Ecuador to Panama-Chapter One

We enjoyed a wonderful holiday season with our families in the states; a first in four years since we were previously engaged in cruising in November and December. There were two storms that dumped a ton of snow in Idyllwild. This was my first experience living in the snow. We even had a power outage for three days and almost got snowed in. Quite a contrast to sweating in the tropics! I loved it, but must admit that I welcomed the thought of donning a bathing suit and swimming once again. I was really looking forward to cruising the Pacific Islands of Panama because other cruisers rave about them.

The last four years of traveling have been such a blessing, but we decided to start spending more time near home and less cavorting around on Blew Moon. Our intent is to get Blew Moon closer to home by this May. Ideally, we’d like to make it all the way to Mexico and put her in a marina somewhere in the Sea of Cortez. Then we can either fly or drive down to spend a month or two at a time cruising Mexican waters. No more six month absences from home for us! Remarkably, this was Barry’s decision. I, the initially reluctant spouse, even tried to talk him into one more season, but was unsuccessful.

So, we flew back to Ecuador on January 1st and took about three weeks to get Blew Moon ready and check out of the country. The latter was a painful process and took an entire week. To fully appreciate the absurdity of our experience you really need to be personally familiar with Latin American culture. Let me try to give you some perspective. Most business processes are painfully slow, in part because of either poor or no coordination between necessary parties. During the twenty-two months that Blew Moon resided in Ecuador they introduced new procedures for pleasure vessels entering the country. This was brought on by the increasing number of visiting yachts. They just weren’t quite sure how to handle us and needed a plan. Initially, they decided to treat us like a commercial vessel which imposed ridiculous fees and requirements. Fortunately, the port we were in had a cruisers advocate who got in the middle of this process and fought for more reasonable procedures. This resulted in much improved requirements for leisure craft but caused a fracture in the overall system. Of the four ports in Ecuador, Bahia de Caraquez was the only one that began operating under more lenient regulations. So, traveling from one port to another was often out of the question. Then after awhile, they decided to automate the process. Now one would assume that this would make the process more efficient. Well, if you are thinking along those lines you’ve obviously never spent much time in Latin America. This required coordination of data bases between immigration, customs, the port captains and the Navy. This is where the wheels came off for us. Unlike tourists who fly into a country and receive a visa and clear customs at the airport, cruisers have to, at a minimum, visit the offices of immigration, customs and the port captain upon arrival in a port of entry. And, you get the pleasure of paying each entity their required fee in addition to providing them with copies of passports, vessel documentation, crew lists, a zarpe (a document you receive from your departing port that indicates your next port of entry when traveling from one country to another), and numerous other forms. As if that weren’t enough each entity has forms they complete that involve asking you a myriad of questions. Until each step is complete, you are not legal. And, these offices are usually not near each other (sometimes even in different cities) which means this process often takes an entire day or more. To check-in at Bahia de Caraquez it requires a 1 ½ hour cab ride one way that costs $25. Flying to a destination is sounding better all the time! So, back to the process. Once all this data was recorded electronically, it probably made coordination between entities easier but it had little or no effect on the check-in or check-out process for cruisers. Well, because Blew Moon was already in Ecuador before the data was recorded electronically we were not in the data base. So, to check-out the guy who owns the marina we were in sent all our paperwork to the officials so that we could be entered into the computer system. We were told that unless this was done we would not be able to check-out because they would have no record that we checked-in. Are you following this? That made sense to us and we expected our check-out to go smoothly once we were alerted that we were in the computer system. We were anxious to leave for Panama and waited with great anticipation for word that the local port captain had our zarpe ready. Once we had it we could take a cab to Manta and check-out with Immigration and be cleared to leave the country. We were lulled into a false sense of security when we heard that we should be receiving our zarpe on Wednesday, January 14th. We would travel to Immigation on Thursday and leave on Friday which happened to be Barry’s 62nd birthday. Then we got word that our zarpe wouldn’t be ready until Thursday which bumps the other steps out a day. Being used to delays in Latin America we rolled with it. Well, without going into the minutia I’ll just say that we didn’t receive our zarpe until Monday, the 19th and finally left the country on Wednesday, the 21st. Apparently, the local port captain was never able to locate our data in the computer data base even though it had all been entered. So, the only way we were able to get our zarpe was to check-in with the port captain as if we had just arrived so he could enter us into the system at his end. Then he could check us out. And to add insult to injury we had to pay another entry fee of $30 even though we showed him our receipt for our initial check-in. So, I guess you could say that we couldn’t leave because we weren’t really there! All you can do in these situations is shrug your shoulders and laugh about it. Otherwise, you should never go cruising because that’s just the way it is sometimes!

