The Bash to Panama City

This post begins the slide of Jumble Ventures into disorganization and sentimentality. Any readers without the stomach for such nonsense had better steer clear.

JUMBLE and her crew made it into the La Playita anchorage of Panama City on March 12th, having left Puerto Chiapas, Mexico on February 18th with the intent of making a non-stop passage of approximately two weeks. Like all cruising plans, these were written on the beach at low tide and things didn't work out as planned.

Village in Bahia de Jiquilisco

Crossing the bar behind PELAGIC

After our little bash off Guatemala, we had a clear weather window for Nicaragua and the Gulf of Papagayo and didn't see anything more than Force 5. The Papagayo winds are funny: they're initially on the nose, as you parallel the coast, then they're on the beam and finally you get a short run at the end.

Anna and entourage

Hot weather rig: give up some speed for shade

In Costa Rica we experienced the calmest seas we've ever seen on what was, technically speaking, the ocean. Groundswell barely noticeable, winds less than 5 knots and water temperatures in the low 80s. We stopped one night in Drake's Bay and had some gallo pinto and threw our last $USD at some diesel. No sailing to be had in Costa Rica; not without the patience of a saint.

Truly, the Pacific Ocean

Super Swank Resort in Drake's Bay

JUMBLE alone, except local pangas

Tree, of some sort

Rain?

Panama became a shitshow past Islas Ladrones. We had force 6-7 for a few hours in the morning, then less than 5 knots in the late morning/afternoon, only to get smacked with force 5-6 in the evening around Isla de Coiba. JUMBLE had some charging runs and got to try a few sail combinations for stronger winds. We had a brief pause in the wee hours of the morning rounding Punta Mariato. Lucky for you, there are no pictures of that night watch. Conditions and wind directions were variable and we were too close to land to put trust in either self-steering system, so I hand steered the 1 to 4 am watch naked in order to keep my clothes dry and salt free. 80+ degree water and air temps make clothes a formality. The spinnaker made a nice bean bag chair in the cockpit footwell, so I kept out of the spray and wind.

Upwind/Downwind off Ladrones

Coiba, boring pic

The 15 or so mile approach to Morro de Puercos kicked the shit out of JUMBLE. I really felt for our plucky little boat. We spent several hours just holding position with motor and bare poles in what I can guess was a gusty force 8 or more. I know this sounds absurd and I had a hard time believing it myself. Still, the double reefed main looked ready to pull away from the mast. The top sail slide eventually ripped its webbing later in the day after we'd resumed sailing. Just for shits, we tried lying a'hull, just to see how it felt. There was no threat of capsize given the small wave heights. With the sort of winds we were experiencing, lying a'hull was actually pretty comfortable, but our drift of 1.5 knots would have quickly taken us away from the shelter of a weather shore and our destination. The trade/offshore winds were really howling and we only made Benao cove late that night as the winds moderated to force 5-6 past Morro de Puercos.

Early morning break

Upwind/Downwind Morro de Puercos

Benao at low tide, long dinghy drag

After a couple days of rest/repair we set out for Punta Mala ('mala' means 'bad' in Spanish) with a small craft advisory in the forecast, force 6-7. For those of you without knowledge of sailing and the 'point effect', know that a cape or point generally increases the local wind strength and JUMBLE is most definitely classified as a 'small craft'. Not the correct decision, but we were on a schedule and hadn't been beaten. Not yet anyway.

Well, I'd like to think it wasn't the wind strength that beat us, but the current. There's a wicked 1.5-2 knot current setting south right off Punta Mala. In other words: directly against us. A colorful local in Benao told us the current ran 5-6 knots sometimes, but this is sailor's exaggeration. We charged Punta Mala under double reefed main (the new standard set) and 85% jib, luffing in the gusts, making 6-7 knots to the east in a NNE force 7. Once we cleared the potato patch off the point, the wind moderated to force 5-6 and we set the mizzen. The waves cleaned up a bit as well. We then spent 10 or so hours tacking back and forth with that goddamned current and managed to make only 2 miles to windward! For various reasons, mostly provisions and single-minded determination, we were unwillingly to shoot over to Las Perlas islands, which was a course we couldn't lay direct anyway. Finally, we threw in the towel that evening and ran back to Benao with our tail between our legs.

Rage and self-loathing accompanied this decision. Other than the usual salt sores, sodden bedding and lost hawsepipe cap, no real damage had been done except to our (mostly my) pride. This was the first time we ever turned back. Sure, we had made unscheduled stops, but that's not the same thing. Not only did this mean we couldn't hack the conditions, but that the choice to put to sea had been in error. This also marked the first time that it wasn't so much the crew as it was JUMBLE that wasn't up to the conditions. JUMBLE is a tubby little ketch, not suited to making miles dead to weather in an adverse current and moderate seas. Previously, it had always been the crew, our weak morale and stomachs, that let us down. This time it was just the futility of trying to force JUMBLE against the prevailing conditions.

Morale was high on the first attempt

Upwind south of Punta Mala

Lesson learned: get a bigger, faster, more expensive boat. Subscribe to more yachting magazines.

Just kidding.

So we waited a few more days for better weather and had an epic struggle to wrest money from our dinky credit union in middle-of-fucking-nowhere Panama on a Sunday. We made a few repairs and had a drunken evening with some surfers who helped us get fuel and water. With a clear forecast, all was well until I discovered the seawater pump on the engine had a failing water seal. Not exactly a bullet in the head, but worrisome as we were planning on motoring the last 100 miles in calm weather. This is a spare part I think most boats should carry, but in the rush and budget to leave we didn't buy a spare pump. If the failure progresses too far it means salt water in your engine's oil. Serious shit. We cleaned the heat exchanger and checked all inlets and outlets of the raw water system, as 700 hours seems awfully soon for such a pump to fail. We checked the oil every three hours during the end run.

Mellow Mala on the second attempt

Pacific Anchorage, super cool views

More Pacific Anchorage

More Pacific Anchorage

More Pacific Anchorage

Our gamble paid off and we made Panama City the morning after our friends flew in from Boston. We drank our last gift booze: champagne from FREE LUFF. The plan was to save it for getting through the canal, but hell.

La Playita de Amador

More info about our first week in Panama to come.