Saturday, February 27, 2010
All is well
Travis here. I heard from SV Brown Eyed Girl this afternoon and they are all fine. A couple of boats in their fleet were damaged in the midst of a dramatic tide drop (2 meters in 10 minutes per Jared). They left the harbor pronto when the warnings came and missed the chaos. They are now in Puerto Ayora in the Galapagos and all is well. They did catch a 30lb yellowfin today so are eating well tonight...
Tsunami?
Hi folks. Travis here. SV Brown Eyed Girl is in the Galapagos. I communicated by email with them this morning after the earthquake and before the tsunami got there and they were just powering up to get out of the harbor they were in. I have not heard from them since but it sounds like its impact on the Galapagos was (hopefully) modest. From a website that I found:
"Tsunami wave observed in Isla Baltra, Galapagos on 27.02.2010 at 13:13 GMT. The tsunami wave height was 0.25 meters / 2.0 feet. Other information not available yet."
So keeping our fingers crossed that will hear from them shortly ...
"Tsunami wave observed in Isla Baltra, Galapagos on 27.02.2010 at 13:13 GMT. The tsunami wave height was 0.25 meters / 2.0 feet. Other information not available yet."
So keeping our fingers crossed that will hear from them shortly ...
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Mom and dad back on boat...
| From Jared: It is with great happiness that the Capt and good lady have returned to ship this morning after an exhausting ordeal of having to fly back to Maine to have emergency surgery on his bicep and tendon. The crew is extremely ready to put Salinas/La Libertad in our wake and begin the 4-5 day journey to the land of Darwin. We anticipate the Galapagos to be everything we have hoped for and more importantly, lacking any mishaps. We'll have to watch our for those mahi-mahi. We've fought a lot of leviathans but nothing compares to the dangers incurred by these beasts that have a way of getting you back once they are in the cooler. Much work was accomplished on the boat by mates Tom and Buck while the Capt and lady were away. Considering how ugly the port of La Libertad is, I reckon it was a good place to endure those monotonous, yet essential tasks. We needed some good news as morale was a little low. Have you noticed life sends you those little pick-me-ups when you're down? Well, it is my pleasure to say that in a fleet of 31 boats "Brown-Eyed Girl" took first place in the race from St. Lucia to the San Blas Islands, a race of 6 days. Way to go Captain and her good crew! We'll try to keep the Captain doing as little as possible as he mends, but you know the Capt.. It's hard to tell him not to fight a fish once hooked or see a problem something that needs to be done and jump on it. I hope the win in the first leg of this journey will quell his desire to run and gun. Something tells me that I am sorely mistaken. I have procured a large quantity of duct tape which will be applicated to the Captain and his chair. Thanks to everyone in your kind letters and actions after dad's mishap. It means the world to him and all of us. A huge shout-out to my brother, Travis, who arranged flights and logistics stateside in a timely fashion and got mom and dad home safely. Remember those long lines I was telling you about in Panama and the problems incurred by them? Well, unfortunately, a boat in our fleet, "Bristol Rose", ensared one and the force of it yanked the drive shaft of the engine out of its housing, driving it aft into the rudder. That's a problem. They were stranded for several days with no wind, no motor, and no steerage. A joint effort by the U.S. Coast Guard and Panama (Panama didn't answer the mayday calls for the better part of a day) has allowed the crew to get towed back to port. With no engine, nor steerage the crew became very ill. Dead in the water is no predicament any of us want to be in. Best wishes to the "Bristol Rose" and crew. We hope to see you all when repairs are completed. Godspeed! "Brown-Eyed Girl" out... |
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The mahi mahi that started it all...
This is mom fighting and landing the mahi mahi that eventually led to my dad's injury. Quite a fish. Travis
Surgery complete...
Surgery was done on Sunday in Augusta and my dad is recuperating with us up at Sugarloaf. They fly back to Ecuador on Friday. There is a picture of his ruptured tendon in picture down below. May not want to look at on full stomach. Note autographed picture: "Biceps by Mancini." I have generally found that surgeons are modest. Travis
Monday, February 15, 2010
No good deed....
