And Now - The Scary Part Of Our Pandemic Plan

After eight months of "sheltering in place" (remember that term from months ago?) we now plan to leave our Pandemic Paradise here on Bastimentos Island in Bocas del Toro, Panama. 

Jungle Lodge 1

Actually we have had several plans over the last few weeks, but here's what - as of the moment of posting - we think is our "final edit":  

The Plan

We have reservations on a flight from Bocas to Panama City on Thursday (October 29) and on a flight from PTY to LAX Friday (October 30). This gets us out of Panama one day before we would be considered turistas non grata by the Panamanian immigration office (or as they like to say on Fox News: illegal immigrants). 

From LA we will drive to Sacramento where we plan to spend six weeks in an Airbnb rental house which looks spacious, clean and well equipped (on the listing . . .) and deal with several routine medical matters. Amazing how much one can look forward to getting one's teeth cleaned!

This is the point in prior Leaving Abracadabra Posts that we have chattered on about plans to go walking in England, Spain, Portugal or France or take Spanish lessons in Mexico. Those kind of plans seem a bit ambitious - if not downright selfish - at the moment.

All we feel comfortable saying about the future is that our long term plan still includes: returning to Panama and Abracadabra and sailing Abracadabra to a place (Colon, Panama or Golfito, Costa Rica) where she can be picked up by a cargo ship and taken to Vancouver, B.C., Canada.  Stay tuned.

The Plan's Glitches

Glitch Related Background: The majority of marine insurers have decided to offer international insurance only for large, newish yachts valued at more than $125,000. Explain that to us, if you can. Our bottom line: it is very hard to insure a little, old girl like Abracadabra no matter how well she has been loved. In an attempt to maintain our hull insurance we began trying to arrange for an out-of-the-water insurance survey in August. 

We scheduled surveyors acceptable to our current insurer to travel to Bocas from Panama City (a ten-hour drive for them!) and for Abracadabra to be hauled out by Bocas Yacht Services on the mainland in late September. 

Up She Rises -- None Too Soon For A Paint Job!

The quick haul out and bottom paint job we anticipated turned into - more. Nothing catastrophic, just more. As in it won't be finished by Thursday. 

So - now what? 

Glitch: In May, after moving to Jungle Lodge #1, we prepped Abracadabra for her usual in-water off-season storage. We were working on the (now clearly overly optimistic) assumption that we would be out of Panama and back before we had to have her out of the water for a survey. 

[Amusing Aside: In pre-pandemic 2020 we had actually thought we would be able to get her all the way to Canada before having an insurance survey done, because insuring in Canada is less difficult than insuring in the Caribbean. Hindsight you are indeed 2020. Ugh.]  

As part of the usual "decommissioning process" undertaken in May lots of things came down and off the rails and decks for storage below (jib, safety equipment, bar-b-que, various sheets (ropes for non-sailors), etc.. 

See where this is going yet?  

Glitch: When we realized we couldn't wait to return to Panama for a survey we put everything back out and on in order to sail/motor Abracadabra the 14-miles to the boat yard on the mainland for a haul-out and survey. We also decided to unload stuff in order to give the surveyors easy access to the engine and chain plates and through hulls. Off came three plastic bins of parts and repair equipment, a huge roll of sleeping foam from the v-berth, pillows and, you know -- stuff. No problem - all that came to Jungle Lodge #1 in a couple of golf cart loads. We would put it all back inside when Abracadabra returned from the boat yard to the marina. Plus there was no need to take the dinghy over to the boat yard for the survey . . . . the surveyors were able to see the dinghy at the Red Frog dock.

See where this is going now?

Glitch: When we realized that Abracadabra would not be back from the boat yard before we left we further realized we would need to (a) take down the things we had previously taken down and then put back up for the survey (see above - jib, safety equipment, etc.) and (b) even worse, get the dinghy, two golf-cart loads of stuff and some kitchen items we had taken to Jungle Lodge #1 (pressure cooker, salad spinner, plastic storage bins) across the briny to Abracadabra. Ugh. Even for Bryce who had begun to think of "taking shit off of my boat and putting it back on" as his primary hobby - Ugh.

