didn't know they were laughing at him.  Walter said "Welcome to Bocas."  Ahh... shit.   How do I tell the guy that this should drape over loosely.  The seams were already to blow, like the jeans button on the Mama Loca barmaid.  When that thing goes, somebody is gonna die.

I got home.  The iPhone I had bought off Ebay and received a couple of days earlier would not take a charge.   Great!

Mayhem

I told her I would see her tomorrow.  Didn't seem much point with the little pouty in tow.  But I promised.

With a sigh I took off to the resort at which she was staying.

There she was with a couple pound lobster sitting next to the kid.

Hi girl! I returned, as promised.

What do you want Jim?  Joan, I don't care just serve me some fish.  Joan smacked me on the back of head and told me to make a decision.  OK I'll have the lion fish, broiled.

A couple of hours later I got my seriously undercooked fish. Can you cook this for me?  I sent it back to a strange world.  I was the only unserved customer.  This can't take more than a few minutes in a preheated oven.

The sun set.  The world turned many degrees.  No sign of my fish  What the fuck?  I can go to another island    and havae a dish prepared.  Hell, I could go to Colon, call Tuti, buy some Mahi Mahi, go to the far end of Solarte, fire up the grill and cook it in less time than this. There was a distinct possibility that I could spearfish in the mangroves and get some snapper.

Finally, really damn hungry, I said, "I have to go." I left without waiting for the bill.  I love Joan and I know that employees here frequently disappoint.  Whatever.

Where to?  Oh, jesus, not the Aqua Lounge. Why?  Ohh you want to meet the head bitch?  Ok.  Loud music. Scores of honeys waiting to get picked up.  Heat.  Insufficient ventilation.  If I have to put with this you have to go to the restroom and take off your panties and hand them to mee.  The ultimatum was matched gallantly as she removed them right on the dance floor and handed them to me ceremoniously.  Ok, we are down to one slinky dress.  Things are looking better.

Ok, enough is enough, let's head out of here, go a mile off shore and you can dispose of that dress.  "You are bad, you are really bad."  "What the hell, did you think this was an invite to a chess match?"  We drifted for hours payimg no attention to our location.  "My daughter is probably seriously concerned.  I need to get back."  Ok.  Wait.  Where the fuck are we?   No, we can't go faster!  Get your hand off the throttle.  What?  A foot of water maybe?  We stopped in a fucking hurry.  She was knocked down but there was no damage to either person.  Ahh fuck, another prop shot.

Let me see, this tower, that tower, ok, here we go. back to Isla Colon. Oh man.  There is so much shallow water here.  Sand and sea grass but.  Wait!  I converted to a nominal 6.5 gallon tank.  A fillup doesn't carry me as far as it used to..... Shit.  Oh well, I have another ten gallons.  I'll just fill the tank.  Oh god, the flapper valve on the primer bulb is shot.  Screw it. We are less than a mile from shore.  I'll pull her in.  I'd rather do that than paddle.

"I can't let you do that by yourself!"   "Sure you can, just put your naked ass on this seat.  It won't take me too long.  Nope she was in the water, seriosly concerned that I was under the boat.  I swam. I tugged.  The tide was a bit suprising but the wind was nominal.    Just get your ass back in the boat.  Let me deal with it.  Oh shit.  You don't have the strength to lift your ass into the boat?  Jesus.  I've been working. Ok legs wrapped around my head as I am trying to figure out whether the hoisting is still my objective.  To shore.  I'll throw you over like a sack of potatoes. Nope. I should have done that in the shallows.  The physics just doesn't work here.

After numerous attempts at offering assistance the boat was finally pulled against the tide, through sandy shallows which caused far more exertion than the deep water and brought her to a hotel dock. Intermittently  I stumbled and fell, scraping  myself fairly on coral.

A pint of blood draining down one's body and drying on the legs looks pretty scary to couch potatoes.  I ignored it.  That is scratch.  As I was trying to escort this girl through town people thought I had major emergency.  It's just blood, I am on a street; it will be washed away in a few days.

