Taylor, a lovely friend of ours from SV Via, wrote the following. A longish read but it completely sums up our experience here in San Blas, and I could not possibly say it better myself.
The moon is overhead. I don’t really know what day of the week it is or what the date is or sometimes even what month or season it is, but I know the moon is waxing, about a quarter moon now, rising later and growing bigger every afternoon.
A soft background symphony of small waves lapping the white sand beach hushes along outside, against the more distant white noise of the wrath of the ocean crashing to a stop on the reef further out, which is all dampened slightly by the rattling of our seven fans that haven’t been shut off in months. My neighbor’s dog barks and gets lovingly shushed and I hear others laughing in the distance. The trade winds rush through the wide open window above and sweep around my face as I lie on my bed. It’s 7pm. We’ve already cooked and eaten and cleaned up, and it’s dark now, so we turn off the power, which takes the internet and the portal to the rest of the world with it. Now we’re just here, with the moon, with the sea, with the night.
We have been living in a remote archipelago for what is now approaching four months, in territory inhabited by the indigenous Guna people, far from the trappings of modern civilization. I haven’t seen a grocery store or washing machine or a restaurant or a car or a road or even a proper building in nearly four months. When the clothes and towels and sheets need to be cleaned, I do it by hand, or really by foot, stomping and swishing the fabrics around in our collapsable bucket like Lucy making wine. It requires many small loads and many hours, washing and hanging and turning everything over periodically in the Caribbean sun until it’s dry, or as dry as it can be with the sea hazily misting the air.
I haven’t worn shoes in four months…
To read the rest, please visit Taylor Gage at: https://taylorgage.substack.com/p/here-away-from-it-all?r=bs5hs&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post&open=false
We might be far away from civilization, but we can tune it in when we want to. We watched the Super Bowl from the cockpit of our boat at anchor at Green Island. We barbecued meat and veggies for some incredible tacos and watched the game in otherwise absolute peace and quiet.
On February 18, a large group of our friends all left from the western San Blas straight to the islands outside Cartagena. The day before was a big sendoff party/birthday party. A few days later we moved farther east into the more remote San Blas islands and away from all the charter boats and the drama they create. (As in, entering an anchorage much too fast, anchoring far too close to other boats, dragging if the wind picks up because they didn’t put out enough scope (anchor chain) and even having strobe lights at the top of their mast. These are supposed to be a solid white light and a strobe after dark, even high up a mast, is incredibly annoying to everyone around you.)
We woke up one morning to find that our finger bananas ripening in the cockpit had been ravaged by bats during the night. Haven’t had something like that happen since Black Witch Moths ate our plantains in Mexico. Needless to say, they left quite a mess of gooey banana guts everywhere.
So, we moved to the Islands of Nargana and Corozon de Jesus, connected by a pedestrian bridge. We checked out the little town but it was very quiet. Just a few tiendas and an old man who went to school in the States and wanted to practice his English. The town was decked out for the revolution fiesta on February 25, the 100th anniversary. This village has mostly left the traditional Guna ways behind as they have electricity, lots of cell phones, tv’s galore and the women mostly dress in western clothes. Some of the streets were even grass, which was very nice, many houses were at least partially cement and most of the village was spotlessly clean. We walked all around and had an ice cold beer at a bar by the water for $1 each. We got gas for the dink and went back in the evening to see if there was any fiesta for carnival. Nothing happening until later so we got an ice cream (incredible find!) and went back to the boat. We sat on the bow with a drink and watched — fireworks!!! Unbelievable as there was no evidence of that earlier.
The next day we took a dinghy trip up the Rio Diablo. We knew it was by the airstrip but finding the actual river entrance amongst the mangroves was quite a challenge and we finally saw a Guna in a dugout canoe heading in and he motioned for us to follow. I had to walk the dink over a mud bank with lots of dead wood and then we entered a small river that led to the main channel after a bit. The Guna man was going to get fresh water and had a few plastic tanks to fill. We knew that boats could arrange for water per 50 gallon barrel so were very interested in how this was obtained. We finally caught up to the dugout well into the main channel (he was just paddling by hand) and offered him a tow. He gladly accepted and then gave hand directions as to what part of the channel to be in to avoid the many obstacles. We were very glad to have him!
About two miles up river we had reached the end of the navigable channel and he quickly filled his water containers then offered to take us to the local cemetery. We followed him another half mile on foot up the river and into the jungle. Along the way I asked if there were crocs in the river and he thought about it for a moment and said, yes, up the river much farther…
The cemetery was fascinating and is only for the Nargana villagers. The Corozon de Jesus people have their own. When a person is buried they are buried with all their worldly possessions: hammock, clothes and even their dishes are placed on top of the grave! They are almost all Christian, majority Catholic, but they definitely hold onto some of their ancient beliefs.
