After a month paddling in the Grand Canyon with some friends, I was given a lift to, and dropped off on, The Strip in Las Vagas wearing my long underwear, raingear, carrying my lifejacket & small pack.  After a month of being embraced by the energy, sights and sounds of the powerful Grand Canyon, I wandered around the casinos, wide-eyed in a bit of culture shock and probably looking rather dishevelled.  Thus began my adventure through the southern U.S. to Panama to meet Mary a couple of weeks later.  On our last communication, a few months earlier, we were to meet in the Panama/Colombian frontier town of Peurto Obaldia. 

A note on Mary Morgan: I first met Mary at the Outward Bound Wilderness School (Northern Ontario) in summer of 1978 where we worked as enthusiastic interns and immediately recognized ourselves to be free-spirited, soul sisters.  Working/playing together was always fun and creative and would inevitably revolve around singing, laughing and dancing our way through our days.  Over the pursuing years, our paths crossed many times.   We always had so much to share when we would meet between our various adventures and could talk enthusiastically (usually in Spanish) for hours.  We would also spend many hours in silence, listening & communing with Nature as many of our meetings were in wilderness settings.

When it was time for me to leave Andalusia, in 1980, I felt depleted and wasn’t sure in which direction I would travel. Then, I received her invitation to join an all woman’s whitewater expedition canoeing an old Voyageur’s route along the Missannabi River, from Lake Superior northward into James’ Bay, Hudson Bay.  It was exactly what I needed!

One night during that trip, while sitting around the campfire, she asked me if I’d like to paddle a dugout canoe with her through the archipelago of the San Blas to visit the Cuna Indians who live there.  She had spent time there a few years earlier and wanted to return to paddle through the archipelago.  I agreed immediately and we decided to do it the following year.  My only question was: Where is this archipelago located?

By chance, Mary and I met up with each other in Panama city, a couple of days before we were due to meet in Peurto Obaldia.  Leaving the city at dawn on the appointed day, we flew on a small plane to land in the very small frontier village surrounded by an enormous swathe of green tropical rain forest and the sea.  

We were so obviously the only foreigners in the town that it was now clear why Mary was sure that we would meet there without specifying any particular hour or landmark.  Walking through the town, we met an old friend of Mary’s who kindly put us up in the spare room of the Christian Church.  Though still quite early in the morning, the air was hot and still. 

Once we had dropped our bags, we went to visit Agathe.  Her wizened face crinkled into a broad smile when she saw Mary.  It had been a few years since Mary was there, and Agathe did not think Mary would return.  Her ancient eyes danced with joy as she and Mary exchanged their news.  We told her of our plans to paddle a traditional dug-out canoe or kayuku up the coast, but despite our cheerful enthusiasm, her face turned solemn.

“Mary, this is too dangerous.  Do not go.  Many bad things could happen to you.  You can both stay here with me.”

Mary and I cajoled and joked with her and finally convinced her with our enthusiasm and confidence. She agreed with Mary that we must go to the nearby Cuna village to inquire about buying the kayuku.  She personally knew of none for sale. Before we left, she gave us her blessings for a safe voyage.  The sun was now high in the sky and the air grew hot and sticky.

Over the following days, we searched for our elusive kayuku, but to no avail – our budget was USD$100.- for kayuku with paddles. We met with all the elders and most of the communities (both Cuna & Obaldia villagers).  Everyone seemed to think it was a mad idea and one that would lead us to our deaths – either by the sea and sharks or at the hands of the pirates who frequented that area of coastline. Though we did have a couple of rather clandestine offers to buy a kayuku for USD$ 500.-, we neither had the money, nor the inclination to pursue them.

At a final meeting with the Cuna elders, where I think our persistence and enthusiasm surprised them, they eventually agreed that we might be able to do it safely and though they could offer no boat for the price we could pay, they gave us their blessings, which was important to us.  However, as our main hope for buying a kayuku lay with the Cunas, it now seemed unlikely that our San Blas paddling trip would materialize. 

On our walk back to the town, the pulsating tropical forest literally howled with life.  Dwarfed by it all, Mary and I soon settled into a comfortable stride on the well-beaten path, but my head swirled with a multitude of unsettled thoughts.  Though my heart was now set on doing this trip, I wondered if it was just foolish and inappropriate.  On the other hand, I yearned to have this extraordinary adventure and we were already there – so close to doing it!  Was it just that the local people were reacting as if we were one of their women, for whom even the thought of such an adventure would be impossible?  There are so many traditional narratives that put glass ceilings on their peoples, especially on their women and girls.  Was that at the base of all the negativity?  Somehow it did not feel like our dream adventure could be so wrong, but the confusion was disturbing.  There were just too many unknowns – like the pirates – yikes! 

Deep in the rainforest, we both stopped.  Similar thoughts were racing around Mary’s mind, too and we wanted to talk.  Switching gears from the logical head to the heart, we both felt well there, – that we were where we supposed to be – eager to get on the sea to explore the coast.  Neither of us wanted to spend much longer hanging around waiting to see if an affordable boat would appear, especially as it now seemed almost impossible. 

Fortunately, we both had experienced that when we have detached from our plans and are open to greater possibilities, much better experiences can happen than we could ever plan for ourselves. 

We felt stuck and needed to formulate a decisive, time-bound proposition.  Going back to the basics: We agreed that if we were really meant to do this trip, the boat we needed would have to appear, soon.  We put it up to the universe/Higher Selves asking for an answer within 24 hours, with the following specific request:  “If, by tomorrow evening, we have not found what we need, ie. the appropriate kayuku & paddles for US$ 100.-, we will accept that the Cuna trip is not meant to be, let go of that goal, & look instead for what we are supposed to be doing down here.” 

Once we let go of our obsession to do this trip with all the apparent blocks against us, we felt light and free again.  We just surrendered and knowing that the outcome was out of our hands, the sense of struggle dissipated.  Now we just had to trust.  It was like dropping a heavy weight that we had not even realized we were carrying.  We sang, danced and laughed our way back along the trail to Obaldia.  Neither of us knew what would come of all this.

To our amazement, as we arrived in the village, various people ran to greet us saying they had been looking for us, because someone was willing to sell us their kayuku with paddles for $100.00.  We could not believe our ears and asked where we could find this person – half thinking that it might be a hoax.  They led us to the man.  Yes, it was true!  He would even throw in the calabash bailers.  After the initial excitement, we asked to take it for a test paddle.  A few men helped to roll it on a series of small logs down the beach and into the sea. 

After a cursory ten or fifteen minute paddle we returned, eager to pay for the boat before the man changed his mind.  We felt it was heaven sent and did our test paddle more as a formality and to show that, as customers, we were more discerning than desperate.  We were so happy and grateful that our dream was coming true.  Some men showed us how to roll it up the beach on little logs.  It was so heavy!  Inquiring what it weighed, I was told that after a day’s paddle, when it was saturated with water, it weighed about one ton. 

The roosters’ crows awoke us before dawn.  We scooped up our three neatly packed little bundles with our belongings and were quickly joined by throngs of people coming down to the beach to see us off.  The sun rose slowly like a golden globe over the horizon bringing the hope and promise of another sunny day in the tropics. 

Many enthusiastic hands helped us to launch our kayuku and lined the shore, waving goodbye to us as we paddled off on a most amazing journey.