I encountered a former room mate. A water taxi driver announced accross the street.  "I took your chicken home."  He gave me a quizzical look. "He means chick."

Man in his whitie tighties selling cigs at 4 in the morning.

The really hot blonde fucking the guy on the veranda at Heike while we sat on the benches and made commentaries.and watched.

Dawn.  Let's see, damn the gas dock is not opened.  Not a clue where the operator is.  Let's swing around this little island and see what damage we can cause.  "Jesus Jim how many times have I told you not do that? The fucking police were holding guns to my wife's head last night:"  You told me once and that was on a provision. I am extremely apologetic, sorry your night sucked.  We are getting our asses out of here.

Next stop? Isla Bastimentos

Walking all of Old Town on the west end.  Just greeting random people sitting on their porches, playing guitars, walkomg beneath the houses and play with the kids.

Roots.

Gave the old lady some abuse.  Sassed her.  Hugs every where.

????

That was interesting.  And what the hell were you thinking stepping down four feet accross a six foot span onto a moving boat?  Got your teeth, limb mobility, yup that's a fracture for sure.  To the floating doctors.

What the hell did you just do? You broke the vacuum on my water separator without asking me?  We are three miles from emergency treatment and you fuck with my fuel flow?  Could you help me by sticking a rusty screwdriver up my ass?  All right.  Pull the tank, blow into it, create some pressure to fill the separator. Let's get this thing primed.  Ok, the gas is going.  Off again, two miles to go. We arrived at the ship and presented our guest for attention.

The new doctor looked at the fracture, felt that a reduction was past his limits.  They felt an immediate need to deal with my laceration.They scrubbed it, washed it, applied iodine  Apparently large amounts of dried blood bothers these guys. "It's just a flesh wound"  Get that dressing off my leg.  I am not walking out of here looking like I stepped on a land mine, I have stepped in a pot of boiling water, broken all my ribs at least once, driven a car off a bridge, drove another one underneath an eighteen wheeler, I have been lacerated, pierced, stabbed, scraped, bruised, contused. I have been thrown off ATV's, jet skis, motor cycles, over the bow of a boat.  I heal very quickly.  Really bud, don't worry about it.  It will heal within a week.  Thanks.

Now where?  Rip Tide.  Then what. Oh man, do really want to chase some skirts right now?  I could use with just laying in a hammock.  Whatever, let's do it.

Captain's License

Had to go back to town to finish off the requirements for my Captain's license.

It had rained heavily for hours. Twice in the night I walked down the stairs to check on the boat.

The bilge pump had been on for an unknown time, so the boat was not filled with water but the battery had taken a hit. The float switch mounting screw had rusted through a stainless steel plate in a couple of months. Salt water exacts it's toll.

Off to town. Sputter. I just put 12 gallons in yesterday and only went three miles. Drain the water separator, repeat. Surge, choke, die. I couldn't raise anybody on the radio. Ayahh, a severed antenna lead. My replacement phone hadn't come in yet. Nothing to do but throw in anchor and try to keep the bow to the wind and wait for somebody to come by. The sky turned ominous.

Looking in the console I saw water on the top of the battery. What the hell? The battery case was filled with water. Ok, I drained it. Need one with a top or get ride of the case. What next?

I took off my boots and my shirt and jumped in and pulled the boat for a mile against the tide and the wind. Would I ever get her home? Rain. Lightning. Ahh shit, in salt water during a thunderstorm.

Finally when I was near tuckered and a half mile from home I hailed a boat. I needed assistance getting over the rail in what should have been an effortless kick and push. He pulled me to my house.

I summoned the water taxi from next door as it was returning to town. I walked down in the rain. How much for a tow to town? How much do you want to pay? $20 You are going back empty.

Last time you paid $30. Last time I overpaid. Last week I paid somebody else $25 and they came from town to get me. My phone was out, my internet was out. He was here.

