The view from the front deck
Day Three, Monday, May 24th 2016
There is not much to do at Casa Tallman except relax. There is no phone service (cell signal) and no Internet. We are down on the beach with hills around us blocking the signals.
Wes and Joyce read a lot. I got up and discovered that there was no decaf in the house. Luckily, I brought my bag of Starbucks from San Diego. I had “toast” for breakfast. They eat what they call “Johnny cakes” with peanut butter and jam every morning.
The Johnny cake (that’s what the Panamanians call them too) are like a cross between a bagel and pita bread. They are about six inches in diameter and an inch thick. Wes and Joyce slice them into three pieces and toast them on a grill on their propane stove.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t like a camping stove. It’s a six-burner range with an oven. The fuel source is a propane tank in the cabinet in the island.
There is not much to do at Casa Tallman except relax. There is no phone service (cell signal) and no Internet. We are down on the beach with hills around us blocking the signals.
Wes and Joyce read a lot. I got up and discovered that there was no decaf in the house. Luckily, I brought my bag of Starbucks from San Diego. I had “toast” for breakfast. They eat what they call “Johnny cakes” with peanut butter and jam every morning.
The Johnny cake (that’s what the Panamanians call them too) are like a cross between a bagel and pita bread. They are about six inches in diameter and an inch thick. Wes and Joyce slice them into three pieces and toast them on a grill on their propane stove.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t like a camping stove. It’s a six-burner range with an oven. The fuel source is a propane tank in the cabinet in the island.
The kitchen
Their kitchen stretches the entire width of the house. A long cabinet with a marble countertop goes from wall to wall. Under the countertop are numerous drawers, but there are no overhead cabinets.
Why? You ask. Because the louvered windows on the back side of the house open up to allow the breeze to flow freely through. This is about the ultimate “open concept” house you can find. The dining room is in front of and to the right of the kitchen. A steep ladder leads to a loft with a queen-sized bed and armoire.
Beneath the loft is the sitting area with a couch (tropical style, of course), a love seat, a chair and a coffee table. This is also where the old analog TV lives. Or sits I should say. It died some time ago and hasn’t been replaced. There is no television signal out here, so the only thing you can watch are DVDs.
The concrete pad takes up about 5000 square feet. The closed in portion only uses about half of that. The rest of the house is outside. Big white pillars hold up the roof and the terracotta tiled floor surrounds the house, fills the causeway and surrounds the bedroom.
The deck has tropical lounge furniture. It’s great for watching a tropical storm rumble over us or just watching the ocean.
Why? You ask. Because the louvered windows on the back side of the house open up to allow the breeze to flow freely through. This is about the ultimate “open concept” house you can find. The dining room is in front of and to the right of the kitchen. A steep ladder leads to a loft with a queen-sized bed and armoire.
Beneath the loft is the sitting area with a couch (tropical style, of course), a love seat, a chair and a coffee table. This is also where the old analog TV lives. Or sits I should say. It died some time ago and hasn’t been replaced. There is no television signal out here, so the only thing you can watch are DVDs.
The concrete pad takes up about 5000 square feet. The closed in portion only uses about half of that. The rest of the house is outside. Big white pillars hold up the roof and the terracotta tiled floor surrounds the house, fills the causeway and surrounds the bedroom.
The deck has tropical lounge furniture. It’s great for watching a tropical storm rumble over us or just watching the ocean.
I just had to go back to the islands I’m reminded of a Jimmy Buffet song.
“Watch the tide roll in,
And the sun go down.
I just hope you understand I just had to go back to the islands.”
Did I mention that we’re only about fifty feet from the beach? Cesar is the groundskeeper and he maintains a nice open yard dotted with palm and deciduous trees. A brief walk from the front of the house and you’re standing in the sand.
At last, I am in the Caribbean Sea. I have dreamed about this since I was a teenager. I read all of the Horatio Hornblower books, all the Bolitho Books and the complete Patrick O’Brien series. Many of my heroes’ adventures take place in the Caribbean Sea, the Spanish Main of yore.
I’ve wanted to sail these storied waters and see the places my favorite characters lived. Unfortunately, I came by plane and the Victory stayed home. Hmmm . . . now we’re considering whether or not we should sail her through the canal and down here.
