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Update 1 | Update 2
Update 3 | Update 4
Update 6 | Update 7
Update 8 | Update 9
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Update 6 - December 4, 1999
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O Jump back, what's that sound?
Here she comes, full blast and top down.
Hot shoe, burnin' down the avenue.
Model citizen zero discipline
Don't you know she's coming home with me?
You'll lose her in the turn.
I'll get her!
Panama, Panama
Panama, Panama
Ain't nothin' like it, her shiny machine.
Got the feel for the wheel, keep the moving parts
clean.
Hot shoe, burnin' down the avenue,
Got an on-ramp comin' through my bedroom.
Don't you know she's coming home with me?
You'll lose her in the turn.
I'll get her!
Panama, Panama
Panama, Panama
Yeah, we're runnin' a little bit hot tonight.
I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of
it.
Ah, you reach down, between my legs,
ease the seat back.
She's blinding, I'm flying,
Right behind the rear-view mirror now.
Got the feeling, power steering,
Pistons popping, ain't no stopping now!
Panama, Panama
Panama, Panama
In the immortal words of Van Halen: Panama, Panama ah
ah ah ah ah. As you can surely see by the lyrics, the
Van Halen brothers held some of the same insights that
I do about this fine county; this crossroads between
Pacific and Atlantic on the eve of the most important
event in this tiny isthmus nation of 3.5 million´s
history, the handing over of the Panama Canal at 12:00
noon on December 31, 1999.
Our canal. The engineering feat of the 20th century
that cost tens of thousands of American lives and
billions of American taxpayers' hard-earned dollars.
Just giving it away.... C´est la vie. Bu-bye. Happy
Millennium, have a canal. Carter.
Welcome to Condesa Update number six, Gold Edition.
Here I sit in the fine city of David in the country of
Panama, the fourth new country on Condesa's voyage.
It's great to be here. Panama is like having all the
natural beauty of Costa Rica, the islands of Palau and
the convenience and consumer economy of San
Dimas....at half the price.
To backtrack a bit, I last wrote from San Jose, Costa
Rica and the boat was in Golfito.
My mom and Bill Hoffman arrived simultaneously and
both brought fabulous care packages. My mom stayed
for ten days of cruising around the Golfo Dulce. Bill
is still here, and now his fiance, Monique, has joined
us as well.
After my mom left, we satisfied Bill's surfing jones
in spades. The various breaks near Cabo Matopalo were
incredible. Pavones, the supposed 'longest left in
the world' was a total dud. It's a fairly well-kept
secret that the better, more consistent surf is
straight across the gulf at Matopalo, Backwash Bay and
Pan Dulce. There are people there who would beat me
to a pulp for publishing such information. Bill and I
anchored outside of these breaks for a total of 12
days, I think; surfing until total exhaustion every
day. Bill broke a fin and I blew out my shoulder.
Paradise.
When we were incapable of surfing any more, we set off
for Panama and the 'killing fields.' Our long dearth
of fresh fish was amply relieved in the short passage
around Punta Burrica and into Panamanian waters. Our
fridge was so full of fresh tuna and dorado that we
stopped fishing.
After rounding the point in a squall, we ducked into a
little settlement where some friends of ours have a
mooring and a friend named Leonardo. We pulled in
after dark, looking lost and shining our spotlight
around and Leonardo came out in a panga to help us.
He was great to help us, but misguided us a bit with
the results being spectacular. This little settlement
sits on the edge of some strange underwater terrain.
Basically within 100 feet of the shore the depth drops
from 30 feet to the bottomless abyss. Leonardo tried
to find our friend's mooring, but after a half our in
the rain, he told us to drop anchor....in 100 feet of
water. I've never anchored in water that deep and one
should never attempt it, but I was going with the
'local knowledge.'