Dropped off boat with Frank. Ran into Clay, the guy who built my house. He told me that there was a cleanout in the bottom of the downspout drain. What? I'd never seen one. I'll look more closely.

Back to get captains license. Where do I get my medical certificate? Upstairs. If you don't have one, you just pay $5 and they issue you one. I waited in line for an hour. A woman was hand filling a form that was passed to the next guy who typed it. Computers anybody? It took 6 to 10 minutes per person. I finally got to the front of the line and the woman told me I needed two copies of my passport. I had but one.

Off to pharmacy to get another copy of my passport.

Back to office. Wait in line for an hour. Tales of a boat in possession of the police confiscated from “Wild Bill”, a serial killer, sinking this morning in the rain. Dave's bookstore is flooding. Toro Loco, which serves some of the best meals in town, the only home style restaurant in town is shutting down for good, tired of government corruption. I finally get to the front of the line. The same woman who told me I needed two copies of my passport indicated that she needed only one.

Pay, downstairs. $168. Back up. Get License.

Back to Frank. We agreed that the appropriate action would be to install external tanks. This would be the fastest, cheapest option. It would also allow me to more closely monitor my gas usage on various trips and different cruising speeds. Between fueling it and repairs the boat is by far the biggest expense I have.

I walked back to Ruckel's, the Yamaha dealer in town that doesn't ever seem to have anything in stock that can't be found at a local hardware store. Nope, no tanks in stock. Ahh shit. Walk back to Frank's. Can I borrow a tank? He went of to Zaigon to get one.

Battery cover, gas tanks.

Sombra Robinson a local “deal maker” always has something to sell. From whence it comes may be suspect. He is trying to sell me a new outboard, a new prop. He said he could get me a tank. He returned a couple of minutes later with one, missing a vent screw. What good is this? He went off to get a vent screw. The guy had encountered me 10 times in the last two hours. Now I gave him $40 and expected him to get me the $10 change and catch up with me. I was walking barefoot down the street and he was on a bike. He never did seem to find me again even though I was off to the same stated destination.

About three Frank finally returned with a tank. I had paid him $30 to fill it. I hooked it up and was ready to go off when he insisted that it be installed in my aft locker. I have to meet a plumber at Red Frog. It will only take a few minutes? I know, it's not that difficult. He removed the hose from the tank, ran it through a drain hole in the locker and tried to reattach to tank. He couldn't get it on. He beat on it with a hammer to soften it. Worked it with pliers, stretched it with needle nose pliers and then with a big phillips screwdriver. I was getting disgusted. Don't you have another hose? He went into the supply cabinet and retrieved a newer more pliable hose. The concept of wanting to be on time escaped him. I was finally free to go, ten minutes before I was to meet a guy I had never met and a twenty minute ride to my destination.

When I arrived at the Red Frog workers dock, Gabriel was already on the workers, boat ready to go to Bocas. He saw me, hailed me, I pulled up to the boat and he boarded. Off to my house. I explained the situation to him. He had some long snakes but jamming them down through the cleanout was not possible. I mentioned the other cleanout got a shovel and within five minutes found it buried about a foot below the surface. A short trench was constructed, the plug removed and a filthy sludge of leaves and water gushed forth. A quick inspection and it appeared all the lines had been purged. This was the lowest point of the whole system. That was easy. Now, when is it going to rain again?

Now to run Gabriel to Bocas. Another trip to town. Another $15 in gas. The gas docks on Carenero were closed. No gas. Ok, I have an external tank, I'll go to the gas station on Colon. I was advised they had just run out of gas. No more gas in Bocas until Thursday.

I took him to Casa Verde, bought him a couple of beers. He looked at one girl and told me she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I looked. She was one of the three Czechs that were to stay at my house. I walked over to the table and introduced him. He couldn't say a word. We discussed what they had done during the day and my day. The ring leader had finally arrived from Costa Rica, they went off to Taxi 25 to fetch her.

