Of temporary beaches and mudflats.

From zero to 5 meter and back again. On the Caribbean side we had all but forgotten about this phenomenon of tidal range. Being oblivious about it over here, is a no no. You could find yourself high on the dry before you know it.

But My Captain knew all about it, and being high on the dry was exactly what he had in mind. As we were cruising the Las Perlas Archipelagio, he purposefully steered O2 in the direction of a sliver of sand that lay between the ocean and the forest of Isla Chapera, one of the many uninhabited islands of the Archipelagio. As the sun was setting, we dropped anchor, waited for the party boat with Panama City revelers to leave the scene, had lobster for dinner, admired the full moon, and went to bed.

Early the next morning, it was all hands on deck. On My Captain’s command, Ramses manually let the stern anchor drop and attached it with a long line to a cleat. I then pushed the up button on the windlass which raises the primary anchor which is fixed at our bow, My Captain slowly motored closer and closer to the sliver of beach and on his signal I pushed the down button and the anchor fell limply in merely 20 cm of water.

In the meantime, Ramses had jumped over board in order to drag the limp 37 kg weighing anchor + 10 meter of chain all the way up on the beach. With his upper torso muscles bulging, he reminded me somewhat of the Tanzanian lioness I once watched in awe as she was dragging her kill – a huge zebra- up the hill. With her teeth. Anyway, let’s not digress.

I pushed the up button on the windlass again until the anchor neatly dug itself into the sand. Ramses clambered back on board and hauled in the stern anchor until there was proper tension on that line as well. With O2 securely held in position on either side, My Captain cut the engines and all was quiet again on the Pacific Front.

All we had to do next was wait for the water to retreat and for O2 slowly getting beached. It was a true pleasure to behold.

The reason for “Operation BOP = Beaching On Purpose “ was the urgent necessity to replace the sacrificial anodes. Fifteen months of electrolysis had eaten them all but up.

And as my Captain was busy tinkering at the anodes on the propellers, Ramses and I set ourselves to clearing the hull of cocles and algae and all kinds of fishy stuff. Everytime we emptied our dirty water into the ocean, little crabs came scrambling out of their sandholes to get a belly full.

The tidal range does not only make for appearing and disappearing beaches, it also creates huge mudflats. When we went shopping for some basic ingredients like eggs, onions, potatoes and a chicken or 3 (there were no vegetables and there was no fruit) in the village of San Miguel on the Isla del Rey, we did as the locals do: motor the dinghy to the side a km away from the village and walk the distance over a sandbank. I have to admit that we realized this was the way to do it, only after I had been nearly sucked up by the swamp. I figured some mud was not such a big deal and let’s not get too fussy about it. Let’s man up and walk straight to the shore. I ‘ve had better ideas.

And now we have reached the Darien Province. During our passage a fierce looking but exhausted sea bird landed on our solar panels, nearly slid off, settled in and acompanied us all the way to our anchor spot in the Gulf of San Miguel. While My Captain was throwing the offall of the yellow fin tuna he had caught on the way to the pelicans, seagulls and frigate birds, Ramses hand fed our exhausted pet the juiciest bits. All the while protecting it from vicious seagull attacks.

Coming up next are the hermits of the mangroves’ maze.