Walking down the sidewalks of Portobelo. Note the brightly colored homes.



Bruce at San Fernando Fort Battery, with Woodwind in the background

At dawn on Valentine’s Day, we motor-sailed toward the Cristobal breakwater, the northern entrance to Limon Bay and the Panama Canal. Bruce reached into the dodger pocket beside him and pulled out a child’s plastic, jeweled crown. “Happy Valentine’s Day. You’re ‘Queen of the Panama Canal’.” I happily placed it on my head, feeling quite regal.

As we proceeded through the parking lot of ships, each waiting a turn to transit, we recounted the last time we left this place, 18 years ago. The wind was a full 25 knots on the nose that day. As we went to make our first tack, we realized the jib sheet winches had seized up. Bruce hurriedly took them apart and greased up their innards. Just as we were about to lay the tack that would allow us to clear the breakwater, a pickle jar got loose down below, exploding on the galley sole and leaving a stink bomb. That’s how and why we all got sick.

But conditions this time were pleasantly different on my favorite day of the year. The wind was light, the seas down and our destination a mere 25 miles east. Portobelo, the tiny town named by Christopher Columbus in 1502, has a history laden with riches and bloodshed. Francis Drake plundered the port in the 1500s; the buccaneer, Henry Morgan, raided it in the 1600s. The forts were partially destroyed by the British in the 1700s, and by a severe earthquake in the 1800s. In the early 1900s, pieces of the port were removed to create the first Cristobal breakwater for the Panama Canal project.

With our full rig of six sails flying, we entered the pristine bay. Portobelo is said to be one of the rainiest places on the coast, but its dramatically lush hillsides, a stark contrast to the industrial grime of Colon, drew us in. Laying a tack toward the town and some anchored yachts, we picked our way forward. As we passed the British yacht, Panache, its owner gave us a thumbs-up and yelled, “Very nice. Well done. Nice to see a boat sail in.” Two more tacks to the north side of the bay, under the hillside ruins of San Fernando Fort Battery, then we dropped the sails and anchor. We hurriedly put up the awnings and brought out the binoculars to get a closer look at the place.

The fort in front of us was built on two layers. Brown and gray hunks still stand as an outline of the former stronghold. Across the bay we spied a huge church looming over the town. A few open fishing boats sped past.

In the afternoon, we rigged our sailing dinghy and set off for the town anchorage, stopping off at Panache, where we met Jeffrey and Nancy, who gave us the lowdown on the town. After checking out the rest of the anchored yachts, we sailed to the cement pier and tied up. The town, a cluster of tiny houses and two story buildings, clings to a road that connects Portobelo to the rest of Panama. We wandered through the streets, met by smiles and the relaxed Panamanian greeting, “Buena.” After weeks of being on guard for city-dwelling bad guys, we were surprised and relieved to be with people who wanted nothing more than to look at us as we walked by. In the town center, we stopped to watch a group of children and teens playing soccer. The ball shot toward us and a young man yelled, “My friend, my friend, punta.” Bruce kicked it back receiving a wave of thanks.

The buildings of the town are a palette of colors. Nothing is too strong or too strange a hue, with pink houses next to bright yellow ones. Murals are painted on many storefronts and everywhere plants and blooms sprout from the earth and stone.

Nancy and Jeffrey were going to rendezvous with us at the “cruisers’ bar,” El Drakes, so we ambled there, awash in a feeling of calm. In the little bar and restaurant we met the friendly East Indian owner, Keshni. Bruce pulled my crown out of his bag and I put it on, explaining that it was my Valentine’s Day present. Keshni’s eyes lit up and Bruce became the romantic hero of the day!

Nancy and Jeffrey arrived and shared with us their cruising knowledge and adventures of the past eight years. Jeffrey, who’d turned 70 the week before, was animated and excited. Listening to him, we felt like kids during story hour. After they headed back to their boat, we wandered around and looked for a bite to eat. Knowing I was only “Queen for a Day,” I opted to leave my crown on for the evening. Just as expected, curious stares came from every passerby.

We walked into the ancient town fort, through the guard towers and past the forgotten cannons aimed at the sea. Several youth were sitting on top of the stone wall, politely trying not to stare. After a few minutes I walked toward them, pointing at my jeweled head. “Una regala de mi esposa para la dia de San Valentine” (a gift from my husband for Valentine’s Day). As if on cue, they all began to applaud and hoot. Bruce, smiling along with them, took a bow. The crown was a hit again at the small open pizza place we found, where we opted for fish and rice. The owner brought us our dinners and as he set them down, he bowed and said, “For the Queen. For the King.”

Early the next morning we rowed back ashore to scramble over the 300 year old ruins of San Fernando Fort Battery. The bay holds the remains of four forts, each maintained with historically significant signs. We sailed our skiff along the north shore, checking out the ex-patriot houses and the jungle that drapes down and over the water’s edge. Back at the town, we roamed on new roads toward the gigantic Church of San Felipe of Portobelo. Built in 1776, it houses a wooden statue of the Black Christ, a patron of pickpockets (among others), celebrated with massive fiestas each October.

Necessity took us back to El Drakes to use their Internet café and look up some weather information. Although there are dozens of places we would love to visit in this remarkable country, the alarm clock on the calendar is ringing. The big beat to windward that will carry us back to the islands of the Eastern Caribbean lies ahead, and it’s almost time to begin.