June 22-24, 2026
When it rains, it pours. Or, from Hamlet: “When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” The cruising vacation had to be interrupted.
My father Marco, my son Juan David, and I are now in Curipoglio, which translates as Land of Gold (according to my family, but Azazello suggests Golden Spring is a better translation from Kichwa). It is a property in the countryside that my siblings and I inherited a couple of years ago from my mother’s side of the family. It is in the town of Alangasí, in one of the valleys that surround Quito, the capital.
It is very peaceful here. You can’t hear a single human-made sound, and today the sky is a perfect light blue. My sister, her son, and my brother will join us for lunch — hornado, the famous Ecuadorian dish.
But it will be a short stay. We came yesterday afternoon, and my father and I leave tomorrow for Casa Blanca, at the beach. It won’t be the vacation we had planned — more a way to recenter, rest, and catch up on work.
As planned, I arrived at Vista Mar Marina, south of Coronado in Panama, on July 30th, and JD the day after, just before his birthday. It took longer than expected to get BEHEMOTH ready for cruising — the propeller and shaft had to be cleaned, the accumulator’s compressor wasn’t working properly, the windlass was dead and had to be rewired, the wind instrument at the masthead and the display in the cockpit had died (they still need to be replaced), a squall with 45-knot winds blew off the mainsail cover and tangled the main halyard around the radar, the wind vane was stuck, and the autopilot was acting up. But eventually, on Thursday, August 6, at 07:00, we cast off the lines and headed east for Isla Bayoneta in the Las Perlas archipelago.
We had a glorious morning of sailing — reaching in 15–20 knots, making 7–8 with one reef in the main, the staysail, and an almost full genoa. At around 13:00 the eastern sky turned dark, so we rolled the genoa and tucked in three reefs; given the experience with the squall at the marina (actually two of them), I didn’t want to take risks.
Soon after, just as we were crossing the shipping lanes, the squall — more a storm, given its size — hit us with furious rain and wind. I hadn’t experienced that kind of wind before. BEHEMOTH heeled hard over, we lost all visibility, the autopilot gave up, fans and other things that hadn’t been properly secured flew across the cabin, a few glasses broke in the lockers. I took the wheel — drenched but in control — sailing south on a close reach.
On the chart plotter we could see, through the AIS, large ships heading north up to the Canal, and they were quite close. I asked JD to hail them on the VHF but got no response. I wanted to heave to, and BEHEMOTH wanted the same; she would turn upwind but couldn’t tack. I just had to turn the wheel to windward, lock it in place, and go below to dry off — it was quite calm in the cabin. Because of the ships nearby, I opted for sailing south, then north, staying more or less at the latitude of our destination. Every so often the odd warm wave came over the cockpit and swamped us.
At some point JD took over the helm and I went below to hail one of the ships on the VHF — one that was getting dangerously close. Whoever was on watch eventually answered. For some reason he couldn’t see us on his AIS and asked for our position, which I gave, and he told me not to worry, that he would stay out of our way.
After a couple of hours the wind died down, shifting to the northeast. We shook out one reef, unrolled the genoa, and started sailing east again at 6–7 knots over choppy seas. It was dark when we reached the islands and, not wanting to enter shallow waters and anchor with zero visibility, I decided to drift for the night. We took all the sails down and began drifting northwest at 0.5–1 knot, luckily away from the islands and reefs.
We stayed in the cockpit, and I tried to doze off with a timer set to go off every 45 minutes so I could check our drift. JD was using a lantern to attract sea life — a manta ray came, and then a whale. At some point he called me. “Dad, come see, we are surrounded by garbage.” It was, indeed, a perfect oval patch. In a few minutes we were clear of it, but there would be consequences.
After midnight we started to drift to the southeast at the same speed. By daylight we were close to our initial position. I woke JD, turned on the blue monster, and started motoring toward the east side of Bayoneta, paying attention to the chart plotter and to Bauhaus’s Panama Cruising Guide. It must have been close to 09:00 when we dropped the anchor in about 3 meters (10 ft) of water in front of a beautiful white-sand beach.
I went below to fix us some breakfast: coffee, orange juice, scrambled eggs, chorizo, and toast. After washing the dishes and putting the cabin in order, we were about to go for a swim when a canoe with three guys came alongside to sell us lobsters. I bought two, put them in a bucket of seawater on deck, and finally got my swim. Later we put the dinghy in the water and motored to the beach with chairs, towels, Kindles, and a few beers. Back on the boat I took a nap and met JD again at sunset for G&Ts on the bow. I cooked Spanish rice for dinner that night, which we ate with a lobster salad and a bottle of Tempranillo. By 21:00 I was in my bunk.
The next five days were similar, but with different anchorages and beaches. I won’t bore you with the details, but we stayed around Bayoneta and Isla Pedro González, further south. Both of us had to do some work, so we kept movement between islands to a minimum. We would get up early, make coffee, and work on our computers until mid-morning, before going for a swim or heading to the beach.
And then on Thursday the 13th, the day of our return to Vista Mar Marina, everything started to go wrong. I got up at 06:00 and woke JD, who went to secure the dinghy while I made coffee, stowed things below, and checked the engine fluids. It took us some 15 minutes to get the anchor up, but by 07:00 we were on our way.