An hour later the goddess walked in. A spectacular 22 year old blonde Czech. Fantasy stuff wrapped in a simple, well fitted, flattering, but not sleazy dress. Eyes were bugging out every where. I approached, “Are you girls ready to go fishing tomorrow?” “No, we thought you were busy so we made plans to go to Red Frog, then we are heading back to Panama.” Ahhh shit, what lack of water will deprive a man of. We chatted for 15 minutes. They started speaking in Czech. I got the hint, then some groceries and went home.

Captain's Class

I went into town with Garrett. I had to take a boating safety course in order to get a now compulsory captains license.

The meeting was held in the XXXX building which is described as XXXX. Nobody in town had heard of it. The class was to start at nine. People were still registering at 9:40. When registration was compete a very corpulent man stood up and spoke extemporaneously and rapidly in Spanish, ocasionally discussing something that was related to the slide content.

It was a strange course. Nothing on rights of way, horn signals or buoys.

Compass navigation lessons were completed in less than a minute. Norte, Este, Sud,  Oeste and bearings. It couldn't have been more superficial or less informative. For some reason at least ten minutes was spent discussing how to remove fish hooks. Everything was covered in Spanish by a single man while five other staff members video taped the bored audience. This will have to rate as one of the most uninteresting videos ever.

About 11:30 it was completed and the crowd rushed over to a counter outside. Many people were renewing their licenses and seemed to have a clue. What next? I got some Panamanian, fluent in Spanish to tell me that I needed two passport photos, a medical certificate, a copy of my passport and had to take a boating competency test on a water taxi with a tiller outboard. I looked off the back deck and saw people from the class boarding a flat bench Panga. Nearly thirty people were going to take their test on this boat, playing musical chairs. What a cluster f**k. By the time I had told some gringos I was with where the dock was the boat was full. I figured at four minutes apiece this was going to take at least an hour and a half.

Back to the other end of town to meet the three Czech girls who were to stay with me for four nights.

Two were there, one was making here way from Tamarindo, Costa Rica. How long will that take? Well it's four or five hours from Tamarindo to San Jose, five hours from there to Puerto Viejo and from there another 3 or 4 hours. By then, she'll be too late for the water taxi. No way she can make it here today, regardless of what time she leaves.

Garrett decided to stay in town with the two.

I went home and contacted several local groups on Facebook looking for pipe augers. Within half an hour I had scheduled the only plumber in the area with augers to come to my house and do the work for whatever I thought it was worth.

Then I putzed around, cleaned up the boat and generally took care of some household tasks. While I was gone Jessica entered the house, shredded my foam mattess cover, chewed the fastener off my waterproof boat bag, and shredded a cardboard box.  Thanks, bitch.

Gone Fishing

We got in the boat and looked for Timon, my gardener. To what end I don't recall, my notes are sketchy.

We looked for the Jaguar, a local school teacher who lives on Bastimentos and runs a hostel. He's a cool guy. Bastimentos has no roads. One end of the island, Old Town has two sidewalks. One ends at the point, which heads out to open water and the other up the hill to trail that will get you over the top of the island to the open Caribbean. The sea is too rough to dock there so the only way you get there is dock on the bay side and walk over. In any event, we missed him as he wasn't out of school yet.

We hopped accross the bay and snorkeled at Hospital Point.

We returned and walked up the hill to the highest point on the island to a destination had nearly reached before without knowing it. It's a give shop called “Up the hill”. Up the hill we went, past the end of sidewalks, on muddy coconuts, through mud, down more trails to arrive at a store than must have had an inventory of less than $100. It was a few shelves in front of a house. Some coffee, earrings, chocolate, that's about it. I won't be back.

We returned to the hostel and met with jaguar for a scheduled fishing trip. He enjoys my company and takes me fishing for only the price of gas. It's a deal both ways.  He doesn't pay for gas at all, I pay for less than I would in my boat and we get to hang out and enjoy each others company.

First a casting need is used to retrieve a couple of gallons of sardines. These are tiny fish, we'd call them minnows back stateside.

