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"Liki Tiki Too"

On a deserted white sand beach in the Darien Jungle of Panama, my two Indian guides and I were dashing to the ocean. Offshore, Indians in a dugout canoe powered by an outboard were rushing toward shore. The surf pounding hard, we all had one thought, can we save it? My dugout flipped upside down it the breakers that were pounding it and the outboard into the hard sand. Visions of having to spend weeks or months here in the jungle flashed through my mind. My only means of getting back to civilization looked hopeless. The motor could never run again with all that sand and salt water ground into it, or so I thought. The Indians quickly righted the dugout, pushed it out beyond the breakers and bailed it out. We all gathered the tools and equipment that littered the beach. Soon our rescuers towed us along the coast to the nearest Indian House.

I motored the 170 miles from Panama City in this 20 foot dugout canoe to inspect a much larger dugout canoe that these people were building for me. One that would cross the Pacific Ocean. After arriving in the Darien, I hired Padro and Danial, who were highly recommend as expert boatman in these waters. They also knew the building location of my new boat. After going ashore through he surf, Padro anchored the dugout in deeper water. I found out later, he did not know how to swim so anchored far enough out so he could wade ashore. It then drifted into the breakers.

Along the desolate rocky coasts, cliffs climb out of the ocean into the mountain’s. Our tow staying near shore, went between towering rocks that were piercing the water on one side and breakers slamming into the rocks on the other. Soon we came to an isolated cove with a small sand beach. Here the Indians dragged my canoe up the beach above the high tide level. Then they took the outboard motor back in the jungle a short ways. They do not talk much and not knowing what their plans were, I followed.

We passed the only house I could see. It only provided shelter from the rain with coconut leaf thatched roof, no sides. The floor was dirt with a section raised, with boards laid to provide a place to sleep. Then we came to another long low thatched shelter. Under it was the largest dugout canoe I have ever seen. They mounted the motor inside the hull and told me, I could work on it here.

While taking the motor apart, I could not help admire the workmanship that went into its construction. The tree must have been mammoth, over 5 feet diameter. The hull, 36 feet long and decked over except the cargo hatch that is now my work station. The small cabin aft looked cramped but built to keep supplies dry. The deck holes and mast steps still in place revealed this canoe had a schooner rig. I became less interested in what I was doing, and more interested in the boat. There were about nine people around watching me. This was a show for them, so had to keep at it.

The point and coil assembly came off as a unit. I put the assembly into a cooking pot with a cover. Put the pot over a wood fire until the assembly inside became hot to the touch. This evaporated the water in the unit. Cleaned the sand and water out of the parts I could get to, put it back together and it started on the second pull of the starter cord. By this time the sun went down.

Fried eggs, rice and strong black coffee for dinner ended the day. I watched the embers of the cooking fire die out, then looking out to sea from the thatched house, I watched the waves roll gently in. I felt there call to me saying; "your dream of adventure is waiting, explore, discover, you have been chosen, don’t let us down." The call is like a lover, so romantic, teasing, knowing there is trouble ahead, but who cares. The excitement of adventure is more appealing, like today, when she rolled my boat over and another lesson learned of the laws of the sea.

Respect must continue, wanting to challenge it’s mighty winds and waves some more, the lessons must go on. While crossing the Pacific Ocean, snuggled in a small boat that is at the whim of mighty roaring seas or ghostly calms, the glamour of adventure will vanish. In the past, the sea betrayed many men who slipped beneath the surface and never heard from again. Like many of those in the past, I must go to sea, hoping the call is honest and that I learned the lessons well.

While laying on the hard boards that was my bed for the night, I ask myself, " Is the canoe behind the house the one I will sail across the Pacific?" I liked this one, but another is under construction. Tomorrow I should see it.

I woke in the morning with a sore back. Black coffee only for breakfast. My guides decided to walk to the construction sight of the canoe. When starting, all the kids in the area followed us trudging through the jungle. Soon we started climbing a mountain, my lack of physical condition soon showed and I fell behind. The kids were falling behind then running ahead not knowing about the steep mountain and the guides kept their pace. I was expecting to go over this mountain into the valley on the other side.

