Islas Tintipán and Santa Cruz de Islote

Wednesday, Sept. 4, was great for sailing from the Rosarios to Islas San Bernardo. Peter had planned to anchor in the bay behind Punta San Bernardo, but I thought that anchoring by the islands offshore seemed more enticing, so we altered course. The San Bernardo islands in the Gulf of Morrosquillo are part of the Rosarios national park, and we were happy to find the park's large (and free) yellow mooring balls on the south side of Isla Tintipán. As soon as we settled in, we put the new kayak in the water and paddled in mildly choppy water along the mangrove lined shore of the island and across a little channel to reach the tiny Isla Santa Cruz de Islote. 

Approaching Isla Santa Cruz de Islote

Virgin del Carmen

Kids playing in the street

Soccer practice

Mural

Waterfront homes

Fishing boat

Peter on the island

This island is one of the most densely populated in the world. There are about 1300 people on about 130,000 square feet of land at sea level. (This is about the size of two soccer fields.) The place was created a few centuries ago by men dumping coral debris and shells until they created a small island. Founded in 1700, the island town supports a population of 20 to 40 families (depending on how you define relations) living in about 100 houses, most of which have openings for windows but no glass or other covering. There are a few small general stores and a couple bars/restaurants, one school (through 10th greade) with one teacher, and one church that we saw. Most of the buildings are ramshackle structures, but we noticed a couple that seemed out of place, with finished exterior walls and shiny glass. 

According to reports, there is no violent crime, and the people seem content, but life is not necessarily easy.  Fishing supplies some food, but all other food and supplies must be shipped in. There is no source of freshwater other than rain, which is collected in tanks of various sizes. There may or may not be toilets, but there is no sewage system, so, I guess, human waste goes directly into the surrounding seawater. There are receptacles for trash and recycling, but it all has to be shipped off the island, as do all deceased community members, because there is no room for a cemetery. There is limited electricity supplied by solar panels, but no Internet or cell phone service. While fishing supplies some employment, most of the adults take ferries to nearby islands developed for tourists and work in service jobs. 

When we visited, we noticed that most doors were wide open and many of the people seemed to be outside. Glances into the small homes showed them to be sparsely furnished. Children played in the streets and in the water (which, is some cases, was in the streets), and small groups of women and groups of men sat idly in front of buildings. Perhaps they were chatting before we came upon them and became quiet as we approached, but it appeared that they were just sitting. Certainly, no one was doing anything with their hands such as sewing or weaving or carving, and no one was reading. There was one table of men engrossed in a game, perhaps dominoes. I think I would get terribly bored, but they seemed to be content. Certainly it is a contrast (as is much of life in the Caribbean) to modern, Western life, where being busy and spending time productively is a virtue,  and our hours and days are packed with activities and responsibilities. 

When I asked a man why people chose to live there, he told me that it is because there are no insects; there are no mangroves and no beaches for breeding. This may have been the initial impetus for settlement, but I suspect that the sense of it being home is what keeps most people there now. Surprisingly, the population demographic skews toward youth, so many young people are still opting for island life over the lures of the mainland.

After our cultural adventure in the kayak, we settled onto the boat for the night. I slaved away in the galley again; despite the outside temperature and breeze, in the tropics I always get hot while cooking down below, so after dinner and washing up, I took a shower on the swim deck, with the darkness obscured my nakedness. 

Swells became more pronounced as the night progressed, and the entire eastern sky was punctuated with flashes of light outlining large cumulus clouds. In the distance, thunder roared and boomed. We watched as over a period of hours the storm approached, finally reaching us in the middle of the night. Rain poured from the skies and washed the decks of the city grime of Cartagena. Jagged bolts of lightning shot down toward the earth but grounded on the nearby island rather than striking Mantra. (We had taken the precaution of putting the navigation computer in the oven, which acts as a Faraday cage.) 

The next morning, the rolling had diminished and the rainstorms were over, although the skies remained cloudy. After breakfast, we set off for Isla Fuerte. The wind was not favorable, so we had to motor most of the way. When we approached the island looking for a good place to drop the anchor, as usual in the islands, we were greeted by two men who paddled out to us. They directed us to a little bay that was smoother than the place Peter had chosen. Then, like the fishermen at all the other islands, they offered to sell us crab, lobster or fish or even fruit. I explained that I am a vegetarian and that we had plenty of fruit on board. Peter gave them a small tip for helping us to anchor, and they were off. 

After dinner and a couple of games of cards and checkers, we retired for the night. This morning, we woke up to mostly clear skies. The local fishermen were out in their narrow, small, colorful boats casting their nets. When we snorkeled a bit later, we found that they must be successful (or perhaps not, if it is already over-fished), for there were no large fish and not even many small ones despite outcroppings of healthy coral. Peter spotted a ray and I surprised a dark eel, who swam away. The most interesting thing was a patch of coral from which crystal clear bubbles percolated to the surface. We have no idea what causes this, but it is lovely to watch the streams of various size bubbles rise through the water and disappear on the surface.

Fishermen, Isla Fuerte

Peter after his haircut, with his curls gone!

After our snorkel, I cut Peter's hair (and I think I did a pretty good job). We plan to leave about 6 p.m. this evening when it is predicted that the wind will pick up and be blowing so that we can sail on a beam reach to our last stop in Colombia, Sapzurro, where we expect to arrive on Saturday afternoon.