Log book
- Port of departure: Santa Catalina, Panama
- Departure date and time: Monday, March 31 at 10:30pm (22:30)
- Port of arrival: Puerto Mutis, Panama
- Arrival date and time: Tuesday, April 1 at 5:00am (05:00)
- Total travel time: 18.5 hours (12.5 hours in transit)
- Miles traveled: 32 nm
- Average speed: 2.6 knots
- Engine hours: 1223.0 begin – 1229.4 end – 6.4 hours
- Fuel consumption: 30.2 begin – 30.2 end – 2.6 gallons used
- Fuel economy: 12.3 mpg
- Tides and currents: Low tide at 10am – High tide at 4:15pm – Low tide – 10:30 – High tide at 4:45am – The current should have helped us but the wind and the waves counteracted any beneficial current.
- Weather: The forecast predicted E winds (5-8 knots) on Monday morning, switching to a S/SW wind (3-8) in the afternoon and evening and becoming a NE wind again (5-8 knots) at 1am on Tuesday.
Bashing upwind is terrible. I forget how much I dislike sailing upwind until we’re heeled over, bouncing around, making barely any headway, my insides getting all sideways and confused. Those brilliant days of downwind sailing, or even calm upwind sailing cast a haze on all those crappy passages. It’s like Pacific Northwestern winters. Spring and summer lull you into forgetting that winter is filled with dark, grey clouds of misery (for some of us). But just when you think you’ve had enough drizzle to last a lifetime those sweet little daffodils and crocuses pop out and you think, gosh this is nice and you put winter behind you to worry about another day. Sailing upwind is our winter.
We entertained just staying put today, hanging out at Isla Santa Catalina, traipsing the beach picking up shells and trash, drinking a second pot of coffee and reading or writing, fixing up the little things that have broken in the past week. Neither one of us is really mentally prepared for travel mode. But here we are, traveling on what we thought was a relaxed schedule. Though relaxed and schedule don’t really belong in a sentence together.
After coffee and the morning HAM net we thought, why not, let’s just finish up this passage to Puerto Mutis, take care of our business there and get around Punta Mala as soon as possible so we can enjoy a little time in the Perlas Islands before meeting our friend Stephanie in Panama City.
The wind was blowing a steady 17 knots from the E with gusts to 25 from the NE. We should have known better. But the last time we went up to Mutis we had wind gusting from the E/NE that mellowed out then switched to the SW just in time to push us up the river and the forecast did call for some SW winds. I guess maybe we were hoping for a repeat performance. Maybe Mother Nature was only smiling upon us that one time because she knew we didn’t have a functional prop. She was taking it easy.
Low tide was at a little after 1000 and we planned to ride the incoming tide into the Gulf of Montijo and up the Rio San Pedro. With a reefed main and the working jib we were scooting along nicely at 5.5 knots, rounding up into the 25 knot gusts. Once we cleared Punta Brava the wind steadied and died down to about 12-15 knots from the E/NE. We shook out the main. The wind continued its decline to about 10 knots. We raised the genoa. Our angle wasn’t great…and our speed wasn’t great either.
When we tacked out into the Gulf on a N/NW heading our speed dropped to 2.5-3.0 knots. Gross. I don’t know how to explain it except that maybe there are some eddies in the Gulf that were pushing against us. We were crawling along as waves, wind and current held us at bay. The wind wasn’t that strong, but it was somehow managing to kick up some monstrous square waves. Each wave we crashed into slowed our forward progress by an additional half knot. If the angle had been good, it would have made sense to keep sailing, but sailing would have added an additional 6 miles to what was already turning into a 30+ mile day and with only a 6 hour window with favorable tides, the decision became clear.
In the interest of time and salvaging what little sanity we started the day with, we doused the sails and motored into the wind. More grossness ensued. We were averaging 3.5 knots under motor, the waves, like steroid slinging linebackers, still crashing into us, slowing our progress. Did Neptune not get the message? Isn’t the tide supposed to be helping us here?
So we tried to make the best of a crappy upwind situation. Jeff went to the bow to try to fly when the bow rose up on a wave, and I tried to capture the magic on my camera. This is the supremely awesome result:
Eventually the novelty of flying wore off. I had a headache, Jeff was capital D Done. I pleaded: Don’t do this to us Panama. I thought we had a good thing going here. But really, we should have known better.
There was no way we’d make it to Mutis on this tide…heck, we’d be lucky to even make it to Isla Leones. We set our sights on Isla Verde, a few miles past Leones, which would provide some protection from the NE wind and waves while we waited for the tide to shift in our favor again.
Towards the end of the flood tide the waves got bigger. Outgoing river + incoming tide + outgoing wind = chaos. Plus with a new moon and the sun almost directly overhead, the tides have been doing some crazy things lately. What doesn’t quite make sense to me is that the wind wasn’t really that strong, maybe only 10-12 knots.
If we were without a motor we probably would have turned tail a long ways back, but we held on to that progress with an iron grip. We powered into the waves, our bodies whipping back and forth as Serenity’s bow plowed into the waves. Have motor, will travel.
Tack refused to seek refuge inside. The instant Jeff would sit down he’d crawl on his lap and bury his head in the crook of his arm. Poor guy. We’ve always wanted him to be more of a lap cat…
Slack tide brought significant relief, enabling us to power the last couple of miles, the current against us, in relative comfort. When we reached the spot behind Isla Verde we looked behind us and the water that had been churning with 4-6 foot waves was now like a friggin’ mill pond. Glassy, smooth, inviting. Go figure. The sunset was absolutely incredible, with all sorts of bird noises emanating from the nearby mangroves.
Jeff fixed us up some delicious fried rice and we were in bed by 2100, trying to catch 6 hours of sleep before we woke up for the tide change. At 0300 we drug ourselves out of bed, made coffee, hauled anchor and finished up the last 7 miles under motor. We’ve gotten to know this river fairly well, but we still have a lot to learn. Glad this passage is over, never to be repeated. Hopefully we have that same NE wind when we’re trying to leave Mutis – at our back this time instead of on our nose.