When we neared the top, there lay the enormous tree, the canoe carved in the middle. Cutting the ends from the trunk would finish the carving. Easing the three tons of hull down the mountain looked impossible but they must have that problem solved too. The workmanship was the best I have ever seen. The lines were even with graceful curves. Taking its measurements, I found it to be smaller than the one I saw yesterday.

On the way down I thought, would they let me have the old canoe instead of the new one? I had already paid them for it with an outboard motor, the one used to rescue my dugout canoe from the breakers. Back at the house, the Indians agreed to let me have the older one. Back in Panama City, I arranged for a banana boat to tow the canoe to the Canal Zone.

With the arrival of the now named Liki Tiki Too in the Canal Zone, my dream of sailing the Pacific in a non-conventional craft, became a reality. More work went into the boat to make it ready for the wild and vast ocean. Two small decked over dugouts on each side, became outriggers. Also rudder, mast and sails were made. Over the cargo hatch, a second small cabin added for protected living space. The original aft cabin became storage of food and water.

Work slowed when criticism began to cut deep. My pride of the boat and dream of adventure deflated by people who really meant no harm. To them the whole idea was crazy and would mean my death. All those who saw the boat or heard about it, acted like experts. The outriggers that are to keep the canoe stable and upright will snap, letting it roll over and sink. Second, only someone off their rocker would want to try a stunt like this. This was the hardest to take. I often thought, is the idea really too far out to do what no one else has done before. While people were saying I will never make it, that voice from the sea was calling even louder to a life of adventure. The pull is so great, I must go.

A question asked me often was "are you taking a crew?" My reply was "I would if someone wanted to go with me." I did not push for a crew and no one ever show any interest in joining me until I meet Captain Bob Haff, a Panama Canal Pilot. Bob then joined my other friends who had no interest in making the voyage but were helping to get Liki Tiki Too ready for sea. By working on the boat, Bob could determine if he really wanted to go or not.

I had planned for a solo voyage from the start. A second person would be a plus. If no one else wanted to go, I would make the trip alone. It seemed every other day Bob was having second thoughts about the voyage. I was about to ask Bob to back out of the project when he and his wife had a very heavy debate in my presence. I then decided to let them make the final decision.

Bob and I took Liki Tiki Too on short trips to different islands in Panama Bay. Everything seemed to go OK. Then our departure day arrived. My log tells the rest.

At 0500, the alarm went off after a restless night’s sleep. Finished packing, ate breakfast, went to the boat dock, and sat on the bench watching Liki Tiki Too at anchor. This was the day my long standing dream was to come true. While sitting and looking over the water, I tried to relax from the excitement. Soon a friend came, we rowed out to the anchorage and brought Liki Tiki Too to the dock.

Soon people came and camera shutters were clicking, for the trip was well publicized in the papers the day before. Bob Haff came and left, then the news people started to come. I had to answer their questions and pose for them without Bob. I wish he were here to help. It was getting close to 1000, the time we were to christen the Liki Tiki Too and set sail. I made several phone calls, but could not locate Bob. He finally arrived a little before 10, his presence made me feel much better.

We continued to greet people, Friends gave us more food and gifts. We were bringing things aboard all morning and throwing them below through the hatches. Soon there was so much below that we could not get inside.

All was ready, so we moved Liki Tiki Too from the dock to the small boat launching ramp. There Miss. Sandra Hall christen the boat with a coconut. At 10 o’clock sharp, we pushed off for Hawaii. Some boats followed. While near land, we raised our sails while autos on shore blew their horns.

Because of light winds, we motored until 1600. We used only six gallons of fuel in that time. We had 50 more on board. I tried to rest while we took turns at the tiller. We could not settle down becaue we were so tired and excited. Bob spent all afternoon taking sun shots, trying to test his navigation skills.

