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October 1, 2009 A bit of rain is falling this morning as we haul up the anchor. We are going to slip around the corner to a more protected anchorage on the northern tip of the island. Sidewinder and Kate are just behind us as we pull out of the bay. The wind is already blowing and we’re able to sail with just the headsail. We are heading around the northwest corner of the island, a short 3 mile trip. The chart plotter shows a small second island just off the shore where we are headed. The paper chart disagrees with the electronic chart and we can’t see any sandbar or island. We have seen errors like this before on the chart plotter. Still makes us nervous when it happens. Especially when we are leading ahead of Sidewinder and Kate. We keep a close watch on the depth sounder and it never shows less than 20 feet, which are the depths that are shown on the paper charts. As we round the northern tip of the island, we see the cozy cove that we are heading to. It is just big enough for the three of us and well protected from the south winds.
After getting settled in we decide to do a bit of snorkeling. Sidewinder joins us and we head around the corner to a little cove we saw on the way over this morning. The water is relatively clear and we have a good time. While snorkeling, a marine park ranger comes by in a panga. He informs us that we are in a marine park and that he will stopping by the boats later to collect fees. Joy. It seems that the entire area has been placed into a marine park. What is a marine park, you ask? Primarily it is an area where commercial fishing has been restricted. That is a good thing. Areas need to be protected. However, (here I go...) this area that has been placed into a park is not viable fishing grounds. It is too shallow for large schools of fish to thrive. And the fishermen know this; they weren’t fishing here before it was designated as a park. They are out in the ocean with their mile long nets. But now politicians can beat their conservation drum saying how they placed into a preserve X number of acres. Now, I don’t mind these marine parks. What I do mind is that they want to collect fees from us for anchoring here. Where are the floating signs, “Now entering Blah Blah Marine Park, $35 entrance fee” with buoys spaced at even intervals marking the perimeter? There is no way to know if you are even in a park. What impact do we have to these areas? More importantly, what service is the park providing us? How is our fee money being spent? There is no infrastructure to maintain. No trails, campsites, bathrooms, showers, garbage cans, etc. Other than the boat that they drive around in to collect the fees, there is nothing “in” the park. The island itself is privately owned, so you can’t even go ashore. Plus, these guys don’t even have uniforms. But they do have a nice glossy tri-fold brochure that we get to keep. So it’s totally worth it. For thirtyfive bucks we get to spend the night. Tomorrow we (Sidewinder as well) will move 25 miles southeast to another chain of islands. Which is a shame, because it really is peaceful and serene here. At dusk, Kate and Sidewinder come over and we cook a ton of fish on the BBQ. It’s also a farewell dinner for Kate. They will be staying on in Panama for the rest of the season, so will be going much slower through the area than we will be. I’m sure we will run into them sometime in the future.
Moonrise in Panama
October 2, 2009 We head southwest, winding our way through small islets on our way to Isla Cavada. The maximum depth we saw during the 25 mile trip was 80 feet. There are some underwater “hills” that rise up to just below the water surface, but one can see the waves generated as the swell passes over. Despite the shallow depths, two more humpback whales came quite close during our journey to say hello. Charts are a bit iffy in this area, and we sneak in between Isla Cavada and a small island off its northern tip in 30 feet of water. Why we do these things is anybodys guess. It saved us a total of 15 minutes vs. going around the island. But we made it and dropped our hook in 25 feet and waited for Sidewinder to show up.
