It's been what? More than a week? I haven't been accomplishing much. Too frustrated to continue without a break, I took a break.
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Whatever we did on Saturday is lost. I have no idea. I think it rained and we just hung out at the house. At five I laid down for a nap and awoke 13 hours later, at dawn.
Starfish Beach
Chris, Alejandra, Melissa, Jennifer and I took a panga to Starfish Beach and had a campfire under the stars and grilled chicken. Jen managed to step on a hot coal and get a third degree burn on her foot. Things went downhill from there. By the end of the night I was worn out.
"Hey, Mel, are you ready to spend the weekend with me?"
When we returned, she went to her room and grabbed her stuff. We headed home. Sweet peace.
Weekend
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Sunday, the weather was clear. Off for adventure. We had plenty of gas, so we just headed east, down through
the cut between my island and Bastimentos, headed South to the of end the island and visited Coral Key or Crawl Cay. Northeast to the Southeastern point of the island, up a river to Salt Creek, a Ngobe Indian community, over to a beach, back on the boat to one of the Zapatillas, pristine little islands surrounded by beach.
I beached the skiff, but the water kept washing over the stern. Back into the water, I tied off to a mooring buoy on the leeward side and we swam in the clear blue water for a couple of hours.
We continued past the last island in the archipeligo and arrived at Playa Verde. This Ngobe community in the Ngobe-Bugle Comarca is the real deal. We were greeted at the beach by a throng. Mel was quite impressed. "Donde este Eta?" Eta is the Ngobe name for the Peace Corp worker that resides there, his real name is Evan, maybe Ian.
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The seas were calm. The boat was lightly loaded. Alright, let's check out Kusapin. What girl doesn't like cool photos of herself? I pulled up to a rock, asked her to give me her camera, and instructed her to get out of the boat. I pulled away a bit and took a picture. The only copy I have has been photoshopped. The water is brilliant blue in reality
Around the point, unprotected from a hundred miles of fetch the waves no longer insignificant, five feet or so, but gentle rollers. I spotted the entry to Kusapin but couldn't figure out how to get to shore through all the coral. A water taxi was taking a severely serpentine path. I tilted the outboard a couple of of notches, most of the the thrust was vertical, the orientation of the prop and the skeg, in conjunction with idling speed and I hoped to get to shore without incident. We tied off to a pier and went in search of a restaurant. We ordered pollo guisado (chicken in gravy) and waited. And waited. And waited. One of the women that worked in the restaurant left and returned with an ice cream. Mel went out and fetched a couple, which had been dispensed in tiny plastic cups. Friggin' awesome. am sure it was made with condensed milk.
We waited some more. An hour and a half had elapsed. Forget it. I paid the bill. I was charged for the chicken we never received. A couple of waters and a piece of banana bread came to about $7.
Time to go. There was supposed to be some kind of channel. Hmmm. I followed the shoreline towards a house and gingerly made my way out there. As advised by all ashore it was "Totalmente coral". Watching the water I made my way through the deepest water I could find. Then I turned left. To my left was coral, ahead rocks, to the right a five foot breaking wave threatened the boat. I had no choice but to try to outrun it. With just enough gas I positioned myself just ahead of the break, more happenstance than planning the wave approached my beam on quarter and we surfed out between the rocks on the leading edge of the wave. It was butthole puckering.
The rest of the long return trip was made without stops, a long boat ride.
I beached the skiff, but the water kept washing over the stern. Back into the water, I tied off to a mooring buoy on the leeward side and we swam in the clear blue water for a couple of hours.
We continued past the last island in the archipeligo and arrived at Playa Verde. This Ngobe community in the Ngobe-Bugle Comarca is the real deal. We were greeted at the beach by a throng. Mel was quite impressed. "Donde este Eta?" Eta is the Ngobe name for the Peace Corp worker that resides there, his real name is Evan, maybe Ian.
The seas were calm. The boat was lightly loaded. Alright, let's check out Kusapin. What girl doesn't like cool photos of herself? I pulled up to a rock, asked her to give me her camera, and instructed her to get out of the boat. I pulled away a bit and took a picture. The only copy I have has been photoshopped. The water is brilliant blue in reality
Around the point, unprotected from a hundred miles of fetch the waves no longer insignificant, five feet or so, but gentle rollers. I spotted the entry to Kusapin but couldn't figure out how to get to shore through all the coral. A water taxi was taking a severely serpentine path. I tilted the outboard a couple of of notches, most of the the thrust was vertical, the orientation of the prop and the skeg, in conjunction with idling speed and I hoped to get to shore without incident. We tied off to a pier and went in search of a restaurant. We ordered pollo guisado (chicken in gravy) and waited. And waited. And waited. One of the women that worked in the restaurant left and returned with an ice cream. Mel went out and fetched a couple, which had been dispensed in tiny plastic cups. Friggin' awesome. am sure it was made with condensed milk.
We waited some more. An hour and a half had elapsed. Forget it. I paid the bill. I was charged for the chicken we never received. A couple of waters and a piece of banana bread came to about $7.
Time to go. There was supposed to be some kind of channel. Hmmm. I followed the shoreline towards a house and gingerly made my way out there. As advised by all ashore it was "Totalmente coral". Watching the water I made my way through the deepest water I could find. Then I turned left. To my left was coral, ahead rocks, to the right a five foot breaking wave threatened the boat. I had no choice but to try to outrun it. With just enough gas I positioned myself just ahead of the break, more happenstance than planning the wave approached my beam on quarter and we surfed out between the rocks on the leading edge of the wave. It was butthole puckering.
The rest of the long return trip was made without stops, a long boat ride.
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