A Dreich Day
Rhiann Marie - Round the World
Stewart Graham
Thu 4 Mar 2010 03:49
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Wednesday March 3rd 2120 Local 0227
UTC
08:56.36N 077:43.93W
On Tuesday 2nd March we finally left
Cartagena. The Fed Ex parts we were waiting for never turned up so we had
to go, as we had originally planned to leave on Sunday.
Because of our delayed departure we decided we
would go straight to the San Blas Islands instead of stopping down the Columbian
Coast. We set off at about 1045 and about 1145 we exited the Boca Chica channel
and set a course for the very southern end of the San Blas or Kuna Yala,
just on the Panama Columbia border. This course however took us through the
Rosario Islands and as we were making good time we stopped at Isla San
Martin de Parajeles where there was an "Oceanarium". We anchored up on the
leeward side the island after picking our way through the reefs and went
ashore. They were closed till 1530, but there was no show then, as the shows
were in the morning. However, Trish was keen to look around and they allowed us
to do that. Some of the fish they had there were amazing, if not a little
bizarre. For the most part the fish were kept in pens not unlike a fish farm but
shallow and fenced to the seabed. There was one huge "fish", about 10ft
long, which looked something like a cross between a giant ray, a shark and
a swordfish, and had a sawbill that a Husquvarna chainsaw would have been proud
of.
Afetr a couple of hours we hauled the anchor and
got back on our course for Punta Escoses in Kuna Yala Panama. Trish was thrilled
again to have two dolphins for company for a long part of the way. We
sailed very pleasantly at an average of 8.5 knots in 10knots of wind across our
beam. I let Trish off the nightwatch and did the whole thing myself while she
slept like a baby for about 11 hours.
To give you an update on our weather basically we
have not seen rain since we left the UK a month ago. It has however
taken turn for the worse recently, and one day last week in Cartagena there
was a 40% chance of showers and on the passage down yesterday we had
half a dozen drops. We should have expected it though - as we approached
Punta Escoses, the location chosen by 2800 Scots 300 years ago to settle
and build an overseas colony, the heavens opened and it poured down. So
pulling in to Puerto Escoses was like coming into a sea loch in south west
Argyll on a dreich day - but with palm trees. Apparently there are still
some decendants of these settlers in the area and I'm sure they could be heard
saying "the ground was needing the rain", after the
downpour.
At anchor we had two dolphins loll around the boat
snorting deep breaths on top of the glassy water, and we were surrounded on
three sides by lush rain forrest covered slopes and coconut palm fringed shores.
Mist covered mountains were the backdrop to the west. We were truly in a
wilderness. Along one side of the shore there was a small village built from
bamboo huts with palm frond roofs and also four larger huts built out on the
water. I guess you could say on Crannogs. Perhaps the Scots had left a greater
legacy than just a few ginger haired decendants.
Of Fort Andrew there was nothing to be seen, and
the hill it was built on was thickly covered in dense jungle so we were unable
to explore, to my great disappointment. In
any event it wasn't long till we started to be approached by four or five dug
out canoes with a couple of men in each. Some had bamboo, others fish and
another had a very large fowl which they had just shot with the two ancient guns
lying in the canoe. It was already plucked, with legs and wings off ready for
dinner - but no offer to trade was forth coming. We then had a visit from
the head man to whom we had to pay $10, which gave us the right to anchor
and wander wherever we chose. It was made clear however that the only thing we
could not do was touch the coconuts which are all owned by individual families.
"If you want - ask!" he said, which was very fair.
In the afternoon we visited the picture postcard
thatched village. However it turned out to be a dissapointment as it was
only a temporary village used by coconut harvesters and fishermen as
explained by one of the two men we met there. This conversation was carried out
in my pigeon Spanish, which seems to be coming along. The only woman we saw
stood sternly outside her hut, glowering at us and waving us away. Maybe another
legacy from Scotland - the ability to "glower".
We, like our forebears decided to haul anchor and
move on. We motored north past Roca Escoses and the island of Caledonia which
had a densely populated village on it. Nevertheless we decied to carry on
past it and several other small island villages, to find and remote
anchorage for the night. arriving at our chosen anchorage. Can you believe it?
- another boat. Just typical. We are in a complete wilderness and
haven't seen any sight of other boats, and then just when you want to find your
own little anchorage up pops one. Navigating these
parts feels very strange with no charts (there are none as far as
I am aware), electronic charts are about half a mile out, and only a pilot book
given to me and eyeball to go on. But mostly eyeball. I stood on the pulpit
while Trish helmed. We pushed through a couple of areas with a little over
a foot under us and I am sure this will be good practice for the
Pacific.
Just as we were going to anchor and manouvering
behind the only other boat for a hundred miles, I am sure, I felt the boat was
not responding to the helm. My depth was reading 7.7 metres - then I remembered
that sometimes there seemed to be a dangerous conflict between the Forward
Looking Sonar and the depth guage, a problem which really needs to be sorted.
Were we aground? Try a little bit of astern, I thought. Nothing at first, then a
bang, followed by belching black smoke and a trail of oil in the water
as we backed round.
I dropped the hook just where I could, which is
where it still is, and dived under the boat to find the prop anode lying off its
fixing and jammed between the folding blades. I managed to free it and rescue it
and get the blades opening and closing. However I am not sure there has not been
damage to the prop and as for the oil I have a theory but need to work it
through.
"I thought we could now have six months or so
with nothing going wrong with the boat" said Trish forlornly. I tried my best to
make light of it. "What are we going to do if we have no prop?" she persisted.
"What do you think sails are for?" I replied, hiding my
anxiety.
I hope to have a clear diagnosis in my mind by
tomorrow, but I do not want to miss Kuna Yala to spend time on a boat hoist in
Panama. This place has seen off enough Scots before me - lets hope we can make a
stand for more than one
day!
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