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| Greg and Dad sunning by the Marina Pool |
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| Boats on the hard at Shelter Bay Marina |
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| In the pool: Dylan on the left, Brett on the right |
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| Dad with Don on his boat Sourdough |
We upped anchor (to use the yachtie term) at around 8 am, having lashed the dinghy to the foredeck the previous day. We were slightly worried about having our anchor completely buried in the Portobelan mud, but it came out without a fuss, albeit with a few dozen pounds of mud with it.
The day seemed nice enough for a sail, although our local weatherman, Victor, had said it was a bit rough. We left anyway, and after clearing the harbour we encountered about 15-18 knots of wind and following seas: perfect sailing weather.
At first, we figured 15 nautical miles wasn't far enough to justify going through all the trouble of raising the sails, lazy landsmen we had become. Then, we figured with the wind cooperating so nicely we'd roll out the jib (or foresail). A few minutes later we also put up the mizzen (the sail at the back of the boat). With that accomplished, Dylan set about attempting to catch a fish. He only let the two rods out, instead of his usual confusing spread of four lines.
When we were about five miles away from the entrance to Colon, we started to spot a few ships on the horizon. Big ones, the type that sink your boat if you bump into them. Gradually the number increased, giving us visions of squeezing through the breakwater inches from a massive cargo ship. We were shitting bricks, basically.
But as we got closer we realized all those ships were at anchor, most likely waiting to go through the canal. So, with no container ships vying for passage through the breakwater, we putted in, past two massive red and green buoys marking the man-made wall of rock that ran for a mile in total across the bay. Once inside, we hung a right, towards the cluster of white aluminum masts towering over the small trees and bushes that covered the shore.
Shelter Bay Marina is very roomy for docking your boat, plenty of space between you and the multimillion dollar yacht you'd pay for if you smacked into it. Dad piloted the boat expertly, as usual. Dylan and I professionally handed the lines over to the dock boys, without the lines or any nearby persons falling into the water.
Once we were secured, we set about trying to plug our boat into the dock electricity. We pulled and tugged heroically, yet our cord still needed another 8 feet to be able to plug in. So, we asked Frank the Dockmaster for an extension. "No, we don't have one, talk to Dave the Yardmaster."
So, we found Dave's office and asked him for an extension. The reply, in a rather patronizing voice, was: tough shit, turn your boat around. If we did turn the boat around, though, we would have no privacy whatsoever, so that wasn't an option.
Eventually, Frank brought us a 15amp outdoor extension cord, instead of the usual 50 amp cord we run, which Dad had to cut apart and put a plug on the end. It does the job.
The next day, we started cleaning up the boat for our grandpa Friesen's arrival in a few days. Dylan and I scrubbed the bottom of the dinghy, scrubbed the deck, scrubbed the windows, the pilothouse and the binnacle. When we absolutely could not scrub any more each day, we would trudge over to the marina swimming pool to relax. And after that, we'd have a HOT SHOWER!!!! and the toilets flush when you push a lever! No pumping required!!!
A few days after we arrived, our friend Don on Sourdough got in to the marina. He's a single hander who has been doing a single circumnavigation for 17 years, with only 1500 miles to go. We met him in Portobelo, and had him over for dinner a few times.
On the 18th our grandpa finally arrived. Our mom was very excited, and that night she cooked up a storm, Filet Mignon (Which I barbequed), Lobster, Dylan's caesar salad, and garlic toast. We had Don and George (another friend of ours) over for dinner as well, and had a good time.
Today we're going to take it easy by the pool, and tomorrow, to Colon for shopping. After that, who knows?
P.S: Harvey says "Hello!" to everybody in the frozen north.
Brett & The Dutch Dreamers
