8/24/09: After a restful night, Chris and I go ashore on Isla Cavada, while Tim begins repairing my fish, fins and fin box. It’s a beautiful private island surrounded by a multitude of smaller rock formations, clear water, lots of fish and a varying sand-coral-rock bottom. Isla Cavada houses an exclusive resort that caters to the ultra-wealthy by providing shelter in air conditioned Yurts (luxury tents) and complete solitude. $1,000.00 per night includes meals (not alcohol) & activities (panga ride tours and transportation to surf and snorkeling spots, scuba diving & fishing). The grounds are lush and very well kept. We chat with a friendly fellow who obviously is either the owner and/or manager of the resort, and find they are only open during the dry season from December to March. They employ 18 people to maintain the grounds and structures year-round, as there’s much moisture and maintenance involved in the upkeep. As we depart, their supply barge arrives at their floating dock. A well kept aluminum vessel with a shallow draft and front end loader that transports guests, supplies and fuel. Tim and Kopra head to shore to walk the island as we did, but are stopped short at the floating dock. Another owner/manager prohibits access to the interior of this private island resort, but they are welcomed to walk the beach only, which would take all of 10 seconds, round trip. At 1115 we anchor up and head out, originally towards Isla Parida, but change mid-course and head to Boca Chica, where we’ll anchor, then move up the river to David (Panama’s second largest city) to check out of the country. 1500: Drop anchor, Boca Chica. There are approximately 7 other sailboats and catamarans anchored here, which is a good sign of safe harbor. 1900: we dingy ashore to Hotel Boca Brava for internet access, beers and lots of laughs. Hotel Boca Brava is owned and operated by Frank, originally from Germany, who’s been here for 15 years.
8/25/09: 0800 our new neighbor Mike comes by in his dingy to introduce himself and shares his wealth of local knowledge. Bus schedules, taxi rides, cost of goods and services, local people, foreigners living locally, other sailboat neighbors, how to get to David, the marina in Pedregal, the difficult transit up the river to Pedregal, possible contacts for repairs and maintenance, locations both good and bad, where and how to dock the dingy at the concrete ramp (no public docks), multiple store names best to shop for provisions, water taxi services, immigration, port captain, zarpe & maritime authority procedures and costs, local bars and their history (Hotel Boca Brava, Gone Fishing & Playa Christina) and the best beer prices. Armed with all this new information, Tim and Kopra zip around for a few hours visiting all the bars, meeting people, and ultimately find a ride into David, where they’ll overnight and take a bus in the morning to the border, and cross into Costa Rica. They only have a few days left before they leave, and the surf hunt is of top priority. Iwalani will be anchored here for a few days as we figure out how best to take care of exiting the country. By 1600, a water taxi arrives to pick up Tim, Kopra and their bags and surf gear. We say our goodbyes as they leave us with parting gifts: a fishing pole and lure, a marine work vest, miscellaneous meds and band aids. And oh, Tim gives me his fish to surf on, in the event repairs to my surfboard are not satisfactory. He’s already done an excellent job on repairing the fin, which originally looked like multiple layers of stiff fiberglass fanned out like a deck of cards, and Chris will do the rest. At 1630 the boys are gone and it’s silent. Tim and Kopra were great boat guests and are welcomed back anytime.
8/26/09: 0930 Mike the neighbor gives us a ride into David to pick up supplies, resin to fix my board and repair our extra alternator. Hawked by street vendors with rolling carts, we sample granisados, their version of local shaved ice, which is hand shaved off large blocks of ice into paper cups and topped with homemade, natural fresh fruit syrups such as coconut, pineapple and agua dolce (cane sugar). We also sample freshly squeezed agua dolce, sugar cane water. Whole stalks of raw sugar cane are fed through a giant, hand cranked press. The extracted juice runs down over a simple screen filter stretched across the top of a large, open Igloo water cooler filled with ice. Out comes agua dolce, an overly sweet, green colored (from the cane stalk) drink that is surprisingly refreshing. Can’t get more natural than that! In the early evening, we visit another Boca Chica hotel & bar called Gone Fishing, a beautiful property well maintained with lots of exquisite terra cotta tile work. We meet the whole family: owner Bruce, his wife and son, Cedar, Holly the Yorkshire terrier, and Ricky Rick, an intensely protective parrot who’s most likely a very jealous female. She wants nothing to do with anyone but Bruce, and contently sits on his shoulder, cuddling and cooing affectionately in his ear.
8/27/09: Today is spent onboard, alternately relaxing and cleaning up after our guest’s departure. In the early afternoon, a short dingy ride is in order to visit Playa Christina, a small beach side bar just around the corner on Isla Boca Brava, and nicknamed so after the retired woman who leases the land and resides in a house in the hills above the beach. On a sandy beach accessible only by dingy or a long hike through the interior island jungle, Christina has a small, thatched roofed hut which serves as a shady place to park yourself and have a few beers. She’s a very pleasant, carefree spirit who speaks three languages (German, Spanish & English), serves beer in her bikini, loves music, song and dance…and of course, beer. Her constant companion who stands guard and keeps watch over her every move is Palmina, a mixed breed lovable puppy, who does her guard dog duties extremely well.
8/28/09: Chris hitches another ride into David with neighbor Mike, while Colin and I stay onboard to accomplish dreaded school work and financial accounting duties. 1130 Cedar and two friends motor by and graciously invite us to surf, but I take a rain check for later. 1600 rolls around, Chris isn’t back yet, and we’re hit with a brief yet turbulent and violent squall. Colin notices our anchor dragging (good eye Fish Bucket!) so I manually hoist it up alone and amidst 30 kt winds while Colin steers, and we reposition it twice before it holds. 1715 Chris finally returns after a long exhausting day and car ride, wedged alongside 10 cases of beer, two additional passengers, various bags of groceries, an alternator, and a newly acquired plastic chest of drawers, all squeezed into his 3 cylinder Chevy “gnat” with an 800 hp motor. We reposition the anchor in calm conditions and needless to say, it was an early night for all.
8/29/09: At 1600 we’re hit by another violent squall, and it’s a good thing Capt Chris is onboard. The squall came out of the SE at a surprisingly rapid pace, slapping us with 45 kt winds gusting up to 50 kts, and horizontal rain that felt like pellets shot at close range. The anchor was holding but Chris motors in place to keep the tension off the chain. The squalls lasts for almost 2 hours, other vessels drag a bit, but all else holds fast. We later learn that this was the worst squall that hit Boca Chica in 5 – 7 years.
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