The following day we learned that this crocodile had been killed at the mouth of the river a few hours after we were there…
We moved back to a large anchorage we’ve been to several times in hopes that we might find the veggie boat and, sure enough, just after we got there!
The next day we caught wind of a “pizzeria” on the other side of the island. Could we really get take out on Tess’ birthday? Now, mind you, we’ve been on this little island several times but, ok, if you say so… So we landed the dink and asked the mola lady who pointed inland. Ok. So we followed the little path along the shore … and kept going, seeing nothing but coconut palms and reminding ourselves that there is no electricity on this island, never mind the ingredients or an oven. And then, ta-da! There it was!
We got two combination pizzas thinking they’d be thin crust like the last time we found such a miracle in the jungle, but these were AWESOME! Thicker crust, crisp but still soft inside. OMG! They said it would be about 45 minutes and they would deliver them to the beach. Sure enough! In brand-new cardboard pizza boxes no less! Tess made a fresh carrot cake for dessert and we had Bev and Rolf of SV Rochambeau join us to celebrate.
A couple days later we sailed on to Cayos Diablo. This village was a bit cleaner still, had a nice school (March to Dec) and a hospital across a bridge on the next island. There is a third island above that one but it is considered haunted and, consequently, off-limits. We found a larger boat filling the hull with husked coconuts for transport to Colombia. We’ve seen people ever since filling their cayucos with husked coconuts. The husks are burned for cooking and sometimes in huge piles back in the jungle.
When we landed we had to pay the tax of $10 for the boat and $10 for the revolution. In exchange, we had a guide. I don’t think they allow outsiders to roam around some of these islands. Anyway, he showed us the sights and took us to his family homes, as they always do. We found his sister using an old manual Singer sewing machine.
The anchorage was very uncomfortable so we beat a hasty retreat the next morning to Snug Harbor-aptly named. We spent a few days here in the blessed calm, met some cruisers from South Africa, Germany and the US, rescued a starving dog and I took a trip into the jungle with Tomas, a local. The dog was one of two that had been abandoned on an island and looked skeletal. The black dog was very friendly, named “Twiggy” by our neighbors, and everyone took turns bringing food to them between beach trips. Twiggy ate most of it as Ghost rarely showed her face. The call for help and/or adoption went out and a few days later another boat found Twiggy a home at a nearby eco-lodge! Ghost, well, we will pray for her.
Tomas, from the village of Ukupseni, took me on a seven mile hike to a waterfall, where the village gets its water via a miles-long, gravity-fed pipe. The pipe was leaking in a few places so they patch it, more or less, with a stick and piece of cloth. We had to walk across a long bridge to the mainland, the length of the airstrip and finally into the jungle. He showed me how each family has a plot of land along the way to grow whatever food they want. Mostly pineapple, cacao, coconut, guava, mango, avocado, cassava, and bananas. Along the way, he picked the fruit of a lipstick tree and painted my face with “sunscreen.” He also cut me a great walking stick which probably saved my life several times as the trail was very slippery, muddy and treacherous. He didn’t need one as his machete was literally an extension of him arm and used like a walking stick. As with most of Central America, outside of a city, men are never without one.
We crossed a croc infested river about 8 times and at one point I could not get up a muddy bank as it kept collapsing on me. Very much like Romancing the Stone where Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner slide down the muddy hillside. I was just as messy from a shorter slide in the orangish mud. Tomas had to cut a different path for me to get up. Another time he dropped his machete into the mud and scrubbed it with his boot on both sides, removing all the rust. He picked up a ripe coconut and husked it within 45 seconds (still takes me 20 minutes but I’m getting better!). He then removed the shell without breaking the actual ball of meat. He picked a cacao and many finger bananas using my stick, which was sharp on both ends. These fruits were all growing wild. He said that a few years ago he was caught picking a single coconut from someone’s plot and they locked him in the jail for a couple of hours until he paid a $25 fine! This is totally believable as cruisers are all told to leave a few coins in a notch in the tree if you take a coconut from an uninhabited island. It belongs to someone and you are expected to pay for it.
He also cut me a special kind of plant and made a cross, insisting I put it on my backpack to ward off bad spirits. Here is the prayer he said:
On the way out we toured his village, saw the jail cell and visited his family homes where I had a piece of fried Guna bread that was delicious.
The next day he came out on his sailing cayuco and brought breadfruit to a neighbor. She fried some up and he brought a piece over to us. It was excellent so we bought one for $3 and he showed us how to skin it, cut it up and cook it. When lightly fried it is exactly like a McDonald’s french fry! We ate a bunch the next day as fast as Tess could cook them. She has since used some in a curry and it keeps frozen in a baggie for some time.
As part of their revolution celebration, all men and boys have their hands dyed black. Don’t ask me why, I can only tell you that it takes days to wear off.
I’ll wrap this one up with a few random pictures. I gave that little boy a foam police car and boy was he happy. Look closely at that last picture. Would you really want to dunk at this basketball hoop?
