After hanging around at Club Nautico in Cartagena for a while we found a boat willing to take us and the bike to Panama. The Sy Zao, a 50 ft sailboat, and at $250 each and $200 for the bike the price was right.
The boat didn't look much, it was scruffy and unpainted but seemed to have all the basic things - a GPS, autopilot, depth sounder etc, and rather than dropping us at an island in San Blas was going to Portobello on the mainland.
We wrestled the bike onto the boat from the harbour wall, using a loose plank from the dock as a ramp & set off the following day. Angie started turing a pale green colour while we were still in the harbour.
We set sail for Panama outside the harbour while Angie's green colour deepened and the waves got bigger - about two metres or so which didn't seem so bad.
Half an hour later she bolted for the side of the boat & barfed, I lasted about 20 minutes longer before joining in.
'Angie ?....rettttchhhh
'What ?....uurrggh.....barf.... go away.'
'You know that....uughh...couples are supposed to do....puke...things together ?'
'Yes...groan....so what ?'
'This wasnt what I had.....barrff, splatter.....in mind!'
There is a limit to how much you can puke in one day, although you're convinced you've thrown up everything you've eaten for the past month long before you get to that stage.
Stomachs emptied, the waves got bigger & night fell. Laying flat in the cabin felt better but not much, eventually we dozed off despite the building seas. Three metre waves, then four, I stopped watching as it made me feel like barfing my socks.
Things started going wrong.
Somehow, a lot of water found its way into the boat, about two TONS of it sloshing around in the bilge & the pump packed up.
Attempting to run the engine to use its intake to pump out the boat made things worse, the engine compartment was half flooded and the starter motor shorted out causing an electical fire.
While putting the fire out the captain passed out from smoke inhalation.
So - a boat filling with water, no engine, no bilge pump, no captain and a passenger steering the boat....this was *way* more adventure than I'd expected. I considered duct taping myself to the EPIRB (emergency beacon).
'Where are we & which way are we supposed to be going ?', said Frederik at the wheel, the only other passenger who knew 'a bit about boats'.
The GPS claimed we were 90 miles from Cartagena, about the same from El Porvenir and 80 miles or so offshore. Middle of nowhere. There was no sense in going back against the weather and the coast wasn't an option, there's precisely *nothing* in the Darien. We kept going.
Frederik steered the boat, I started hand pumping water from the boat & we put the captain in the fresh air hoping he'd come back to life soon.
He recovered within the hour, which was a relief as by now the waves had grown to EIGHT METRES high - it was like being inside a giant washing machine.
Taking turns on the hand pump for the bilge we got ahead of the water while searching the boat to find out where it was coming from. An open window in the small cabin next to the engine room.
A few hours before dawn found us outside Cuy Holandaise, a small group of islands marking the start of the San Blas. Nervous navigation with the GPS got us inside the reefs around the island chain and we were out of the heavy weather.
Frederik was still at the helm.
El Porvenir, a welcome sight after hours of navigating with GPS waypoints to avoid the various reefs & we dropped anchor.
Eight hours more sailing on open sea to get to Portobello. No way did we want to go through that again so started looking for other options to get to the mainland.

