Landfall: Castaways
Ann Weir
08/01/2005

We went in search of Isla Coiba, which Panama City locals call the most beautiful out island in the Pacific. Our guidebooks confirmed that it was spectacular, but there was a catch – a big one: If you decide to go ashore, you might want to take an armed guard, some books advised.

The world is a classroom for the four young children aboard the 126-foot Feadship Sirenuse as the owner family circumnavigates, exploring pristine islands such as Jicaron. (Click images to enlarge)

Once a penal colony, Coiba is no longer used as such, although some former prisoners still remain on the island. Some claim they are friendly and willing to give you island tours; others make them out to be a little less courteous.

We decided to take our chances and left Panama City on our 126-foot Feadship Sirenuse, arriving a woozy 21 hours later after the roughest passage we had made in quite awhile. The anchorages off Coiba looked a little unsteady, so we decided to try nearby Jicaron, a smaller island across the bay.

For the last six months, we had been cruising the Bahamas, the U.S. East Coast and the Caribbean side of Central America. Jicaron was our first Pacific anchorage after transiting the Panama Canal. We immediately noticed the swell at anchor was much more dramatic than anything on the east side, but the water temperature was much warmer than we anticipated. The water was, however, soup-like, filled with phytoplankton, tiny jellyfish and numerous mysterious creatures that brushed up against us as we swam, making it something of an unsettling adventure. (Click image to enlarge)

The following morning it peaked our interest when a few of our crewmembers attempted a kayak beach landing on Jicaron. Finding a rocky bottom and larger-than-anticipated surf, they returned to the boat rebuffed. We then decided to set off in our inflatable to check out the beaches, ledges and rivers along the shore. We found only more of the same heavy swells breaking along rough beaches. As we circumnavigated Jicaron looking for a landing spot, we discovered Jicarita, a smaller island that clearly was once part of Jicaron in its distant past. Eventually we found safe landing spots on both islands. Pictures of picnics danced in our heads.

Photograph by Jim Raycroft. (Click image to enlarge)

We have been traveling with our three children, who are ages nine, seven and one-and-a-half. Our captain and his wife have their five-year-old with them, and we have seven crew. With such a mixed entourage, land excursions are always very popular – to put it lightly.

As soon as we were able to get ashore on Jicaron we found magical solitude among the incredibly lush and dense vegetation and the salt-and-pepper beach, littered with some never-before-seen shells. We spent a glorious week here, fishing in the morning and picnicking for lunch.
Our avid fishermen located an underwater pinnacle called Hannibal on the charts. Its precipice was 50 feet below the surface and then it sharply dropped thousands of feet. Dropping a line near this seamount, it wasn’t long before we hooked our first sailfish – quite a thrill, since the largest fish I had ever caught was a dorado back when I was 12. After half an hour of reeling we landed it, posed for photos, and quickly released the gorgeous creature. We hooked three other sailfish and two dorados this morning.

The isla’s dense brush would be impenetrable if it wasn’t for a river running inland. (Click images to enlarge)

Other day trips were equally fruitful, with dramatic sightings of both spinner dolphins and Pacific spotted dolphins. These dolphins school in the hundreds and sometimes thousands. As they feed they sail through the air, performing all kinds of exciting acrobatics while spinning like tops. Yellowfin tuna, which we were also fortunate enough to catch, often school just under the Pacific spotted dolphins. We came upon such a dense pod of these fish that we could have walked across them.

Jicaron is only two miles away from a 100-fathom drop in sea depth, guaranteeing excellent fishing. (Click image to enlarge)

On two occasions, we packed our tenders full of gear, coolers and lunch for beach picnics. These were wondrous days, the children off collecting limpets, playing in the tide pools or swimming in the surf; the adults playing as well, walking along the beach or relaxing in the shade of the ceiba trees. While exploring the beaches we discovered a small river – our only opportunity to get farther inland. The underbrush was so dense everywhere else that walking 20 feet into it would have required a few machetes, serious hiking shoes and protective clothing. We waded through thick black tadpoles at the mouth and then made our way along on the riverbank, climbing over felled trees, with our engineer cutting his way through the brush for close to a mile. We saw kingfishers, hummingbirds, the skull of a heron, mating beetles and many busy leaf-cutter ants. I imagine snakes and other curious creatures were watching us.

Each afternoon around three, the island resonated with cicadas harmonizing loud enough to create a symphony that could awaken one from sleep. (Click image to enlarge)

It was not difficult to imagine what it must have been like to be the first to discover this enchanted place. Being marooned on this island would be no hardship. All in all we were removed, remote and relaxed. Ironically, we never made it over to Coiba.

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