October 3-4, 2009 Cavada is just as beautiful as Parida Island. More so since the view is free. Cavada is a resort island. Correction, it is a super high class all-inclusive resort island. It is currently closed during the wet season, but we find out from the groundskeepers that it costs $1,000 USD a night per person to stay on the island! This includes anything and everything you want to eat, drink and do. Fishing, scuba diving, helicopter rides, you name it. We have the fishing and scuba diving covered, but that helicopter ride sure sounds like fun! After a morning of diving, David and Suzi came by for drinks and ceviche. They also brought along their cribbage board. This was a re-match game from Pavones where they took the first round. We were determined not allow a repeat of that and evened the score to 1:1. Later that evening, just after dark, the wind kicked up from a new direction and blew us back into a shallow area. Combined with a concurrent low tide, we found our keel tapping the bottom. Actually, we were still an hour from low slack, so things were going to get a bit worse before they got better. Forced to re-anchor in the dark, we lift the hook and move off into deeper water. Things go fine until we back down on the anchor to set the hook. The resort has a mooring buoy in the middle of the anchorage and we snagged it with our prop. We had no way to see the mooring buoy in the dark, and to be honest, we both had totally forgotten about it. One second we are backing down and the next the prop shaft seizes and kills the engine. Now what to do? We are attached at the bow by our anchor (which is fine) but our prop shaft is now attached to a mooring line under tension. To make matters worse, it is low tide and we have a short time to get our selves free of the mooring line before tide begins to rise. The last thing we want is for several thousands pounds of pressure exerted on our prop shaft by the mooring line. Something is going to give, either the line will snap or the shaft will be pulled free of the boat. I’m sure the line will snap first, but it might bend the shaft before the line breaks. I had just commented to David that I have never night dived before; the thought of being in the dark water just kind of gives me the willies. With no other option tonight, I grab the snorkel, fins, dive light and dive overboard. I find the prop shaft has only 4 or 5 turns of the mooring line around it, but it is jammed tightly between the propeller and a support strut. The line is very tight between the shaft and the concrete mooring block. After a few tries (breaths), I manage to get it free and hustle out of the water as quickly as possible. Speaking of diving around here, it is excellent. We have gone in a few different locations; coral reefs and tropical fish abound. This afternoon we found a great spot around the small island that we slipped between when arriving. The water was crystal clear and there was a large variety of marine life.
One isolated coral head was over ten feet around and eight feet tall, surrounded by white sand. It looked like a massive brain sitting on the ocean floor. Another area had so many huge oysters living in one location; they were literally growing on top of one another. Needless to say, we will be dining on fresh oysters tonight. We decided to re-anchor to one of the other coves that had a more secluded beach (not directly in front of the resort) where we could have an oyster cookout. We spend the afternoon with David and Suzi cooking our days bounty and playing horseshoes. In a close match, I land a three point ringer negating Dave’s winning throw. Jodie and I managed a come-from-behind victory (I rule!). We light a campfire and cook the oysters by open flame. With the sun setting, we clean up and head back to our boats not a moment too soon. Clouds had been building in the distance and the storm caught us just as we finished placing the dinghy on deck.
A close Battle every throw...
Both Sidewinder and Savannah were being blown back towards the island in gusting winds. Sidewinder started a little closer to the beach than us and was forced to re-anchor first. We battled the wind and the chop with our engine and finally decided that re-anchoring was the best option for us as well. So for the second night in a row we pulled up and re-anchored in the dark. Tonight we just motored into the channel between the two islands and dropped the hook in fifty feet. We then dumped out 200+ feet of chain and called it good. The wind blew us back and set the hook for us, digging the anchor into a rising sea floor. We settled in 100 feet further out from the beach than our previous position. With the additional scope, we weren’t going anywhere. Forty minutes later, the storm passed by and things calmed down for the rest of the night.
October 5-6, 2009 We head back to mainland Panama and up an estuary formed by the river Santa Lucia. It’s a 15 mile trek and we pass by a couple of small islands on our way there. Once again the water is shallow for most of the trip, but free of hazards. Sidewinder beats us to the mouth of the estuary and we follow them up river to the anchorage, a short 2 mile trip.
The next day we head up the river in the dinghy to the small town of Yurre. We heard that there is a small grocery store somewhere in town. Finding the town was a bit tricky as the river forked just beyond the anchorage. We, of course, chose the wrong channel and had to backtrack to follow the other channel. A friendly old fisherman in a dugout pointed us in the proper direction. The banks of Santa Lucia are covered in mangroves and don’t provide us any place to land the dinghy. There is a dock currently under construction, but it is far from finished. It is also low tide and we are faced with slogging through 20 feet of mud to reach a set of stairs connected to the dock. I am the first to step out and rapidly sink to my calf in soft mud. Luckily, I had taken off my sandals before stepping out. We all get muddy getting to the stairs and tie off the dinghies. We find the walk to land longer than we would have guessed as the elevated walkway takes us through the mangroves. The concrete walkway ends at a gravel road with a residence to the left and an engine repair shop (closed) to the right. The women at the house see us arrive and we can tell they don’t quite know what to make of the muddy gringos. It has been raining off and on since we left Savannah and now it begins to really come down. This works to our advantage as we are able to wash off the mud on our legs with the runoff from a roof drain at the engine repair shop. Yurre, we find is more a township vs. a town. There is just a collection of dwellings and no store. In fact, right now all we can see is the house and the shop. We ask the women where the nearest mercardo is, and they indicate that it is in the next town 20 miles away. The local tienda is a few kilometers down the road however. We set off down the gravel road and it isn’t long before a truck comes by and stops to pick us up. We get dropped off at a small tienda that has a few veggies and dry goods. We purchase some much needed produce and eggs. All told, we spent about $2.40. Ah, it’s good to be back in the land of reasonable prices. Walking back down the road, another truck stops to give us a welcome lift back. This one is set up for passengers (benches have been placed in the bed of the truck) and we squeeze into the back with the locals. We were quite a novelty and after some small talk, we arrive at our stop and jump out.
