Kayak Cockpit Size Chart: Fill & Download for Free

As most of the people responding have said: don’t attach anything but signaling devices. Why? because if you go overboard, the only thing you REALLY need is a way to help people find you (light, whistle, personal locator beacon, etc.).You see, unless swimming to shore is an option, then the only way out of the situation is for the boat to come back to you. BUT, that’s not going to happen if no one can find you. And, in most places where people sail, the sooner the better, because your biggest threat is hypothermia, a life-threatening condition that comes from loosing body heat, in this case, to cold water.There are many kinds of life jackets (aka, personal flotation devices or PFDs), but for this discussion, I’m going to talk about the inflatable jacket. The inflatable PFD, preferably with an integrated harness (more about that later), is light enough and compact enough to be worn full time with minimal discomfort. As a result, it is the first choice of serious, large-boat sailors.Small-boat sailors, like kayakers, or dinghy sailors, have a different problem. They are more likely to be in the water in the normal course of sailing. An inflatable is not a good choice here because once it pops open, it is bulky and hard to work in. Small-boat sailors almost always use a foam-filled jacket.The inflatable jacket uses a CO2 cartridge to inflate the jacket on demand. Here’s a picture of the West Marine Ocean Series inflatable life jacket (manufactured by Mustang Survival) taken from WM on-line catalog.The yellow tab at the bottom can be pulled to manually cause the jacket to inflate. The little plastic window on the lower left (right-hand side of the jacket if you had it on) shows the state of the auto-inflate feature. This jacket auto-inflates when it gets wet, so if you are unconscious when you go overboard, the jacket will still protect you. However, the auto-inflate feature can be de-activated, so the window allows you to see if that feature is active or not.In case you are wondering, once the CO2 cartridge has been used, it must be replaced, and if the auto-inflate feature is active — whether it was used or not — the activation element (sometimes called a “button”) must also be replaced. The cost of a “re-arm” kit is somewhere between US $30 and $100 (ouch!), depending on the model.On the lower-right (left-hand side if you are wearing it), you can just make out a zipper. It closes a small pocket, in which you can put stuff. In my advice, only put a signaling device here, like a personal locator beacon, if yours doesn’t attach to a more convenient location. If you need other stuff at hand while working on the boat, there are more convenient places to put them, like the pockets on your pants, or clipped to your belt.When this jacket is inflated, it looks like this:Where did that little pocket get to? Well, when the jacket popped, the whole thing kinda went inside out. The little pocket is now on the underside of the jacket. It’s a bit hard to find. So, no, you don’t really want important stuff there, unless it works automatically, like a water-activated locator beacon.The stuff you want, needs to be attached in a way that it is on the outside when the jacket is inflated. For example, the whistle, which you can see dangling at the bottom, center of the jacket. The oral inflation tube is on the right (left side if you are wearing the jacket). Finally, notice the yellow strap with the round hole on the upper right (left side, if you are wearing the jacket. This is where you fit a light, which is a very good idea. You fit the light BEFORE putting on the jacket! Most lights designed to be used on life jackets are water-activated strobe lights, which are much easier to spot at night than a regular light, or, worse case, the reflective tape.At a Safety at Sea seminar (required attendence for participants of some off-shore races, like the TransPac, LA to Honolulu, race), I heard a sailor describe a man-overboard situation that he had been involved in, at night, outside of the Golden Gate. He said that if the person overboard had not had a light, they would never have found him. To understand the importance of this comment, note that sea water temperatures outside the Golden Gate are under 60 degrees Fahrenheit in the warmest months, which means that the man overboard would have been unconscious in about an hour and dead before daybreak, all from hypothermia.But wait, maybe that person could have swum ashore before he slipped into unconsciousness! Yeah, right. This is what you look like with your jacket inflated, in calm water (this is a Mustang Survival jacket also, but a different model):Remember, the purpose of the jacket is to keep your head out of the water, so you don’t drown, even if you are unconscious. As a result, it is