I am quite behind on my posts, there’s already a whole island experience between us and Mahé, so this will be brief and more picture driven.
We found a place on booking.com, that should have been pretty close to the dive shop and the beach, possibly with an okay view of at least greenery. Instead we got a major road with a bus stop and a crazy ATM trying to communicate in demonic morse code. The light blue pin is where the site said our place would be, the red X where it actually (or close enough) was. Big difference, big disapointment, but when life gives you lemons you make cocktails with the local rum, and we did.
Here’s a few visual tidbits, of middling quality and interest, to tie you over in case you’re not diving any time soon and you’ve already scrolled through all the search results for scuba on google images.
After three days in Coiba we came back a little bit crusty, bug bitten (in my case), and very pleased with the whole adventure. Back at the dive shop we fulfilled the age old ritual of drinking a few beers and stamping log books, our DM Cory (from Calgary) spent some time with us generally chatting, which was very nice. A tropical downpour started unannounced and a white horse galloped by. The image was a little surreal. Then a white truck from our hotel that night showed up, also unannounced, so we did not have to walk in the rain. Now that is service. We passed however, since, you know, beers and divers. Then we ate pizza at the topless mermaid place and it was very good. We spoke with our new dive buddy Bonne who was also eating there (granted the amount of places to eat in Santa Catalina pretty much insures you will run into people you have already met) and we met an Australian surfer dude pretty much traveling around the world surfing and working odd jobs here and there. That guy was on to something. We meet quite a few of those travelers that seem to be on an extended walkabout, Europeans and Australians, not a bad way to spend your days, not at all, my North American mind wonders at the financials of it though. My repressed surfer self is more like meh, they’ll figure something out. It seems a very different world to me than when I backpacked across Europe in the late 80’s… When most of the people we have met so far would not be born for almost a decade…
We got to Santa Catalina, on the Pacific coast, late at night. Too late for supper or a last drink. Which was too bad because we were both bone tired and some sustenance would have been welcome. Next morning was go go go, we woke up to a great view but we had to get going pronto. The dive shop was expecting us at eight.
Scuba diving, quality cocktails, taking it easy and other treasure maps.