October 8, 2009 We leave Rio Santa Lucia to head further into Panama. Ensenada Muerto is a small bay that David suggested we stop at on our way to Bahia Hondoa A 20 mile hop down the coast and we enter yet another pristine anchorage. Western Panama is turning out to be a great cruising area with short passages between ideal anchorages. The water is clear, the fish are abundant, and the anchorages are calm. What more could you want?
Just after setting the hook a storm cell passes over and drops a wall of water on us, obscuring the hillsides. 20 plus knots blow us and Sidewinder around for the next 30 minutes. Then, the storm stops as quickly as it started, the sun piercing through the clouds.
October 9, 2009 On the way to Bahia Honda, we pass by the small village of Pixvae. We decide to pull in to check out the bay and Sidewinder follows. We find the town nestled along a half-mile stretch of sandy beach and a calm, protected anchorage area. Why not spend the night and leave Honda for tomorrow? We drop the anchor into 20 feet and it sets immediately; always a good feeling. There are half a dozen dugout canoes around us fishing using spoons on a weighted line to catch small fish. The water is flat enough to show ripples on the surface indicating the location of the schools and the men follow them around the bay. We put the dinghy into the water and swing by Sidewinder to pick up David and Suzi. With the calm waters it is an easy landing on the beach. One of the local school teachers is waiting to greet us there. It seems that the town observed our arrival and is quite curious about us. Simon walks us around the town, showing us the school and taking us to the small tiendas. He tells us that we are the first cruisers to stop here in a long time. Sidewinder is out of beer and they are having difficulty finding any in town. Most tiendas we have seen lately are the front room of someone’s home made into a store. Both tiendas are out and Simon takes us to the local dance hall as a last resort. The dance hall consists of a covered concrete floor, some light bulbs dangling from the ceiling and a boom box strapped to the wall. Despite the bare setting, they do have beer and David is ecstatic. Walking back through town, it begins to rain and clears the streets. Not a light rain mind you, a heavy downpour and people seek shelter under eaves wherever they happened to be at that moment. After ten minutes, the rain slackens and life resumes in town.
David and Suzi ask Simon if there is a restaurant in town. Simon says he can take care of us and walks over to a residence adjacent to the town center (which consists of a basketball/volleyball court. Thus begins our dining adventure in Pixvae. Two women begin by pulling a generator out of the house and disappear down the street. We aren’t quite sure what is going on but Simon assures us that we will be eating soon. Then while we are waiting (and wondering what we are going to be eating) some kids bring out a volleyball. David and I play with them for a while, trying hard to not injure ourselves on the slippery wet surface. Half of the town comes out to watch the gringos make fools of themselves and we don’t disappoint. Returning to the porch where Jodie and Suzi were waiting, we watch the children continue to play. Then Simon says it’s time to go and takes us to another building, which we find is a newly constructed restaurant. Inside we find a single plastic table and a kitchen area with a wrap around bar. The inside has yet to be painted and we just might be the first customers to dine here. The generator had been brought here earlier and was running loudly just outside the rear entrance. Not what you would call a peaceful dining athmosphere. The important thing to remember is that the townsfolk are trying to accommodate us in the best way they know how. Now there are three women in the kitchen busily preparing our meal and a half dozen locals hanging out at any given time. Most locals just stuck their heads into the front or rear doorway to have a look at us. Some DVD’s were brought over and music videos were played on the television sitting on the bar, loud enough to compete with the generator. The music videos draw the children in town to come inside. The rain started up again and we were glad to have some shelter. It just kept coming down and down.