close to impossible to role over, which means that the only stroke you can do is the backstroke. But you are not going to do that. You are going to roll up into a ball to preserve body heat and spend all your energy blowing the whistle and staring at the boat, willing it to come back to you.If this doesn’t sound like fun to you, then notice that the model jacket depicted at the very top has an integrated safety harness, which means you can attach yourself to the boat by attaching a tether to the two D-rings at the center bottom of the jacket, and then attaching the tether to the boat. After all, the real danger in going overboard is being separated from the boat. If you understand the problem with hypothermia, then you understand that you are far better off attached to the boat without a PFD, then detached from the boat with one. Of course, an inflatable PFD with integrated harness gives you the best of both worlds.That tether thing, which attaches you to the boat? Here is what it looks like:The carabiner end of the tether gets attached to the boat, either to a hard point (like a U-bolt or a shroud, if one is convenient), or to a jack line, which is another strap, generally rigged from the bow of the boat to a point forward of the stern, so you can clip on to the jack line and move to the bow (or stern) while remaining attached.The snap shackle at the other end of the strap attaches to the two D-rings on the jacket. This shackle is designed to release under load; that is, if you pull on the string with the three red balls, the shackle will release and, even if under load, will pull free from the harness. The idea is that if the boat rolls over and you are attached to the boat via this tether, you may want to release the tether and get to the surface. Yeah, it’s kinda like a panic button.Finally, the personal locator beacon is a relatively new addition to the man overboard problem. Here’s one manufactured by Ocean Signal (picture from the WM online catalog):This model is designed to be attached to the oral inflation tube and it includes a strobe. Both the radio beacon and the strobe are water activated, with manual backup. This model transmits on VHF frequency a signal designed to be picked up by an onboard AIS and displayed both as a visual signal on an electronic chart and as a latitude/logitude. This means that you also need an AIS, which has other valuable uses besides tracking this signal, but that is another discussion.Frankly, you are much better off being able to maintain visual contact with the man overboard than having to navigate to a particular lat/lon. I’m sure that modern technology makes the latter easier than it sounds, but I’m just as sure that it won’t be easier than it sounds if you haven’t practiced. Which is why you should do man-overboard drills.And which is why attaching extraneous stuff to your PFD is not an issue that should be anywhere near the top of your list of things to do before sailing.By the way:I’m not associated with West Marine, Mustang Survival or Ocean Signal. Although, it would be nice to get an employee discount on this stuff . . . it tends to be expensive!My wife and I sail a 53′ boat off-shore and we practice what we preach. We rig jack lines, set out tethers, and position our PFD’s at the companionway before we sail off-shore. While underway, we put on a PFD before coming into the cockpit (which is why we stow them at the companionway) and we clip on in the cockpit, if the weather is bad, and, even if the weather is good, we clip on if we leave the cockpit to go on deck.Our PFDs are an older version of the ones sold under the West Marine label. Not sure who manufactured them, but it was not Mustang Survival. They show a lot of wear on the exterior fabric, but we test them regularly, if not inadvertently, and know that the inflation mechanism works and the PFDs hold their inflation for 24 hours or more.We also carry other PFDs on our boat. We have a full compliment of those bright orange, foam-filled, boxy PFDs, which we keep to pass a possible US Coast Guard inspection. Our inflatable PFDs are US Coast Guard approved (as are every other inflatable PFD that I’ve seen), but they only count if you are wearing them. We also have several sizes of the more comfortable, foam-filled PFDs that are for the kayak or other water toys.

