By the time we had all the paperwork in order in Colombia, we were more than ready to leave the country, but then the weather didn’t cooperate. It was Thursday, and it looked like a good weather window would not open until the following Tuesday. Problem was, because bureaucracy and weekends don’t go together, if you want to leave on a Tuesday you have to start the exit paperwork to get a zarpe (an exit clearance document) four days earlier. And if you end up not leaving, then you are up for a lot more paperwork because, technically, you’d be reentering the country (yes, without leaving port). Relying on a forecast five days ahead was too much of a bet, so we decided to leave on Saturday. Destination: Panama, some 350 nautical miles away. Even though we were going to get rougher conditions than if we waited, we like certainty, and we avoided a scenario where, if the forecast for Tuesday changed, we’d be forced to choose between even worse weather, or more delays and headaches to undo the failed zarpe and get a new one. To dodge the brunt of the wind, we scheduled a stop in Puerto Velero—we’d rest for night and take refuge from the near-gale winds that blow almost every night on the Colombian coast. We believe it was legal for us to do a rest stop there, but preferred not to ask too much.
The Colombian authorities keep a tight control of their waters. I forgot we had to announce our departure from Santa Marta; we had barely left the marina when we were called on the radio and asked about our intentions. They are very friendly though.
Next, several hours later, we encountered the mouth of the mighty Magdalena River, which meets the Caribbean Sea near Barranquilla. When you approach it, you can see a sharp line that divides the deep blue sea water and the murky brown water from the river. Even though I had been told the transition is incredibly sudden, I was still surprised. When you cross that line you know that, one, the seas are going to get rougher, because the current opposes the wind, and, two, you have to pay extra attention for possible obstacles that, they say, may include school buses dragged by the river’s powerful current. Since it was the end of the dry season we didn’t really see much debris, save a log or two.
The waves did get steeper and more frequent, and the ride got quite shaky–much like the rinse cycle of a washing machine, if you’ve ever experienced that. To get the most favorable wind angle we were tacking downwind, and in one of those tacks we were pointing to the shoals on the river’s East bank. Of course we were going to switch tacks long before hitting the shoals, but before that we got a call from the zealous Barranquilla Control Station advising us that we were headed to a dangerous area. We made it to Puerto Velero at the end of the day. Once anchored I dived to get our speedometer unstuck, but the water was so murky I could barely see beyond my nose. Puerto Velero is one of the ugliest anchorages we’ve visited, second only to Willoughby Bay in the Chesapeake. I guess the only reason people use them is because they both offer good protection in a very convenient location.
From there it was two days and two nights to Panama. During the day we had a gray, overcast, featureless, boring sky. The monotony was only broken by a flying fish that somehow managed to fly straight through the slit of a barely open window to land on my foot. It scared the beejezus out of me. At night we had the noctilucas show that lighted the path behind us.
As we approached Panama the last night, big ship traffic increased. We had to call two cargo ships to make sure they wouldn’t run over us. The helmsman of the first one cheerfully offered with an Indian accent to change his course by 15 degrees. The second helmsman with an Eastern European accent said “don’t worry, we’ll pass almost a mile from you”. Okay… I hope you’re right.
Soon after sunrise of the second morning, we could see land again, and were greeted to Panama by a playful pod of dolphins. What a delightful welcome committee!
With a new country came new formalities. We anchored in Linton Bay and went first to Ports Authority to get a cruising permit. From there we had to take a taxi to Portobelo, a small and sleepy town, to do immigration. Next, to complete the process (and this is a first) we were sent to… the town’s pharmacy! I’ll take your guesses as to what we had to do there.
We welcomed ourselves to Panama and went to rest to be ready to continue to San Blas early next morning.
Lindo y entree th vida
Malaria pills, pregnancy test, or aspirin for the bureaucratic headache?
All very sensible guesses, but it was for photocopies. We were sent there to make copies of a multitude of forms, and then back to the immigration office to finalize the process.