From Jared:
No good deed goes unpunished. I've never really liked this expression but in my journeys and my dealings with people, I have found this to be so often the case. It goes against my Christian faith and my belief that the world becomes a better place with every kind action that we impart upon each other. So, when dad fell hard on a slippery deck of a boat (tearing his tendon connecting his bicep to his forearm) because he had decided to be nice and clean a gigantic mahi (that mom had played so well for so long and landed) and then decided to give the cleaned filets to about 1/2 dozen people (poor workers around the marina for the most part); it made me question the nature of the order of things. One minute, we were there content in a deed well done and enjoying meeting some nice locals with smiles on their faces brought on by the anticipation of a good mahi dinner and then the next minute, we are making emergency arrangements for a flight out of Ecuador for emergency surgery on his arm. Dad is under the knife as I write this and mom is there by his side. Prayers appreciated. We are looking at no less than six weeks of recovery for the Capt. and very light duty for him. Yeah, right. I've never met a worse patient than a doctor, especially the old man. I'm going to the hardware store to buy a roll of gorilla tape to keep the Captain strapped in at his helm and away from daily tasks.
One side of me says it could have been worse had he hit his head on the stairs of the transom when he fell (mom thought a boat had struck us when she heard the fall). But there's that side of me that says my folks have dreamed and worked hard for this journey for 40 years of their life and for dad to get hurt doing a good thing for people in need, makes me sad. This to shall pass and the good crew and Captain shall rally on. We always do. Captain, if you a waking up from surgery; I want you to know the great people of the Rally have been inquiring and sending their love and I am, too.
Tom and I have been busy doing one job after another on the boat. I won't bore you with all the details but it has helped to keep our spirits up (or a least our minds off the Captain's accident) a little as we are getting parts made for the motor, refrigeration fixed, sails checked and rigged properly, haul cleaned, and myriad other tasks crossed of the list. Carnival is going on down here and Tom and I managed to get out for a bit last night and join in on their crazy custom of waging wore with large canisters of high-pressure foam. Tom and I were ambushed by some banditos and promptly bought some canisters and hunted the individuals down. Ecuador won its first and last battle against the U.S.. The little devils know to break your can and then sorround you as you try in vain to fire back. We got in a few good shots before we retreated, laughing all the way, covered head to toe in foam. I think Brazil's Carnival will be a little more to my liking. My fiancee, Mercedes, may not like it much, though.
All in all Salinas and La Libertad is ugly, dirty, and the streets are mean. Ecuador has much more to offer but I've yet to venture east because of the aforementioned issues. I shall never plan to return to once we head for the Galapagos but the Marina is nice with an excellent rice and shrimp platter for 5 dollars and yes, internet! Tom and I are planning a trip to a jungle park I have researched and then maybe to Quayaquil tomorrow. Godspeed to the Captain and the lady in their return.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out
No good deed goes unpunished. I've never really liked this expression but in my journeys and my dealings with people, I have found this to be so often the case. It goes against my Christian faith and my belief that the world becomes a better place with every kind action that we impart upon each other. So, when dad fell hard on a slippery deck of a boat (tearing his tendon connecting his bicep to his forearm) because he had decided to be nice and clean a gigantic mahi (that mom had played so well for so long and landed) and then decided to give the cleaned filets to about 1/2 dozen people (poor workers around the marina for the most part); it made me question the nature of the order of things. One minute, we were there content in a deed well done and enjoying meeting some nice locals with smiles on their faces brought on by the anticipation of a good mahi dinner and then the next minute, we are making emergency arrangements for a flight out of Ecuador for emergency surgery on his arm. Dad is under the knife as I write this and mom is there by his side. Prayers appreciated. We are looking at no less than six weeks of recovery for the Capt. and very light duty for him. Yeah, right. I've never met a worse patient than a doctor, especially the old man. I'm going to the hardware store to buy a roll of gorilla tape to keep the Captain strapped in at his helm and away from daily tasks.
One side of me says it could have been worse had he hit his head on the stairs of the transom when he fell (mom thought a boat had struck us when she heard the fall). But there's that side of me that says my folks have dreamed and worked hard for this journey for 40 years of their life and for dad to get hurt doing a good thing for people in need, makes me sad. This to shall pass and the good crew and Captain shall rally on. We always do. Captain, if you a waking up from surgery; I want you to know the great people of the Rally have been inquiring and sending their love and I am, too.