Here is what I did three years ago at age 69. Exactly as written in my diary as it unfolded:I needed an adventure so I went online and found a retired Canadian guy my age with a 46 foot boat he needed help sailing back from trinidad to Mexico. Five months with no real schedule. We started Oct 1 2015. Heres whats happened to dateAfter 17 hours bobbing in high seas and fierce winds at night 150 miles off Caracas, with no steering - 26 hours of making no way against high seas and winds - which during my watch at night had a wave break in the cockpit and knock me down - and then being stuck for 4 days on a reef way outside Venezuela - after which two French couples showed up and helped stabilize the boat which was being eaten day and night by the coral and rocks - I got to Bonaire on their boat and arranged a rescue. After 7 total days we steamed back to the captain to snatch and rescue - we were now pirates. We were on a foreign vessel (Dutch) in Venezuelan sovereign waters attempting a rescue illegally. At sun up and upon arriving we were blocked by a large Venezuelan Coast Guard ship. The Capt told us that if the boat could sail on its own after we towed it off the rocks - it could go. If not we could only rescue the other Captain (at this point I refer to him this way out of tradition and not respect) - but the boat would have to stay.The boat that brought us there was a pilot tug. Low bodied, very powerful, small wheelhouse. You couldnt stand up it was so rough and wet. There was barely any room in the wheelhouse, you could see nothing at night with waves crashing on the window - and they had no compass (fortunately we had a small hand held GPS). The crew absolutely looked like they were cast from Pirates of The Carribean. One had a dread to his waist, one looked like an ancient nervous bird, the captain had a small dread behind one ear, gold earring and outlined gold front tooth. All able bodied seamen who apparently never sleep. All of them and some of us (3) smoked in the tiny overheated wheelhouse - which if you were at all prone to seasickness was a death knell (nobody was though).After 8 punishing hours we arrivedThe Capt of the Coast Guard Cutter and I immediately hit it off. After 4 years of summer school and 9 years in Panama City my Spanish is good enough to make jokes (and negotiate hostage boats) - having a Son in the US Navy and a Daughter in Law from Venezuela didnt hurt either. I made some discreet offering of tobacco and fishing tackle and a tiny amount of cash (to the sailors stationed aboard us) and what started as a potential loss of the boat, de escalated - provided she was sea worthy after being towed off the reef. The moment came and there was a HUGE pop. The rudder had snapped clear off (not a small item as the column was as thick as my torso!!)Now shes leaking badly. After lots of diving and bailing and use of underwater epoxy and rag stuffing - the Capt of the cutter inspects and says we need to go to the nearby sub-station for inspection of both vessels (the towboat and the sinking one) - I schmooze him - we exchange my jungle style camo hat for his cap with his ship and the Venezuelan flag emblazoned on it, a few more jokes and hooks and bug spray later he says - ah what the hell - get going.We leave and she starts taking more water under tow. Bailing like crazy - bilge pump never stopping - everything below is now sloshing around - plus being towed in moderate swells we are cycling back and forth and healing over each time. Basically we are sinking under tow.They come by alongside and wave as in - everything cool? We all smile and give thumbs up - just go away please!The bilge pump blows. Buckets aint cutting it even a little. My young French commando like friend says lets use the fresh water cooling intake for the engine as a bilge. I locate that and there is a cutoff valve. He cuts the hose, shoves it under and we slosh our way back for 18 hours just ahead - barely - of the water, all the way back to Bonaire.I thank the "Capt" for the great memories (strange thing is I meant it) - collect my gear and wish him good luck (btw he will need it because hes in for a shock when the insurance company says they dont cover ships in Venezuelan waters due in part to the rampant piracy).Now I have finally relaxed a few days after 20 - the preceding of which was only some part of.The young French couple invited me to stay and sail on with them from here to Panama (probably another 800 miles during which we clear Venezuela and Colombia).Great show - high ticket price - but oh so unforgettable performances!!! LoLPS - That night off Caracas with no steering I spent literally hours staring at a sky so clear and bright that you could see the milky way - reflected in the sea! Looking at that and the huge swells in high winds I had time to really think - really consider my mortality. The conversation I had was answered by a bright shooting star that came the moment I thought of my son. Peace and grace apparently can come from the smallest reminders in the biggest situations.I refer to myself as the little mouse who lives in a hole. My "room" is a little bigger than a coffin. I sweat so much at night that i need to air dry the pillow and sheet each day. My "shower" is a plunge into the sea each morning. If i dont towel off I am like a salted Bacalao all day. Some days i find enough salt behind my ears to season a roast.Oh most people would hate it. This isnt luxury by any means. 