And then - ta dah - the cavalry arrived in the form of kind dock-mates Jim and Suzy and their beamy ketch, Octopus Garden. 

We loaded Octopus Garden with the majority of our homeless stuff and Bryce, Jim and Suzy took a fully loaded Octopus Garden across to Abracadabra. Molly stayed home with what we think was food poisoning but that's another story . . . 

Bocas Yacht Services -- A Tropical Style Office

Whew. Since that first major moving trip we have made several others to the boat yard, each round-trip involving six panga rides (Basti to Bocas, Bocas to Almirante, Almirante to Bocas Yacht Services; then repeat) and $40. As of last Thursday Abracadabra was deemed almost ready for storage and Jungle Lodge #1 almost free of stuff we won't be taking to California. Whew.

Hopefully the work on Abracadabra and our ability to re-enter Panama will come together at the same time. Those of us watching international borders shut tight around us throughout mid-2020 are a bit shy about our ability to easily move about the planet. 

This is the first time we have left Abracadabra out of the water for any significant length of time. We hope she's not mad at us when we get back.  

Thoughts On Our Return To El Norte

We have not been in the U.S. for 14 months. A lot has changed during that time. 

Red Froggers who have recently returned from the U.S. as well as those who have recently left and reported back describe their home country as A Very Angry Place. We do our best not to engage politically with dock mates we suspect will not share our opinions -- we keep to the weather and where to buy hardware and groceries unless someone else starts The Conversation and we feel we have found Fellow Travelers. But we think we are hearing about A Very Angry Place from across the political spectrum. 

Add that to the comments from the crews of non-U.S. flagged boats and we expect to find a place that is internationally and domestically recognized as A Very Angry Place. 

Can't wait.  

We expect our stay on Basti will feel even more like a gift from the universe than before. 

A Very Pleasant Place

 

We will miss our Pandemic Paradise -- but hope to see many of our California friends at small, distanced gatherings once we have self-quarantined for a couple of weeks. Take care until then!

Pandemic Period Summary (just skip it if you've already heard this one): 

We arrived back onboard Abracadabra in December, 2019 and spent January and February sailing and anchoring within the Bocas del Toro archipelago or docked at the Red Frog Marina on Bastimentos Island, enjoying the facilities of the related Red Frog Beach Resort. 

Long, Long Ago . . . We Sailed About And Anchored Out

In February, along with the rest of the world, we began to learn more and more about the spread of a new coronavirus and the disease it delivers: Covid-19. 

The marina closed to new boats and movement within the archipelago by boat was curtailed. The resort closed - no pool, no restaurants, no visitors. Travel within Panama of any kind (boat, plane, road) was limited to essential services. Panama's international borders were closed and commercial flights suspended. Curfews and quarantines were imposed and altered confusingly. Food and alcohol resupply got problematic and stressful. U.S. Embassy sponsored flights to the U.S. were made available, but only to places we didn't want to go (Texas and Florida). Many fellow boaters left to their home countries.

For March and April we made the most of the oddly empty private property of the resort - we took long walks and enjoyed observing the non-human island occupants which grew curious about the lack of human activity and came out on the jungle to observe us. Molly sewed masks and Bryce did boat maintenance and started tracking Panama's Covid-19 case numbers on a calendar. We wrote blog posts and communicated with friends in North America via video calls. There was one place for take-out pizza still open. We decided to sit tight and see . . . what . . . would happen.

Along with other Red Froggers, we reached out to the local community with some food donations. Bocas is a tourist economy and without tourists - there are very few jobs.

 

Thanks For Organizing This, Christine!