I wish I could say that things got better from there, but it would be a lie! Our passage to the southern end of the Perlas Islands was 540 miles. Depending on whether we were able to sail or had to motor it should have taken five to seven days. As always, we checked several sources for weather and sea conditions and left with a forecast of light to moderate southwest winds and a north bound current which helps greatly. Once we were out of the river in Ecuador and heading northeast we had the wind coming from the WNW to NW and our positive current was nowhere to be found. But sea conditions were very comfortable so we just motor-sailed, averaging about five knots, and enjoyed a lovely first day. At that rate we would arrive in five and a half days. We left with Rob and Linda who were on their catamaran aptly named Cat N About. It was nice having someone to chat on the radio with and it was comforting knowing that their boat traveled about the same speed as ours. This meant we’d always be within VHF radio contact range and should arrive at the Perlas Islands about the same time.

By 7:45 p.m. our first night out we crossed the equator and were back in the northern hemisphere. From about midnight until day break the next morning we experienced scattered squalls. Barry was on watch during the first one which dumped tons of rain and soaked him despite the shelter of our hard dodger and screened cockpit enclosure. During these squalls we saw a shift in the wind and had it out of the south but it was too light to sail. By about 6:30 a.m. of day two we were in Columbian waters and later in the day were out of the squalls. Then we had the wind out of the northwest again and we were fighting a 2-3 knot current on our nose. By nightfall we were struggling to even maintain four knots and had the added frustration of having to dodge fishing vessels. We had no moon and the stars were obscured by clouds so there was nothing to provide illumination and the small low-profile fishing boats don’t show up on radar. This makes night watches quite stressful. The unlit smaller boats see us coming and then set off a strobe light to alert us to their presence. On our third day out we encountered more rain along with lumpy uncomfortable seas and by now the wind, a 2-3 knot current and four-foot swells are right on our nose. We were fighting to even maintain a speed of three knots. Fortunately, the wind was light so it didn’t make the sea conditions worse. Day four was a repeat of day three although as the day progressed we began inching our speed up closer to five knots. Day five began with calm seas which transitioned into small chop and then what I like to call “lively seas”. These usually involve the boat being bounced in all directions by wind chop and swells that are coming at you from different directions. We also got a little more rain, but then the clouds cleared and that night we could see stars for the first time. Between nightfall and midnight we were once again fighting to maintain three knots and some level of comfort in lousy conditions. Then day five came with a vengeance! At 2:10 a.m. we lost our engine. Barry got to work and quickly replaced the fuel filter which had become clogged. This didn’t resolve the problem so he checked the fuel pump and determined that it wasn’t operating. So, he replaced the fuel pump and then we were able to start the engine again. After a mere fifteen minutes of being underway again I noticed that the water temperature gauge was reading high. We immediately shut down the engine and once again Barry went below to investigate (thank God he was given the ability to trouble-shoot and fix virtually anything!) One look into the engine compartment confirmed that we’d lost the fan belt. It is said that trouble comes in three’s, right? He replaces the fan belt and we’re up and running again. Well, the hits just kept coming. The engine begins choking again so we shut her down. Down Barry goes again and determines that the fuel system is totally plugged. The fuel level in our 120 gallon tank is down to the last 15 gallons which is too dirty to run the engine with. This is not good news folks. We had been burning fuel at such an increased rate because of the weather conditions that we were now in a bad situation. What fuel we had left in the tank was fouled because the low level and the rough seas stirred up any dirt that was in the bottom of the tank, making it unusable. We had no other fuel on board and even if we did, adding good fuel to the tank wouldn’t solve the problem. Apparently, the new fuel pump was trying to pass so much crud through it to the fuel filter that it fried and clogged another fuel filter.

