Hibernation in the Tropics.

‘T was the night of the 13th of December. The Geminid meteor shower was supposed to be at its peak. Somewhat hesitantly we joined a small group of seafarers by the waterside at the end of pontoon E in Shelter Bay Marina.

My neck got into a cramp from gazing up and a “shower” it was certainly not, rather a spurting faucet. But the bright drops of shooting stars were plenty and dramatic enough to make us all shout out in delight. Each time Interrupting the musical life performance of lead singer Stewart from New Zealand on guitar and Stephanie from England on the violin. 

They had an impressive repertoire and their heartfelt rendering of Tears for Fears’ ” Mad World” really got all 9 of us very quiet. Even the drunken sailor sobered up a bit suddenly realizing that instead of the dog he had all the while been petting the fluffy cushion my Captain was sitting on. The dog was in reality peacefully snoring right by my side. 

That blissful scene happened 18 days ago. After our engines had finally been serviced (fingers crossed) by Steve the South- African – whose poodle looked like a mangy old dog because Steve had attempted to shave it after having downed a Panama beer too many – we had pulled out of Shelter Bay to head up the Chagres River. 

The initial idea was to check it out for a couple of days and to carry on up the Caribbean coast to Bocas del Toro. But Covid hit again with a vengeance and the whole country went into lockdown starting December 21st up to January 14th each time with a couple of days respite in between the weekends. So the first 2 weeks , it was strictly “us, ourselves and we”, watching the river flow.

Miles away from people and viruses also the internet connection was barely existent. In our dinghy we went scanning the 10 miles of river up to the Panama Canal dam with the iPhone pointing up to the sky and we actually discovered a “hotspot” which allowed us to phone home. Also radio waves kept reaching O2 loud and clear, so when the mood struck, we danced with ourselves.

We like to consider our disciplinary exile as our humble contribution to the world’s battle with covid. So instead of mingling with the local population and learning first hand all about Indian and criollo lore, instead of getting into the “riddim “ while dancing to Congo drums, ska Cubana or salsa, instead of being high on tropical company and chicha, we retreated deep into the woods and we hibernated in the tropics.

The truth is that there is no one else around to feel festive with because there is no cause for celebration whatsoever. As hospital cafeterias are being turned into Covid emergency units, the Panamanians – together with the rest of the world – are hunkered down at home in “cuarentena total.”

We did share a Covid proof encounter on our front deck – wind blowing and plenty of space to keep wide apart – with the other 2 recluses on the only other sailing vessel anchored on the river Chagres. When we arrived, Tonio the Spanish captain and Simone the German first mate together with Rico their dog had already been in solitary confinement for 8 weeks, clearly enjoying every minute of it.

The river Chagres – or what is left of it – is still a beautiful stretch of water with howler monkeys in the trees, a couple of sizable crocs (+ 3 meters) in the water, waterfowl by the shore , birds of prey, green parrots, toucans and vultures in the sky and swallows swooping by. But no snakes, although we kept scanning the shrubbery with our strongest lamps for “eye shine “. An absence which my Captain found deeply disappointing and he wants to see it compensated in the jungles to come. 

During the day we cooked haute cuisine, we read, we played Rummicub and we explored the river and its many creeks, with the distant rumble of the canal as background. At night Orion kept us company and Mars steadied its orange eye on us as we contemplated life and the universe as a whole. 

Yes indeed, these ancient mariners try to “ find perspective in astronomical constellations and timeframes”. Thanks to fellow travelers who advised us about the upcoming event and with our SkyView app in position, we even witnessed the slow process of the “great conjunction” of Jupiter and Saturn as it was taking place. Apparently, this was the closest they could be seen together for over 800 years. But on the night supreme – December 21st- clouds blocked our view and by the time the sky cleared up the planetary embrace had already sunk below our horizon. No incense and myrrh over here. 

But then – lo and behold- sv Catweazle with our British sailor friends Harriet & Russ on board joyfully showed up on the horizon. They brought us fresh veggies and trusted company. They had made a narrow escape from the Xmas Carol masked sing-alongs which were being planned in Shelter Bay Marina. A day later another British escapee dropped anchor. Sv “Just do it” carried a happy bunch of 4 serial circumnavigators and “racists”. “Racists” as in racing in order to win sailing competitions. Which they did. And that’s how our disciplined solitude disgracefully went down the drain as we shared many a yarn and a bottle to go with it on Xmas eve, Xmas day and Boxing Day. 

In the meantime, we have postponed our canal transit from January 5th to January 20th. It is now December 31st and we have reached Red Frog Marina after a two day sail. The passage was rough. But the anchoring on the way was super fabulous, to be checked out on the way back.

And so is Red Frog Marina, super fabulous. Our stay here includes hot water showers, laundry and the best potable water in all of Central America.  And to top it all, thanks to free high speed WiFi, there’s no need to scan the bushes for a hotspot. This update has been posted in decadent comfort and luxury. So we are happy to be able to wish you a splendid 2021. 

Don’t we all deserve it!