Bill and Leonardo started dropping the anchor. When
about 100 feet of chain were out it got stuck and
stopped rolling. I went up on the bow to 'help,'
kicked the chain and got it rolling again. I think
what must have happened is during the time we were
dropping the anchor we drifted off the ledge and into
the abyss. The chain started rolling alright. It
overpowered the brake, started running the motor
backwards, started smoking and making a cartoon sort
of whirring noise; all the while sending about $1500
worth of chain and anchor to the bottom at break-neck
speed. There was nothing we could do without losing a
limb or ripping the windlass off the deck.
The end of the anchor chain is attached to the boat
with a rotten old piece of three-stand line. I
thought this line would surely break when it got to
the end and the whole issue would be lost.
Miraculously, it held, but you could have walked on it
like a tightrope. We immediately doubled up lines and
jury rigged it to hold for the night. The next
morning Bill and I pulled in the chain, inch by inch,
over the course of three hours. You see, 300 feet of
chain and and anchor sitting on the bottom in 50 foot
deep water is a lot different than 300 feet of chain
and an anchor hanging in free space; much more weight
than the windlass or mortal men can handle. Lesson
learned: never try to anchor in more than, say, 80
feet of water.
From there we sailed over to Isla Parida and the heart
of Panamanian island paradise: Island after island,
coconut-fringed white sand beaches, jungle trails,
fresh water streams, scallops or oysters or whatever
the hell we were eating night after night for the
taking and friendly locals who would rather trade than
get cash. Ergo, Bill and I were able to eat in style
for three weeks without provisioning. We traded fresh
fish and boxed milk for bananas, limes, oranges and
papaya and foraged the reefs for fresh seafood.
Finally it was time to leave the islands, officially
check in to Panama and prepare for our next guests.
We would make our first trip up the river to Pedregal,
the port of entry on the outskirts of David.
After checking in, shopping (much more on this later),
catching a few movies, and buying a new outboard for
the dinghy (the old one went down in a blaze of glory)
we met up with Tony, just in from California after a
long flight and bus ride. Tony brought a world-class
care package; food, parts, mosquito nets...to much to
list.
Bill, Tony and I had a few days before the arrival of
Bill's dad and Monique, so we hit some new perfect
paradise tropical islands and sampled two new culinary
treats: Blended piña coladas from my new Black and
Decker rechargeable blender (decadent) and fresh conch
from the reefs around the Islas Secas. We'd had conch
in a restaurant and decided we would try to catch
some. Catching them is easy since they just sit
there. Getting them out of their shells is the
challenging part with a large hammer and an angry Bill
Hoffman being the preferred method.
We sailed back to the mouth of the river where there
was a restaurant and good rendezvous point for Bill's
dad and Monique. Bill would go to David and bring
them back a long, miserable mud road in a 4WD taxi.
On the designated day I took Bill to shore in the
dingy. He was making his way up the muddy, rocky
beach...all was set; his fiance and father coming to
paradise and wham, Bill cans it on the beach, slipping
on the rocks and badly slicing both feet and legs on
the barnacles. Blood and gore everywhere. I jetted
back to the boat to get first aid supplies, but by the
time I got back Bills ride had come and he was off to
David with socks full 'o blood. Such is life in the
tropics.
Bill, Monique and Peter, Bill's dad, returned at the
prescribed hour and it was back to island paradise for
a few more days. Peter's stay was short, so we went
back up the river to David.
Tony, Bill, Monique and I took a short jaunt to
Boquete, a mountain garden spot about 40 miles from
David. Boquete is only at 3000 feet, but it's a
completely alpine environment: Pines, junipers, big
river, trout, chilly nights and the best Mexican food
restaurant south of Mexico. I will definitely be
going back there to climb Volcan Buru, the highest
point in Panama, and if I lived in Panama, I would be
shopping for a vacation place in Boquete.