We weren’t in any danger; we were far from land or other obstacles, the seas were calm and the wind was light. Because we still were in a 2-3 knot negative current our attempts to sail were futile. We were slowly drifting backwards! To give myself something to do I sat at the helm trying to find wind that would at least give us some forward motion. It was a battle I was losing. Then I noticed that the wheel felt funny; loose. I turned it one direction and then another to see if the boat responded. Nothing. I thought to myself ”What now?!” I told Barry it felt like we’d lost steerage. So, he hung his head over the stern while instructing me to turn the wheel. The rudder was fixed in place. Well, it was official; we’d lost our steering somehow! These were the things that were supposed to happen to other people, right? By now, we are both sleep deprived, but especially Barry since I had to wake him from his slumber. Although actually, for some reason, on this trip he was unable to sleep. When I had watch he would go down below and just lay in bed, but sleep rarely came.

Now, we are totally adrift without steerage. It didn’t take much time for us to determine that we may need to request assistance when we checked into the 9:00 a.m. Panama Pacific Cruisers Net. We alert Cat N About as to our situation and they tell us about friends in Panama City on another boat who could coordinate assistance for us. We speak with them during the cruisers net and ask them to find out about the availability and cost of a tow to Panama City (our final destination), or the availability of someone getting fuel to us. If we had fuel in jerry jugs then Barry could set it up to be fed directly to the engine. Tom takes the ball and runs with it and we arrange to make radio contact again in an hour. Meanwhile, Barry is down below evaluating the problem with the steering quadrant. It doesn’t take him long to come up with a solution and he gets to work right away. Within three hours Barry is making headway with the steering repairs and we find out some of our options. One, there is a towing vessel available in Panama City (170 miles from our location and growing as we drift south) but it costs $4,500 per day and it would take them one day to get to us and another to tow us back. We also find out that there is a U.S. Coast Guard Cutter in the area who can lend assistance. They cannot provide a tow but have offered to bring us fuel and skilled labor if needed for the repairs. We tell Tom we need some time to discuss our options and arrange to make radio contact again in an hour. At this point, we are both frazzled, stressed, running on adrenaline, discouraged to name a few emotions. The tow, although very expensive, seems very attractive at that point. We actually consider it. We check in with Tom again and Barry informs him he’s still making steering repairs but feels confident his fix will work. Then it’s only a matter of getting some fuel on board. We agree to check in again in another hour. Within that hour Barry is feeling good about his repairs, we continue to mull things over and decide to fore-go the costly tow and just get the U.S.C.G. to deliver fuel. So, at 12:30 p.m. of day six we set off our EPIRB (Emergency Position Intercept Radio Beacon) by request of the U.S.C.G. so that they could locate us. Before doing this we confirmed that they understood that we were not declaring an emergency and that we were not willing to abandon our vessel. Barry continues with the repair. I sit and wait.

