Our three days of diving off Panama’s west coast had
been filled with fantastic underwater adventures. This
area is certainly one of the best new areas to be discoved
by the diving world, a fine way to conclude my trip aboard
The Inzan Tiger, a 60-foot yacht based in Golfito, Costa
Rica. We had visited Cocos Island, then Colombia’s Malpelo
Island, and finally Panama’s uninhabited islands, Jicaron,
Montuosa and Ladrones. Indeed, two continents and three
countries in fourteen days.
We finished our last dive at 8 a.m. and set sail for a
6 p.m. arrival in Golfito, 78 nautical miles away. All
five passengers were scheduled on an early-morning flight
to San Jose (with connections to the U.S.). Then Captain
Heinz Buchbinder received a 10 a.m. radio call from the
Panamanian Coast Guard ordering him to approach their
vessel, the Isla del Rey.
The Isla del Rey, dominated by a large, canvas-covered
crane and covered with rust, looked more like a tramp
steamer than a military vessel, but its four-man boarding
party was professional and courteous. After ordering everyone
to the bow, two men armed with pistols checked the
boat’s papers with Buchbinder while the remaining two,
armed with M-16s, took up positions on the bow and stern.
One at a time we were told to get our passports. We waited
while they searched the boat.
After their search, they were replaced by a group that
could easily have passed for Panama’s own version of the
Keystone Kops, consisting of two NCOs and four guards
armed with M-16s. One dropped his rifle into the ocean
while trying to board; another sat on the stern with his
rifle casually pointed into the salon. We were appropriately
intimidated us.
By now it was noon, and the
Commandante decided there was a problem
with The Inzan Tiger’s papers. Ignoring
the captain’s protests, he ordered
Buchbinder to the port of Pedregal. The
Isla del Rey followed but fell behind
because one of their two engines was not
functioning. As we neared our destination
(a channel buoy), an angry voice
blared over the radio, ordering us to
change course and proceed to the coordinates
previously given. Buchbinder protested,
noting that these coordinates
were on land and if they persisted in
endangering his ship, he would issue an
international distress call. After a
heated discussion, Buchbinder realized
that the Panamanians were using a 25-
year-old map; he volunteered correct
coordinates from his Global Positioning
Satellite System, after which the Panamanians
grudgingly changed their order.
It was now 4 p.m., and we had yet to
receive an explanation for the takeover.
After three more hours of confusion,
the Tiger was boarded by a Coast Guard
official from Pedregal (who, coincidentally,
turned out to be the same official
who had initially issued the
Tiger’s papers). Finally, someone had arrived who could explain to us the nature
of our “offense”: while the Tiger’s papers mentioned its carrying “passengers,”
to the Coast Guard crew of the Isla del Rey, we were “tourists,” the difference
being, apparently, that, if we were “tourists,” the Tiger was operating as a
business. “Pero, no problemo,” said the port official, and recommended that The Inzan Tiger be released. “No!” came the response over the radio. They ordered
Buchbinder to turn over his boat to a Panamanian pilot, resplendent in his black,
Chicago Bulls tee-shirt, who would pilot it to a nearby island. The Coast Guard
plan called for us to enter port the next morning at high tide, after which we
passengers were to be sent back to Golfito by land. Buchbinder protested, eventually
persuading them to let us weigh anchor at the buoy and wait. It was now 9:30
p.m., and we were beginning to brace ourselves for a long wait when, half an hour
later, they abruptly released us. Buchbinder steamed away and managed to deliver us
to Golfito’s jungle airstrip the following morning in time for our 7 a.m. flight.
Of course, while our Coast Guard encounter was a frightening experience, it
was also the sort of high-seas adventure that makes live-aboard diving adventure
travel. And the experience of visiting Panama’s Pacific Islands was definitely
worth the hassle.
It was Jicaron Reef that made it all worthwhile. At fifty feet, the reef’s tip
resembles a round fishbowl full of fish: a school of hundreds of bigeye jacks
vied with a smaller group of nasty-looking barracuda for supremacy over the pinnacle,
and dog snappers the size of pit bulls drifted in the strong current. This
was adventure diving!
Fifteen miles west at Hannibal Banks, a seamount rises to within 156 feet of
the surface. On this extremely deep dive, fish were fewer, but I was surprised by colorful blue and white hard corals on the rock. Safety stops at 50 and 20 feet
provided a floating parade of fascinating zooplankton. At Montuosa Island (Isla
Montuosa), barberfish, schools of bigeye jacks, and substantial numbers of king
angelfish entertained me. We chased several large white-tipped reef sharks from
their crevices, then anchored overnight in a protected bay rimmed by picturesque
beaches and tropical jungle.
