Peenie Wallie

Now, people start to awake, and coffee is served. Slowly, I grasp that several people work on the boat. They're aren't passengers, or at least, they're not paying passengers. They're here to prepare our meals, run the kitchen to serve us 3 meals a day, which is nice.

Overhead, above the dining table, is a net full of all varieties of fruits and vegetables. Carrots. Pineapples. Oranges. Celery. Cucumbers. Some other things I don't easily recognize.

Some people swim up to the nearest island, and then return to the boat. I wished that I'd gone with them. Now, some other prepare to swim ashore as well, and I join them. So, I go off the back of the catamaran and swim to the island with my snorkel and mask. Large coral reefs covered with fish, but the water is not quite as clear as the Bahamas. The Bahamas ruined me, I'm afraid. But the water temperature is perfect. Not too cold. Almost nice a nice warm bath.

I shoot some videos with my GoPro, and then switch it to shoot stills. Men are walking through the heavily jungled island, harvesting coconuts with machetes. They get into man-made dugout canoes and sail away from the shore with their fresh coconuts.

Surreal. It feels a lot like I am back in Uvisa. Seeing the boats and the machetes and the men harvesting produce from the jungles. Coconuts (Pipas) this time, instead of bananas (plantains), but the same idea, really.

They leave the island in their boat and I want to say "Take me with you," but instead, all I ask them is if this is, finally, the San Blas islands, and they reply "Si", and then climb into their handmade dugout canoe and they motor away.

Now, I walk around the island, taking photos with my GoPro. Stunning white-sand beaches, and unbelievable aqua-blue water, mixed with lthe remnants of ittle burned piles of trash here and there. I manage to sort of trip and hit my toe on something. I check to see if my foot is still attached. This is a very dangerous place. Nothing is child-proof down here. It's man vs. wild. It would be very easy to injure yourself on the coral or the rocks or the roots of the palm trees.

A large boat has sunk/run aground on the shore, and I take some photos of this as well. Later, we learn, this is the ferry that our Captain Fritz was attempting to use as a ferry to ship vehicles from Panama to Colombia. But, maybe they ran him out of business? I'm not clear. Somehow, the boat was run aground, and he claims he lost a fortune, and now he's running this boat, the San Blas Cat. It has to be difficult for him to see the boat sitting there, run aground, every time he comes through here. That must be a very difficult thing to see.

Now, some other people from the boat are here, on the island with me, walking around. And, when they ask, I start taking photos of them with my GoPro. No one has an iphone or a DSLR at this point. When you swim ashore, the only thing that can caputre this beauty is a GoPro. So I'm walking around, shooting like a middle aged man deeply esconsced in a mid-life crisis.

I shoot some of the other passengers from our boat on the island, and then they take some photos of me, so that, in the end, everyone's image is captured as if to say, "See...this is me...I was here."

Now, we have to return to the boat, and I keep the GoPro Hero 5 Black Edition in my swimsuit pocket as I swim back to the boat. There are several boats on the sound side of this island. Ours is the only one with motorcycles, though. So I swim towards that one, above huge reefs of coral, dodging fish all along the way. Always careful to swim down the starboard side of the boat, as the toilets (heads) are on the port side of the boat.

Once we're all back on the boat, the captain does a headcount, to make sure we have everyone, and then we set sail. Today, the seas are much calmer. Also, we're sailing inside of the San Blas islands now, so we have some protection from the waves of the Carribbean.

Back on the boat, people gather around my laptop, reviewing my photos. No one else has photos from the islands, because no one else brought a waterproof camera. (I brought 2.)

Now, one of the guys shows me how to airdrop my photos to the others, and the photos are shared to the group.

I'm so glad that I went on the island this morning, even though it was a long swim with a fairly strong current. Otherwise, I'd feel like I was passing through the San Blas islands, but only seeing them, not really experiencing them. I dunno how much time you'd want to spend on the islands, but they are beautiful, tropical, with white-sand beaches, coconuts, pristine coral reefs. Really stunning beaches, palm trees, and aqua blue water. I've never seen anything like it in my life. Really hard to describe.

I didn't feel like eating breakfast, but I drank some coffee with the others at the dining table.

I'm talking to these other people, you see, on this boat through the carribbean...these people are mainly backpackers. People who escaped from their other lives, to come down here and sail through the Carribbean like pirates. And they start talking about the places they've been. Places you've never even heard of or even considered visiting. Like, you really don't need to be talking to these people, ever, really. Because all they do is start making you want to do this even more. Like...to get even crazier and go further out there. To keep pushing the envelope as it were.

They're telling me about fesitvals coming up in Colombia and volcanoes in Ecuador...things to see in Bolivia and Argentina. And I'm like...oh man. This is not good. This is not what you need to be hearing.

The Kuna Yala

At 5:00 p.m., we arrive at Devil's Keys, and anchor for the night. They fly the local flag over the island of the native people, the Kuna Yala. Last night we anchored at Chichime.

It's always surreal to hear all of the people bantering back and forth in German. It seems like half of the people on the boat speak German. So, the conversation switches from German to Spanish to English frequently. Sort of like a bad hollywood movie.

Now, there is some discussion about getting to the island. It's too far to swim, and so it seems we are stranded in the harbor. But, as we watch, a small boat comes out to meet us. I'm like....returno? no hay problemo?

"Si,"

And I'm climbing into the boat. I didn't come down here to see these islands from 1/4 mile away. I want to go on them and see them up close. Now, about half of the boat decides to go.

So we clamber into this small boat, and he motors us in to the island.

A boat comes out to us. I grab my gear and get into the boat. Like...you ladies can stay here if you want. I'm going ashore.

Now, as we approached the island on San Blas Cat, we heard music blaring through a loud speaker. But as we now approach the island in a small skiff, you could hear crickets chirping. The locals come out to peer at us like a National Geographic episode. We walk around the streets of the island, Kids come out of 3rd world shanties to laugh and get their photos taken. Some of them have cell phones, but there is no cell service on the island. There is electricity, and some of the huts do have lights outside.

But no wifi. And we shoot photos of the kids as they laugh and squeal at seeing white people.

We walk around town for a few minutes, and then come to a bridge that someone in the group wanted to cross. But one of the local kids says not to cross it, as it is dangerous, so we turn back.

By now, it is solidly dark, and we're lost in the 3rd world shanty town. We can't remember the dingy captain's name, and there is some concern as to where he went. However, I state that he will be waiting by his boat in the embarcadero where he dropped us off. We have to ask the local kids for directions to the embarcadero in Spanish. We find our way back, and our dingy and it's owner are waiting at the small embarcadero. We get on the boat, and he takes us back to the San Blas Cat.

The Kuna Yala

Moved to the islands about 160 years ago. Since then, they live on the islands. Some live on the mainland also, on the shore. But not up in the mountains. They don't do cattle or goats. A few pigs, but very few.