During the day, we saw a number of water snakes. Near evening a bird landed on board. Later another landed on my leg. I tried to feed it, but my hand got too close and it flew away. We ate very light this day. Bob cooked a light supper.

Most of the night, we were in rain squalls with wind in our favor. At times the wind was so strong, it was difficulate to control boat, but it put miles between us and land. A porpoise swam under the boat leaving a florescent glow. We went through heavy rip-tides. Seas were breaking over the bow and I was fighting to keep Liki Tiki Too on course. All of a sudden, it was calm. As we sailed on, we could hear the roar of the seas behind us. Being very dark, we could not see it.

We took turns trying to sleep, but we could not. I was at the helm most of the night. Bob finally slept a couple of hours, then he let me sleep a couple of hours. By then it was morning. Both of us were wide awake and tired.

At sunup, Bob took the tiller and I slept a few more hours. He woke me once and said, "The water is bitter and that we should clean the bottles and get fresh water."

I said, "I will check it later" and went to sleep.

Later he woke me again and said, "I can not drink the water."

I got up and tasted it. To me it was all right. We talked about the situation awhile. Then he said, "I wanted to go back to Balboa."

I said, "I will not go back to Balboa, if we have to go back, we will go into some other port."

We talked on and off for a while, then at 1500, I changed course from south to east, heading for Pina’s Bay, which is 170 miles from Panama City. This is a popular secluded fishing area and the only way in or out is by boat. I realized Bob could not make the trip until he settled whatever was bothering him.

At 1700 it was calm. We took down the sails and motored in glass smooth water. We took turns at the helm. The water was now OK to drink. We ate a little better this day. We were beat from little sleep and food. The excitement was almost more that we could take. I was a little sea-sick and Bob tried to navigate. The problems did not work out. Light winds all day.

We motored all night in a dead calm sea. When the sun came up, we could see land a long way off. Several sharks swam beside the boat and one swam under it.

At noon, we arrived at Pina’s Bay and went to Mr. Adrian’s house which sets by itself, on a rocky shore in a small cove. We shouted greetings and Mr. Adrian said he liked the boat. It was Mr. Adrian that made this project possible. He had no boat to bring us ashore. We anchored, so as not to drift onto the rocks. Soon an Indian came by in his dugout and took us ashore. In a few minutes, several small dugouts and power boats arrived. The original owner of the dugout canoe came aboard and was impressed. Pablo, who I hired as a guide in the past, cut some bananas and put them on board.

The day before, a small plane flew overhead and dropped Mr. Adrian a news paper with the picture of Liki Tiki Too on it. We took a bath in the nearby stream and shaved, so as to look presentable. Mr. Ardian lives on the edge of the jungle about two miles from the nearest village. There is no path and the only way out is by boat.

Soon people started to leave as fast as they arrived, Mr. Adrian in a coastal banana boat headed for Panama City, and the rest in their boats. No one said anything to Bob or I except to say, "make yourself at home."

We saw an Indian lady push out the last canoe, I ran down and asked if she would take me to my boat. Her dugout was hardly big enough for two people, but I did not want to stay ashore. She took me out. I then motored LTT close to the rocks and Bob swam the last few feet and climbed aboard.

We motored over to the fishing club, Tropic Star Lodge, filled our gas tanks and did badly needed house cleaning. We found there were several sport fishing boats going back to Panama City the next day, so there would be no problem for Bob to go back if he wanted too. Bob cooked a good supper and we turned in early for a good night’s sleep.

When I woke up this morning, Bob was moving around on deck. Jerry, his friend, was to stop by at 0600. At that time I would know if Bob was going back to Balboa or stay with me. Jerry came by and Bob left. I asked him to radio a message about his final plans. I hated to see him go, but I knew he could not make the trip until he solved his problems.

I spent the rest of the day doing little things on board, hatch tie downs and self steering rig. Had supper with Canal Zone boaters on another boat.