Tom and I have been busy doing one job after another on the boat. I won't bore you with all the details but it has helped to keep our spirits up (or a least our minds off the Captain's accident) a little as we are getting parts made for the motor, refrigeration fixed, sails checked and rigged properly, haul cleaned, and myriad other tasks crossed of the list. Carnival is going on down here and Tom and I managed to get out for a bit last night and join in on their crazy custom of waging wore with large canisters of high-pressure foam. Tom and I were ambushed by some banditos and promptly bought some canisters and hunted the individuals down. Ecuador won its first and last battle against the U.S.. The little devils know to break your can and then sorround you as you try in vain to fire back. We got in a few good shots before we retreated, laughing all the way, covered head to toe in foam. I think Brazil's Carnival will be a little more to my liking. My fiancee, Mercedes, may not like it much, though.
All in all Salinas and La Libertad is ugly, dirty, and the streets are mean. Ecuador has much more to offer but I've yet to venture east because of the aforementioned issues. I shall never plan to return to once we head for the Galapagos but the Marina is nice with an excellent rice and shrimp platter for 5 dollars and yes, internet! Tom and I are planning a trip to a jungle park I have researched and then maybe to Quayaquil tomorrow. Godspeed to the Captain and the lady in their return.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out
Friday, February 12, 2010
Slight hiccup, or revenge of the mahi mahi
My dad hurt his bicep pretty badly on the final day of passage in to La Libertad, Ecuador and he and my mom are flying back to Maine to get surgery on it. After surgery they fly back to Ecuador and then sail on to Galapagos. Will be staying with us up at Sugarloaf this weekend (February 13/14th) if folks want to reach them (207-237-3080). Apparently it happened during the cleaning of a mahi mahi, which I find ironic (see poem below from earlier in trip). Travis
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Engine Problems, Fishing Lines and the Equator
From Jared:
Silence can be deafening. That sort of silence is the type we experienced two nights ago when the shaft driving our engine's water pumped failed raising the temperature of the engine way beyond operating range, forcing us to shut her down. Some people complain about the drone a diesel makes on the open water. I may be one of those types. When your bobbing like a cork virtually dead in the water several hundred miles from your next port with not a breath of air to be found, the imagined drone of that sweet Perkins sounds as sweet and comforting to me as Pavarotti singing "Ave Maria."
Opening the hatch to the engine room, Tom and Dad got busy. I lent as much a hand as I could, but I am just a little bit more mechanically inclined than the guy in the Gary Larson cartoon reading the instructions for a hammer (o.k. that's a little self-effacing and not accurate but you get the picture). I'm not in the same league when it comes to fixing things as the Cap and first mate, Tom. Work was to be done and the time was now. I've always admired those individuals who have enough know-how to get the job done and don't wear it as a badge of honor but rather pass it along in those teachable moments as surely their mentors did unto them. That's the Cap and first mate, Tom. I couldn't help but admire their cordial exchange of ideas, relentless effort, and their attitude that this too shall pass. Hours passed as the water pump was taken off, problem was realized, and a simple washer was found on the boat and drilled out to be used as a spacer to drive the shaft a little deeper into the housing to get it to bite and get that blessed cold water driven by the pump to cool the engine. A simple washer dug out of drawer (the only one to be found on the boat) and drilled out to be used a spacer is letting us steam forward to La Libertad. You have to hand it to true sailors and those crazy enough to take to the sea. Sooner or later everything breaks and self-reliance, self-control, and the attitude that the beast will be beaten make the difference between a long, arduous limp into a Colombian port and wasted time or keeping with schedule and making it to La Libertad, Ecuador. Way to go Captain and 1st Mate Tom! I'm listening to the Perkins not drone but sing as I write this....AAAAAAAAveeeee Mariaaaaa...
Not long after our engine was restored to normal working order was a potential disaster narrowly averted. We happen to be in the happy Ecuadorian fishing grounds and waters that are riddled with miles and miles of long-lines. Tiny Clorox bottles or small Styrofoam buoys are placed 100 yards apart and are attached to a mainline (if they are attached at all) that may stretch as long as ten miles (longest length reported by our fleet) that has droplines that have baited hooks. There is no way to safely maneuver between the buoys and be assured of not tangling the prop. In fact, one of the boats in the fleet tried to do just that and paid the price. I spotted a set of these buoys just minutes before entanglement and I altered course toward a boat spotted several miles off of starboard. We approached the fisherman and I started a conversation with them and grilled them about the depth of the lines ("just under the water"), how long they may be ("many miles"), and how is the fishing ("very good. you have beer? we have fish.") So, I found a new lure for mahi and you never have to drop a line. Throw 'em a six-pack of cheap Panamanian beer and you will catch a cleaned and iced fish every time. Something tells me they won on that one, but the knowledge acquired is invaluable. Last night we avoided entanglement by running toward the boats and then figuring out the drift of their lines and passing them across their bows. It would be nice to be able to hail them on the radio and give our position but seeing that they have no radios or refuse to answer, I found myself on a tired night watch last night grumbling into the microphone in Spanish my location, my heading, and how I can't believe that none of them have at least a portable vhf. Tonight I will probably do the same.