Finally, after more than two hours, we get served our meal; a piece of chicken and fried bananas. Suzi is a vegetarian and was served rice and beans. It was a lot of work to set that meal up for us on the spur of the moment. And the chicken was the freshest chicken any of us have ever had, if you catch my meaning. We’ll have to eat a little bit more back at the boat, but it was an experience that will last a long time.
October 10, 2009 We left Pixvae this morning to continue on our way to Bahia Honda, 15 miles to the South. We get a small push from a passing rain shower, but it is short lived. We then continue onward via the motor and make quick work of the remaining miles. (I lost a couple of fish on the trip. I think my hooks either need to be sharpened or replaced.) If you are one of the wealthier among us, you might take some of your extra money that’s lying around and purchase an island. That is what one fellow did and we, as simple tourists, got to pass by on our way to the entrance of Bahia Honda. Isla Medidor is quite a site with a mega-yacht parked in front.
We slip between the island and the outer peninsula of Bahia Honda along a narrow and shallow channel. I let David lead the way in Sidewinder. Heck, it was his idea in the first place. Inside Bahia Honda, we drop anchor in front of a small resort in the northern portion of the bay. It’s not long before an old man comes rowing up to Sidewinder and explains that he can provide us with fruits and vegetables from his property, if only we would come and anchor over by his home. No problem, we had heard about Domingo back in Golfito and were happy to help him out by purchasing some home grown produce.
Gusting winds and rain are coming out of the North tonight. Always nervous the first time you get a blow when in a new place. But it’s a typical short lived storm, only an hour long. We are however, getting a bit tired of the rain and having to chose between sitting below in the heat or outside in the wet.
October 11, 2009
We have arranged for Domingo to bring us fuel from the nearby island today. He is marking up the fuel, charging us $4 dollars a gallon when it sells for $3.25 on the island. That’s all well and good; however he came over to ask for gas for his outboard to make the trip as well. That is a bit much, but I give him a little anyway. Honda is a bit of a disappointment for both us and Sidewinder. Suzi has made up her mind that she would rather be somewhere else. David is wise enough to listen and we go along, pulling up the anchor and heading to Isla Santa Catalina, 20 miles away. It is 11 a.m., a bit late for a start, but we hurry and raise the anchor quickly and head out of the bay. Just outside the bay, we round a small island and pass through a school of yellow fin tuna. Almost simultaneously, both of our lures are hit and we have got two on. Both Jodie and I grab a pole and we haul them in close to Savannah. Sure enough, we have two fine yellow fins. We haul the larger of the two aboard and drag the smaller one. By the time I have the first one bled out, the second one has managed to jump off the hook. No worries. We kept the bigger one, and go about cleaning him on the side deck. Of course, Logan, hip to the fish game, comes out to catch a few bites as I fling them over to him. Not long after I finish getting myself cleaned up, the same thing happens. Both poles begin to sound off. Again we each grab a pole and reel in two more yellow fins! What a day! We go through the same routine, but this time we release the smaller one before bringing the bigger one aboard. Fishing is great and I love it. But I have yet to figure out how to get them on deck without them splattering blood all over the side of the boat. The blood doesn’t just rinse away when I throw buckets of salt water on it. I have to use soft scrub when we get to the next anchorage, standing in the dinghy and rubbing it away. That’s the only way I know to remove the stains. I have been getting a little smarter and wetting the hull before hauling the fish out of the water and that’s helps somewhat with the staining. We slide into the gap between Isla Santa Catalina and Santa Catalina. Plenty of room here for the two of us in 20 feet of water. The hook grabs the sand bottom well on the first drop, securing us. The oncoming swell is dampened by the island and the water has taken on a slight washing machine effect. But it is comfortable enough for a night or two.
October 12-13, 2009
Later we dinghy ashore with Sidewinder and explore Santa Catalina. We find a well stocked (relatively, compared to our recent findings) store and provision up for our crossing to Ecuador. We meet a couple of ex-pats from California that have opened a hostel in town and hear how the town has grown over the last five years.
The flip side of that is what happened with David when he took his dinghy over to the surf spot. Just watching from outside the break, two of the locals started to hassle him, making gun signs with their hands. He didn’t even have his board with him. Hopefully, this was an isolated incidence. We spend the next day preparing for our seven day passage to Ecuador. No more rain! Please! Jodie spends her time cooking dishes that we can reheat for quick and easy meals. I go about checking lines and securing the dinghy and other miscellaneous items.