The Ladrones Islands (Islas Ladrones) provided the best diving of the trip.
Rivaling the beauty of underwater Fiji, every inch of the rocks was covered with
corals and sponges in shades of white, orange, yellow, blue, and green. A pair of
Cortez angelfish let me get close enough to photograph them. Bigeye jacks numbered
in the thousands, and two yellow frogfish posed calmly for me while I took
a roll of film.
For a journey of this duration, the Inzan Tiger is a comfortable-enough craft,
although its accommodations rank a notch below those of the Hughes vessels. It
was designed to be the retirement digs of Heinz and Zenna (Zan) Buchbinder (”tHE
INZAN” is an acronym combining Heinz and Zan’s names, and a tiger motif is used
throughout the ship). With GPS, radar, side-scan sonar, depth sounders and automatic
pilot, the Tiger virtually ran herself at sea. The three staterooms, which
accommodated up to six divers, were air-conditioned and nicely appointed. A salon,
kitchen, and stern-diving platform were located on the middle deck, and a Costa
Rican crew of three kept everything running smoothly.
While the Inzan Tiger was not designed for diving, it can comfortably handle
six cooperative divers for a trip of this duration : four day dives and an optional
night dive. Our dives started with a concise dive briefing, after which
divers climbed down the five-foot ladder to a platform just above the water or
jumped directly off the stern. Either Heinz, Zan, or crew members Rafael or Joel
accompanied each dive. Dives were designed to be 45 minutes long, and, given the
depths, that was sufficient time. Once the divers surfaced (whistles or Diver
Alerts were provided), it took only a few minutes for the crew to maneuver the
boat for pickup. (Keep a watchful eye on the props.) Cameras and strobes were
rinsed and put in a separate fresh-water container, and tanks refilled immediately.
Night dives were conducted from an inflatable.
We began the cruise departing from Golfo Dulce, and our first stop was Cocos
Island, a 36-hour, 300 nautical-mile journey. With peaks towering above the
ocean, Cocos fits everyone’s image of a jungle island, which is probably the
reason it was featured in the opening scene of Jurassic Park.
Undercurrent had suggested in an earlier issue that El Nińo might affect the
diving here, and it was right: the once-ubiquitous mantas, mobulas, silky sharks,
and big scalloped hammerheads were entirely absent. Three years earlier I had
been thrilled by them, but now, at 87 degrees with 200-foot visibility, these
waters were the province of only white-tipped reef sharks. The gigantic school of
bigeye jacks that blocked out the sun at Dirty Rock and appeared in the Jack
McKenna movie “In Search of the Golden Hammerhead” were reduced to small groups
of 10-12 fish. The hammerhead’s favorite food, the marbled ray, was rare, and the
vast schools of reef fish at Manualita were but shadows of their former size.
In the morning, however, I saw whitetips on the sand bottom at 80 to 150 feet,
and smaller sharks could be easily approached in their crevices at 40 to 60 feet.
In the afternoon, whitetips and blue-spotted jacks raced around like a group of
ten-year-olds on a summer afternoon. Periodically, a shark would squirm into a
crevice and emerge with a lobster. On a night dive in Chatham Bay, a six-foot
whitetip twice cruised through our dive lights, barely an arm’s length away. I
spotted eagle rays on most dives, but only a few turtles; trumpetfish and guineafowl puffers were common. At Lobster Rock goldrimmed surgeonfish,
yellowtailed surgeonfish, parrotfish, trumpetfish and convict tangs attacked the
coral and rocks for thirty seconds, languidly swam to another site, then attacked
again, leaving behind bewildered damselfish wondering what had happened to their
farmed algae patch.
Diving is full of tradeoffs, and even with the big fish gone I didn’t feel
sorry for myself. After all, what’s not to like with good companions, sunny
skies, pristine diving, warm water, and 200-foot visibility?
We left Cocos for a 45-hour, 336 nautical-mile steam to Malpelo Island. Almost two days in the open ocean gave us an opportunity to clean our gear and
relax. It was a long journey, and we were thankful that Heinz and Zan made us
feel like partners in the boat. Their
enthusiasm was contagious, and Heinz’s
sense of humor permeated all of the
boat’s operations. You had to be quick
or you would miss the fact that your
leg was being pulled; by the second
day my BS detector had become highly
tuned. Heinz’s Santa Claus-like appearance
was in keeping with the red
diving outfit he wears, something between
a nightshirt and long johns with
the legs cut off. The outfit made it
difficult for me to remember that
Heinz was once president of Heineken,
Inc.