 Bucket on board, the five of us, Jaguar and his neighbor boarded the boat. It's 22 footer with a tiller outboard and five bench seats. We were each handed a spool around which some monofilament line had been wound with a hook and sinker attached. This is the local style. No fancy casting reels. We tooled around from spot to spot catching pan sized snapper. For every keeper there were three throw backs but you could catch a fish a minute.

An afternoon with some friends at the Garden of Eden and a return home. A pleasing, quiet day.

Three Girls and Garrett

I was sitting at the Garden of Eden chatting with three friends, when the owner announced that there were people coming to my house. From his vantage point a water taxi could be observed.

I popped back to my house to greet them before they could even get out of the water taxi. Kehrin a sweetheart dancing girl from Cairo actually now a professional wedding planner in California. Stephanie was from Florida, and owned lots of rental units on both coasts, finding attractively priced quadplexes and renting them out providing her with a free place to live and some small money in her pocket. She also flew around conducting seminars. Some girl I can't remember from California. Garret from California and had been picked up by the girls on the way as they were smitten with him.

"Jim you know everybody!"  "What do you mean?"  Wait you just grabbed a random water taxi guy and told him you want to "Go to Jim's house? That was your plan?"  I know maybe a third of the people who live her, but I sure don't know every water taxi driver and most of them don't know where I live.  You were lucky.  No we just asked in town if somebody knew Jim and that we were trying to get to his house and a guy said that he knew you and called the water taxi.   Even stranger is running into somebody who knows what water taxi guy I use and his number.

We put down their bags, they had a few drinks at the Garden of Eden and we left with Lindsey, the chief administrator of the place. Garrett and one of the girls cooked a wonderful dinner, dancing while doing so. I took Lindsey back and we just kind of hung out, listening to music and chatting.

Not a very interesting store, but Garrett will play some interesting roles, so just consider this background.

Small World

Small world.  I come from a town of 10,000 people.  I've run into two in the mountains of Veraguas, Panama, one in a Ngobe Indian Village where there is nothing but Indians.  Another in Santa Fe, Veraguas, where there are but 13 gringos.  Next week?  A woman I don't know, from my home,  is coming down from San Jose, Costa Rica to spend a couple of days with me in the jungle, and on the beaches and on the water in Panama.

In the meantime, I have to get this Armenian born German somewhere else to preserve my sanity.

Good Morning.

A scorpion.  My boat with on gunnel on the dock, the starboard down toward the sea. Push it off.  Back up the stairs.  What?  Oh great.  I guess it's time to google "home termite control".  Fridge is not running cold.  Time clean the flue again.  Water filter needs replacement, no palatable water.  I'll use bleach.

Worked on filter.  The seal is no good.  

I hate San Jose

I have a lot of catching up to do.  Doubt I ever will.

Still at the dentist when the last bus to Puerto Viejo pulled out at 4:00.  Shit another day in San Jose.

Signs in English

Price Mart Membership Shopping, Payless Shoe Source, McDonald's,Kentucky Fried Chicken, Sherwin Williams Paint Covers the World, Wendys, Best Brands, Taco Bell,
Fight House Martial Arts, Dupont Assurance of Quality, Jessica's Furniture, Subway, Purdy Motor, Popeyes, Louisana Kitchen.  Dr. Robert Veterinary Hospital, Catering Services.....

I get a cab.

An English speaking announcer on the radio, Men down under followed by the Guess Who.  The cabbie sings along.

I have entered a parallel universe.

Turn down a side streat.  1" square bars 10 feet tall every four inches around every house front back and sides.  Topped by razor wire.  Some signs saying the fences are electrified.

A cabbie who doesn't know north from south.

The address of the hotel is
Jose Maria Zeledon
From La Kabana Bar
100 Meters South
200 Meters East

The taxi driver screams at people in the street asking where this bed and breakfast is.
Nobody knows.  It's a house, there is no sign.  How would they know?  In English he screams... "Jesus f..king Christ" oh, the chino won't know anything. 