I was exhausted. After two months solid of working on the boat and moving, I had nothing left in the tank. My first day in Bocas was mostly napping. I took two long naps and sat around and read for most of the day.
“Watch the tide roll in,
And the sun go down.
I just hope you understand I just had to go back to the islands.”
Did I mention that we’re only about fifty feet from the beach? Cesar is the groundskeeper and he maintains a nice open yard dotted with palm and deciduous trees. A brief walk from the front of the house and you’re standing in the sand.
At last, I am in the Caribbean Sea. I have dreamed about this since I was a teenager. I read all of the Horatio Hornblower books, all the Bolitho Books and the complete Patrick O’Brien series. Many of my heroes’ adventures take place in the Caribbean Sea, the Spanish Main of yore.
I’ve wanted to sail these storied waters and see the places my favorite characters lived. Unfortunately, I came by plane and the Victory stayed home. Hmmm . . . now we’re considering whether or not we should sail her through the canal and down here.
I was exhausted. After two months solid of working on the boat and moving, I had nothing left in the tank. My first day in Bocas was mostly napping. I took two long naps and sat around and read for most of the day.
The dining room Day Four, Tuesday May 25th 2016
I spent most of the day learning how things work, then we went into town.
When I say we live off the grid in the middle of a tropical rain forest, I’m not kidding. There is no electricity, no water here. We have to be self-sufficient.
This morning Wes went over the water and electrical systems with me.
There are two large cisterns under the eaves of the house. When it rains, the water runs off the roof into a gutter where it is channeled to the cisterns. I’m guessing that the cisterns hold about a thousand gallons of water. We are at the beginning of the rainy season, so the cisterns were down to about half of their capacity.
In the “basement” under the house is the mechanical room. There is a water pump that pulls the water from the cisterns and fills a holding tank. When you turn on a faucet in the house, the water in the tank is pressurized and flows. The pump senses the drop in pressure and comes on to keep the pressure in the lines. No pump, no water.
How is the pump driven? Oh yes, by electricity. There is an array of solar panels on the roof that produce about one thousand watts. A bank of batteries and a bunch of boxes and switches direct the flow into the house.
The batteries store twenty-four volt electricity. There is an inverter that converts the twenty-four volt juice to one hundred and ten volt, just like you have in your house.
On the wall in the kitchen there is an electrical system monitor. It tells you how much juice you have in the batteries, how much is coming in from the solar array and how much you are using at the present time.
For the first ten or twelve years they lived here, Wes and Joyce had propane refrigerators. They were cranky, broke down often, then died early deaths (the fridges, not Wes and Joyce). Wes finally got fed up with them, joined the Twenty-First Century and bought an electric refrigerator.
It works just fine, but it’s an electricity hog. Now the solar array just barely powers the house. Wes bought a gasoline generator that we have to run every couple of days to top off the system. He’s contemplating buying another thousand volts of solar panels to provide the extra electricity the fridge takes.
I spent most of the day learning how things work, then we went into town.
When I say we live off the grid in the middle of a tropical rain forest, I’m not kidding. There is no electricity, no water here. We have to be self-sufficient.
This morning Wes went over the water and electrical systems with me.
There are two large cisterns under the eaves of the house. When it rains, the water runs off the roof into a gutter where it is channeled to the cisterns. I’m guessing that the cisterns hold about a thousand gallons of water. We are at the beginning of the rainy season, so the cisterns were down to about half of their capacity.
In the “basement” under the house is the mechanical room. There is a water pump that pulls the water from the cisterns and fills a holding tank. When you turn on a faucet in the house, the water in the tank is pressurized and flows. The pump senses the drop in pressure and comes on to keep the pressure in the lines. No pump, no water.
How is the pump driven? Oh yes, by electricity. There is an array of solar panels on the roof that produce about one thousand watts. A bank of batteries and a bunch of boxes and switches direct the flow into the house.
The batteries store twenty-four volt electricity. There is an inverter that converts the twenty-four volt juice to one hundred and ten volt, just like you have in your house.
On the wall in the kitchen there is an electrical system monitor. It tells you how much juice you have in the batteries, how much is coming in from the solar array and how much you are using at the present time.
