THE CARIBBEAN’S SECRET ISLANDS
Minke Lohrengel explores the remote parts of the Caribbean’s San Blas archipelago
San Blas – the Caribbean as it used to be
The yellow skins of the papayas caught my eye as a dugout canoe moved alongside us. Three Guna Indians, returning from harvesting papayas, coconuts and pineapples from their fields on the mainland, had clearly been curious about who had anchored next to their home island of Mamitupu, with its golden sand and palm-tree shade. They nodded to us as they inspected Eastern Stream’s hull and deck, and we decided it was time to go ashore. After beaching the dinghy, we were met by a villager who asked us to follow him to a small house. Inside were the chiefs of the village, the Sahilas, who officially welcomed us to Mamitupu and explained the rules. We were more then welcome to visit the island and look around, but the coconuts were off limits as each one was owned by a villager.
Once we had paid the anchor fee, the official part was over and we explored the narrow sandy paths which snaked around the houses and small courtyards where the Guna Indians cooked, washed and relaxed in their hammocks. Other than smartphones and solar panels for energy, there were no other signs of modern technology. As we continued walking we could see flashes of red in between the small wooden houses with their banana leaf roofs as the women, dressed in traditional bright clothing, went about their daily chores. Their forearms and legs were wrapped in chains of tiny beads. It is a beautiful and typical way of dressing in the Guna culture.
San Blas or Guna Yala, to give it its local name, had always been part of our cruising plan. My partner Jaap and I had set out from the Netherlands aboard our Chiquita 46, Eastern Stream, a year earlier. Having sailed Europe and crossed the Atlantic, we explored some of the Caribbean islands before heading to Colombia and then towards Panama, where we were joined by Jaap’s sister, Nynke, her partner Harald and their four-year-old son, Ebbe.
A lot of cruisers skip the eastern part of Guna Yala; those wanting a more blue-water, touristy vibe tend to head
west. But we were curious about the culture of the Guna so we took our time here.
With so many islands in such a small area, the sailing here is very attractive and day sails through clear blue water are short.
Sometimes an island has a little village; sometimes just one house with a coconut tree or even uninhabited. Its beauty made the experience almost dreamlike, although when it came to navigating the shallow anchorages you were soon wide awake, especially in light airs. Charts for the archipelago are not good enough to rely on, so my usual spot while anchoring was on Eastern Stream’s bowsprit, shouting instructions to Jaap as we eyeballed our way between coral and sandbanks. The effort was worth the reward of sheltered, picturesque anchorages.
INTEGRATING WITH THE LOCALS
We quickly fell into the slower pace of the Guna, taking our time to enjoy what the day brought. We anchored near little deserted islands, just to go for an afternoon swim or exploration; when the weather forecast looked good we sometimes stayed the night.
Most days we would take the dinghy to the reef and snorkel. The world below was so colourful, with hard and soft corals and fish darting in and out of the reef. Stingray slept on the seabed as well as nurse sharks, which alarmed me at first, filling my snorkel with water and causing me to bolt for the surface, choking. It was the first time I had seen a shark without a pane of glass separating me from the fish.
Although the natural world made San Blas special, it was the warm, welcoming Guna who made visiting this area so memorable.
‘Ebbe! Venga! Llevas el balón!’ The chants drift over the water from the small jetty at Isla Tigra to the deck of Eastern Stream. Around 10 children are calling to our nephew, Ebbe, to come ashore, bring his ball and play a game of football. Usually, we are just a crew of two; cruising with family, including our blond-haired nephew, was noticeably different and meant we had more contact with the Guna than we expected. Many of the women wanted to touch his white hair and light skin. Ebbe was tolerant although not always amused by all of this attention, but he loved to play with the local children. In turn, they loved playing with their new friend and his football. It was not a problem that neither spoke each other’s language; sport really does have a way of uniting people from different cultures.
As we cruised further west, the San Blas became more touristy, with some of the islands offering basic visitor accommodation and restaurants serving the catch of the day, either lobster or fish with baked banana and potatoes, a typical Guna dinner.
The anchorages also become busier. More cruisers, however, did mean easier provisioning. Although the Guna would often come alongside in their dugout canoes to sell clothing, fresh fish, vegetables or fruit, they were a far cry from the larger, engine-powered
Although the natural world made San Blas special, it was the welcoming Guna who made visiting this area so unique
boats used in the west of the archipelago, laden with produce purchased from the mainland to sell.
Having dropped Nynke, Harald and Ebbe at Puerto de Carti on the mainland for their taxi back to Panama City and their flight home, we pointed Eastern Stream’s bow towards the popular Chichime Cays.
Nestled between two islands and reefs, this is generally a sheltered anchorage, but we were soon to learn it wasn’t always the case when dark, black clouds bubbled up and moved swiftly over us. Before we had time to put down the sun shades and the hammocks the wind had picked up and rapidly went from 6 knots to touching 50 knots. We were caught in a chocosana, a short-lived intense squall which occurs during rainy season. As I struggled to secure everything on deck I realised we were moving. I shouted to Jaap that our anchor was dragging, but he had already realised our precarious situation, given we were surrounded by reef, and had started Eastern Stream’s engine. There was then an almighty crack of thunder and the heavens opened. Now drenched, all we could do was motor into the wind until the gusts had died. Huddled together, we watched as flipflops, rubbish and even paddles were picked up from the decks of nearby yachts and blown away.
After 45 minutes the squall finished as quickly as it had started, and we picked up the anchor and motored away from the other yachts, anchoring in the shelter of one of the islands and with enough room to put out more chain.
The next day we departed San Blas with slightly heavy hearts but so many happy memories. With its slower pace of life, fantastic blue-water sailing, unforgettable wildlife experiences, fascinating culture and friendly welcoming Guna community, San Blas really is a perfect spot to wait out the Caribbean hurricane season. LEFT: Fresh fish is plentiful