Arriving at Malpelo in the early
afternoon, we anchored in protected In
and Out Bay in the shadow of an intimidating
blackish-gray rock a thousand
feet high. Masked boobies and
frigate birds soared overhead and periodically
dove into the sea for fish.
Five Colombian soldiers reside on the
island and protect its sovereignty;
their only access is via helicopter or
a swaying, 40-foot rope ladder.
Our first dive was at Widow Maker.
As we descended to begin the dive,
twenty hammerheads passed overhead.
Over the following two days we saw several schools of hammerheads that sometimes
numbered more than a hundred, as I had the previous year. The water was
between 79-83 degrees, with visibility between 75-100 feet, but, because
strong winds kicked up the ocean, we were unable to dive sites that had impressed
me last year: Tiger Mount, where crevices in the seamount held hundreds
of finespotted moray eels, and Drifter, where I had seen hundreds of
free-swimming eels and thousands of Jordan’s snappers. This year herds of king
angelfish and barberfish stood by their cleaning stations patiently awaiting
the arrival of hammerheads; almaco jacks cruised by, and spotted green and
guineafowl puffers worked the rock walls. The rocks here, like those on Cocos
Island, are an almost-colorless pinkish-gray and covered with barnacles. During
safety stops, large wahoo, their hunting bars displayed, circled, and small
schools of silvery steel pompano and half-beaks loitered around in curiosity.
After two days of diving, the sea
began to show its teeth, so our group
voted to head northward to Panama.
Sailing directly into the wind, we made
but 4.6 knots/hour through the 12-15
foot waves. Under these conditions,
lying on our beds was the preferred
traveling position! On the second day,
however, the wind abated and the seas
calmed. A pod of sperm whales swam
alongside, and a couple of divers snorkeled
with them.
It was a 30-hour journey, and with
this much down time, one looks forward
to good meals. Rafael’s repasts,
served sit-down in the salon, did not
disappoint: they were uniformly excellent.
While he emphasized fresh fish,
especially dolphin and tuna, he also
prepared handmade pasta and vegetarian dishes for my wife and offered fantastic
desserts. He was dutiful about putting out pastries and slices of fresh
fruit between dives. Cookies and candies were available any time, and soda,
wine, beer, and mixed drinks were offered at a nominal charge. Before the 7
a.m. dive, coffee and toast were available, and a full breakfast was served
between the morning dives. Lunch was usually served after the third dive,
sometime between 1:00 and 1:30 p.m.
While I won’t regale you with my Panamanian diving experience again, I
should emphasize that a charter anywhere along the Pacific Coast of Central
and South America is only for experienced divers. The currents are some of the
strongest anywhere, the surge can be downright frightening, and being surrounded
by sharks and eels is simply not for everyone. Nor, for that matter,
is being surrounded by M-16s. Still, these are unpredictable waters: on the
same day we were detained by the Panamanians, the Colombian Navy confiscated a
ship carrying a ton of cocaine. Of course, world-class diving is worth a certain
amount of inconvenience. Hopefully, this will be minimized for divers on
the Inzan Tiger’s future trips: I’ve been advised that, since our trip, Captain
Buchbinder has worked out his arrangements with Panamanian authorities,
and he tells me that from now on they’ll leave him alone.
E.J.
Divers Compass: Price for a 14-day combination charter trip:
$4,995/person, plus flights and park fees; 10-day trip to
Malpelo or Cocos $3,695/person, plus flights and park fees;
book through any travel agent or reach Heinz at
sharks@sol.racsa.co.cr or fax: 011 506 775-1078... We flew to
San Jose, Costa Rica, spent a quiet evening in an airport
hotel, then continued on the following morning via SANSA’s
new 14-passenger Cessna (one checked bag not to exceed 26
lbs. and one carryon not to exceed 20 lbs., with a charge of 30 cents/excess
pound) for 45 minutes to Golfito’s primitive airstrip, where we were met by
Captain Buchbinder...Two 375 h.p. diesel engines provide a cruising speed of
10 to 12 knots; the Tiger can make 1,200 gallons of potable water per day, so
there was plenty of hot water; power is 120/240 volt, 50/60 Hz.