So I did it. 3 weeks on a sailboat, but first here’s the backstory: A Danish couple hand built a 39’ sailboat they named Thyrus (pronounced Iris) 62 years ago. A German man sailed her across the Atlantic where it was bought by a guy from Iowa, USA from that 82 year old German. Guadalupe (Lupe, my Argentinian boat captain) was gifted the boat while living with the Iowain in Colombia. Thyrus now resides in the San Blas Islands (365 undeveloped islands owned and managed by the indigenous Guna people) off the northern coast of Panama, and I got to try out the exotic lifestyle.
And what an interesting life it is! I got a firsthand look at the underbelly of living on a sailboat while volunteering as part of a charter crew that took guests around the islands. Sounds pretty glamorous, and if you’re a guest that’s a true statement and being disconnected from WiFi (and the rest of the world) is purifying.
Weather is a thing. Blue sky and puffy white clouds greet most mornings, but off in the distance you see the squalls forming and moving. Suddenly it hits; the wind picks up dramatically, the temperature drops 5-10 degrees and a sheet of rain can be seen racing across the water. The crew (me! LOL) rushes to close hatches and portlights (windows) to keep the interior of the boat as dry as possible. 10-20 minutes later - intense sunshine, blue sky and puffy white clouds reappear. Repeat 1-3x a day - Crazy!
And living on a smallish boat requires a certain amount of precise agility as one is constantly stooping to pass under a bow line or deck of solar panels; stepping over lines or lunging to get into and out of the dinghy or onto a floating dock all while barefoot and stepping on water covered surfaces. My new hip responded well to a routine of daily swims followed by teaching yoga, work chores, kayaking, reading, snorkeling - repeat!
The early morning swim was the part of the day that truly delighted! It was the wake up face splash, the morning exercise routine and the sluffing off of the night’s sleep in a tight cabin all rolled into one soothing motion. The water of San Blas is that Caribbean azul blue and deliciously warm! Early on I was given directions on how to take a sailors shower: jump in, get out, suds up, jump in, get out and take a final rinse with fresh water. (Fresh water is like gold on a small boat.)
And the day’s chores were varied and yet routine as keeping the boat clean and orderly is important in a tiny floating house. I swabbed the deck and swabbed the deck and swabbed the deck and… chuckling. I was the cleaner post meals, the yoga instructor and chore girl Friday. One day I found myself laughing out loud as I felt like a Sumo wrestler manhandling large puzzle pieces of foam into newly laundered covers that zipped closed as tight as a second skin. The puzzle pieces came together to form the king size bed found in the bow of the boat. I hope my sweat on the denim went unnoticed………
One thing I didn’t anticipate was the amount of plastic littering the shores of the pristine little islands. 49 of the islands are inhabited by one or two families and they attempt to keep the tourist areas clean and free of debris, but the balance of the shoreline is often covered in - plastic bottles of all types, crocs, flip flops, baby sippy cups, bags… Very little if any of the plastic comes from the local people. It is all either accidentally dropped at sea by one of the many sailboat charters, tourists that are day tripping or washed ashore following currents from as far away as Africa. It truly is overwhelming. These small islands have no waste management company to haul away their debris, so it is burned on each tiny little island. Keep it in the water or put it in the air - neither seem to be very good solutions. I have become even more horrified by the amount of plastic we consume in our society…. and beseech each of you to consider buying a metal or glass reusable water bottle and attempt to limit the amount of plastic you purchase. Seeing so much plastic floating in these beautiful waters and littering these pristine islands was disheartening, to say the least.
Most days a hand carved canoe filled with 2-5 young Guna men would paddle up next to our sailboat and call out for Lupe. She would come and assess which of the fresh fish or crabs flopping at the bottom of the canoe she wanted for the midday meal and negotiated a price. One afternoon, Peppe a fellow captain, was thinly slicing a fish he had speared that morning, and I cried out in delight, “Sushi!” He quickly corrected me and said it was sashimi. Sushi, he reminded me, is with rice and sashimi is raw fish marinated in lime juice. I smiled and agreed with the correction!
Throughout the week when the winds were right, we would set off on an easy 1-2 hour sail in reef protected waters to a new island. After our second charter group left (a young couple from Israel; I now have my travel itinerary for Israel created!), we readied the boat for a long sail back to Linton Bay Marina for maintenance and repairs. I chose not to take a Dramamine the morning of the sail knowing that I would grow groggy under its influence, and I wanted to be part of the crew during the sail.
Bad call.
We encountered 9-12’ swells (3-4 meters) and I got sick. 10 hours of sick. Every 20-30 minutes sick. Brutal. I was never so glad to see smooth water as I was on that day and can’t even imagine how people used to make it across the Atlantic enduring weeks of sea sickness. I literally only had 2 sips of water in that 10 hour time frame, and that too came back up….. Did I mention that it was BRUTAL! LOLOLOLOL
The time at the marina resulted in more chores, just of a different type. I continued to clean, but at a deeper level while other parts of the boat received TLC. A new solar panel, a new foot pedal to dispense salt water in the kitchen sink, a new toilet, and I removed every bit of rust I could find on anything stainless steel. We had access to a shower (albeit cold…) and a restaurant with a latte. I woke every morning to the sound of howler monkeys screeching in the mountain jungles (those little creatures sound SO ferocious!) and got to explore the town of Portobello. I learned about its history as a slave port and its strong people from the Congo creating what is now known as the Afro Panamanian side of the country complete with a Jamaican Caribbean vibe.
One afternoon I was in the kayak exploring one of the little isles surrounding the marina paddling along its shoreline and discovered a sandy cove with old mangrove
trees donning large green leaves bending near to the water. I pulled the kayak ashore and was securing it to a tree trunk (oh and knots… learning how to tie the right knot!) when suddenly a monkey was hanging upside down in my face! I stumbled backwards into the water not sure what to do as she was chattering away! had never been so close to a monkey in the wild, and then remembered that some of the islands have monkeys that come calling for a piece of banana. She and I had a few soothing words after I scolded her for playing with the kayak paddle. I slid into the water for a swim and she followed me extending arm to tail to the next branch. It was kinda’ magical as we followed each other's movements…
So was my time on the boat and not unlike living in a house.
Swab the deck
Mow the yard.
Wax on. Wax off.
Well, maybe a little different. Barefoot and a bikini all the time….
I am very grateful for the experience. Thank you Lupe for sharing your boat and your lifestyle with me.
Here’s to more adventures in 2025!!