Our arrival in the San Blas Archipelago aboard SV Oceanolog was nothing short of a revelation. After days of solitude at sea and seeing only one other yacht along the remote southern coast of Panama, we were suddenly surrounded by a small flotilla of sailboats. Sleek monohulls and spacious catamarans dotted the horizon and clustered peacefully in the anchorages—like a quiet regatta gathering in paradise.
It felt as though we had sailed into a dreamscape that many sailors long for: the legendary San Blas Islands, a place where time slows down, and nature whispers instead of roars. This was the Caribbean as it’s rarely seen—unspoiled, vibrant, and deeply rooted in culture.
Our exploration began with a stop at Iguana Island, a quintessential tropical gem. Picture this: a tiny spit of white sand crowned with graceful coconut palms, gently lapped by turquoise waters so clear you can count the fish without leaving your dinghy. It looked like something lifted straight from a calendar or travel brochure—only this was real, and we were living in it.
As we settled in, we noticed that it wasn’t just fellow cruisers who populated these waters. Dugout canoes, or ulus, expertly carved from mahogany, glided silently past, navigated by the Guna people. These traditional boats carried everything from fresh fish and coconuts to curious children and trade goods. The contrast between the modern yachts and the timeless grace of the ulus was striking, a symbol of two worlds quietly coexisting.
The islands here are many and varied—some barely big enough for a hammock and a palm tree, others bustling with Guna villages. Each one offers its own unique charm and surprise. And with so many anchorages to choose from, the San Blas invites not just exploration but immersion.
The sudden transition from open-sea isolation to a vibrant, salt-sprayed community reminded us why we sail—not just for the destinations, but for the stories that unfold between them.
