PANAMAAAAA

Panama. 

We came into Bocas Del Toro an hour before sunset, after a week at sea, and it felt as if the islands were pulling out all the stops to welcome us. The squalls had cleared but the sky was still hung with storm clouds, the light coming through them a clear yellow that softly muted into grays and pinks as the sun dropped lower and the islands loomed up on either side; more verdant than I had imagined. We passed through fields of flowers floating on the outgoing tide, and dolphins surrounded the boat for a while. Once we were close enough we heard the parrots. Making landfall is always exciting, but even more-so when the land is so beautiful. 

…If only we could go ashore…

I work on boats as a sailor and am also, in general, incredibly bad at sitting still; something that lends itself often to great life stories but also sometimes to a certain retroactive ruefulness when I realize I’ve left a perfectly good thing for a rather absurd one…

In this case, the adventure was—is— helping some friends take their boat down from Key West to Bocas Del Toro in Panama. Get some adventure kicks out, sail for FUN not for MONEY for a change(!), spend some time with lovely people who I thoroughly enjoy… hey, Panama! Why not! Panama was scheduled to reopen its borders early July, the States had been reopening enough to make us complacent, and so we booked flights back (knowing things could change but assuming they wouldn’t) and got underway. 

It was a lovely sail down. Roughly 1100 miles, around the west end of Cuba and then a gentle curve south around Nicaragua and Honduras. We sunned, ate, smoked cigars off of Cuba, fished, planned for pirate attacks, went through lightening storms, argued with the autopilot, ate some more, had three days of squalls, laughed, and enjoyed some beautiful clouds. I cant get enough of storm clouds and the light that goes with them. I had the sunrise watch and so for 7 mornings watched the sun bloom over the eastern horizon. It never gets old. 

Panama is demanding a quarantine of everyone who arrives, something we were cognizant of but really hoping that our week of sea time would count towards, a not totally outlandish hope since Panama was, at that time, on an opening up schedule. Upon arrival we were firmly told to stay on the boat for two weeks. Ahh well. The next morning, our first morning of quarantine, we learned that Panama had (literally that morning) decided not to follow their opening schedule. The country would remain closed until end of July, meaning our nice flight back to the States scheduled for early June had been cancelled. 

Today is day 14 of being on the boat, day 6 of of our Panama quarantine. We have learned that there are humanitarian flights still, but the last one booked up before the Panamanian authorities and the US Embassy agreed that we would be allowed to leave before our quarantine was finished to catch said flight. Sooo, currently waiting on the edge of (the deck?) for another humanitarian flight to be announced. The Embassy doesn’t promise that there will be more, but they have been announced pretty consistently through June so we are very hopeful that they're will be more; ideally in the last week of June, or early July. If not…. once our quarantine is over I guess there are worse places to be stuck.   

Considering the time so many others have spend in the last few months sheltering in place— unable to leave tiny apartments in Manhattan and Chicago for weeks— months— at a time, I am trying not to be too resentful or restless about being unable to leave the boat. The weather is perfect, the tropical heat tempered by the rainy season, and all day the penga taxi boats criss cross the anchorage between the islands. The islands are a mere couple hundred meters on either side of us, gayly colored buildings hanging out over the water on stilts, and sometimes a soccer game goes on on the little patch of beach we can see. In the background to the south the blue/green mountains of Panama are wreathed in clouds; to the north, the Caribbean Sea. We spend out time swimming around the boat, cooking, doing boat projects, reading, working on escape-Panama schemes, stretching and exercising. I found a place to do handstands on the deck and am practicing paddling and popping up on the surfboard. No waves in the anchorage but I can practice! I have an online writing class I do when I have internet, and am even voluntarily polishing the stainless. 

When I think about how annoyed I am to be stuck on this boat, in a COVID infested country not my own that I’m potentially indefinitely(ish) stranded in, I get restless, stressed and mopey, and cringe at my dubious decision making. The rest of the time, when I sink into the beauty of the place and dive into perfectly temperatured water 20 times a day, focus on projects, boat and personal, and giggle madly at the play time that sometimes seems to be eschewed from “normal” busy life but permeates, unannounced, into our hours now, resulting in breathless laughter and inane games like baseball with a carrot and old meatballs… the rest of the time I realize and remember that where I’m at right now is really not so bad. I’m in a beautiful place and for now my needs are met; I am with great people; and, hey, if I cant resolve uncertainty with action usually time will do it. It’s what adventure is all about, right? Uncertainty is, perhaps, our closest companion in this madcap life that we’re all living. As a good friend used to maddeningly tell me when I would stress, ‘Shanan, its all going to be okay.’ And, it probably will. 

Cheers and hugs from Panama, y’all (well, sort of. Am I allowed to say ‘from Panama’ if I haven’t set foot on land or been checked in yet? (Where am I!?!?!)) Hope everyone is staying safe out there— through COVID, protests, political uncertainty, forrest fires and the usual day to day trials and tribulations of daily human life… 

 Uncertainty… And what will tomorrow bring? 

(Ahem humanitarian flight ahem!) :p