Cruisers are notoriously thrifty people. Thrifty to a fault. And while the crew of S/V Khulula only sometimes falls into the category of Cruiser, when it comes to being thrifty, we are often guilty. It was almost 3 years ago that Ryan, Bryson and I quit our steady jobs and embarked on this voyage. That is 36 months, or 72 pay periods with out a cheque or direct deposit magically appearing in our bank accounts. In the interim, we’ve still had to satisfy the basic needs: food, shelter, and clothing. Luckily the clothing category is taken care of by Sitka, Livity, and Globe… but food? Well, those bills still add up. Shelter? Well Shelter = Khulula, and I can tell you that that one was big! And continues to be where least 75 % of where our money goes; the maintenance never ends. So yes, in order to keep this mission afloat, we pinch pennies here and there. What am I getting at? Well, sometimes you have to make decisions based on budget. And when that decision involves visiting a pristine wilderness area that promises unparalleled wildlife, crystal clear waters, and solitary surf; well, you can see where I’m going with this.
The paradise promised was Isla Coiba; a former penal colony, recently turned national park. Coiba is situated 50 km’s off the nearest point on Panama’s western coast. Add to this that this piece of mainland coast is one of the most remote in Central America, and you have a almost un-touched island ecosystem.
What’s the cost? Well, before we actually showed up at the ranger station on Coiba, rumors varied from $30 – $100 per day to anchor the boat, plus $20 per person per day park user fee. With four people on board at the moment, our bill could run close to $200 per day! Yikes, definitely not in our budget. Yet, these national parks do serve an important purpose, perhaps important doesn’t begin to describe it. Especially in a place like Panama, which is just on the cusp of a real estate land grab that could change the country for ever. The debate went back and forth aboard: Pro – support national parks, protected ecosystems (80% of Coiba is old-growth forest, unique in Panama), bear witness to wildlife, flora and fauna that doesn’t exist elsewhere in Panama. Con – What value are we getting for our money? Aren’t we all citizens of the world? Who has the right to charge us to simply anchor and swim anyways? (I’ve just finished an Edward Abby novel, Desert Solitaire). Does my line of credit have that much room anyways? We met another couple on a cruising sailboat who planned to spend a night at Coiba and flatly refused to pay any fees.
But then, what else have we spent $200 on during this trip? A new water tank, approximately $200. Repairs to our 2nd Main sail = $200. A gallon of bottom paint, $200. What have we got to show for all that? Not much. So it was decided: we’d go to Coiba, check in with the rangers and pay the fees. It turned out that like most rumors, the fees were less that we anticipated: a one-time charge of $20 per person, and $60 per day for Khulula (eating away at our pocket books, as usual), but not outrageous by any means.
Did we get our moneys worth? Yes, yes, and yes.
Isla Coiba delivered on all its promises of paradise. The waters teemed with life; we saw turtles, manta rays, spotted rays, giant trevaley, tuna, dorado (caught and ate, legally I might add), heaps of reef fish, sharks, dolphin’s, scarlet macaws and countless other birds, howler monkeys, and even one or two other people. We’ve been to a few marine parks on this trip, and it is remarkable how much more life they support. It is as if the fish know they are safe in the waters around a marine park. Even without getting in the water, simply watching them from the boat, the proliferation of life is evident all around you. What about the plastic? On the three beaches we visited the amount of litter was remarkably low; owing to exactly what we aren’t sure of yet.
Despite the small and dropping swell, we did get some great waves. As we’ve mentioned before, finding surf from a sailboat can be difficult. Waves often don’t reveal themselves until the tide is just right, the wind is in a certain direction, or one can see them properly from land; not a rolling and pitching sailboat. Before going to Coiba we asked as many locals in Santa Catalina where the waves were exactly, but as you may know, surfers are notoriously cagey when it comes to divulging wave locations. Our best information came from the captain of the Lost Coast Explorer, a sport-fishing and surf charter boat we bumped into while anchored of Isla Jiracon, south of Coiba. Chris, the skipper, was super-friendly and obliging. Around this time we noticed that the lack of wind had left us a bit low on diesel, and with a long range forecast of variable winds, it looked like we might be stuck far from the mainland. Lucky for us, we had something Chris’s guests wanted: Rum. So we organized a trade: for the price of a bottle of Abuela rum, Chris pointed us in the direction of a couple of Coiba’s better known breaks, filled two of our jerry can’s with 40L fuel AND gave us two massive Mahi Mahi fillets. I call that win-win!
Armed with that local knowledge, we spent the next 3 days exploring Coiba’s surf-exposed coast looking for waves in small swell conditions. Both nights we all awoke to the rolling and pitching of Khulula in side-swell and chop, making us question the stuck-ness of our anchor and closeness of the reef and rocks. But despite the sleep-deprived nights, each day we’d check out a beach or reef break, hoping that the tide was right or the swell was just enough to make it work. Our efforts were rewarded, although none of us are calling the surfs we had all time.
Except one. The most memorable surf we had on Coiba was a total surprise. On the 3rd morning we made plans to leave Coiba and head north, deeper into the Gulf of Chiriqui. The beach we had been surfing was average at best, so we left after an early surf to complete the circumnavigation of Coiba and return to the mainland. But 5 miles up the coast we could see waves that looked to be peeling perfectly down another beach. This warranted a closer look. Anchoring Khulula in 7m of water, just behind the backs of the breaking waves, we sent surf test-dummy Bryson in to check the waves more closely. What looked small from Khulula soon revealed itself to be well over-head surf peeling down the beach when the perspective of a 6ft tall Bryson was held up against the waves. A few hoots and hollers revealed that yes, these were in fact quality waves. Four hours later we were crawling back to the boat exhausted, sunburnt, but thoroughly satisfied. “Best Beach-Break I’ve ever surf was heard mentioned by one crew member!).
Again, did we get our moneys worth? Well, after reflecting back on the past few days, no, months and years, I’m not so sure that that is an accurate measure. Or even a measure at all. Can you put a price on an perfect sunset shared with friends in the water? A pod of dolphins frolicking off the bow? Water so clear you can see the bottom at 15 meters? Dollar per day was a measure I used before this trip; how much longer will the money I save today allow me to sail tomorrow? Occasionally I’ve thought to myself, as I stared at my rapidly dwindling bank account, what has this trip cost? How much per day? How much per wave? How much per beach? But like that antiquated and pervasive measure GDP, I think those equations are rapidly losing their value in this world. Now the measure of a country (or boat) is HPI, the Happiness Index. Or contentment. And what is our happiness index? Well, they haven’t yet defined a number to describe it!