After weeks of exploring the wild beauty and remote islands of the Caribbean coast, the crew of SV Oceanolog sailed into the heart of civilization—Bocas del Toro, the lively main town of the archipelago. Tucked on the northern coast of Isla Colón, Bocas is a colorful blend of Caribbean charm, surf-town energy, and Panamanian hospitality.
We moored at Bocas Marina, a laid-back but well-equipped marina just a short panga ride from town. The facilities were a welcome treat—clean docks, friendly staff, and a quiet atmosphere perfect for recovering from our long stretch off-grid. The marina also serves as a gathering spot for sailors from around the world, and as usual, Oceanolog became a small hub for conversations about oceanography, adventure, and the “Sail for Science” project.
Once settled, we headed ashore to explore. Bocas Town is a buzzing waterfront hub, with wooden buildings painted in bright Caribbean colors, reggae floating in the air, and a lively mix of locals, backpackers, and surfers. The streets are full of small eateries, fruit vendors, and dive shops. Though touristy, the town retains a certain authenticity—it’s easy to feel at home here.
We resupplied at local markets, stocked up on fresh produce, and finally indulged in an ice cream.
After a few days of recharging, refueling, and reconnecting with the outside world, we were ready to continue the journey. The wild jungle trails, starfish-strewn beaches, and quiet anchorages of Bocas still waited.
Sometimes, even in paradise, a pit stop in town is just what you need.
When we dropped anchor off Starfish Beach on Isla Colón, we were greeted not only by the gentle lapping of waves, but by an unfamiliar, enchanting song echoing from the treetops. Perched high on a bare branch, as if performing on stage, was a striking bird we had never seen before.
It was the three-wattled bellbird (Procnias tricarunculatus), its name as unique as its call—a surreal, metallic “bong” that sounds like a distant bell tolling through the forest. A rare treat for bird lovers, and a proud moment for the bird itself, clearly showing off.
As if on cue, the bellbird launched into the air, relinquishing its perch to two keel-billed toucans, their iconic beaks flashing with color in the morning light. What a magical way to start the day.
But Starfish Beach isn’t just known for its birds. As the name suggests, the sandy shallows here are home to numerous starfish, resting motionless in the clear water like scattered jewels. It’s a popular destination for vacationers—though in the low season, especially during the relentless rains, the beach restaurants are shuttered and the crowds disappear.
With little else to do in the drizzle, we strolled along the shoreline, finding solitude among nature. A flock of howler monkeys grunted from the trees above, watching our slow progress.
Even in the rain, this place is full of quiet marvels—if you take the time to listen and look.
Three-wattled bellbird (Procnias tricarunculatus)Keel-billed toucansKingfisherMantled Howler MonkeyCTD cast in the Starfish Beach’s anchoragePlot of CTD castPlot of CTD mooring
After leaving the comforts of Red Frog Marina, we set sail toward the largest island in the Bocas del Toro archipelago—Isla Colón, home to the provincial capital of the same name. We didn’t linger in the bustling town; after a quick resupply of groceries, we moved on, eager to return to nature and escape the noise.
Just around the corner lay our next anchorage: Big Bight, a calm inlet surrounded by dense mangrove forests. With little wind and short distances to cover, our pace was unhurried—more of a gentle drift than a sail. Snorkeling here didn’t offer much; there were no coral reefs in sight, and the water was cloudy, cloaked in the tannins of mangrove runoff. Still, the mysterious pull of the jungle ahead kept us curious and hopeful.
And the jungle didn’t disappoint.
At the far end of our trip, we were rewarded with not one, but two surprises.
First, we spotted a pair of dazzling rainbow-billed toucans, their oversized, colorful beaks cutting through the green canopy like splashes of paint. Nearby, an unfamiliar, almost prehistoric-looking bird caught our attention. After some research, we identified it as the smooth-billed ani (Crotophaga ani)—a jet-black, social bird with a croaky voice and a comically expressive face. It was a delightful discovery and a reminder of how rich and underappreciated this region’s birdlife truly is.
The second surprise was more human, but no less inspiring: The Plastic Bottle Castle.
On a remote stretch of the island, we came upon a four-story structure built almost entirely from—you guessed it—plastic bottles. This architectural oddity is the brainchild of Robert Bezeau, a Canadian who moved to Bocas from Montreal in 2009. Like many newcomers, Bezeau was struck by the island’s biggest environmental issue: the overwhelming amount of plastic waste, especially discarded bottles.
With no organized recycling system in place, most of the waste is either burned—releasing toxic fumes—or worse, dumped indiscriminately into the landscape. Appalled but undeterred, Bezeau took matters into his own hands. In 2012, he began collecting plastic bottles with a bold vision: to change how people think about waste. And to do that, he needed something radical and visible.
So he began to build.
The first stage of his project was this very Plastic Bottle Castle, intended as the symbolic gate to a larger “Plastic Bottle Village”—a community of 120 homes constructed using recycled materials and concrete. The castle now serves as a museum and educational center, showcasing creative reuse and the urgent need to rethink our approach to consumption and disposal. A small water park for families was even added to help draw locals and tourists alike.
Unfortunately, the museum was closed during our visit, and we couldn’t speak to anyone directly involved in the project. Even the press seemed short on updates about the full realization of Bezeau’s dream. But one thing was clear: his message had already taken root. Awareness begins with a spark—and he lit it.
His work reminds us that changing minds takes time, especially when challenging ingrained habits and mindsets. But by transforming garbage into a palace, he proved that even waste can become a symbol of possibility—and a platform for education.
As sailors traversing these waters and running the Sail for Science project, we often reflect on how interconnected environmental stewardship and awareness truly are. Bezeau’s castle is not just a quirky landmark—it’s a call to action, a creative rebellion against apathy.
May we all carry that spirit forward—at sea, on land, and in every small act of preservation we choose to make.
Smooth-billed ani (Crotophaga ani)Rainbow-billed toucansGreat white egretBike path!!!Plastic bottle village For recycling?The Plastic Bottle CastlePlot of CTD cast in the Big Bight
