Full of illusions. Or, if it’s not one thing, it’s a dozen. (Sorry, Mom!)
The first illusion smashed was that we would be able to leave Shelter Bay marina as soon as we could get a transit date, surely within two weeks. Second, that the boat work we needed to get done there would be done on a reasonable schedule. Third, that the people who would work on our boat would know what they’re doing. Fourth, that nothing else would break. Fifth, that we could quickly schedule an appointment at the French embassy in Panama City. Sixth, that we wouldn’t have to wait seven weeks after the appointment at the embassy to receive our long stay visas to French Polynesia. Seventh, that the marina’s job coordinator would remember us despite not writing anything down. Eighth, that the marina’s refrigerator repairmen would return with the quote they promised within a reasonable amount of time. Or, you know, would return. Ninth, that when the rigger Peter arranged two months before we arrived said he would get to us “next week,” he would actually do the work the following week. Tenth… do I really need to go on?? There are plenty more, if needed!
Of the almost three months we spent at Shelter Bay Marina, the first was the most frustrating. The others were close behind, but our illusions were indeed shattered, one at a time, and the blows kept coming. In fact they started to feel, well, inevitable.
We took a couple of days to get from Guna Yala to Shelter Bay – very blustery, bashy days – lots of wind, lots of waves and swell after we left the barrier reefs behind on the first day.
We overnighted in Linton Bay, a small, but reputedly very well run, marina five hours or so east of Shelter Bay. (Within a few weeks we actually considered moving back down there for the boat work but were deterred by its isolation.) It was also very well protected, and when we went in for dinner at their restaurant we ran into none other than Te Waka – Lucie and John were in the cradle next to us at Grenada Marine last summer, and we overlapped with them briefly as they were preparing to splash well before we were. We quickly learned they also happened to be very close friends with Chris and Christine (Stray Kitty) from their days raising kids on their boats in French Polynesia fifteen years ago. It is such a small world.
Lucie and John were having drinks with Chris and Carol from Malea, Aussies they’d met a few days earlier. In typical sailor behavior, they sat us right down and the six of us ended up having a delightful dinner together – then all left for Shelter Bay the following morning.
Shelter Bay in February is a madhouse. Many of the boats in the marina at that time are preparing to go through the canal and continue on to French Polynesia. In addition, boat rallies come through – while we were there first came the Oyster rally, then the Outremers – and members spend a week or two whooping it up at the restaurant and bar, then go along their way. There are fewer boats that have come through the canal from the Pacific, but plenty do, and getting a transit date during February and March can take 4-6 weeks, and occasionally even longer. The Dock Master, Eddie, put us right next to Malea and across from Te Waka, and we got down to the business of getting the boat ready to cross another ocean.
Then we smelled diesel in our cabin.
(I know, RIGHT??)
It didn’t take Peter long to find the leak in the port diesel tank under our bunk. It was only seeping, and I guess it was also good we came into the marina on fumes anyway. (Less to continue to leak into the tank’s compartment under our bed). But there were a couple of inches down there, and we theorized that the rough seas had encouraged faster leaking while underway. So how do we fix the leak?? After a lot of research (we are talking about Peter, after all) we had two options. A) weld a patch of some kind and hope it doesn’t fail (many do) and b) replace the tank. In either case, the ~200 gallon tank would have to be removed from underneath our bunk and the cabin itself – which would require removing the frame from our door, among other things. In addition, the two diesel tanks are made of aluminum, and welding aluminium is different from welding other metals. (Who knew?) After more research Peter realized there was one guy in Panama who could do the work, whether we opted for patching or replacing. He contacted him immediately.
Unfortunately, Corey really wasn’t a great communicator. Then he had a family emergency back in Texas. Five weeks later he and Peter finally agreed he would replace the tank (patching it was almost as expensive), and we paid a deposit on the work. We’ll get to that outcome in… wait for it… late April.
Next came the new bowsprit and roller furler for the new headsail Peter ordered. You may remember I was adamantly opposed to buying a THIRD headsail to replace the second one we shredded on the way to Bonaire in November. However, everyone knows you have to have a headsail to cross the Pacific and sail in French Polynesia. Everyone. So, a new sail. A bowsprit to anchor its luff and the base of the roller furler. And of course, a roller furler to obviate a repeat of our perennial sail snuffing problems.
Apparently, customs and associated import duties in Panama can be a bit of a bear. Mads (Seaesta Blue) advised us to establish an account with Air Cargo and More in Panama City, a company with a warehouse in Miami that we can ship to, then they fly it to PC for $2.75 per pound. No taxes, no customs headaches, just your stuff waiting for you in PC. The shipping costs might have been equal to the costs of import taxes on some items, but the lack of hassle made it a no-brainer. The sail shipped before we got the account, but I was able to have the French company providing the bowsprit and furler send them to the Miami warehouse instead of to us at the marina. I avoided one out of two potential customs headaches – bonus! Getting the sail through customs when it arrived required some fruitless phone calls to UPS Panama, but once I got the correct number from Alan (Full Circle 3), I talked to a human being who could understand me about as well as I could understand her, sent her the documentation she needed to clear it, paid for it (COUGH.) and got my directions to pick it up. Bam.
In late February we got a ride into Panama City with Lucie and John to go to our appointment at the French embassy in Casco Viejo (Old Town). We’d done one trip to the city already with a driver, and though it was extraordinarily convenient to be picked up and dropped off and driven around, the expense was not something we were willing to bear again. (Eventually we rented cars.) The interview was painless, until the attaché told us it would be another 6-8 weeks before our visas came through. They wait until they have a big enough batch of applications, then they mail them to Tahiti for processing, then Tahiti mails them back to the embassy in Panama City. In 2026.
So, we went around the corner for coffee and croissants at a French café, then walked a few blocks to the Mola Museum. It was closed for a private event.
We’d been jonesing for the Mola Museum since Brendall visited. They did a thorough tour of it when they were exploring Panama City before heading to Guna Yala to see us, and had recommended it without reservation. So we walked around, found some lunch, and then went back at 1:00, when the event ended.
The museum was, truly, astonishing. Not large, just a few rooms filled to bursting with the most gorgeous molas we’d ever seen. We were thrilled to realize that several of the ones we’d bought from Venancia in Guna Yala really were nearly museum quality, and examined each case to appreciate the minute stitches and intricate designs of the molas within.
We learned about the Guna worldview and where molas fit into it, and how molas are actually made. It was a fully satisfying experience, and though we had to leave sooner than we would have otherwise to meet our ride back to Shelter Bay, we knew we would spend time there again.
The month ended in a sigh. Most of the people we’d been spending time with had moved on, either temporarily or permanently. Judi and Alan (Full Circle 3) transited the canal and left for the Marquesas, Doug and Beth (License to Chill) were home in Missouri for a month, Dana and Jerry (Tango) were in Guna Yala, as were Lucie and John, who went back for a longer visit with guests while waiting for their French long stay visas. And Peter was frantic with work.
I walked up around a disused loop at the top of the hill above the marina early every morning to say hi to the coatis and see what birds were around, and spent my days knitting, sewing, cooking a little, going to the pool for a cool down, doing laundry (everything is sopping with sweat at the end of every day), and a million other little puttering things. I was bored to tears. WHEN will we get our bikes out???
Very soon, fortunately.
Up Next: Life at in the marina gets better