On a side-note, we are expected to cross the equator at about 1830 hrs. Tom is the only one who has crossed the equator (google shellback ceremony). I hear King Neptune may arrive and may be very naughty to those who are crossing for the first time. Little does he know, I plan to beat him to the punch. hahaha.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
Silence can be deafening. That sort of silence is the type we experienced two nights ago when the shaft driving our engine's water pumped failed raising the temperature of the engine way beyond operating range, forcing us to shut her down. Some people complain about the drone a diesel makes on the open water. I may be one of those types. When your bobbing like a cork virtually dead in the water several hundred miles from your next port with not a breath of air to be found, the imagined drone of that sweet Perkins sounds as sweet and comforting to me as Pavarotti singing "Ave Maria."
Opening the hatch to the engine room, Tom and Dad got busy. I lent as much a hand as I could, but I am just a little bit more mechanically inclined than the guy in the Gary Larson cartoon reading the instructions for a hammer (o.k. that's a little self-effacing and not accurate but you get the picture). I'm not in the same league when it comes to fixing things as the Cap and first mate, Tom. Work was to be done and the time was now. I've always admired those individuals who have enough know-how to get the job done and don't wear it as a badge of honor but rather pass it along in those teachable moments as surely their mentors did unto them. That's the Cap and first mate, Tom. I couldn't help but admire their cordial exchange of ideas, relentless effort, and their attitude that this too shall pass. Hours passed as the water pump was taken off, problem was realized, and a simple washer was found on the boat and drilled out to be used as a spacer to drive the shaft a little deeper into the housing to get it to bite and get that blessed cold water driven by the pump to cool the engine. A simple washer dug out of drawer (the only one to be found on the boat) and drilled out to be used a spacer is letting us steam forward to La Libertad. You have to hand it to true sailors and those crazy enough to take to the sea. Sooner or later everything breaks and self-reliance, self-control, and the attitude that the beast will be beaten make the difference between a long, arduous limp into a Colombian port and wasted time or keeping with schedule and making it to La Libertad, Ecuador. Way to go Captain and 1st Mate Tom! I'm listening to the Perkins not drone but sing as I write this....AAAAAAAAveeeee Mariaaaaa...
Not long after our engine was restored to normal working order was a potential disaster narrowly averted. We happen to be in the happy Ecuadorian fishing grounds and waters that are riddled with miles and miles of long-lines. Tiny Clorox bottles or small Styrofoam buoys are placed 100 yards apart and are attached to a mainline (if they are attached at all) that may stretch as long as ten miles (longest length reported by our fleet) that has droplines that have baited hooks. There is no way to safely maneuver between the buoys and be assured of not tangling the prop. In fact, one of the boats in the fleet tried to do just that and paid the price. I spotted a set of these buoys just minutes before entanglement and I altered course toward a boat spotted several miles off of starboard. We approached the fisherman and I started a conversation with them and grilled them about the depth of the lines ("just under the water"), how long they may be ("many miles"), and how is the fishing ("very good. you have beer? we have fish.") So, I found a new lure for mahi and you never have to drop a line. Throw 'em a six-pack of cheap Panamanian beer and you will catch a cleaned and iced fish every time. Something tells me they won on that one, but the knowledge acquired is invaluable. Last night we avoided entanglement by running toward the boats and then figuring out the drift of their lines and passing them across their bows. It would be nice to be able to hail them on the radio and give our position but seeing that they have no radios or refuse to answer, I found myself on a tired night watch last night grumbling into the microphone in Spanish my location, my heading, and how I can't believe that none of them have at least a portable vhf. Tonight I will probably do the same.
