Once the cruiser has transited the Panama Canal from the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean, life becomes infinitely easier. Gone are the neverending swells and the 25-foot tides that make for crazy anchoring and dinghy shenanigans; clear water for swimming is easier to find, and everything civilization is lots closer together. The solitude, the sunsets, and the lonely harbors become a remote memory in the easy and social living on the south shoreline of the Caribbean.
It’s wise, while still near the Canal, to re-stock and fill up on any supplies that were not secured in Panama City. The farther you go from the Canal in either direction, the further it is from supply options. Panama does have a very robust bus system, though, so one can go as far as Nombre de Dios toward the east and still hop on an easy bus ride back to a grocery store, or a connecting bus to Panama City where nearly everything can be found cheaply or shipped to affordably.
Not far beyond Nombre de Dios, however, the Darien Gap begins, and roads become very seasonal and sketchy. The San Blas archipelago fills that gap though, as a premier destination for the cruiser seeking paradise and avoiding the hurricane season that rages further to the north. It’s possible, with a little luck and a steady hand, to sail the entire Kuna Yala, from Porvenir in the west to Puerto Obaldia in the east, with only an occasional few minutes of motoring. A prevailing west wind and barrier of islands and reefs makes this possible.
Though some have day-sailed all the way to Cartagena from Puerto Obaldia, it’s far more common to jump off from somewhere on the Panamanian coast and get there in a quick overnighter (or two, if your boat is slow and you’d rather sail).
Cartagena is, without a doubt, one of the best cruising cities in the world. Though it has the downside of a dirty, wake-washed harbor with poor holding, the easy delights of the city, especially after communing with palm trees and coral and not much else in San Blas, are like a wonderland. Boatyards, grocery stores, the open air “mercado,” and a lively cruiser scene just add to the charm of the Old City, which would be draw enough on its own, without all the other perks. A maze of narrow streets, shady parks, cafés, and plazas surrounded by a massive coral wall, the Old City never fails to enchant the cruiser who’s walked on nothing but a deck or tiny islands for weeks.
Once Cartagena is reluctantly left behind, the natural destination is the western Caribbean. Wind, waves, and current all go that way, and the Colombian islands of San Andres and Providencia are just a couple nights away. From there, the Vivorillos make a welcome stopover on the way to the Bay Islands of Honduras. After the soul-wearying, contradictory and curmudgeonly officialdom suffered in both Panama and Colombia, the Bay Islands’ casual and affordable approach to checking in and out are a breath of fresh air. Some cruisers, coming from the north, never get further than here. It’s simply too easy to kick about the coast of Belize and the Bay Islands, and then put into the Rio Dulce if a hurricane threatens.
Once in the Rio Dulce, some never work up the motivation to leave. If a vibrant cruising scene with swap meets, social events, volleyball every afternoon, and a dozen waterfront hangouts is what you’re after in cruising, look no further. Of all the bug lights on the cruising circuit to draw in sailors who will never leave again, Rio Dulce is among the brightest. (For what it’s worth, the others are La Paz and Cartagena—far better as cities go, but less cruiser-centric and secure). Of course, nearly every port we’ve been has a cruiser or two who for some reason only understood by them can’t seem to leave, but those three really seem to draw people in.
Moving along though, Belize is like an equally delightful San Blas, without a native population on the islands, but with a shifting political climate as regards cruisers, which results in an unequal and uncertain assessment of fines and fees—you never seem to know what you’re going to get. Just like in the Bahamas, a shoal draft boat here opens up a whole world of gunkholing and makes possible many more miles sheltered by the barrier reef. Between the offshore atolls and the shallow lagoons on the shore going north along the Yucatan Peninsula, there’s quite a lot of shoal-water cruising that we in Ganymede were unable to explore—it’s horrible to sail with barely and inch of water under the keel, deeper and deeper downwind into a bay, knowing that there’s no tide to speak of, and that a grounding will have to be recovered from without any outside help.
There’s deep water enough for nearly anybody in Cozumel and Isla Mujeres though, with the latter being another major Caribbean cruising crossroads. The first stop encountered after leaving Florida, or the last before it, this small island is an easygoing alternative to the hubbub and glitter of Cancun. Depending on the political situation, it can be a staging to and from southern Cuba. At all events, if there was nowhere else to sail in the western Caribbean, it would be worth sailing there. I’ve spent more time there over the years than any other cruising destination, and departing always tugs at the heartstrings. Leaving there, it’s an easy run to the madhouse that is the Florida Keys, and just a little further to anywhere on the Gulf coast.