99.9% of people my age (im ancient as you well know) couldnt do this for a day. Just climbing off and on the boat into the dingy requires circus skill. Im totally in my element. Covered in blisters from sun, scrapes - my shins hurt constantly from banging into things. We look for Iguana to catch and eat. We just got a net to throw to catch fish. As the sun went down yesterday we were taking turns practicing throwing it. We wash dishes (mostly me) with and cook with sea waterMeals can be rudimentary pasta with vegetables and a hamburger - to a whole chicken roasted over a bbq using coconut husks to smoke it. Celine even baked fresh bread on the bbq - including chocolate bread!Every meal we finish with cheese (really cheap here in the Dutch Antilles) and bread and then a fruit. Eating good cheese is foreign to me. Panama has a small dairy industry and - well - a friend of mine once glibly put it this way - you know you're in Panama when you pay more for a wedge of cheese than an ounce of cocaine. The name of the boat is Exil. Its actually home for them on the Seine. When I first came aboard they had three baby chics to raise for eggs - but they have one by one died. Sad but they did get a burial at sea.Its like Paris meets survivor. One day a perfect green mango floated by - we grabbed it and ate green mango salad for two days. One day it was rice with cooked plaintain and preserved shark from Tobago they caught. Coconut meat from a coconut saved from Senegal gets drizzled with melted chocolate from Holland and my mouth explodes. Last night bananas flambé for desert! We go through lots of rum. No matter what it is - somehow under primitive conditions on this boat food is like the fourth of July to my tongue.If money could buy the perfect adventure there wouldnt be enough to find this one.As this is written it will be a month now. I have been in Curacao (Caracas Bai) for two weeks. We will sail off to Colombia - sailing two days and nights + to skirt Venezuela.Whats next I dont know - but there is a lot of ocean between here and there and i have my fishing rods and they have a boat line - so we are bound to snag a Barracuda or Dorado (Mahi Mahi to my more sophisticated friends) - or a Tuna or Shark. Whatever it is I have wasabe along and two French companions who make every meal insane.Lets see what happens next. Colombia isnt the organized Dutch territories by a long shot.Today is day 40 since I originally started off with Capn Crunch.The sail from Curacao to Colombia took two days and nights. We rotate 3 hour shifts. I usually stay longer and let Franc and Celine get extra rest. I especially like the 3am to 6am. At that time its cool to cold out. I have a warm waterproof lightweight jacket. Usually i roll up my heavy weight shorts and use them to pad the pully at one side of the cockpit. After years of being on the road and more than 40 countries I have learned to bring my feather pillow from home with me. Its like an old friend and assures me that even when my "room" ( just wider than my shoulders) is heaving and rolling - my head is comfy. It has a really funky smell and most days I set it in the sun to dry out because by most mornings its soggy from sweat and humidity. Dampness pervades everything on a boat in open sea. By laying flat in the cockpit I can stare at the stars - also pitching and moving with the roll of the boat. At night the sea is very different. We sailed our last 3 days with 6 foot swells pushing us and the very strong wind mostly at our back. In the day its easy to see the swells. Usually there are at least two to three in a set that are way bigger. The boat tends to pause at the top of those then surf down as the next looks like it will break over us from behind - then she does a big roll that can knock you into things really hard if you are below. Timing is everything below in a pitching 30 foot boat. Doors swing open fast and too hard, she leans the other way and its slamming hard enough to chop off a finger, time it wrong and youre slammed into the edge of the door. Its school yard monkey bars with the ground pitching and swaying. Every move needs to be thpught out in advance. Im a human pachinko ball.At night I see glistening and foam and hear the waves instead of see them. The seem to crest next to you, hissing, spitting and foaming. Im on a 30 foot cork in an open sea. I keep thinking Im seeing shooting stars but sometimes its just the constant rolling sky. Other times its shooting stars. The entire disk of the Earths surface is around me. Violent lightning explodes in the distance but is a tiny fraction of the horizon. So far away that there is no thunder. Just black. Your mind can play tricks on where the waves are coming from