For the first ten or twelve years they lived here, Wes and Joyce had propane refrigerators. They were cranky, broke down often, then died early deaths (the fridges, not Wes and Joyce). Wes finally got fed up with them, joined the Twenty-First Century and bought an electric refrigerator.
It works just fine, but it’s an electricity hog. Now the solar array just barely powers the house. Wes bought a gasoline generator that we have to run every couple of days to top off the system. He’s contemplating buying another thousand volts of solar panels to provide the extra electricity the fridge takes.
The front deck
After learning about the various systems, we drove into town. Remember the pot-hole filled road I described before, the one that has Chuck holes that could swallow a Kia? That’s the road into town. It should be a half-hour drive (We’re twenty some miles out in the jungle) but with the poorly maintained road, it takes from forty-five minutes to an hour, depending upon your appetite for a rough ride. If you drive fast, you’ll tear the suspension out of your car (I mean truck).
After the washout, the road improves. There are still some pot holes, but you can usually swerve around them. Traffic is so light, it’s no problem driving in the other lane.
At the end of our road, we turn right onto the main road and drive along the beach for several miles into town.
Entering Bocas del Toro Town (Or Bocas Town, as the locals call it), you first see some rundown looking shacks. Then there are a couple of large restaurant/bars along the beach that look like they’re long past their best days. Then you come to a bunch of empty vendors stands.
This is the fair grounds. While the fair is in session they close the road (the only road going out of town to the north end or the Bluff Beach area) and have a party. Cars wanting to go into town have to drive on the beach.
After the fairgrounds, there is a plywood arch over the road welcoming you to Bocas. Wes said he thought there were about seven or eight thousand people in Bocas Town, but my guide books says it’s more like twenty-thousand. This is the biggest (and only) town in the islands.
Wes gave me the tour, showing me how to get to the airport, the bank, where the grocery stores are and the best restaurants.
The only problem was, that I was so jet lagged and turned around, I had no idea where I was. We stopped at the Gourmet Market, a little shop at the extreme end of town, across from the ferry dock. It was surprisingly stocked with all sorts of American brands. I saw that they had decaf there and grabbed a bag.
Let me tell you about Panamanian coffee. The people I talked to are all excited about their coffee. The best in the world they say. My favorite coffees are the Pacific Island coffees. They are robust (some say too strong) and full of the earthy flavors of the volcanic soil. The Panamanian coffee is kind of like warm, brown water.
After the confusing tour of town and a Margarita at the Pub, we headed home. The temperatures are in the low 80’s, but the humidity is 100%. My clothes stuck to my body and sweat covered me head to foot.
Wes had a doctor’s appointment in David (pronounced Dah-veed) the second largest city in Panama, just across the isthmus from Bocas, tomorrow. We took him to the airport so he could make his morning appointment, then headed back to the house for a quiet evening.
Our (private) beach
When we got home, the only solution to the sweat problem was to go swimming. I headed down to the beach and walked west until I was past the area with rocks to a nice sandy bottom. I was a bit cautious at first. I hadn’t swum in the ocean in years.
The waves were about two feet high and broke just before the shoreline. I waded out a few feet, up to my ankles, then a wave lifted me and pushed me back ashore. The next time I waded out and dove into the wave.
It was unbelievably refreshing. The water was the same temperature as the air, but it felt cool and invigorating. The beach drops off incredibly fast. A few steps into the water and I couldn’t touch bottom. I swam out about a quarter mile to get out of the breakers close to shore.
It was heaven. I lay in the water, contemplating the meaning of life. I did my water aerobics exercises. I swam like a kid on summer break.
The waves were about two feet high and broke just before the shoreline. I waded out a few feet, up to my ankles, then a wave lifted me and pushed me back ashore. The next time I waded out and dove into the wave.
It was unbelievably refreshing. The water was the same temperature as the air, but it felt cool and invigorating. The beach drops off incredibly fast. A few steps into the water and I couldn’t touch bottom. I swam out about a quarter mile to get out of the breakers close to shore.
It was heaven. I lay in the water, contemplating the meaning of life. I did my water aerobics exercises. I swam like a kid on summer break.
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