Up the creek
You discover a lot about yourself when you go sailing
from place to place. In less than a month we have gone from the
world’s superpower of the In some ways, the locals here in San Blas are very
similar to the residents of John has already mentioned our first encounter with
the locals, which was both rewarding and thought provoking. Whilst we
westerners may dream of living on a desert island, how would we fair? We got our first glimpse of a dug-out canoe at our
second anchorage, as it was sailed with ease, close to the island. I
grabbed the camera, thinking it might be a one-off opportunity. But, of
course, every family needs one to get water, get to an area to grow food, to
see each other. This all became very obvious when we anchored at the town
of We had already been told that the locals had to paddle
three miles up river to collect water, so this morning we decided to explore it
in our dinghy (with its 15hp engine). We cautiously followed a canoe
through a very shallow entrance, carefully watching him negotiate the flotsam
of fallen trees and floating branches. Gaining speed as we came in to the
main part of the river, we caught up with the canoeist. I gesticulated
(half-jokingly) whether he would like a tow, but he accepted without
hesitation. So there we are, two very English-looking, tall people
wearing silly hats towing a small indigenous Indian sat in a dug-out
canoe! When we overtook fellow travellers, they would give a wave and
then, seeing our charge, beam a smile or laugh. At first he was rather
coy, but soon had a rather more superior air, directing our passage through the
shallows and other potential hazards. Once we had said our ‘adios’ (we are
getting in to this Spanish malarkey), we followed the path into the jungle.
One man we met was carrying a load of bananas and mangos; others passed
carrying machetes and what looked like roofing foliage, whilst another man had
a small-bore rifle, although I don’t know for what purpose. On our down-river journey we realised two things: one
that it was still a long three-mile paddle as there is a head wind; two that
word spreads quickly, as we had hardly started our engine for the return trip
when someone flagged us down for a tow! We were very happy to oblige and
enjoyed the whole thing. When we sailed in British Columbia a couple of years
ago with one of our You discover a lot about yourself when you go sailing
from place to place. In less than a month we have gone from the
world’s superpower of the In some ways, the locals here in San Blas are very
similar to the residents of John has already mentioned our first encounter with
the locals, which was both rewarding and thought provoking. Whilst we
westerners may dream of living on a desert island, how would we fair? We got our first glimpse of a dug-out canoe at our
second anchorage, as it was sailed with ease, close to the island. I
grabbed the camera, thinking it might be a one-off opportunity. But, of
course, every family needs one to get water, get to an area to grow food, to
see each other. This all became very obvious when we anchored at the town
of We had already been told that the locals had to paddle
three miles up river to collect water, so this morning we decided to explore it
in our dinghy (with its 15hp engine). We cautiously followed a canoe
through a very shallow entrance, carefully watching him negotiate the flotsam
of fallen trees and floating branches. Gaining speed as we came in to the
main part of the river, we caught up with the canoeist. I gesticulated
(half-jokingly) whether he would like a tow, but he accepted without
hesitation. So there we are, two very English-looking, tall people
wearing silly hats towing a small indigenous Indian sat in a dug-out
canoe! When we overtook fellow travellers, they would give a wave and
then, seeing our charge, beam a smile or laugh. At first he was rather
coy, but soon had a rather more superior air, directing our passage through the
shallows and other potential hazards. Once we had said our ‘adios’ (we are
getting in to this Spanish malarkey), we followed the path into the jungle.
One man we met was carrying a load of bananas and mangos; others passed
carrying machetes and what looked like roofing foliage, whilst another man had
a small-bore rifle, although I don’t know for what purpose. On our down-river journey we realised two things: one
that it was still a long three-mile paddle as there is a head wind; two that
word spreads quickly, as we had hardly started our engine for the return trip
when someone flagged us down for a tow! We were very happy to oblige and
enjoyed the whole thing. When we sailed in British Columbia a couple of years
ago with one of our |