Captain's Blog #4

Captain’s Blog #4

We are not cruisers. I had my suspicions about this, and they were confirmed at the Cruiser’s Rally to El Salvador. Cruisers spend months at a time at one anchorage. They are older, retired, experienced in the arts of whining and fear-mongering. We are not cruisers. We are transiters.

Cruiser’s aren’t bad, nor was the rally, but we certainly didn’t fit in. I’m not a retired engineer. Sam and I still enjoy talking to each other.

We watched a couple get in a fight over converting amps to volts. Seriously. Sam and I only fight about important things – like NCAA basketball.

The marina in El Salvador was out in the middle of nowhere, making provisioning difficult. However, there was hourly bus service to San Salvador, the capital. The bus ride itself was worth the trip, and the city . . . I can’t really describe it.

Everything from fake Ray Bans to child pornography being sold in stalls, set against the backdrop of the presidential palace and cathedral. Heavily armed guards at every corner – private security, not police.

(a digression)

Most Americans feel one of two ways about firearms – either “I want to have them,” or “I don’t want anyone to have them”. I fall in to the latter category, but that doesn’t really matter. The fact is that both are afraid of guns that are in the hands of others – that’s why they either want their own or want to take them all away.

When they see armed private security, it scares them.

Having spent so much time abroad, in numerous former war zones, I’m not discomforted by guns, but quite the opposite – I am worried about the guns I can’t see, not the ones I can.

Quite simply, those armed guards keep even street level crime away. Would they actually respond if I was mugged in front of them? I don’t know. But I don’t have to, because no one would take the risk.

Safety is an illusion, always. But if you keep that in mind, you can find the lee side – where the shadow is long enough to make the illusion powerful. Powerful enough to keep you truly safe.

(digression over)

Four days was plenty. On to Nicaragua.

During check-out, the Navy warned us not to anchor in the Gulf of Fonseca. A boat had been boarded overnight by armed pirates, and they could not guarantee our security. “If you need us or see anything, we’re on 16 all the way to the border.”

The passage was mostly uneventful – crossing the bar going out was much easier than coming in, though I did have a little communication problem with the pilot and followed him out in to the surf when I was supposed to hold back and wait for his report. By the time I realized it, it was too late to turn around, so we went for it on our own.

The marina in Nicaragua was empty, save two boats, yet it was less expensive and considerably nicer than El Salvador, where we actually had to share our slip with four other boats. The grounds were beautiful – we picked our own mangoes, limes, and other exotic fruits right off the tree. From the beach to the pools, everything was top of the line.

Except the bus driver. We took the marina’s bus in to town with the two other boats in hopes of provisioning. First, he filled the trunk with coolers, significantly reducing the amount of space we would have for provisions. Then he takes us directly to the gas station, less than 100 yards from the marina – really, he couldn’t have filled up before we were all sweating in the back of the non-air-conditioned van?

On to Chinandega. He takes us to the first grocery store, but it does not accept credit cards. On to the second, where we were told we would be picked up in an hour. An hour passed. Two hours passed. Seven people with groceries in the hot sun, frozen foods and all. Eventually he picks us up.

Then he takes us to a mechanic shop, where we wait around for 30 minutes while he has the car inspected.

On to “Las Mujeres de Daniel”, a house of ill repute, where he spends 10 minutes explaining to his “girlfriend” why he couldn’t visit her this week.

Seriously. This actually happened.

When he tried to stop at the first supermarket we went to yet again, we had had enough. “Vamos a la marina!” yelled Paul, another passenger in the van. And we were off.

Jeff and I had an interesting experience at a club later that night, including getting lost, in the dark, on our way back. But that isn’t important right now.

Honestly, I just want to move on to Panama, so I’m going to give the Cliff’s Notes version:

Wore bunny suit leaving Nicaragua – funny.

Rough passage to Bahia Santa Elena in Costa Rica, but BSE was beautiful. See Sam’s blog for reasons why we pissed off the neighbors.

Costa Rica . . .

Dammit, I kind of need to describe Golfito, and the check-in/out process.

I guess I should start by telling you that there is a beautiful new marina in the northern Pacific part of Costa Rica. At least the website makes it look beautiful – I’ve never been there.

I contacted the marina to ask about clearing in, what the fees were, etc. They referred me to an agent . . . who wanted $600, mostly in “government” costs.

This seemed absurd to me – an agent who handles your entire transit through the Panama Canal costs less – so I checked the message boards.

It turns out, this guy was charging $110 for a cruising permit that is free, just to start.

We decided to skip the marina and head straight for Golfito, where apparently the marina would clear us in and out for just $150.

Well, on approach to Golfito, I called the marina that was going to clear us in (Banana Bay, yes, I’ll call you out) – it was actually $250 in, $150 out. A far cry from $150 total.

So, I called a very small marina, Land & Sea. How small? They only had one power connection at the dock. It was the bed and breakfast of marinas.

And it was very, very cool.

Briefly, I was completely unimpressed by Costa Rica. The gringo dollars that have poured in to the country over the last 20 years have resulted in absurd taxes, which in turn have created absurd prices, which have created rampant theft. You can’t afford to live there if you’re from there, quite simply. Well, you can, but only if you steal from the gringos.

However, Land & Sea was awesome. Honor bar, interesting people, everything. I cleared in and out by myself – at a total cost of a little less than $50.

But again, Costa Rica . . . the “rica” has gotten to their heads. No es mas rica.

On to Panama!