On a side-note, we are expected to cross the equator at about 1830 hrs. Tom is the only one who has crossed the equator (google shellback ceremony). I hear King Neptune may arrive and may be very naughty to those who are crossing for the first time. Little does he know, I plan to beat him to the punch. hahaha.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
Monday, February 8, 2010
Off the Coast of Columbia...
From Jared:
We find ourselves more than a hundred miles off the coast of Colombia making our way through doldrums to La Libertad, Ecuador. For sailors, there is the constant adjusting of sail and line to gain that extra 1/2 knot that will get us to port more quickly. Iron wind is a Godsend in times like these but how long will the diesel last at this rate? This is not the steady breeze we knew making our way across the Caribbean. Thankfully, we aren't just sailors. We are fishermen and the fish bite has been on. As a rule on the "Brown-Eyed Girl", we haul in the lines when we have enough fish in the icebox to last our crew for several days. Our lines are out of the water. Yesterday was a banner day for mahi-mahi. We each caught one of these beautiful brightly lit green and yellow pelagics, with the largest being a 23lb., 49" bull (caught by Buck, of course :). It may just be me, but I think mahi-mahi know they are the most beautiful fish in the sea and show their disdain for being annoyed by us ugly humans and our hooks with their tremendous ability to fight. Do any of you have any ideas for recipes for mahi-mahi? We are running out of ideas as we eat it about three times a day.
On the Pacific coast of Panama there is a jewel of a fishing-town town named Esmeralda (aptly named). Though our visit there was brief, we find ourselves talking about it several days after the experience. I have to admit, shortly after arrival and setting the anchor, it concerned me a little when a man in a small panga paddled quickly toward us as we jumped into our dinghy. We must have had a curious look on our faces as the wiry-man jumped into our dinghy, introduced himself as Umberto, and told us to go ashore as he was to be our guide to the town. Umberto held onto a line with one hand as we dragged his little dug-out ashore and pointed to the beach as if we didn't know how to make it the vast, 200 yards. As we beached the dinghy, a dozen children with smiles on their faces came running to us and without us asking, helped us drag the dinghy out of the surf and up onto the beach. Umberto took us to a store to buy some supplies, a "very nice bar" (a.k.a dirty cantina) for a drink, and down to one of the fishing boats to buy a 7 lb grouper that was still thrashing on the bottom of the boat. Live grouper for a dollar a pound. At the store, Tom bought each of the kids that followed us around the town a lollipop. They stood patiently in line in quiet anticipation of the treat to come. I guess kids are kids wherever you may roam. Esmeralda isn't the type of place you are going to see in a Sandal's resort advertisement. It's dirty, it's poor, and you don't drink the water. But the people are real and genuinely friendly and the thought of that very poor, but very happy fishing village lingers on our minds much longer than the experience. As we made our way back to the dinghy with grouper in hand, we bid the kids and Umberto a farewell (after slipping Umberto a whopping 5 dollars for his time, which brought a bigger smile to his face) and headed back to our lady knowing we had just had another experience that only those who venture a little outside the norm have. Little did we know that the fishermen who sold us our grouper had already sold our fearless captain (who had stayed on the boat) two grouper weighing a total of 12 lbs for 8 dollars. As we approached the sailboat, we all broke out in laughter as dad showed his proud purchase and we raised ours. Our fillet knives are getting a good work-out.
So, if you find yourself in Esmeralda, Panama and you need a guide, don't be alarmed if one finds you, hires himself, jumps into your dinghy, and calls himself Umberto.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
We find ourselves more than a hundred miles off the coast of Colombia making our way through doldrums to La Libertad, Ecuador. For sailors, there is the constant adjusting of sail and line to gain that extra 1/2 knot that will get us to port more quickly. Iron wind is a Godsend in times like these but how long will the diesel last at this rate? This is not the steady breeze we knew making our way across the Caribbean. Thankfully, we aren't just sailors. We are fishermen and the fish bite has been on. As a rule on the "Brown-Eyed Girl", we haul in the lines when we have enough fish in the icebox to last our crew for several days. Our lines are out of the water. Yesterday was a banner day for mahi-mahi. We each caught one of these beautiful brightly lit green and yellow pelagics, with the largest being a 23lb., 49" bull (caught by Buck, of course :). It may just be me, but I think mahi-mahi know they are the most beautiful fish in the sea and show their disdain for being annoyed by us ugly humans and our hooks with their tremendous ability to fight. Do any of you have any ideas for recipes for mahi-mahi? We are running out of ideas as we eat it about three times a day.