As Abracadabra began to feel smaller (the incredibly shrinking sailboat, we called her) we learned of a house on the resort property that the owners were happy to have occupied. We jumped at the chance and in May moved into Jungle Lodge 1. Paradise: space for humans and air to move about, water on demand (most days), our own private bathroom/shower room, a real refrigerator, a washer and drier, monkeys in the nearby jungle and the worlds' best deck with a view of the Caribbean - in the sun and the rain. 

Rain In The Forecast

There were bugs and geckos - It's The Jungle became our mantra. We used a lot of Off. 

Some Bugs Are Totally Cool

Geckos Are Too

But They Are Difficult To Photograph

Despite our jungle diversions, the outside world became more fraught with every day. Some days it affected us. Others, not.

Over dinners we shared confused/simplistic discussions about the political/social culture of the U.S. in the time of pandemic until we admitted we were repeating ourselves. We listened to the ocean or the rain. We did the dishes and settled in to watch Money Heist or the Good Place or Midnight Diner. 

We had occasional guests from the marina join us on the deck for a small, socially distanced drink or lunch or at the pool for a small, socially distanced dip. 

A Table Made For Social Distancing

Each of us celebrated a low-key birthday. Bryce had a small group lunch on the deck. Molly's guest list was more exotic -- a troop of capuchin monkeys passed us during her birthday afternoon walk! 

Things began to open up. People and boats began to move about. A regular business sprung up to address the need for people to reach the international airport in Panama City -- 10 long boating/driving hours away. After a while even the road blocks became wave throughs. We still decided to stay - we couldn't get enthused enough about leaving to take on the risk of travel. 

Some small restaurants in Bocas Town began to offer take-out food. One take-out pizza source on Basti closed and another opened to take its place. Boat shuttles to town resumed and over time became more frequent. A clever entrepreneur started offering a weekly boat delivery of fresh vegetables to the marina and nearby boats at anchor. 

Veggie Boat Comes Tuesday

Life achieved a new normal. 

More businesses opened in August. We were able to go into the hardware store rather than stand outside and request that someone bring us what they thought we wanted. 

In September we arranged to take Abracadabra to a local boatyard for an insurance survey and a "bottom job" (non-boat people: scraping off old paint below the water line, re-epoxying and re-painting -- one of the not-so-environmentally-friendly aspects of sailing). See above -- she is there now. Construction began on a jungle lodge unit next door. Right next door. Right. Next. Door.

Right. Next. Door.

The construction project was accompanied by a leak in the water system which didn't affect our water delivery but washed out the road. Going for a walk or a swim now requires driving down the muddy hill, parking beyond the mud-slide and then walking or swimming. Sigh. Even in Paradise!

In early October the government held a District Meeting on the Red Frog Property and we were specifically not told that the President of Panamá (Laurentino Cortizo) would be there . . . even when we asked. After he left we read about his presence in the paper. 

A Government Group Arriving At Red Frog Dock -- 
Can You Spot The President? We Can't.

In September the Panamanian government announced that regular commercial flights would commence in mid-October. Those who had overstayed their 6-month tourist authorization (ours: mid-June) were told to leave by October 31, apply for long-term residence or incur a monthly fine and eventually face limitations to our ability to return to Panama.  

Restaurants and guest houses are reopening. We are leaving. Abracadabra is staying. More to come.  

 

Panama Quarantine - Soon To Be Month Six

As we end the fifth month of our unanticipated pandemic sojourn on Bastimentos Island (Bocas del Toro Province of Panama) and find ourselves expecting to stay at least one more month, we thought we would write about why we are still here. We have written about being "stuck" here several times before, but recently an internal shift has taken place in both of us -- we find ourselves increasingly thinking of our time on Basti as a choice rather than an imposition by circumstance. 

Not every day. And not always in synch with each other. But mostly we agree that this is where we want to be right now.    

