Encountering EDEN
Panama's breathtaking San Blas Islands hold nature's treasures
Night fell quickly, as it does in the tropics. The only sounds were the splashing of waves against the Zenith's hull and the halyards against the mast. The shadows of manta rays glided beneath the catamaran. We made our way to the bow, flung ourselves onto the deck and looked up.
We were out in the world again, and it was glorious. For four nights last winter, my college roommate and I sailed through the remote Panamanian archipelago that we'd dreamed about for nearly 20 years. The islands are part of an autonomous region governed by the Guna, an Indigenous people who have inhabited the Isthmus of Panama since before the age of Spanish explorers. A matrilineal society, the Guna are custodians of the region's natural beauty.
I first heard of the San Blas Islands as a 20-something backpacker. Sprinkled off the Caribbean coast of Panama, the Eden-like archipelago was difficult to access.
During the pandemic, I looked at maps and dreamed of the globe. It was my college roommate who pinpointed the destination neither of us had been able to reach. And so we plotted an adventure.
According to oral histories, the Guna originally are from the Darién mountains straddling the border of present-day Colombia and Panama. Intertribal conflict led to migration to the islands, which over the years has been invaded by conquistadors, pirates, privateers, gold diggers and drug smugglers. Historians debate the exact timeline of the first Guna settlement on the San Blas; a more precise date is the Guna revolution of 1925 against the Republic of Panama. In the resulting peace treaty, Guna leaders agreed to be part of Panama as long as tribal laws were respected and customs were protected.
Today, the official name of the autonomous region is Comarca de Guna Yala, although it's still known to many as the San Blas Islands. It stretches more than 370 kilometres along the Caribbean coast. The Guna inhabit only about 50 of the islands, living in a traditional, communal way in thatched huts topped with palm-frond roofs. The primary livelihood is fishing and coconut trade with Colombia; some of the population also lives on the mainland to cultivate crops such as yams, yucca, bananas and pineapple. The Congreso, the Gunas' ruling body, dictates strict laws to conserve the Guna culture and protect the land. Outsiders cannot own property or harvest conch and lobster. Tourism revenue is generated from permits and island visitation fees. Scuba diving is not allowed.
There's just one road into the port of Carti, gateway to the islands. Travellers then take Guna-operated water taxis to the tourist islands, where they can stay overnight in a hammock or cabana. But they can also take sailboat charters to the outlying islands. A few primitive airstrips can accommodate small planes, which connect visitors to their boats.
We arranged our charter through San Blas Sailing. The French co-founder, Bernard Chemier, first came to the San Blas Islands 22 years ago on an around-the-world family sailing trip and never left.
“The San Blas are unique because of the authenticity of the people, the beauty of the sand beach islands and their coral reefs, and the fact that Panama is hurricane-free,” he later told me.
From the air, we saw only oldgrowth tropical forest abutting the sea. The country has set aside about 30 per cent of the land in protected natural areas.
Our captain on the Zenith was Fred Ebers. After a career as a consultant for the maritime industry, he bought his French-made catamaran in Tortola and sailed across the Caribbean to Panama. Government maritime charts of the San Blas Islands haven't been updated for decades. So before launching his charter business in 2016, Ebers sailed alongside veteran captains to learn the ropes.
Our days were punctuated by visits from the Guna, who pulled alongside in their skiffs — fashioned from dugout canoes, sometimes sail-powered — to sell fish, bananas and freshwater in barrels.
Perhaps the most wonderful morning was one we spent with a Guna family who arrived with a boatload of molas, the embroidered handicrafts for which the Guna women are known. Originally, the patterns were inspired by traditional body painting, translated into colourful textiles in reverse appliqué worn as panels on women's blouses. They salute the natural world: a menagerie of crabs and sea turtles and fish outlined with bold, geometric patterns.
Sailing the San Blas, I didn't want to miss sunrise. The first rays of light turned the clouds pink, then caught on the palm trees before illuminating the sea in shades of blue. As the sun moved higher, the colour of the sea morphed from a deep azure to turquoise.
We were anchored in the Cayos Holandéses (Dutch Cays) at the northern edge of the archipelago. It was an easy swim or paddle to individual cays. Occasionally, as we'd walk along a beach, we'd stumble upon plastic. Whether washed ashore from ships, carried by tourists or consumed by the Guna, it's increasingly a problem.
A bigger problem is rising seas due to climate change. In The Panama Cruising Guide, the bible for sailors navigating these waters, Eric Bauhaus writes: “Every time I do a survey ... I have to take islands off the maps that are now nothing but shoals.”
Keen to show us the best snorkelling spot, Fred sailed the Zenith to the Sand Islet and we snorkelled for more than an hour.
“The water is rising more and more every year,” Chemier later told me. “In about 50 years, the Guna people will have moved onto the mainland because of the submersion of their islands. This is a destination to be seen quickly before it disappears.”
The San Blas are unique because of the authenticity of the people, the beauty of the sand beach islands and their coral reefs, and the fact that Panama is hurricane-free. Bernard Chemier, co-founder of San Blas Sailin