When I woke this morning, it was raining, wind howling, LTT rocking hard, and knocking things over. When the lantern on deck fell, I reached out through the partly opened hatched and tied the lantern down, then tried to sleep some more. I kept hearing breakers next to the boat and thought it was the wind and waves jolting the boat around. Finally I decided to see what was going on outside. I put my head out the hatch, looking to starboard saw breakers coming towards the boat. I wondered how that could happen in deep water. Then I looked to the port side and saw only sand. LTT was aground. I pulled in the anchor line and found no anchor on it. The shackle came undone. The tide was coming in, so I pushed LTT off the beach. The trip line was floating, so I was able to retrieve the anchor and reset it.

I was in the club office when Bob’s message came over the radio. He said, "It is impossible to continue the trip and wish you the best of luck."

This was what I was expecting, but it still was a shock. I decided to put the departure off another day until my emotions settled down. Bob was also my navigator and my navigation skill was crud, I decided this is a good time to start learning. I got the books out and spent most of the day reading. By mid-afternoon, I felt I had the basic idea down and all I needed was more experience.

At 0630 I raised anchor and motored out to sea for Hawaii. The wind was from the north, set sail and got the self-steering system working. Shortly later the wind died, so I motored until 1400. Then the wind was out of the SW, the direction I wanted to go. I sailed SE, the self-steering was working good.

I tried some navigation, after a few sun shots, the problems came out right. The wind shifted a few times at sunset, by 2000 it settled into favorable sailing conditions. I headed LTT south and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning, the cabin compass was reading north. I want to go south. I went on deck and found a squall building up. I lowered the main sail until it passed. Light winds blew the rest of the day. The main sheet lines were splashing on the water. A shark followed, then came in for a closer look at the splashing and swam away. In the distance, I first heard then saw a large whale shark. I guess it to be 40 feet long. He came to the surface a few times, each time he made a thundering roar. His large back fin broke the surface first, then his tail.

I took a bath on the outrigger, letting the waves wash over me. By evening the wind stopped and the sea was like glass. I lit the kerosene anchor light, took down the sails and went to bed.

The sea was still like glass this morning. I would never get to Hawaii at this rate, so I motored a while. I headed SW, hoping to get out of the calm zone. At 1100, a squall blew up behind me, up went the sails and I was on my way again. There was a 12 knot wind from the north the rest of day. I got the self-steering to work after some frustration. I decided it was better to leave the sails up during a squall and use the wind to put some miles behind me.

Wind out of the SE.

At 0300, a squall was blowing at 12 to 20 knots. All morning I was at the tiller fighting the heavy seas. The short steep swells would throw LTT off course before the self-steering could bring her back around. By noon I was so tired, I let the wind take the boat where it wanted and went below for some sleep. After the sun went down, the winds calmed. In a short time, the wind blew from the south. I headed west.

LTT stayed on a WNW course all night and I had a good night’s sleep. At sunrise the wind came from the SW at 15 knots. This kind of wind means work. At 0900, the wind died to a dead calm but raining very hard. I went on deck to look over the situation, then a light wind came out of the SE. It started picking up force. Sensing danger and not knowing what to expect, I took down the main sail. No sooner was the main sail down that LTT was hit by 40-50 knot winds. The boat was healed over with only the jib and fore-sail up. I quickly got the fore-sail down. The wind and rain was like small pebbles being tossed at me. The same effect is like riding a motorcycle in the rain. I had never seen wind, rain, and seas like this before. Only pictures of hurricanes and that scares me. I did not know what to expect. If it kept up very long, I would be in trouble. I finally had to take down the jib. The boat would only lay broad-side to the wind and waves. A breaker could roll LTT over. Not having a sea anchor, I heaved the regular anchor over. That did nothing. LTT would not point into the seas. Then I tried to use the jib as a sea anchor, it did not work. I felt I had to get LTT under control. I hooked up the outboard fuel tank and ran with the wind. After an hour of this, the wind died to 15 knots for the rest of the day, beating me and the boat. Everything above deck and below was wet. I was half sea-sick.

