Eladio showed up at Scott’s boat at the appointed hour in my boat, an overnight usage to return home has turned into a multiple day affair. The boat was filled with children and women and one worker. What happened to the eight guys that were going to be clearing land? They took their cayucos. Eladio was now offering transport and shuttle services on my boat, second time I lent my boat out in a month that this happened. When will I learn? Charlotte left with them with the intention of participating in the machete work
Scott was heading into town to tend to some business and Ken and I tagged along for the ride. Lunched at Gringos, the only Tex-Mex place in town. Their killer margaritas primed the pump for two while I simply rehydrated with water.
I bought a used prop for only $20 more than the price written on the prop. A new aluminum prop is $125, I bought an overpitched one for $100. But it is far better than replacing my whole lower unit which would require taking the unit off, shipping to the Pacific, waiting interminably, shipping it back and having it reinstalled. I am sure I am going to drop my top end four or five knots while running at far higher RPMs. Scott went to check on a boat he was renting out to some coke head. While renting this boat the lower unit off the outboard had been stolen along with all the gear on the boat.
We then went to check out an inflatable that was for sale by my neighbors at the Garden of Eden. This tiny boat with a 50 hp moved significantly slower than my boat even with the engine wound out. Nope, this isn’t going to work. The Garden of Eden is a tiny resort, with but three cabins on a spec of land, at most three eighths of an acre, but it is wonderfully landscaped and has 270 degree spectacular views. Many cuba libre doubles were consumed over the course of 90 minutes. Again I stuck with water. The happy hour commander had primed the pump. Eladio called to say that the boat wouldn’t start. He had consumed about $60 in gas while running his little taxi service and depleted the tank. He was advised that there was a five gallon tank of spare fuel, to put it in the tank and pump the priming bulb. No good deed goes unpunished. About four o’clock we headed back around the east end of Solarte, across the bay and back to Scott’s boat.
Upon return I was teased by my boat mates, “Surely Jeb wouldn’t have left your ‘girlfriend’ on the boat by herself.” with a nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Charlotte was sunning on the front deck of the boat and shameless Jeb had done little more than deliver a quart of water. Put a cute 21 year old girl with a bunch of men in their mid fifties in a sparsely populated area and I guess it’s each man to himself. Charlotte had spent the day with the Indian workers who were clearing the land I bought. They did not seem impressed to have a girl doing manual labor and they certainly weren’t going to entrust here with a machete, but they relegated her to gathering the cut grass, sticks and saplings.
We walked into the salon and Scott immediately streamed forth a torrent of expletives, announcing that the boat had lost 500 gallons of water in our absence. Charlotte and I sat in the salon while Scott checked out the boat. No, no faucets had been left on. Well at least we were not accountable. I got my flashlight, Scott went down in the bilge and after half an hour found a hose had blown off a 5 micron water filter. The hose had been clamped to a 3/8″ copper pipe fitting with no serations to facilitate grip. The water pump was far too hot to touch maybe it burned out running dry. The generator was fired up and the 20 hour process of refilling the tanks began.
We all stripped down to our skivvies, excepting Charlotte who donned a swimsuit and refreshed ourselves in the clear water. Charlotte and I headed off for shore, but the water became very shallow and I was getting cut up by the coral so we returned. That girl can swim! Turns out she is on a swim team.
Dinner was beef tips and lobster tails, cole slaw and yucca. We ate to the point of bursting and didn’t even start on the giant pot of crabs. A quick clean up and for some reason I was ready to crash at nine. Not wanting to consume the precious water I didn’t shower.
I woke up this morning (Sunday) to find that my dry peeling hands had improved enormously overnight. One would think that salt water would dehydrate, but this has not been my experience, it seems to work wonders for the skin. My legs are brown, with pink patches in the recovering areas and still a few scaly and scabby areas but it is nowhere near the freak show of three weeks ago. I can flex my left foot maybe an inch and a half. Recovery is steady and I am pleased with the rate. For a week I wondered if I could ever walk normally again, now there is hope.
With but one day to seek accommodations here, I might find myself reneging on renting out my house. If this proves necessary, I will house the volunteers until such time as they can find another place to rent.
Carnivale ends on Wednesday after which the Ngobe Indians will probably block the roads precluding delivery of fuel and food to Bocas for a long time. When things get desperate hopefully staples will be shipped out from Colon.
Jonathan Allen LaFleur