I could feel that something wasn’t quite right. The boat didn’t seem to have enough power, and in gear there was a strange vibration that would subside at higher revs. We were still making 5 knots, so I pressed on, heading north, almost upwind, while JD hoisted the sails. First the main with one reef, then the staysail, then the genoa. When he was done, I headed west to sail between Isla Pedro González and Isla Señora, with the blue monster still running as the wind was fickle. I also had to secure the mainsail bag, whose port side had come loose from the boom during the squall and was flapping around.
Back in the cockpit, I could smell it. Something was burning. I immediately shut down the blue monster and went below to figure out what was going on. I opened one of the floorboards above the monster and smoke came out.
“So, we don’t have an engine?” JD asked.
“Nope,” I answered. “But this is a sailing boat.”
I went forward to shake out the reef in the main, and after passing Isla Señora we were sailing at 6–8 knots on course. The chart plotter showed an ETA between 15:00 and 16:00. Once close to the marina we would hail them on the VHF and ask to be towed to our slip.
I was very disappointed, though, because — as some of you know — the blue monster had been a constant source of trouble, and this time Ollie and his crew from Wikus Marine (they manage and maintain BEHEMOTH) had done a full inspection of the engine and replaced valves, a gasket, and the water pump. So I turned on Starlink and called Ollie on WhatsApp. He answered promptly. I told him what had just happened, and he said he didn’t think it was anything serious — maybe some oil had burned off, and after waiting a bit I should start the engine again and monitor the temperature. Since BEHEMOTH was sailing beautifully, I didn’t bother. I could wait until I was at the entrance to the marina.
We just enjoyed the sailing — for a while with another passenger, a booby who decided to hitch a ride on the bow stanchion.
But then, at around 11:00, the wind started to die down. We had sailed past the shipping lanes — no ships in sight — and were southeast of Isla Otoque, still some 30 miles from the marina and doing 3 knots. ETA more like 21:00 now. There wouldn’t be anyone to tow us to our slip if needed, but I could anchor just outside the marina. I texted Paul, a neighbor there, who sent a picture showing where to drop the anchor, telling me to simply be careful with the tide and to stay clear of the entrance. Manageable.
Unless the wind dies and you start drifting off course, the distance to the marina now increasing.
We waited a while for the wind to return, to no avail. Following Ollie’s instructions, I turned on the blue monster, motored for a few minutes, and then watched with dismay as the temperature gauge climbed to its maximum, fumes rising from below. Something very serious was going on with the blue monster.
We had another night adrift ahead of us, with no guarantee that the next day we would make it to the marina in time for JD to catch his flight and for me to meet Natalia — particularly if we had to sail upwind, given the direction of our drift. I also had a deadline to meet; I had to be fully functional in the morning. So I turned Starlink back on and made the call.
The motorboat towing us entered the marina at around 19:30. The marina’s barge was waiting and helped us into our slip. Ollie and his crew were also there, and told us they would come back in the morning to check on the blue monster. JD and I cleaned up and stowed things, took showers, and went out for dinner.
When Natalia arrived in the early evening the next day, she already knew that our cruising vacation was not happening. I had told her while she was in transit in Amsterdam (02:45 my time on Friday) that our departure would be delayed because we had to fix the blue monster. That morning, Ollie and his crew had come to work on the engine and do a thorough cleaning of the boat while I worked on my deadline. In mid-afternoon Ollie came back to deliver the news: the blue monster had to be rebuilt; BEHEMOTH had to be hauled out. When Natalia landed a couple of hours later, I told her.
Why did it happen? There are competing theories; maybe multiple factors contributed.
- Ollie’s son Wikus found plastic inside the through-hull for the water pump — the garbage patch, I thought. The pump was working — there was water coming out of the stern, I always check, and I can hear it — but the flow might not have been enough (even though I continuously checked the engine’s temperature and it was normal, except for that last time).
- The newly installed compressor for the accumulator, which runs off a belt from the engine when motoring (BEHEMOTH also has a compressor that runs on shore power or on power from the generator, the red monster), might have increased the load on the engine — though it wasn’t running when the engine overheated.
- BEHEMOTH had had problems with the propeller shaft and transmission that were supposedly corrected in Cartagena and then at Shelter Bay Marina. The vibration while in gear suggests something was still wrong there, adding to the load on the engine.
We will never know. BEHEMOTH is on the hard now, and the blue monster will be coming out for repairs at a substantial cost. What choice do I have? Sell BEHEMOTH at a discount, forget about continuing the trip, and move on? I can’t do that.
Natalia and I stayed for a couple of days at the marina, enjoying the surroundings and life aboard, and then two nights in Panama City’s Casco Viejo. The plan was then to fly to Ecuador and spend our vacation together at the beach.
But, as I said, when it rains, it pours. At dawn on Thursday, the day of our departure, she received a call from India. Woland, our dog, had had a major accident, had to be taken to the hospital for surgery, and was now back in the house feeling miserable, with a cone around his head and bandages on his front legs and neck. Natalia stayed in Panama City and flew back to India the next day.
As for me, I am finishing this entry at our house in Casa Blanca, still trying to figure out when to fly to India, given everything I have to do here in Ecuador. I also have to be back in Panama for work the week of October 5th, and Ollie has promised the repairs will be done by then and that we can do a proper sea trial. Most likely I will shorten my stay here and join Natalia and Woland.
In the meantime, I have unfurled the last of the carpets I brought from India. The others stayed with BEHEMOTH.
Sailing to the Pacific 