On the Pacific coast of Panama there is a jewel of a fishing-town town named Esmeralda (aptly named). Though our visit there was brief, we find ourselves talking about it several days after the experience. I have to admit, shortly after arrival and setting the anchor, it concerned me a little when a man in a small panga paddled quickly toward us as we jumped into our dinghy. We must have had a curious look on our faces as the wiry-man jumped into our dinghy, introduced himself as Umberto, and told us to go ashore as he was to be our guide to the town. Umberto held onto a line with one hand as we dragged his little dug-out ashore and pointed to the beach as if we didn't know how to make it the vast, 200 yards. As we beached the dinghy, a dozen children with smiles on their faces came running to us and without us asking, helped us drag the dinghy out of the surf and up onto the beach. Umberto took us to a store to buy some supplies, a "very nice bar" (a.k.a dirty cantina) for a drink, and down to one of the fishing boats to buy a 7 lb grouper that was still thrashing on the bottom of the boat. Live grouper for a dollar a pound. At the store, Tom bought each of the kids that followed us around the town a lollipop. They stood patiently in line in quiet anticipation of the treat to come. I guess kids are kids wherever you may roam. Esmeralda isn't the type of place you are going to see in a Sandal's resort advertisement. It's dirty, it's poor, and you don't drink the water. But the people are real and genuinely friendly and the thought of that very poor, but very happy fishing village lingers on our minds much longer than the experience. As we made our way back to the dinghy with grouper in hand, we bid the kids and Umberto a farewell (after slipping Umberto a whopping 5 dollars for his time, which brought a bigger smile to his face) and headed back to our lady knowing we had just had another experience that only those who venture a little outside the norm have. Little did we know that the fishermen who sold us our grouper had already sold our fearless captain (who had stayed on the boat) two grouper weighing a total of 12 lbs for 8 dollars. As we approached the sailboat, we all broke out in laughter as dad showed his proud purchase and we raised ours. Our fillet knives are getting a good work-out.
So, if you find yourself in Esmeralda, Panama and you need a guide, don't be alarmed if one finds you, hires himself, jumps into your dinghy, and calls himself Umberto.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out...
Saturday, February 6, 2010
St. Lucia to Panama ....
From Jared:
I have been quite remiss in posting a blog as to the activities of the good lady "Brown-Eyed Girl" and her seafaring crew. This is probably the best testament as to the amazing time we are having visiting some of the most beautiful places in the world were, though it may be heard to believe, internet is hard to find. Begining January 6 from St. Lucia we finished 4th among a fleet of 31 boats in beautiful San Blas islands of Panama. With boat ratings penalties, we may find ourselves winning first place. We won't know until Ecuador but we are keeping our fingers crossed. Not bad for a crew who managed to catch barracuda, mahi-mahi, wahoo, whilst facing some turbulent seas in the Caribbean (especially off Colombia). The real gift was seeing land for the first time in six days and having made it through safely. Life can't be all bad when you are getting tired of eating freshly caught fish.
The San Blas Islands. Picture that postcard you see on the tourist shop spinning rack of turquoise waters, coconut palms, white-sand beaches. Now add extremely friendly Kuna indians, friendly bartering, great snorkeling, and the best conch and spiny lobster you have ever eaten. That, my friends, is the San Blas archipelago.
Next we transited the Panama Canal. Having read David McCullough's "Path Between the Seas" and then seeing first-hand the marvel of the Gatun and Miraflores locks, it made me appreciate the hardships, strife, perseverance, and ingenuity of the French, the Panamanians, and, of course, the great United States of America in completing one of the greatest feats of mankind. It is quite an emotional experience to traverse the locks and Gatun Lake where an estimated 30,000 lives were lost to malaria, yellow fever, snakebite and the inumerable toils that Panama and her jungles hold. Trust me, folks, the heat and humidity is enough to make you beg for your next breath. It is hard to simply exist in this heat. I can't fathom working in this heat.
Panama City is an interesting experience. One minute you are in beautiful Casco Viejo walking along streets near the Presidential palace among traditional architecure and gold-lined Cathedrals and the next minute you are wisely having your taxi driver get you ought of some neighborhoods that would make a New York street-thug cower and look over his shoulder. It is a city full of vitality, growth, and juxtapostions. It has a lot of nightlife and the metro park is huge and not to be missed. In less than two hours walking-time; we saw monkeys, agoutis (rodents that weigh 20 lbs), toucans, coatimundis (cross between a monkey and a racoon), and an incredible vista of beautiful Panama city. The fish market is off the hook. Alright, that was pretty bad.. but it is an amazing experience. When was the last time you paid $1.50/lb for fresh flounder?
