Beach party at Isla Chapera!
The pack has come and gone. They flocked from the Caribbean, from Mexico, from Central America. They dabbled along the coastline then migrated to their chosen hurricane holes. Very few cruisers are left in Panama, most crossed to Ecuador or to the South Pacific or transited the canal to the Caribbean while a few chose to scurry up to El Salvador or Mexico. We didn’t realize before we started cruising that sailors follow seasonal cycles much like seabirds, whales, schools of fish. The rhythm, however, isn’t solely dictated by nature, it’s also influenced by bureaucracy, by culture, by comfort.
When we departed El Salvador in November we thought we would be in the middle of the cruising pack. After having spent an entire cruising season in Mexico significantly behind everyone else, we were looking forward to more social gatherings and buddy boating opportunities. Empty anchorages have their charm but too much alone time can have a deleterious effect. I occasionally need people around to convince me that I still have interesting things to contribute to a conversation and that I haven’t lost all of my social graces by living in the wild. Not to mention, good conversation and stories are like a defibrillator for the soul, they get my creative synapses firing.
Unbeknownst to us, however, we would be way ahead of the pack in Central America. Not to mention the pack significantly thinned out after leaving Mexico. We were virtually alone throughout most of Costa Rica and Western Panama…until February. Then they came, a tidal wave of dinner parties and beach gatherings, a plethora of friendly faces: “old” friends from Northern ports, new friends happy to make our acquaintance just because our home happens to float, as does theirs. Though many of them, both old and new, came and went as quickly as a Panamanian Norther. Some skipped right on by, making a beeline to the stepping stone that is Panama City.
We tried our best to keep up with the momentum and enjoy every second of being in the company of other boaters, all with such fascinating life stories to share (pre- and post-boat). I wish I was like a squirrel. I wish I could hide away my energy like chestnuts. During calm times I could find and bury my chestnuts to be excavated, on demand, when I need the social boost. But really, I’m more like a battery bank. I can (safely) deplete my social energy to about half, but then I just need to rest and get “topped up” before I try to operate under load again.
During March on the Pan Pacific radio net we had five to ten boats checking in on the daily, reporting their progress to some far off destination. During April there were a few final spurts, cruisers bringing up the rear. Now the radio is mostly silent. Nobody even checks in to say ‘hey.’ People are readying their boats for the off season when trips home or inland adventures fill the docket. One or two boats are probably still gunkholing down the Central American coast. They might pop in at some point in the future, and we will be glad for the company. Fortunately, we’ve made lots of land-based friends here in Panama.
“No one will be left by the time we get to Panama City.” Jeff surmised as we prepared to round Punta Mala. He wasn’t too far off the mark. Apparently two weeks before we arrived the local radio net in Panama City was abuzz with activity and the pizza joint was bursting at the seams with cruisers. By the time we arrived there were a few of the Panama City veterans (some of whom have been hanging out in Panamanian waters longer than we’ve been sailing), and a whole lot of international boats (mostly French) who had just transited the canal and were en route to Ecuador or the South Pacific after they fixed whatever needed fixing and filled up their stores with edibles.
Why Ecuador? Apparently there is either no lightning or less lightning (depending on who you talk to). Plus it’s a good jumping off point for exploring South America.
Why the South Pacific? Because during hurricane season in the Caribbean and Mexico, it’s the opposite of hurricane season in the South Pacific (is there a word for that? anti-hurricane season…normal season). Plus…it’s the South Pacific, a beautiful, magical place that (fill in glowing verbs and adjectives here).
And then there’s us. We let the wave of camaraderie wash over us. We reveled in company of fellow cruisers, were humbled by their generosity and buoyed by their enthusiasm for boats and travel and making new friends wherever they drop the hook. And although at times we were tempted to leave with the pack, our appetites whetted by their excitement for a distant port, we weren’t ready to be that much further away from home.