Tony had to get out of Dodge, so we left Boquete for
Panama City to catch his flight the next day. We got
into Panama City at about sunset, found a place to
stay, and decided that Tony's last night in Panama was
going to be memorable. Tony's only shoes were wet
from hiking so we went to buy him the only pair size
12 shoes sold in this nation of dwarves and of course
a new shirt, slacks, belt and out on the town we went.
The details after that can be left out but when we
were watching the sunrise from the malecon, we both
said, "Hey, this is a beautiful city!" And it is. As
big cities go, I give Panama one of my highest
ratings. It's a seaside city, so its got a bit of a
Chicago in summer or Miami feel.
Now I'm back in David. Bill and Monique have taken a
little jaunt to Bocas del Toro on the Caribbean side.
I have really fallen in love with David, the second
largest city in Panama with 75,000 people, or
Davidians (Branch?), I guess they're called. Its a
very comfortable place, a little slice of suburban
California. You can walk the street at any hour
without concern and the people are hard-working and
friendly. Everyone drives nice new cars and the
streets and everything have that clean suburban feel.
It's still Latin America, but a bit Americanized. If
you came here on vacation, you'd be bored stiff and it
has little else to recommend it, but for living and
getting stuff done, it's perfect. But getting here is
no picnic.
The boat is now anchored in Puerto Pedregal, on the
outskirts of town. To get to Pedregal you must wind
through many miles of mangrove estuary and then up a
river where there are infinite places to run aground
and a few where you could lose your boat. Certain
parts must be crossed at high tide or you definitely
run aground, as I have done only three times now; very
respectable among new river runners. Our friend
Domenic guided us through the first time and I've gone
back down and then back up without major incident. I
programmed 60 waypoints into my GPS, just in case
instinct doesn't serve. Several boats have had major
incidents. My 85 HP engine makes things nice.
Anyway, the last few miles to Pedregal takes you up
the River Chiriqui against a 3 knot current and
finally to the anchorage in completely fresh river
water. So Condesa is no longer in the ocean, but in a
river. The fresh water would be inviting were it not
for the crocodiles that cruise around the anchorage.
There's an eight-footer that's like the marina pet and
a 20 footer who's an unholy terror; a territorial
female. Accidentally falling in the water is no
laughing matter among the locals and the midnight
trips in the rubber dinghy can be a bit dicey. Having
the boat in fresh water kills all the growth on the
bottom, a side-benefit.
The most wonderful thing about David (pronounced
Dahveed), I must say, is that it is an unbridled
consumer paradise.
To go back a bit, shopping for food in Costa Rica is
like walking into a 7-11 and trying to put together a
menu: The selection is terrible, everything is twice
the price you're accustomed to, and the only produce
they have is some sad looking stuff in a refrigerator
in the corner. Here in Panama there are supermarkets
like the new breed of extra-large supermarkets in
California...the Mega-Ralphs or whatever they're
called. They have everything. Restaurants are even
better. And you don't need to do a mental conversion
to figure out what a deal you're getting since the
currency is the user-friendly US greenback.
They have a four-plex movie theater. In the last few
weeks we've seen: Blair Witch Project, General's
Daughter (terrible), American Pie, The Sixth Sense,
and Rounders. Yeah, I know, these movies have been
out for a while, but they're new to me.
It's also a great place to work on the boat, of which
I am doing quite a bit. The machine shops, parts and
hardware stores are all first rate, as good or better
than you would find in California, but cheaper and
friendlier. To give an example, I had the injectors
on my diesel serviced and tested, something that
should be done every 900 hours. They completed the
job overnight, the total charge was $29, when it would
have been that much for each of the four injectors in
California, and they gave me a key chain, hat, T-shirt
and a Christmas card!
