As soon as our new antifouling bottom paint was dry, we raced out from Panama City to enjoy a month of anchoring in the ‘Pearl Islands’ of the Gulf of Panama. With a large number and variety of anchorages offering clear blue water, white sand beaches and fascinating coral reefs to snorkel, it’s the perfect place to lose yourself for awhile, find new friends, or both.
Our first stop was Isla Contadora, the most developed of the islands. It boasts a couple of restaurants, a small resort, some upscale homes and even a dinky airstrip. We were thrilled to hook back up with our friends from Ventura, Lisa, Larry and Ben aboard s/v Lisa Kay (s/v is ‘sailing vessel’ for you landlubbers.)
The anchorage at Isla Contadora
Larry, Lisa and Ben, s/v Lisa Kay
We also reconnected with John and Leanne of s/v Red Sky from Australia, whom we’d met briefly at anchor in Costa Rica. And Lisa and Larry introduced us to their friends Carl and Christina aboard s/v Bamboleiro.
On Lisa’s birthday, some of the boys gave each other new haircuts, then we all had dinner ashore in one of the restaurants to celebrate.
John (Red Sky), Carl (Bamboleiro) and Ben (Lisa Kay)
Shelling and cocktails on the beach, Mogo Mogo
One day, Larry and his son Ben offered to include Stan in their skurfing activities. It didn’t take much arm-twisting, and now Stan’s determined that we end up with a dinghy on our new boat that’s sufficiently powered to do this.
After Contadora we spent several days anchored in the channel between the islands of Mogo Mogo and Chapera, where we snorkeled most every day. One night we had a potluck party on the beach, complete with bonfire and smores.
Late afternoon on the beach
Feeding frenzy in the anchorage
Frigate Birds rush in for an easy meal
We parted ways with our friends temporarily, while they traveled back to Panama City for some errands and we made our way to some of the more remote islands for more playtime.
That’s when it happened.
They say there are two kinds of boaters: those who have run aground, and those who will. We now have the dubious distinction of changing categories.
This whole island group is known for its shallow water, dramatic tidal swings in water depth, and inaccurate charts. So we tried to be super cautious. We planned an early morning departure to coincide with a higher tide. When I plotted our course, the channel we were to traverse showed as 11 feet of depth throughout at low tide (which would mean 24 feet at high tide that day.) One of our cruising guides showed a small shallow patch of 6 feet at low tide in there. I eyeballed it and tried to avoid running over it on our plotted route, but didn’t bother pulling out a ruler and pencil to specifically measure the latitude and longitude of its location in order to transfer that onto my electronic chart. After all, we would be making that leg at high water, right?
But no, we dawdled the next morning away and left hours later than we’d planned. We have most every electronic toy known to navigation on our boat, including forward-looking sonar. That tool is perfect for identifying underwater obstacles in our path like uncharted rocks or shallow bars. We make good use of it… when we enter questionable anchorages. We have not been in the habit of turning it on while underway BETWEEN anchorages, when we are typically in deep water and underway at higher speeds. Our second… or is it third?… lesson: these instruments are far more valuable when you turn them on and look at them.
Even with all that, we might have been OK. If not for the prop walk. We were, in fact, paying close attention to our depth and speed and slowed to a near standstill when it shallowed abruptly. From the fly bridge, Stan could see we had gotten ourselves into a corner, with a mere 4 feet of water under our 6 foot keel, and rocky reef in a semi-circle 180 degrees in front of us and on both sides. We came to a full stop and began to back up, to get clear of the obstruction and steer back into deeper water.
Without getting into the mechanics, just know that a boat with a single engine and propeller will always kick its stern (back end) to one side or the other when backing up. It’s called ‘prop walk.’ In our case, our stern kicks to starboard when we make way in reverse. We could have used our thrusters to compensate for this, but it’s not the kind of thing that comes to mind when in panic mode. (Indeed, something to practice in our spare time, so that it becomes automatic when backing up the boat.)
So I watched in alarm as our depth went from 4 feet, to 2.5 feet… to a heart-stopping 0.0 feet. Then a loud THUNK! as our stern twisted around onto the rocky ledge that had been on our right side. Not one of our finer moments. But in seconds Stan had maneuvered us out of the skinny water and we were on our way.
That afternoon, he put on his diving gear as soon as we dropped anchor, and dove the boat. Fortunately, the damage was purely cosmetic, some scrapes along the keel. The propeller on our boat is well protected from such misadventures. We’ll have to haul Pax Nautica out, AGAIN! to patch the gel coat and bottom paint in a few spots. But it could have been much worse, we were lucky.
We nursed our bruised egos enough to enjoy some more time exploring the islands.
Anchored at Isla San Jose
How nice: a short coconut palm tree
Perfect walking beach, Ensenada Playa Grande
In the tradition of leaving you with pretty sunset pictures, here’s one of sailboats Lisa Kay and Eyes of the World at anchor off our stern. As it happens, these are two of the three boats joining us on our next adventure, into the remote jungles and rivers of the Darien province in southern Panama. Stay tuned.
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