This evening I let LTT go where it wanted. Took a sea-sick pill, lay on my wet air mattress, pulled the wet blanket over me and slept good all night.

SW trades were blowing at 10 knots, a good sailing wind. I spent the morning laying things out to dry. After two days of storms, I needed to know my position. This was my first try at navigation sense leaving Pina’s Bay. Every sun shot put me in a different part of the Pacific or Atlantic Ocean. One realistic sun shot put me 40 miles east of Malpelo Island. Malpelo Island is 300 miles south of Panama City.

At noon the wind shifted and died down. I don’t know which is worse, a calm or a storm. I wanted to get going, so I used the outboard until the winds picked up. A pleasant day.

When I woke up this morning, it was raining heavy with a light wind. Not going anyplace, I used the outboard for two hours. Because of limited fuel, using the motor accomplishes nothing except the feeling the boat is moving.

This afternoon the rain stopped and the wind came out of the west so I sail south. The boat sailed on its own while I lay in the cabin reading all afternoon. A sloppy wet day.

While eating supper, I was looking out under the main sail and saw to my surprise, Malpelo Island. My navigation yesterday was way off. I was wondering if there was a village on it, also I did not want to crash on it while sleeping. I was going to miss it now, but a little shift in the wind would put LTT right on. I was tired and had to trust I would wake up in time to check on it.

After midnight I woke up and under the full moon, I found LTT headed for the big rock. I could see the sheer cliffs of the island rock that rose out of the water for several hundred feet. I sailed close by on the lee side and could see no beach or shore. It looked majestic under the full moon. By 0100 I was past the rock and went to bed. I saw no lights from the island.

Now that I knew where I was, I started studying my navigation and found how I was making wrong calculations. The wind is from the SW, the direction I want to go. The boat does not sail to windward, only reaching and running. I hope a favorable wind will blow. Changed course from SE to NW, gave up trying go south.

The first thing I saw this morning was Malpelo Island, 10 miles to the north. I said to myself, "This could get discouraging."

Two days and the island is still there. I ate breakfast all the time looking at the island. I was discouraged to the point where I could not fight it any more. Maybe I should try to anchor for a day or two and wait for the wind to change. I sailed around the island and found no shallow water. Not being able to anchor and the wind out of the SW at 15 knots, I gave up and headed back to Balboa.

Stayed at the helm all day. I now wanted off the LTT, but had no choice. Maybe Bob did the right thing, I thought. Did not eat much today. At sundown I took down the sails and slept the night. I really did not care about putting miles behind me anymore. I did not want to face my friends, especially the one’s that said it was a stupid idea.

Rained off and on all day. Wind from a dead calm to 30 knots. Did not worry about the wind this time. I seem to be in an area of shifting doldrums.

It has been pleasant all day. Enjoyed sailing today, wish I were headed west instead of north. Over two weeks sence I left and ended up further from Hawaii rather than closer. Wind from the SW at 8 knots. I have been taking down the sails each night and sleeping.

Wind and rain on and off all day. Just before sundown I saw Point Mala, the southern tip of Panama.

Nice day and plenty of wind. Many ships passed, going around the point. I used the motor with the sails. I still had 40 gallons of fuel in the tank. This night I was inside Panama Bay. I lit the anchor light and turned on a flash light. Did not want to be run over by a ship during the night.

Strong and light winds all morning. Used the motor with sails. Just off Taboga Island, 12 miles from Balboa, I was hit by another squall with all sails up and the motor running. In trying to reduce sail and slow down, the boat jibed, wrapping the main sail around the mast. I almost fell overboard. The boom broke at this time, but I did not know it until a few days later while inspecting LTT.

Motoring the last few miles, I tied up at the dock I left 19 days earlier. I called Bob Haff. When I hung up, standing behind me was Mr. Pet Franquet from SCN TV News.

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Copyright 2003 by Robert L. Webb
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