After a month in the dreamy embrace of the San Blas Islands, it was time to lift anchor and head north along the Panamanian coast. Just 20 nautical miles later, we found our first taste of “mainland civilization” in the form of a Panamanian marina—our reentry point into the world of supermarkets, laundry machines, and (gasp!) freshwater showers.
At just $20 per night, the marina was a rare gem—easily the best price we’d seen in the Caribbean for a long time. It felt like a welcome mat rolled out by the coast itself. Surrounding the docks was a peaceful park, a soft-sand beach, and a rather mysteriously empty hotel. Despite its ghost-town vibe, the area had everything we needed.
Well, except for sunshine.
The rain came with the kind of stubborn consistency only the wet season can deliver. We were drenched daily, but on the bright side (pun intended), we managed to refill our water tanks entirely with rainwater. Everything else—including ourselves—got soaked too, but thanks to our trusty onboard heater, we were able to dry out and stay warm. A small win!
A pleasant surprise rolled in on four wheels: a vegetable van brimming with fresh produce—pineapples, papayas, tomatoes, avocados, and more. The marina office also doubled as a tiny store stocked with basic bulk goods. And, of course, the ever-faithful palm trees continued to provide us with coconuts—because nature always delivers where supermarkets fall short.
We ended up staying three days, using the time to catch up on boat chores, restock provisions, chat with fellow sailors, and even complete a 24-hour CTD mooring as part of our ocean data collection. Sure, it rained almost non-stop—but hey, when you’re cruising in the rainy season, you either complain or you collect rainwater, put on a dry shirt, and make it memorable.
And memorable it was.
