Page 3 of The Hitchhiker in Panama
“This is my first stop, so I’m just getting started.”
“How exciting. How did you choose here?”
“I had just graduated uni, and I was excited for life to start—you know, a good career, marriage, kids—but also . . . I’ve never been anywhere. And it’s been pointed out that my viewpoint may be a little”—I chewed on my lip while trying to think of a nicer term— “narrow-minded.”
“Your parents?” Edith guessed.
“Yeah, nah. My parents aren’t big travelers either. They’ve never done anything like this, which is part of the appeal. I wanted to get away, but I only had a few months to work and earn some money. I have a limited budget, so I chose Latin America.”
As we sipped our coffees, I asked Peter and Edith a million questions about their boat and their travels. They told me stories beyond my wildest dreams, of native tribes in the islands and mega-yacht neighbors, until we were interrupted by a crackling sound downstairs.
Edith jumped up. “Time for the net. Why don’t we listen in and then you can join us for breakfast, Lila?”
I had read about the VHF net on a blog post while I was planning my trip. Every morning boaters swapped check-ins, reports, and announcements over the radio, including social activities, field trips, and buy-sell-trade offers. It was similar to listening to the morning news on your local radio station but interactive. I was depending on it to be my key to finding a boat that needed a crew member.
“Oh, I was going to listen in at the office. Paula said I could announce that I was available to crew.”
“Just do it here. No need to fuss.” Edith waved her hand and led me downstairs. The interior ofSilver Liningwas small and dark; I had to let my eyes adjust to get my bearings. The only light filtered in from the doorway I’d just come down, but Edith quickly moved to open the curtains above our heads.
I pivoted around and took their boat in, the small kitchen on the left, a dining booth to my right, all the things that made it a home: a swinging basket of oranges, apples, and cucumbers; a laptop in a thick case as if prepared to survive a nuclear war; a wall hanging, a maze of black-and-red fabric with visible stitches around the edges forming the shape of an animal with a tail—maybe a monkey?
Edith pointed out a radio with a variety of dials and showed me how to press the button to talk. We then listened to the net together, with Edith taking notes: dominoes today at four, a bus to the shopping mall on Tuesdays, swap meet Friday.
Finally the controller got to my part. “Next up, is there anyone listening who is in need of additional crew members to go through the canal, or anyone wanting to join a boat?”
I pressed the button, my fingers shaking. “Lila.”
“Go ahead, Lila.”
“Hello. My name is Lila. I arrived yesterday and I am staying at the hotel. I am looking to crew through the Panama Canal as soon as possible.”
“Excellent, thank you, Lila,” they responded. “Anyone else?” There were a few moments of silence. I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes, hoping that someone would chime in about needing crew and I would be lucky enough to get a lead on my first day. “Nothing heard. Lila, there are boats coming and going every day, and it’s just starting to get busy here. Good luck, and we’ll check in with you tomorrow. Moving on . . .”
I blew out a breath and slumped back, opening my eyes again. Edith patted my shoulder. “Buck up, you’ll do it all again tomorrow.”
Realistically, I had known that it was unlikely my first day would be successful, but my optimistic nature had taken a hit.
Edith and I refilled our coffees and went back up into the cockpit of the boat, where it was much cooler. Peter stayed down below to prepare brekkie.
“While our boat was hauled out,” Edith said, “we didn’t stay on it. Sometimes we had to stay in the marina’s hotel. It’s nice and cheap, but it’s not a home, and every cent of money saved counts. But most of the time we relied on the kindness of our friends and slept in their boats. Why don’t you let us return the boat karma, and come stay with us?”
I didn’t know what to say. People invited total strangers to live with them? I thought about the cramped quarters downstairs and my light airy room in the hotel. Then I thought about my bank balance and carefully detailed budget.
“Think about it,” Edith said. “Why don’t I walk you through the marina this evening around happy hour and introduce you to a few people who may be looking for crew?”
Two
Edith’s offer to walk me around the docks in the evening was invaluable. The sailors were out in the cooler temperatures, finishing their projects or cracking open a cold beer. We walked from boat to boat, and Edith knew everyone—not unsurprising, sinceSilver Lininghad been in the marina for nearly a year. A handful of boats were looking for an additional crew member, but none of them fit my timetable.
As it was getting dark, and my stomach grumbled in hunger, Edith and I agreed to head back toSilver Lining. There was always tomorrow.
When we returned, Edith and I had our own sundowners—boat-speak for happy hour—in the cockpit while Peter cooked in the galley.
“You’d really be okay with me moving in?” I asked. “Even if it’s a week or longer?”
Edith patted my hand. “I am absolutely sure.”
“Did you talk to Peter about it?”