Not to dwell on the pettiness of prices, but take this
little journey with me on David purchases:
Movie: $3 ($1.50 on Tuesdays and Wednesdays)
Steak Dinner (in a nice sit-down restaurant): $5
Grilled Chicken Dinner (in same rest.): $2.75
Beer (12 oz. in frosty glass in restaurant): .60
Internet Cafe: $1 per hour
Cab: $1 to $3 maximum
Three Course Lunch: $1.75
Bus: .25
Decent Hotel: $12
Coke (in restaurant): .30
New 2HP Outboard: $480 ($50 less than CA wholesale
price because it doesn't have all that environmental
and safety BS)
It's like going back to early 70's US prices; and 50's
morals; a nice family atmosphere. People even work
half days on Saturdays.
The whole country is abuzz with the handing over of
the canal. And being one of the only gringos in town,
everyone wants to talk to me about it. It's not just
the canal, but the removal of the military bases and
general 'standing on it's own two feet' for Panama. I
would describe it as cautious optimism. They really
want our bases to stay here. Colombians are running
amok in Darien province as we speak, and despite all
that canal revenue, a nation of 3.5 million can't just
throw together a major fighting force overnight. When
I ease into the conversation that it really doesn't
make sense for the US to have bases here if we don't
have any interests, they don't like that. It's sort
of a naive 'have your cake and eat it too' mentality.
Suffice to say, it would be a very interesting year to
live in Panama.
All these Americans (now leaving) who had cushy jobs
working for the Canal Commission had it made.
Incredible lifestyles. There are seriously bummed to
be out of here.
On December 16th, I'll be flying up to Mexico for
three weeks to ring in the New Millennium. It was a
tough and expensive decision, but a whole mess of my
friends will be there and what the hell, you only end
a Millennium once in a lifetime.
I think we've nailed down the next few months as well
as can be expected. Given that all my repairs get
finished on schedule (these aren't do or die repairs,
just 'make damn sure the boat is ready to cross the
Pacicic' repairs) we will leave mainland Panama in
January. We may be able to hit the Panamanian Las
Perlas islands on the way out, or not. Then it's 400
miles against the southerly winds and Humboldt
current, dodging Colombian gunboats (actually avoiding
them by giving them 100 miles or so) and into Ecuador.
We should be spending a month or so in Ecuador to
climb some more volcanoes, then it's off to the
Galapagos and across the pond.
The crew will be a mix of Bill and Monique, my cousin
Rocky and his girlfriend, Lisa, and possibly Brian
Sherman.
So as I look at my first year of cruising in review,
not to shabby. A broken boom, a dog attack and Dengue
fever were the only bad things and they weren't so
bad. Great stories to tell anyway. Oh yes, further
diagnosis has revealed that the nasty flu I had while
Brian Sherman was visiting was indeed Dengue, as makes
sense as we were fleeing a Dengue fever epidemic that
aflicted 30,000 in Puntarenas, with a handful of
fatalities. I didn't have the rash, as it says in my
Merck manual, so I didn't think I had it. I've found
out since that a lot of people don't get the rash and
that I definitely had Dengue. It really wasn't so bad
considering that I had a 'tropical disease' that is
spread by mosquitoes and used to be called Bonebreak
Fever. Hell, we covered 200 miles that week....well,
Brian did while I slept. The only bad thing is that
if I get it again I can get the more nasty hemmoragic
version. Eh gads.
I have done an extra-careful going over of your email
addresses this time, so everyone's address should be
current and there should be quite a few new ones on
the list.
Oh yes I forgot one thing. Since this will probably
be the last update of the Millennium: Fire!
Brimstone! Armageddon! Dammergamrung! Society as we
know it going down in flames! Rioting in the streets!
Your bank accounts disappearing and planes dropping
out or the sky! Me, on the other hand....totally self
sufficient with my solar panels, water-maker and
mobile craft for moving away from the nuclear winter
and surviving in Waterworld. Join me now or parish in
flames. Everything from you car's fuel injection
system to your pacemaker will cease to function and
your teeth will turn to glue! Glue! I will be
starting a new race, a better race, a kinder race and
recolonizing the world. Condesa Man will not make the
same mistakes. Just kiddin. Merry Chrismas and Happy
New Year.
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