and little of the movement can be anticipated. I dont know why they call them the Trade Winds when the Holy Shit Whats Going On Winds was still available. By taking the 3 -6 watch I get to see the sky eventually lighten and the sun come up on the horizon. I have no words to describe this except to say its humbling and never the same twice. In a way it feels like when mom used to say ok Ill leave the light on outside your room and the door open a crack but I cant expain why. Maybe like when the roller coaster finally slows down suddenly and you know you made it and now want to ride again?Landfall Colombia! The place we go barely exists on the charts. Bahia Portete. Its the first anchorage in Colombia after Venezuela. A remote outpost that from the outside looks like flat arid land with mountains in the distance. We are some 45 miles from Venezuela. Inside the entry is some kind of industrial factory or processing plant. There are large wind turbines that provide the power. Huge freighters enter. A guard boat paces back and forth across the entry and they literally scoped us out then waved hi. I expect it has something to do with this area being a light conflict zone - we have seen no other sailboats since leaving Curacao. None. This is considered unsafe these days. Inside past the guard boat is another world. Local fishermen in dugout canoes (Cayucos) with homemade sails are here and there. There is a dilapidated dock where medium sized super old freighters (two from Panama) unload merchandise for eventual sale in the interior cities. These are floating rust. The goods are unloaded by hand and put on ancient trucks. Hundreds of men - young and old alike - carry two (heavy) cardboard boxes each either on their padded shoulder or head using a ring made from rolled cardboard and clear tape. They line up and look like leaf cutter ants all following a trail. A portly "jefe" yells at them continuously calling them niñas (little girls). There is no dawdling. Every one of them is either black or a Guna Indian. The work is back breaking. The temps here have to be approaching 100. They all smile hello. Whats onboard headed back toward Panama is anyones guess.After staying below almost all day to avoid the searing sun, we got in the dingy to try and find Iguana or Caiman on a nearby island. Our intention is to eat them. Since leaving Isla Sur Barlovento Venezuela and the reef from hell we have dragged two lines in the water and have so far only gotten one Barracuda - promptly eaten. I hooked something heavy as we sailed into this new anchorage but lost ot I am sure because of a rookie mistake - didnt set the hook!! DRATSAs we approached a cut in the mangrove I spotted two eyes just above the water. A big caiman! Before Franc could assemble his rifle it went under. We could see the silt it kicked up in the shallows as it escaped and we tried to follow it before it got too deep. We were there to walk the place looking for caimen and iguana till nightfall - after dark we wore bright LED forehead mounted lights to look for reflected eyes. Of course Franc had Little Badger - which were we to be caught with would land us in a Colombian prison - especially this being a currently active hot spot with Venezuela.More troubling though was that after dark - on land - we would be in the Caimans territory where they have the advantage - not us. I kept imagining the news spreading among my few friends - did you hear about Fiveson? No what!? He was dragged into a tidal swamp in a death roll by a 15 foot Caiman and eaten!Yes - but a good death.The island was like something out of a primitive alien lost world sci fi flick. I have been in probably 45 countries, war zones (Beirut twice - Honduras with the Contras once), covert behind The Iron Curtain stuff, up the Lualaba River an offshoot of The Congo in Zaire known by the locals as The River Of Death - Leper Colonies, Uganda immediately after after Idi Amin - arrested in what is now Serbia for being a spy - etc etc yadda yadda (the list actually goes on) - but of all that.... this place gave me the willies.So we enter through the narrow cut in the mangrove (where I spotted the eyes) - to bone dry desert. Everything - every single plant had thorns or was some form of cactus. This is a flesh eating hellhole! From small barrel cactus, giant cactus, just spikes everywhere. Underfoot, above - everywhere! Twisted gnarled dry looking leafless trees with thorns and cactus needles. We picked our way along. Underfoot was shells. Lots of shells mostly the kind you thrill to find but none intact. But wait - around every turn was a tidal pool that looked like a lake. The clouds were reflected, terns, osprey, tiny birds, big birds, those skinny birds with the long yellow beaks... This place is actually strangely beautiful! As we walked following the contours of the