Redefined Timeline

Santa Catalina is a small fishing village on the western side of Panama that is renowned by surfers. It was quite tiny and undeveloped, but new buildings were popping up along the one road leading through the town. However, I think there were just as many defunct hotels and structures lining the roadways, oceanside cliffs, and beaches. The single market present in the “downtown” area was quite lacking in many basic goods. One of the nights we spent there, our troop elected to make dinner as a group. The lack of necessities made it rather interesting to assemble the meal, but we made it work. You won’t find a lot of shopping options or activities other than those based in or on water, but it was a quaint little place.

The sunsets deserve an entire post in their own right. The sun sets over the western ocean with a few islands dotting the water and the waves rushing away from the sun. The fresh air was marked with a light breeze rustling the incredibly tall palm trees lining the edge of the beach. Much of the beach is rocky with a few white sandy spots scattered throughout. From a grassy knoll, we watched the orange orb sink below the horizon.

Our accommodation was at the Cabañas Sherlley. ’Twas a rather peculiar inn with rooms that were denoted by colors. There was no restaurant, instead an outdoor kitchen and grill. There were large tables with Sherlley’s dogs racing around them (yes, I absolutely wanted to larcen one of the puppies). Hubs and I got the lavender joint. The room had a makeshift kitchen, retaining it’s color even in the plates and utensils. The sleeping arrangement was rather odd with three separate sets of single mattress bunk beds. Of course they were clothed in lavender bedsheets. Hubs and I claimed one of the bunkbeds for our luggage, and we each slept in the separate second and third bottom bunks.

One of our dry days in Santa Catalina, we hopped aboard a boat bound for Parque Nacional Coiba and Isla Rancheria for a snorkeling excursion. After wading out into the surf to board the craft, we all awkwardly hopped on. The captain motored us northwest of the mainland for a bit. A pitstop between two outcroppings yielded subpar snorkeling… everything was clear turquoise, I’ll give the water that, but there wasn’t a ton to see, and the cloudy skies weren’t helping.

Isla Coiba was the bastard child of a volcano eruption approximately 70 million years ago. The island grew through marine sedimentation. After the Ice Age, Coiba was united with the mainland, so the flora and fauna were consistent with the continent. However, rising temperatures and sea levels isolated the island yet again, forcing the evolution of plants and animals, creating new species and subspecies. There are mangroves, coral reefs, forests, beaches, and rivers… 85% of which have been untouched by humans for at least five-hundred years. Two geological faults run through the eight larger islands and thirty smaller islets. This archipelago has remained an important protected area of Panama, containing a high level of biodiversity found nowhere else in the world. 

The cultural history of the island was just as convoluted as the natural history, and it was also quite violent and barbaric. The indigenous former inhabitants were apparently fierce warriors, but were still demolished by the first European colonists in the 1500s. Next, the island became a refuge for pirates and corsairs. Now insert the first hispanic residents with a less vile purpose, as they developed agriculture and livestock homesteads. The positive did not last long, as the Panamanian government decided to create Panama’s version of Alcatraz on the island in 1919 in the form of a penal colony, which remained in operation for eighty-five years. The prison was not as negative a connotation as one might think. The prisoners maintained agricultural plots, as well as raising cattle and pigs, wood harvesting, and craftsmanship activities. Those were the last dwellers of the tropical paradise.  Umm… I don’t think I would have minded being locked up here!

Isla Rancheria didn’t have the storied history of Isla Coiba, but it was just as stunning. Both had long white sand beaches lined with tall palms. I could get used to this. 

Alas, the next stop was also our final of the trip… Panama City. We did take a detour to the Panama Canal along the way, though. Those ships crawl through the channel slower than a snails pace.