It's Not So Different In Some Ways 

Video chats and e-mails with friends and family confirm that our land-based pandemic life on Basti is similar in many ways to the lives of our North American retiree compadres. Like them, we make every effort to remind ourselves to be thankful -- that we are well (so far, so good, knock wood) and because we are retired, free from the stress of unemployment or having to work in a place we might feel unsafe. 

We also practice the pandemic coping mechanisms we know we share with others: 

• Naming each day's joy (see sunset picture above);
• Hoping for positive changes this pandemic may bring (universal healthcare or health insurance in the U.S. (ojalá!), reduced entertainment shopping and boredom-based fast food consumption and less frenzied, unnecessary movement using carbon based fuel); 
• Exercising (well - sometimes);
• Thinking of others' needs -- many thanks to Christine, a marina friend who organizes food distributions for local indigenous communities!  

One Of The Deliveries From
Marina Residents

• Reading -- though our concentration can be spotty and our book picks not always Fine Literature;
• Streaming a lot of entertainment content -- we've upped our streaming game and have signed on to Britbox and PBS and the house we are in has Netflix Panama;
• Making efforts to stay in contact with friends and family. [Note: Without Messenger, Zoom, Skype and WhatsApp we would have gone 'round the twist months ago -- so we might not think the next "how sad it is this younger generation spends so much time in front of a screen" comment is so funny. We say, leave the damned kids alone!]; and
• Cooking - and trying not to complain about cooking.

All of this helps keep us on an even keel most of the time. But there are times it doesn't override the frustration we feel at spending so much of our finite existence on this planet (however long that turns out to be) in one place. We know we share that sentiment with some of our generational cohort, too.  

But It's Different In Other Ways

Though in ways our life isn't that different, in others, because we are in Panama and at the sparsely populated end of an island, it is. 

          Many Better Differences:

We have enjoyed being removed from many aspects of North American culture: cable television and its relentless news, the tyranny of those who insist their personal freedoms should override community safety (even if they only come to our attention on cable television) and recreational shopping.

We confess to having had periods of championship purchasing (usually when we return to the States!) but the few stores in Bocas Town (the archipelago's only community of significant size) are closed and the extra shipping costs required to get things to our out-of-the-consumer-mainstream location protects us from entertainment shopping on the internet. It's felt quite freeing to realize how much stuff we don't need. [Side note: We did place a critical needs internet order of some new boxer shorts for Bryce -- elastic doesn't live long in the tropics. They aren't anything special even though with shipping they may be the most expensive plaid cotton boxer shorts he will ever own. TMI?]   

We are able to live most of each day outside - not only because the climate here is frequently pleasant, but because the house we are staying in is designed for an outdoor-friendly life. We have a breezy, second story deck where even humid or rainy days are nice. We do not look forward to returning to the land of central heat and air -- or, even worse, fire smoke. (Hang in there, California peeps. We don't envy your life during Fire Season.)

And of course -- this part of Panama is beautiful and interesting. From our deck we enjoy world class views (see above) and the sound of waves, parrots, other birds, insects, geckos and frogs. On a recent afternoon Bryce spotted a lost-looking capuchin monkey walking across the lawn and has worried about him ever since, as we have never seen a capuchin monkey moving about solo. They always travel in troops as far as we know.  

During dry moments (most days have some) we take walks along jungle roads and swim. The fact that the resort is almost deserted means the little community pool is our private pool. 

In sum, we are lucky to be here.

               Some Not Better Differences, Of Course: 

As we have mentioned, the closest medical clinic is a 15-minute fast panga ride away and the nearest real hospital is several hours over bumpy roads from here. We are betting on staying healthy rather than on needing the more immediate medical assistance available to us in the U.S.

Our food choices are more limited than they would be in, say, California (e.g., frozen strawberries are a delicacy, we don't know how we would get a real peach and we'd pretty much pay anything for some California-style sourdough bread). Bocas del Toro province has a 7 pm to 5 am curfew and a full curfew on Saturday and Sunday which means we don't take out for dinner (though we have a good fish taco place on Basti for lunch or early dinner). This just means our constant meals at home complaints are probably whinier than they would be if we were in the States.