Las Perlas, Panama is where we just sailed from having spent three days there. Dad and I broke out the spear-guns and managed to harvest 18 grouper over the course of two days. I fixed them last night in a carrot coconut curry sauce with rice. Dad quickly forgot about the labors of cleaning fish(I wasn't able to due to spear-fishing mishap-possible broken finger). Mom, Dad, and Tom enjoyed a nice walk this morning on Mogo Mogo island in Las Perlas archipelago. That is where they filmed the first season of "Survivor", so it can't be all that ugly of a place.
Folks, it is an amazing world with amazing people we are getting to know. Tomorrow we begin the 5-6 day sail to mainland Ecuador and from there the Galapagos.
We miss and love you all and will keep you updated as soon and as best we can.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out... Jared
I have been quite remiss in posting a blog as to the activities of the good lady "Brown-Eyed Girl" and her seafaring crew. This is probably the best testament as to the amazing time we are having visiting some of the most beautiful places in the world were, though it may be heard to believe, internet is hard to find. Begining January 6 from St. Lucia we finished 4th among a fleet of 31 boats in beautiful San Blas islands of Panama. With boat ratings penalties, we may find ourselves winning first place. We won't know until Ecuador but we are keeping our fingers crossed. Not bad for a crew who managed to catch barracuda, mahi-mahi, wahoo, whilst facing some turbulent seas in the Caribbean (especially off Colombia). The real gift was seeing land for the first time in six days and having made it through safely. Life can't be all bad when you are getting tired of eating freshly caught fish.
The San Blas Islands. Picture that postcard you see on the tourist shop spinning rack of turquoise waters, coconut palms, white-sand beaches. Now add extremely friendly Kuna indians, friendly bartering, great snorkeling, and the best conch and spiny lobster you have ever eaten. That, my friends, is the San Blas archipelago.
Next we transited the Panama Canal. Having read David McCullough's "Path Between the Seas" and then seeing first-hand the marvel of the Gatun and Miraflores locks, it made me appreciate the hardships, strife, perseverance, and ingenuity of the French, the Panamanians, and, of course, the great United States of America in completing one of the greatest feats of mankind. It is quite an emotional experience to traverse the locks and Gatun Lake where an estimated 30,000 lives were lost to malaria, yellow fever, snakebite and the inumerable toils that Panama and her jungles hold. Trust me, folks, the heat and humidity is enough to make you beg for your next breath. It is hard to simply exist in this heat. I can't fathom working in this heat.
Panama City is an interesting experience. One minute you are in beautiful Casco Viejo walking along streets near the Presidential palace among traditional architecure and gold-lined Cathedrals and the next minute you are wisely having your taxi driver get you ought of some neighborhoods that would make a New York street-thug cower and look over his shoulder. It is a city full of vitality, growth, and juxtapostions. It has a lot of nightlife and the metro park is huge and not to be missed. In less than two hours walking-time; we saw monkeys, agoutis (rodents that weigh 20 lbs), toucans, coatimundis (cross between a monkey and a racoon), and an incredible vista of beautiful Panama city. The fish market is off the hook. Alright, that was pretty bad.. but it is an amazing experience. When was the last time you paid $1.50/lb for fresh flounder?
Las Perlas, Panama is where we just sailed from having spent three days there. Dad and I broke out the spear-guns and managed to harvest 18 grouper over the course of two days. I fixed them last night in a carrot coconut curry sauce with rice. Dad quickly forgot about the labors of cleaning fish(I wasn't able to due to spear-fishing mishap-possible broken finger). Mom, Dad, and Tom enjoyed a nice walk this morning on Mogo Mogo island in Las Perlas archipelago. That is where they filmed the first season of "Survivor", so it can't be all that ugly of a place.
Folks, it is an amazing world with amazing people we are getting to know. Tomorrow we begin the 5-6 day sail to mainland Ecuador and from there the Galapagos.
We miss and love you all and will keep you updated as soon and as best we can.
"Brown-Eyed Girl" out... Jared
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