After an hour of listening to him bitch I had him pull over. I politely asked somebody which way was north.  I told the cabbie to turn right.   Turn right again.  There it is.

Passport - Visa Run

Tuesday

Up at 5:30.  What's that? Two hours sleep?  Great.

Yougurt.  Bananas.  Coffee.

Hail a cab.  "Necessito Embassy Estados Unidos".

He brought me to an Embassy Suites.   Ahh. Shit.

Called three people to translate.  No answer.

"gubernamental Estados Unidos para pasaporte"

Delivered to the correct location.

Grab a number.  Wait.  Numbers "Now serving 811 at window 6,  now serving 913 at window 13, now serving 207 at window 3.   There are only two windows reserved for American Citizens and nobody is being taken care of at either window.  I walk up to one that said it was serving 712.  It's said this for that last 8 minutes.  If Mr. 712 doesn't want to avail himself of the opportunity I will.
30 seconds later I signed my passport and a blank sheet of paper that indicated I had received my passport.  Umm, a blank sheet of paper?  Whatever.

For this I had spend how many hours on the road? 18?

Stop at credit union.  I couldn't get the girls attention.  In walked Carlos, the incredibly handsome taxi driver.   Every woman in the place immediately came over to see how they could be of assistance. What? If you wire money to a bank in Panama from outside the country they take 15% of the money?  Residency requirements stipulate $300,000 the bank would charge $45,000 for a wire?  That can't be right.  Two phone calls later, yup it is.   Whoa! 

Yamaha shop.  $224 for a prop I bought a few months earlier at the same shop for $154.  But they don't even have it.

Back to hotel to get laptop.  Stop at the fish market in Casco Viejo and hog out on huge servings of concha negro (black conch( $2.25 and corvina (sea bass).  The hot sauce was in a squeeze bottle like the kind ketchup would be served from in a diner.  The nozzle was clogged. I squeezed harder.  There was a hot sauce explosion.  Carlos, the counter, the server, another customer and I were all a hot sauce mess.

Off to Luna's castle to get the laptop which has survived an incredible amount of abuse only to have the keyboard bezel destroyed by the last idiot was going to replace my keyboard for me.   The people at Sony told me I could give them $29 and in a month they would tell me what was wrong with it and give me an estimate.  The keyboad needs to be replaced.  Just sell me the part.   They told me it would be $60 and that it includes the bezel.  No it doesn't.  I have looked the part  up online.  You want $80 to install the keyboard.   Christ, I'll do it myself or take it to a chino who will do it for $5.
Oh, tell with it all, I'll just silicone the bezel.

Back to Luna's Castle.  Grab my stuff.  Drop me off at the mall.  I replaced my fanny pack with a multi compartmented case.   This one is carried on the side, like a holster.  Oh, it has a gun pouch, it is a holster.  Awesome. What time is it?  Five.  It's what? Six hours to David?   This is not a direct bus, add in a couple of hours.  I'll be there at two.

I walked to the end of the line.   Screw this!  The hot, smelly, poisonous diesel fumes rolled over the pavement and into my face.  I move up past the exhaust and signalled the girl who was ahead of me in line to join me.   "You have an assigned seat, no point in breathing that." We chatted.  I asked her where she was going.  "Nobody has ever heard of it.  Santa Fe."  "Veraguas, an hour north of Santiago."  She looked amazed.  "Tell Stephanie I said hi." "Who is Stephanie?" "She's the tall blonde dutch woman who runs the hostel you are staying at." "Where am I staying?" "La Quia"  Her eyebrows went up.  "There is only one other place to stay in town and that is Tierra Libra, run Sinet from Cambodia with her husband Marnix from Holland but they have moved out of the old place and the new place isn't finished yet." Then I gave her the names and occupations of every non indian in town.   A quick rundown on the best waterfalls and hikes.  Told her about Guabal a non tourist destination and how you ride up there jammed cheek to cheek with Indians in the back of a covered pickup truck with benches.   Further, Rio Luis, the only time I was there I walked through knee deep mud for four hours.  Then Colovebera, the cocaine smuggling spot between Colon and Costa Rica and gave here the names of several locals.  "Why don't you come with me?"  "Sorry girl, I have to leave the country." We exchanged email addresses.  Who knows maybe she'll write.  I'll probably drop her a line, see how she liked my recommendations.