October 14 – 21, 2009
Day 1: We try to favor the west as we head south. The goal is to head directly south for as long as possible and then take a hard left to the coast of Ecuador. We are trying to avoid the Humboldt current that runs up the west coast of South America. The current can run as fast as 2.5 knots, not something we want to encounter. We set the wind vane to steer Savannah close hauled to the wind and settle down for the night. Our plan is to do two, six hours watches. I’ll be first from six to midnight. Jodie will then take us from midnight to six a.m. A squall hits us around ten that night and I head below. The sails are reefed and the wind vane has been dialed in for hours. I use the GPS mounted inside the boat to monitor our speed and direction from the nav station. All is fine till I notice that our course begins to slowly clock around till we end up heading northwest. The storm has passed over us and the wind has clocked around following the low. With the wind vane set to hold us in relationship to the wind, Savannah has followed the wind around. I head outside to adjust the sails and bring the boat back around to the south. Jodie is asleep down below, sensing that something was wrong she came out to see if she could help. Stubbornly, I tell her to go back to bed and I’ll call for her if I need her. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but sleep is so very important on a passage. In the dark, it takes me 30 minutes and two jibes before I get Savannah sailing downwind and heading south again. Maybe I should have accepted Jodie’s help after all.
Day 2: Being tired of going slow, we fire up the engine and motor sail south-southwest for a while. Storm clouds slowly surround us and the wind freshens, which allows us to sail. Sidewinder calls and says that they are being pummeled by rain. We use the radar to view the storm activity (radar will bounce off falling rain allowing you to see it) and see that a band of rain will be over taking us as well. There is no way to avoid the front so we decide to set the sails to heave-to and go below as the rain starts to fall. Gusting winds and rain pelt us as we ride it out. Actually, we are enjoying the down time by reading together on the bed. Logan (his favorite spot is the bedroom) loves it as well. After an hour, the storm passes us by. We reluctantly leave the bed and bring out the cushions and resume our sail southward. We have yet to see another boat out here. We are all alone in a world of water. We are going to try 5 hour watches tonight, 6 hours was a bit too long for each of us. Hopefully we will both get a better night sleep. We have never slept well on the first night of any passage and this one was no exception. Jodie also hasn’t quite adjusted to the constant motion, feeling fatigued and slightly sick during the day.
Day 3: The wind isn’t cooperating with us very much, forcing us to tack westward (and a bit north) for eight hours a day and turning south-southwest for the rest of the day and through the night. Very frustrating having to give up some of our southing during the days, but we are forced to hold ourselves as far west as possible to avoid the Humboldt current. We are jokingly referring to the current as the invisible elephant. You know he is out there, but can’t see him. Once you find him, you won’t be able to get out of his way. So we keep heading due west (when possible) during the daylight hours. I’m currently a wreck, my body going through mild contractions as I lay below in bed. Jodie, not feeling much better, stays in the cockpit, reading and catnapping. When the sun begins to dip in the sky, we turn and point south-southwest again. I feel well enough to do my watch and neither Jodie nor I see a single sign of another ship all night.
Day 4: Same sailing plan as yesterday, 8 hours to the west (280 degrees) and 16 hours heading south (165 degrees). We are staying close to the 81.5 degree west longitude as possible. Our guide book suggests staying out as far as 83 degrees west, but we are never going to get there under our current sail plan. We are keeping a close monitor of our hull speed (speed through the water) vs. GPS speed (speed over the ground), looking for any signs of an adverse current. So far we are actually getting a slight push on our southerly tack. When the hull speed exceeds the GPS speed, we know we are being pulled back by the current.
Different day, same sail plan. It’s frustrating having to give up some of our southerly to stay east of 81 degrees. We have been sailing close hauled in 4-5 foot seas. Sky is clear to overcast and the winds have been in the 14 to 19 knot range for the past two days. We might see a brief 12 knots or as much as a 20, but mostly it stays around 15.5-16.5 knots. Our speeds have been averaging 5.5 to 6 knots and I’m a bit surprised when I see on our chart plotter that the average trip speed is slowly moving up to the 5 knot range. We were going pretty slowly the first two days but since the wind has filled in, we’ve been making good time. We figure it will be two more days till landfall in Ecuador at our current pace.
