St. Croix to Panama
We seem to be storm magnets — and flying-fish magnets… especially me. One Ocean has been surfing through gusts into the mid-40s with huge, heaving waves. Who knew the Caribbean Sea could throw punches like that? The “Christmas Winds” — the seasonal trades get stronger as the region moves from hurricane season into winter — usually show up in December, but of course they arrived early this year. Or maybe they just follow One Ocean. That’s what it feels like: if there’s a storm to be found, we’ll find it.
Anyway, here’s why our supposedly straightforward route toward Panama (and the canal) suddenly arced north toward Costa Rica.
Last night we gybed for three main reasons: location, wind, boat traffic and current.
We’re now aiming for Bocas del Toro, which is near the northeast border of Costa Rica and where John Dalton lives in his new house. When I asked for his address, this is what I received: “John’s Cliff House.” That’s it. No street, no number. Truly iconic. He followed up with latitude and longitude coordinates being the world sailor that he is - to Mark Schrader’s utter delight.
For over a week now the wind has been coming from the east and on our stern, but as we approach Panama, the breeze should curl to the south as it rebounds off the coastline.
So rather than fight it, we decided to use it. Plus, the further north we go, we are hoping to leave behind the gale force strength winds we are still dealing with today.
Yesterday, after a week of not seeing a boat, plane or person, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by massive cargo ships all either headed for the canal or just being released from it. One of the ships charged up our stern and came so close to us that I had to call him on the radio to make sure he saw us. He said he did and asked if we could go starboard about 5 -10 degrees, he was rolling too much and couldn't maneuver out of our way. Did he not see our sails up and that we were only 48 feet? Imagine what our pitch was like? We complied, but we are relieved to find after gybing we haven't seen any ships to the north of the canal.
Then there’s the current —
We’re presently at the little white cross on the chart.
At the moment we have roughly a knot of current helping us along. But if we had stayed pointed at the Panama Canal, we would have sailed straight into that white-and-purple band of opposing current — a Gulf Stream–level conveyor belt running the wrong direction. After our last round with currents like that, none of us want a rematch.
So north it is — a tactical slide that lets us ride the wind and hitch a free ride on the current, gliding into Bocas del Toro under sail. The plan: arrive Saturday, skid to a satisfying stop, pour something cold and well-earned, and listen to John and Mark swap tales from the days when, apparently, the sea was sailable. Because right now? It sure doesn’t feel that way.
For now, we’re still dealing with gusts into the mid-30s, squalls, and absurd side-swiping waves — little flashbacks to the Northern Atlantic.
Bocas Del Toro can't come soon enough...oh well, yes it can, I don't want to navigate that in the dark!