It's a Jungle Out There

It’s a jungle out there. Literally.

On Wednesday (Oct. 2) afternoon, we cast off from the dock at Shelter Bay Marina and continued west after passing the canal breakwater to the mouth of the Rio Chagras. This wide, calm river has a depth of eight to twelve meters from shore to shore and trees on either side towering up to 150 feet above us. Encompassed by various shades of green, we raced the rain upstream, passing herons and egrets. About three of four miles upstream, with the incessant but pleasant chorus of millions of insects chirping, whirring and clicking from the shore, we dropped anchor where the river makes a 90 degree turn. After cutting the engine, we could hear the echoing vocalizations of groups of howler monkeys hidden in the trees, to our left, to our right, farther upstream, downstream. We were surrounded! Sometimes they sounded like dogs whimpering in pain. Sometimes, they made aggressive barking noises. At others, they had the eerie, resonant tones of whales underwater. 

The rain came about an hour after anchoring, first tiny spits of water, and then plops on the deck and canvas and then a downpour. It ended before the sun set. Afterwards, puffs of mist rose from the trees as the warmth from the jungle surface transformed the liquid drops to vapor.

Río Chagras after the rain

On Thursday, Oct. 3, Peter was working a better way to attach the sacrificial zincs to the shrouds and he accidentally dropped a screwdriver in the water. After fretting for a while, he decided to dive down to look for it. Unsuccessful but persistent, he decided to us the compressor and regulator. He made several attempts with no luck. 

Peter snorkeling in the Río Chagras

While Peter was underwater the first time, I was on the swim platform, avoiding using the toilet in the bathroom. (Ok, I was peeing overboard to avoid pumping the human waste out. I do miss flush toilets!) I was startled by something big coming around the port stern in the water and scrambled up the ladder before I realized it was only a brown pelican--a very curious and friendly immature pelican. He stayed around for a couple of hours, He attempted to hop up on the kayak twice but failed, so he just swam in our vicinity. When Peter and I were in the water, he would approach us. When I put out my hand, he obviously thought I was offering food and was ready to grab it until I jerked it back. Maybe Harry was a little too friendly, and I decided I was safer on board. After we had showered and vacated the swim platform, Harry seized his opportunity and leaped up. There he stayed for quite some time. Harry was a photographer’s dream, willing to provide close-ups from above, at water level, straight on, in profile from both sides. 

Harry the Pelican

Sherri and Harry

Harry

Harry again 

Still Harry

Harry's feet

Harry taking off

We found an immature, brown pelican (maybe Harry) tangled up in some twiggy branches of a tree that had fallen into the river during on of our many kayaking excursions on the river. Distressed, he did not want us to get near, but I was able to use my paddle to pull the branches off of him to set him free. He still had a twig around his neck, but there was nothing I could do about that, and he swam away. If it was Harry, he managed to extricate himself, because he was back for a visit the next day.

We are beginning to see birds in the wild that we cannot identify. There are great blue herons, but there are also herons which are similar but have distinctive markings on their wings and piebald bellies that we do not recognize. Particularly in the mornings, there are green parrots, usually in pairs, flying above the trees. We are pretty sure we saw toucans in flight. There are vultures and other birds of prey. Kingfishers skim over the water, making clicking noises as they fly. Iridescent blue-black great-tailed grackles congregate in trees, rustling the foliage as they hop from branch to branch, clacking and whistling in a loud manner. On the shore are quiet sandpipers or similar birds, but I cannot make a definitive identification.

Bromiliads grow everywhere

On Friday morning, during our second kayaking expedition for the day, we finally found monkeys near the shore, swinging from the branches and watching us through the foliage (making photography impossible) as we watched them. The day before, Peter spotted two white-faced capuchin monkeys on the shore, but I was still asleep. We have hunted for crocodile but have only found spiky crested lizards with serrated dorsal spines camouflaging themselves on branches over the water, where they munch on berries until we get too close. Then they spring forward, get a running start and drop into the water going so fast that they skitter across the surface for a couple of yards before reaching the mucky shore. 

Now we are on our way to the Bocas del Toro archipelago, a trip that will take us about a day.