many many salt water ponds i kept thinking - wow when the tide comes in nothing will be familiar and in the dark not only wont we be able to step over the 16 million cactus spikes laying or growing on the ground - any one of which could slice into a rubber soled shoe in a heartbeat - but after darkness falls - there will be abslutely NO way to know where we are. Nevermind the death roll - not losing an eye would be a major win here! This is Treasure Hunt for predators on spikey death island!I guess my caution was logical because my two French friends and I find ourselves at the dingy as darkness truly falls. So we get in it and for an hour cruise the mangroves with our lights looking for red reflected eyes to shoot at and eat (i was also thinking about how Youtube could show me how to make a headband for a hat!). Never saw a thing though. No shots fired. Rum is our reward this day.The next day I was cutting the spines off cactus to boil and eat (something I will never try again as the spines seem to be microscopic and magnetized to human skin!) - when I looked up there was a big 1200 hp pontoon boat next to us full of very armed Colombian Coast guard (with eqt no doubt supplied by the US as it was all brand new. Tgey even had thermal imaging). We wondered why there was a helo circling all morning - now we knew. They boarded us and said they needed our papers and to do a full inspection. Here we go again. 8 guys. Once again however by being friendly open and humorous (and speaking Spanish and showing them my tattoo from Medellin) the "inspection" ended up being our needing to sign some forms and nothing more. They needed a thumb print - oops no ink. Oh well skip that. They even offered to fill some water jugs for us from their tank (fresh water being the most valuable commodity we carry) a gesture so gracious I was astonished. It seemed their real purpose was to warn us that we were in a very unsafe area (something I tried to explain to my young French hosts but they still enjoy the arrogance of indestructibility). The Lt in charge gave me his cell number and asked me to notify him we made it outta there ok (I did).The helo followed us as we left.Another almost 72 hours of open water day and night - and now we are in Santa Marta Colombia.Now we are in a Marina. This morning I had my first shower that wasnt sea water in a month!I dont know how long we will be here but based on the beaurocracy to get cleared in - could be a while! But the rum is good here and everything is very cheap (full charcoal grilled chicken dinner with potato (real ones) plantain and salad - $4By walking around with no entry stamp we are technically breaking the law - but this is Central America and for me very familiar and negotiable.Today is day 54 since I originally started off with Capn Crunch.So far - thats all she wrote.As I write this its 4am. We have left Santa Marta after about two weeks there. The sea is the calmest its been in almost two months. Almost like a lake. Earlier today the wind died but now its brisk and cool - a nice change from the days which are scorching. Santa Marta is a nice little city. Depending on who you ask its either the oldest city in Colombia or perhaps the New World. 1510? Like all Latin American cities theres a huge cathedral surrounded by a "historic district". There are lively little restaurants and gift shops but the essence of the city is many many shops and clusters of areas. Some are just motorcycle repair places, meat vendors, fruits and vegetables (each in their own district), fish carts pulled by horses. Motorbikes are popular in Colombia. Outside the city are mountains and in them coffee growing regions (and the famous Santa Marta whacky tobaccy). The main shopping street is alive with pedestrians and shops but lining the sidewalks are every kind of stall you can imagine. Meat and small whole white potatoes on a stick cooked over charcoal. Tropical fruits to take home or eat as your walking. Tamales stuffed with rice and either beef or pork, sausages, shoes, dresses, watch and cell phone repair - done right there in front of you (I had my totally cracked iphone 4 repaired front and back and even changed it from black to white for $40 in twenty minutes). Fresh icy cold limonada (using the key lime variety) and tangerine drinks - from real tangerines! - everything always under a dollar.Customs clearance takes over a week. Then we are required to get a navigation permit to cruise - as well as a "zarpe" which states our last port of call so we are clear to leave both the marina and when we chose to leave, the country. Two weeks of waiting. We decide its time to see a cove with a beach - permit be damned. We sail a short hop to Taganga. A gorgeous little cove that caters to day trippers - locals and a very few tourists. Beach chairs, rides on long balloon