Day 6: Another visit from our drug plane this afternoon and today we stayed on our westward tack for just six hours before heading south again. Still no sign of any current and it has us a bit baffled. The water temperature hasn’t dropped much either, another sign of the cold water current coming up from southern South America. We are at 81 degrees west and heading into the Ecuadorian coast. At 10:00 p.m. we pass the biggest milestone to date; the equator. We changed from Tadpoles to Shellbacks as we cross this invisible landmark. To make things really interesting, we crossed while dodging freighters coming to and from the Panama Canal. After six days of not seeing a single ship, we suddenly are crossing the paths of four tankers in one hour. Tradition calls for skinny dipping at the equator. Not going to happen in the middle of the night. Also, a gift of spirits to Neptune must be given. Finally, one must shave his head. I say his because there is no way Jodie is going to do this. So time to man up and let the shears go to work. We’ll wait till morning however.
Day 7: We give our gift of spirits to Neptune and I give my head of hair to the sea. I always wanted a Mohawk when I was a rebellious kid so we leave a healthy strip down the middle.
Carlos arrives at 5:00 and pilots us into the estuary. We anchored with a dozen other boats with another dozen on moorings nearby. We haven’t seen so many cruising sailboats in one place since La Cruz, Mexico. The health inspector arrived immediately to check us into Ecuador. We will still have to visit the port captain and see immigration and customs before our check-in process is complete, but that can wait till tomorrow.
That completes our Ecuador passage, our longest to date; 852 miles on the water in 6 days, 22 hours. Average speed was 5.2 knots. Savannah did great, giving us a comfortable, worry free trip. Jodie did fantastic once she got her sea legs. And I gave myself food poisoning so I could sleep most of the trip. One thing I hadn’t mentioned yet was how well Logan did during the whole trip. He was great, staying in the cockpit during the days and down below with whomever was off watch. He ate well and timed his cat box visits when things were calmest.
October 22-31, 2009 After getting checked into the country, we spent our first few days in Bahia de Caraquez (known as Bahia locally) getting to know the town and the cruisers that are here, either temporary or permanent. There have been a few cruisers that have arrived in Bahia and never left. One is Tripp, a transplant from Alabama who owns the restaurant and marina, Puerto Amistad, where we are staying. A former cruiser, now fulltime businessman, he can be a bit annoying to deal with at times. His wife however, Maye (pronounced Ma-gee) is a sharp contrast to Tripp and if you need anything she is the one to ask. The dinghy dock is $5 dollars a day, a bit steep for this area. Along with the dock there are showers (watch out for the staffs family using them), wifi (doesn’t broadcast to the water), water (not potable), and an outside cruisers lounge (minus any actual lounge chairs). Tripp favorite saying is, “We are the only game in town”. Positives are that laundry service is available at an affordable $1 per kilo and propane tanks can be gravity filled by the staff, which is a great convenience.
After a few days in Bahia, both Jodie and I became ill. Jodie had massive pain in her lower back and we thought it might be an infection of some kind. A clinic provided some antibiotics, but after seven days she hadn’t improved. A quick trip to the doctor and she was diagnosed with a herniated disk in her lower back. The doctor wanted her to visit a specialist but we said “No way!” We both knew the specialist would probably want to used medications or worse operate (because that’s how they get paid $$$) and that’s the last thing we wanted. We found an expat chiropractor in town and after the first visit the pressure was reduced and Jodie began to feel better. Plus she could stand fully upright again, always a good thing. A couple of additional visits coupled with stretching and exercising and Jodie was pretty much back to normal. Just say no to scalpels! I on the other hand had an intestinal bug doing the lambada inside me. With some help from local expats living here, we got a multi-purpose bug killing pill that got me back on my feet in a few days. But it was a rough few days. Halloween arrived in Bahia and we found that the President of Ecuador had officially banned festivities. We don’t know why, and don’t really want to; leave local politics to the locals. However, the marina organized a trick-or-treat run on the water for any boat that wanted to participate. Local children donned costumes and headed out to each boat to collect their bounty. It was fun to see the kids and hand out candy, but the first group was disappointed when they came by our boat. It seems that they had been promised to see an Indian with a Mohawk hair duo. Unfortunately, I had shaved the Mohawk off the day before and looked more like a Hare Krishna or Chinese Monk instead.
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