One frigid morning in late November I departed the soggy and wet Vancouver for the tropical climes and a much anticipated re-union with Khulula. 30 hours later found me jam packed between my Spanish chattering Columbian driver and a very queasy and highly morning-sick pregnant young lady who would periodically roll down the window and yawn at the blurry landscape passing us by, streaking the side of the minibus with gastric graffiti. Nice. Not.
Five hours of dodgy Columbian back streets and rollercoaster stomach heaving roads later saw me sweating away on a blistering beach, still wearing my jeans in 35C weather and staring across an open moat of water at the uninhabited Khulula bobbing 300m offshore… I waited 45 minutes until a smiling Bryson arrived, gave me a bear hug and led me to where the rest of the crew – Hugh and Brys and Khulula’s latest guests: Tammy Macintyre and Matt Delany, were waiting with cold beers. Drop the bags, strip off the jeans and dive into the tropical ocean for the post travel swim that always feels so SO good.
The plan had been to rendezvous in Cartegena, Columbia. Unfortunately and inevitably, the all powerful mother nature had completely other ideas, neatly placing a coastal low pressure and associated 40 kt winds between khulula and her destination. As always in sailing, the age old rule had come up trumps: “If you want to meet up with us, we can promise you one of two things: A TIME or a PLACE, but never both at once.”
Khulula and her crew where hence forced to duck around the Santa Marta Peninsula and to spend two days drinking margarita’s on the beach, lugging drinking water, and exploring the Columbian coffee growing towns that coax their reputable product from the deep jungle. I on the other hand had the pleasure of my Columbian bus ride. Thanks Mother Nature – we love you!
The plan was to get to the San Blas Islands as soon as possible. This fabled island chain off the northern coast of the Panamanian isthmus is just east of the Colon and the entrance to the Panama Canal and lies as far down the Caribbean trade wind path as we would go. This means two things:
1 Islands with surf potential and
2 Islands that would inevitably be the landing site of downwind bound garbage afloat on the Caribbean sea.
PERFECT location for an Oceangybe visit! We left as soon as we could, in the middle of the night, and enjoyed three days and two nights of rolly downwind reaching on the short steep seas of Caribbean.
To understand the history of San Blas, you must first understand the history of the Kuna, the independent indigenous group that now live on the islands. The Kuna originally lived in what is now Colombia, however, when the Spanish arrived around 500 years ago, they escaped to the Darien region of Panama. The problem with that region was the fact that it was deep in the jungle, so disease was rampant and trade was limited. The Kuna were suffering in that area and still in danger due to the Spanish invasion and the violence. For these reasons, in the 1800s, they began moving to the uninhabited islands off the coast, especially the ones near the mouths of fresh water rivers. On the islands, they had access to plenty of trade routes and were more protected from the diseases of the jungle.
In 1903, Panama gained its independence and subsequently decided to impose a national culture upon the country including the Kuna. The Kuna, who at this point had maintained their traditional culture for over 400 years, protested forcefully. With the support of the United States, the Panamanian government declared San Blas an independend state in 1925, and it was made legal in 1938. The constitution of the Kuna of San Blas, called La Carta Organica de San Blas, was approved in 1945.
Nowadays, the Kuna inhabit around 40 of the 300-some islands. Each one is run by a chief who is a representative at councils in El Porvenir. The self-governing province of Kuna Yala did not allow tourists or anthropologists until the late 1940s. The Kuna have sustained their traditions for over 500 years. They have an independent economic system, distinct language, and specific customs different from any other indigenous culture, even those in Panama. The women still wear brightly colored clothing, wide skirts, and bandanas around the neck, wrists, and legs. They respect Mother Earth in all of her g lory and try to live in harmony with nature.
We were all very stoked when the first palm trees of the Hollandes Cays appeared on the horizon, and this anticipation was not unfounded: Turquoise crystal wavelets kissing blinding white beaches surrounding low lying palm groves and sheltered anchorages. When we dropped the hook that evening, Khulula was barely rocking, so complete was the protection of the anchorages.
Did we find trash? Heaps and heaps of it. The windward side of every exposed island was covered with piles of plastic and Styrofoam of all varieties, tangled in the undergrowth and half buried in the sand. The prolific plastic pellets, ‘nurdles’, were everywhere, masquerading as sand and coral – if we did not know what we were looking for, we would have totally missed them.
Did we find surf? Oh yes we did, and it was fantastic. Are we going to reveal where? Rhetorical question? No to the first, yes to the second! All I can say is that it was a wonderful feeling to once again have the evening leaden noodle-arm and tight shoulder sensation that can only come from 6 hours of surfing empty waves with only our bro and your best buddy. The best part of this is we had this feeling every day for almost a week…
Where we ready to leave? Sigh… nope. This, however, is something that we have become accustomed to, this feeling of leaving a place far before we are ready. The reality is that a circumnavigation of the globe in three years is far too tight. We suggest 10. Minimum.