like inflatables behind a loco Colombian kid with a fast panga - and other diversions, pedal boats, food, kayaks, cold beer.... A riot of color and activities. We anchor in close to the action to where its spinning around us and spend the night. Once the sun goes down theres no one there. Nobody. Our second night we are settling in after eating and the wind is a gale. Before long we notice we are not where we anchored anymore - we are slipping anchor. Wisely we motor back to the marina well after dark. The next night at appx 2:30 am in the same place a couple from New Zealand are boarded by 6 men - two have guns. They pistol whip the man, tie them up and steal everything - jewelry, computers, phones, dingy motor - anything they can. They have no hurry. Later that morning the couple sails into the marina. Before we left our slippped anchor mooring at Taganga beach we were being perused by two small fishing boats. I saw them lingering as the sun went down. Odd maneuvering at a strange hour for small fishing pangas. Franck and I both kept an eye on them but once darkness falls they are hidden. Maybe fate intervened.So we leave Santa Marta and decide to head to SanBlas Panama. Its a three day and night trip. We are expecting to enter those waters sometime tomorrow. The area is a "comarca" - a sovereign area given to the Guna Indians after an uprising many years ago. There are 365 islands. Some the size of a football field - some quite large. All of them are very very rustic and unspoiled. Non Guna cannot fish or own property there. Think coconut palms, thatched shacks, sugar white sand and aquamarine waters. Should be nice and quiet and safe. Where we will find water or provisions is anyones guess. Theres little to nothing there. The good news is the place is famous for lobster and crab - which the Indians eschew as they prefer meat or chicken. I sense we will be doing some bartering.Oh and as we have been traveling my dry spell has ended. The first day out I caught a small yellowfin tuna which i filleted and we ate dipped in Wasabe (I cleverly packed) and soy - wow! Talk about fresh - the fish was still twitching after i filleted it. The next day a gorgeous Dorado (Mahi Mahi) had to be 25 pounds easy. Hes salted and spiced and drying in the rear in the sun. I tried a piece tonight (a day later not dried yet clearly) - great! After the Dorado I caught a Jack. Also excellent and being sun dried.On the way to SanBlas we jump off the back of the boat while shes still moving (very slowly) holding onto a line. No bathing suits (actually dear reader I might as well be with nudists. None of us wear clothes ever. A tale for another day). The second day we swam it occurred to me we were in blue water - no land in sight, and I had just once again allowed mself to be dragged behind a mving hoat in open sea - im curious... so I looked at the GPS of where we were. Off the coast of Cartagena - in just short of 4000 foot deep water. So I dont feel like a chicken for trying not to splash like I was a struggling Jewfish and bait for something bigger.As I write this we are at the entrance to SanBlas. The first thing you see is that there are a lot of surf breaking on reefs (im reefaphobic at this point?) not lost on anyone is the first sight is a scuttled a sailboat sitting on a reef. No matter in we go. Its why we are here.Maybe 4 islands in we drop anchor by our own very small tripical island - it even has a reef - which we snorkel while Franck hunts. Because he has a GoPro im called into play and try out some edit in the camera chops. First time im shooting in a weightless 3D realm. The reef is amazing. Just imagine the prettiest salt water fish tank ever - now amp it up by a factor of a trillion and make it so big you feel like a guppy (actually after this long alone I would like to be a kissing Gourami) full of fish that are well - psychedelic. I saw one thats an intense metallic blue punctuated by actual gold flecks. Other than big brain corals and sponges I have no idea what im even seeing but im on another planet. Water world. Totally another world. Francks an animal. He had about 5 custom spearguns made in Colombia to add to his collection. He is a true fish hunter. He even sets ambushes and waits for them. I make some great shots (video) he makes some great shots (lunch and dinner). Drowning is never far from my mind but shooting distracts me i found. Im def not a SEAL though. I tend to stay close enough to the reef that i can always stand if i absolutely need to because my mask leaks (facial hair no seal). The reef itself has interesting underwater lanes and drop offs - swimming in and through them is an extreme exploartion but sometimes they lead to dead end shallows with coral inches below my chest. Time to turn around hopefully and find another way through back to deeper water. Its