And even though we list not being able to internet shop without a price penalty as a better difference -- we do occasionally long for a replacement t-shirt to show up on our doorstep. 

Life in paradise is not without some challenges.

               Just Different Differences: 

It's winter (or what passes for winter) here and it's been rainy for several weeks in a way that would impress even people from Ontario or Oklahoma. 

Spectacular Clouds Promising Spectacular Rain

We have a resident critter which, fortunately appears to live outside and has no interest in joining us inside the house. We first thought it might be a larger version of the hopping mouse we removed from the house a couple months ago - driven outside by the sonic rodent repellant machines that our landlords shipped to us from the States. Thanks, Libby and Jack! 

Bryce took a picture of this recent critter into town to try to buy a trap -- the plan was to trap it and take it far away, inflicting just enough trauma to convince it to find another place to hang out. The guy at the hardware store told Bryce that no one bothers trapping zarigüeyas -- they live in the bosque -- and that the store didn't have any traps that size. Hmmm. Bryce's Spanish vocabulary included bosque (forest - what we call jungle) but not zarigüeya. A dictionary search disclosed that our forest critter is -- a possum.  

A further internet search confirmed that some people keep possums as pets. We will not. No matter how boring we may occasionally find our own conversation, we do not enjoy having a possum staring at us during dinner. We have taken steps to discourage this particular possum from feeling comfortable near the house, and flicking it with a towel did cause it to quit ogling our dinner temporarily, but sounds on the roof suggest it has not moved permanently. Perhaps the recent heavy rains will drive it away. Or perhaps we will have to agree to coexist. As long as it remains outside.

And That's Why We're Still Here

Existing travel restrictions (as we understand them, summarized below -- you can skip them if you wish) make it extremely difficult for us to travel from Panama by land, sea or air to any place other than our country of legal residency - the U.S.. And on the whole, we prefer to be here (see above) rather than there. But - always one, yeah? - our permitted visitor status in Panama expired in late June. The Panamanian government will fine us $100 a month for overstaying our tourist status, and at some point may make it difficult for us to return to Abracadabra. So someday - maybe as soon a regular commercial flights recommence - we will have to go.  

That's pretty much it. We are here until we can't be any more and wishing all of you that are there or elsewhere the best. Say well, stay cool and stay fire safe. 

          Travel Restrictions (FYI):

• By Land: Panama's one land border crossing -- with Costa Rica -- has been closed to non-essential travel since March. We can't drive or bus out. Side note: Costa Rica is opening to commercial traffic this month -- but to only a few U.S. residents. 
• By Sea: Recreational boat travel is currently prohibited within Panama, though recreational boats have been able to obtain permission to leave Panama. The "sailing away" option is complicated because most nearby countries are currently closed to arriving recreational vessels except in emergency situations and in recent times even open international borders have closed without notice. Sailing connections tell us that being exhausted and running out of food, diesel or electricity haven't been deemed to be "emergency situations" by some countries. So - sailing off to "some place else" doesn't seem a safe plan. Sailing off to the U.S. (where we have citizenship and thus the right to enter) would require heading further into the Caribbean -- directly into hurricane season. All this to arrive in Florida. Not our preferred destination even before the pandemic. 
• By Air (Regular, Commercial Flights): Panama remains closed to international and domestic commercial air traffic, which will not open any sooner than September 21 (recently updated from August 21). Until Panama reopens internal scheduled flights, getting to Panama City means a 10 hour ride by government-approved private transport (4-wheel drive or van of some sort). 
• By Air (Other Options): There are repatriation / humanitarian flights for U.S. citizens and residents which travel from Panama to Florida, Texas and D.C. and occasional regular COPA Airline flights that are allowed to transit into Panama from other locations which travel on to the U.S. One of these flights is the option on the table in the event we feel it is best to leave here before commercial flights recommence.