Call the Purple House, no answer sent them an email.  The bus was frigid.  Strange enounters at the internet cafe.

9:00 Santiago.  Three hours without a movie or music.  That was very nice.
2:00 David.  A taxi ride.   Here's your bed.  Here are your sheets.  You don't even put the sheets on the mattress.  Whatever.  Doesn't matter how nice the place is I won't be concious for long.  To bed at 3:30.

Wednesday
Up at 6:30.   Email to my dentist in San Jose.  Two large coffees. Taxi to terminal.  Meatballs for breakfast.  Cereal and eggs not an option.  Two more coffes.

Notes are italicized.  Maybe I will flesh out later.  I doubt it.

8:10 Depart.  Five pages of notes just skipped. 
10:20 Stop for ten minutes.
10:55 Take off, that was a long ten minutes/.
12:30 Field of trash.
David to Changuinola is $9.70.
12:42 Arrived in Changuinola
Immigracion office.  The guy had no clue.  He called the woman who issued my travelling papers.
"Go to lunch."
Ok, I lunched.
Returned to office.  Document

She is back but working ever so slowly hand crafting a document for people who had queued up before me while I had my lunch.  You need three more copies of the police report?  Why didn't you tell me that two days ago when I made myself a copy?  The cripple walked with me, I don't know why.  He found a pharmacy only 8 blocks away.  When I went by myself I went to one three blocks away.  Whatever.  Yeah and give me a color photocopy of my passport.  I paid a $105 fine for over staying my visit for 45 days and was told to head out of the country.

2:30 Off to Guabito

Half an hour later and $8 shorter I was at the border control point.  Strange.  The crime report that I was told was needed was not wanted at the embassy, not immigration nor at the border.  I got my stamp for my $3 exit fee and went to passport control.  He looked at it.  Looked at the receipt for the fine and got on the phone.  Nothing is easy.  He waved me into the office.   The woman back in Changuinola told me that she had made a mistake and that..... Damn.   No, no, no.  You can go, but you have to come back to the office and get the corrected receipts.  Why?  What am I going to do with them?   I don't care.  No, you have to get them.  And do what with them?  Then you'll have the correct ones.   Ayaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Walk Bridge.
4:00 Mepe
4:58 Puerto Viejo
5:30 44 clicks to Colon
6:15 Break
6:35 Resume
7:34 Squirres
9:13 San Jose
9:47 Marias
"How is Margot?" I just shook my head.  I don't want to go there.
Up past midnight

Thursday

My hostess, Maria insisted on doing my laundry.  I had planned to be out overnight and had a change of underwear, socks and shirt.  Between the hot sauce and a hot bus neither shirt was fit to be worn.  She insisted that she take all my clothes, gave me her sons pants and shirt, which amazingly fit me quite well and did all my laundry.  No charge. 

My notebook charger was back in Bocas.   Using the much more pleasant larger screen system of Marias I took a raw machine I lease over the internet, loaded some CMS software, a couple of extensions and wrote a website while my dentist kept changing my appointment time.   Who am I to bitch, he took me on a day's notice and he is going to whiten my teeth free of charge using a technique that goes for about $600 in the states.  The last schedule change made my appointment at 2:00 the taxi driver appeared at 1:30.  He asked about my son Karl.  "When  is he coming back?" "No se." And the chica?  God, why does everybody have to remind me? Otro.  Mucho otro. He laughed. I didn't.

Teeth cleaned and whitened by a pleasant girl and her amazingly hot assistant if you disregard the tatoos. Off to the bus terminal.  I have a girl to meet in Puerto Viejo tomorrow.