Barry takes a break after about an hour and we’re sitting in the cockpit a little shell shocked. Our discussion even includes the topic of selling Blew Moon. To say we were discouraged and weary would be an understatement. We definitely were not having fun! Suddenly, we hear a helicopter and in a minute or two we can see something bright orange heading our way. One look through the binoculars confirms that it is the U.S.C.G. Oh boy, the cavalry is coming! We both felt a little tension leave our bodies. They establish radio contact with us and confirm that we are the vessel needing assistance. Their first question is whether anyone on board needs medical attention. We respond that we are both well, that our steering is being repaired and reiterate that we are in need of fuel. They tell us that all subsequent radio contact will be from their cutter and the next will be at the bottom of the hour. For the next five hours we are contacted by the U.S.C.G. cutter each hour and they ask for updates. Barry finishes his repairs and deems the steering system operational once again. We are sitting in the cockpit watching the sun get low on the horizon with a bowl of soup; our first meal since dinner the previous night. As I’m spooning my first mouthful Barry says, “I see a ship.” My response is, “Gee, they’ve got good timing. I wonder if they deliver food?” About ten minutes later they contact us and say they have a visual on us. We tell them the steering problem has been corrected and that we would sure appreciate about thirty gallons of diesel. Their response was, “We are bringing fuel and a master mechanic. We will contact you once we launch.” It took a good twenty minutes for them to get a safe distance from us so they could put their launch in the water. The cutter was a good two-hundred or more feet long with the full sized helicopter on the aft (rear) deck. It was BIG! We wolfed down our soup and before we knew it there was a launch heading our way. They contacted us by radio again and instructed us to keep our sails up and to stay on our current heading. I nicely reminded the guy that we were adrift, to which he said, “Of course, I’m sorry.” It was one of the lighter moments. As they approached our starboard (right) side I counted, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight of them; seven young men and one young woman. They all looked twenty-something and very fit. The pilot deftly maneuvered their launch beside Blew Moon and four of their crew jumped on board. You’d have thought that they just dropped by for a casual visit. The chief introduced himself by first name while the other two guys and girl waited in the wings. “So, tell me what’s happened”, he says. Barry launches into a synopsis of the events that began at 2:10 a.m. that morning and brought them up-to-date. The chief was very personable yet all business. He introduced the mechanic and asked Barry to show him the repairs he had done. I’m sure they wanted to confirm that we were no longer handicapped in the steering department. The chief inquired of me how we were holding up and I told him we were exhausted, but relieved to have their assistance. Barry and the mechanic joined us again. When questioned by the chief, the mechanic gave Barry’s repair his approval. The chief then asked Barry to go through the fuel system with the mechanic. They did this and returned to our very small cockpit where four of us sat like sardines. The mechanic told the chief that Barry’s plan to by-pass the fuel system and deliver diesel straight from a jerry jug would work. They then asked if we needed fuel hoses, or any other materials to set this up. We requested hose and asked if they had jerry jugs for the fuel to which they said they did not. So, we gave them the four-5 gallon water jugs we had on deck and told them to use them. We offered to empty them, but they insisted on doing it themselves. The launch came alongside again and grabbed the jugs, emptied them and returned to their ship to fill them with diesel after drying them out. While they were gone they asked if they could do a vessel inspection to which we agreed. This involved showing them where certain safety equipment is located, i.e., flares, fire extinguishers, life vests. We provided vessel documentation and personal information. When the launch returned we had twenty gallons of diesel, fuel hose and siphon hose. They brought a new face with them. This guy must have been at least 6’4” and even bigger than the others. They kind of distracted us while the mechanic took him below for a “run down” of all that they’d done since boarding. This guy also opened up lots of compartments and inspected them. We figure he was looking for drugs or weapons. After about three hours on board Blew Moon they left us and Barry got to work on jury rigging the fuel system. They would have stayed until that was done, but the mechanic was so confident that Barry had everything under control they decided to leave. I guess they figured that once we had fuel and the parts to set up a temporary fuel delivery system that their job was done.

Barry and I were so impressed with this crew on board the U.S.C.G. cutter that we plan to write a letter praising their work. From the time they boarded us until they left they made it their duty to make us as comfortable as possible and to help us in anyway that they could. They were personable, yet all business. Hurray, for the U.S.C.G.! We are deeply indebted to them and extremely grateful. On a lighter note, the mechanic (who I noticed had been sweating profusely) looked at me and said, “I have to hand it to you. You have better sea legs than I do.” He went on to say that he thought that their boat moved a lot, but concluded that he was not cut out for small boats. I understood then the level of his discomfort and the source of the perspiration running down his face. Once you’ve been out to sea for several days in a small boat you become accustomed to the motion. The bobbing around while adrift on our little sail boat was apparently quite uncomfortable to him. Poor baby! We hadn’t even noticed. We even commented to each other after they left that we were grateful to God that He provided benign conditions during our adrift state.


By 11:15 p.m. Barry had our new fuel delivery system in place and we were up and running once again. Our log notes told us that we had only drifted eight miles south since the first time we lost the engine early that morning. That was another thing we counted as a blessing as we got ourselves underway. By now, we are beyond tired. We set a new heading for a small bay in southern Panama on the mainland where we were told was the closest place to purchase diesel. We would need more than the twenty gallons the coast guard gave us to make it all the way to Panama City. We were 120 miles from Bahia Pinas where a world-class sports fishing lodge is located in a very remote area near the Columbia border. We would stop there to take on more fuel. Our friends Rob and Linda on Cat N About would go there as well. They would provide us with additional jerry jugs which they just happened have on board. Yet, another blessing! This would allow us to take on more than twenty gallons once there. They were also low on fuel and hoped to buy gasoline for their engine. An email had been sent to the Tropic Star Lodge from Tom alerting them that we would be arriving to request fuel. Tom told us that they are not a public fueling location, but are willing to help out vessels in need. We hoped we could be there within two days.

Stay tuned for chapter two!