an underwater maze with coral that wants my skin (believe me I have some weird itchy places on my leg that were bleeding) Im wearing leather gloves and long sleeves but it still rips the crap out of skin and my legs are naked. Theres a lot to think about as the waves make weird surges and shoves you around. Even the fish seem at times to just sit in place and move back and forth back and forth from the waves breaking on the reef.We eat fresh fish both lunch and dinner. In fact for the last (what has it been? Time has ceased to exist completely) - week? - we have been living off the small reef next to our private island. Snapper, small lobsters, the biggest trigger fish (superb eating!) I will probably ever see - the list goes on. Boiled, pan fried, but mostly - like the two good sized spider crabs last night - over charcoal. Not the kind that lights itself and imbues everything with the taste of the New Jersey refineries, the real deal.The last two days the wind has been blowing and the rain on and off. Last night while we slept there was a huge thud and sound like we had been hit by another boat or something - all hands on deck! - we swung on the anchor which slipped briefly until it found better purchase. Back to sleep.Earlier today some local Guna fishermen came by. Open smiling faces. Guileless. Nice. Always interested in where we are from - always amazed to hear Franck and Celine live on this boat in Paris and crossed the Atlantic to eventually come here. They had lobsters for sale. 7 for $20. I ended up negotiating the 4 nicest (i.e. biggest) for $10. They have been flash pressure cooked and will be served with pasta sometime during my writing these words. The pasta will be topped with Gouda cheese from Holland (we picked up a whole wheel in Curacao like a month ago - for what a mere wedge would have cost in Panama). They're French they know how to keep cheese alive!Tomorrow is Sunday. We will time our journey to try to arrive at Portobello for Monday. Portobello is a ramshackle town with an amazing history. During the time the Spanish were looting South America in the name of God and gold it was where the treasure laden ships stopped to have the booty inventoried before continuing to Cuba then Spain. The small bay narrows at the opening. Fort Lorenzo and other battlements still exist, their cannons pointing at the narrows. The original "counting house" also is still there. In the 1650's it was one of the richest places and most fortified places in the New World. Needless to say it was on every pirate or privateers radar back then. Morgan is one of the luminaries - in fact they allege his final resting place was found nearby in the sea in the last couple of years. Its there we will anchor next. From Portobello I will find my way back to my car and condo via small local shuttles (its an hour and a half direct drive from sea to sea but with traffic return and bus change overs it will take most the day). Then return the next day and retrieve my belongings and my two friends while on our way to customs and immigration. Even though I have a permanent resident Cedula for Panama I still need to officially disembark from the boat where im listed as crew and my "occupation" - sailor - an affectation had I declared that myself but that was decided for me by immigration all the way back starting in Trinidad and has just been copied by each succeeding official.Franck and Celine will come to my apartment and have an open invitation to stay as long as they want. Its time to sail the concrete seas!My journey is almost at end. They will soon cross from The Carribean to the Pacific by transiting the canal. I have been invited to join them on the transit before they head south toward eventually The Galapagos.My trip has been two months and a week and the wonders, adventures, emotions, realizations and surprises have been like a color wheel, always changing always brilliant, always vibrant, unpredictable and indelible. I may get off this 30 feet of floating wonder - this tiny speck of a cork in the vastness of sea but I have no doubt - none whatsoever - that I have met many interesting people and characters and denizens of the "cruising" community from all over the globe - as well as two of the most generous, interesting and oh so capable people of my lifetime. I also know - like a shadow I cannot escape - that the roll of the open deep sea will remain within me now until my remaining allotted measure of heartbeats is expended.What other adventures, whether serendipity or calculated are between here and there....We shall see....(But as they say in show biz - this is a tough act to follow!)And yes, that is all she wrote.RobAs human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world – that is the myth of the atomic age – as in being able to remake ourselves. ― Mahatma Gandhi