Coiba Island, Panama
Our third and last day in the country of Panama was spent in one of my very favourite places, the island of Coiba. At 493 square miles, it is the country’s largest island, located in the Gulf of Chiriqui. In 1991 it was declared a national park, to protect its pristine forests, many endemic species and subspecies and spectacular marine life. The island was a federal penal colony for years, which funnily enough preserved it in the state it is now. The penal colony was abolished in the year 2001, and now all but 51 of the prisoners are gone.
Our morning started out bright and early with a couple of different walk options: one a hike through dense forests, the other a bird-watching stroll around the park ranger station. In the meantime our crew set up camp on a neighbouring islet, which we adopted for the day. This idyllic little spot is named “Granito de Oro,” or little grain of gold, and is the most incredibly picturesque little islet you could possibly imagine: small stretches of golden sand inhabited only by palm trees and hermit crabs.
Coiba has a well-developed coral reef system, and we all immersed ourselves in the marine world, swimming over different shaped clumps of coral home to myriad reef fish like parrotfish, angelfish, surgeonfish, Moorish idols and many more. Amongst these were occasional sightings of moray eels and white-tipped reef sharks, and off in the blue, large schools of jacks and other large silver fast species.
Once out of the water we either relaxed on the golden sand or took kayaks around the islet, until all of a sudden the cry went out: “Whales! Whales!” Whether we were on shore or on the ship, the call got us running to our Zodiacs to take off in pursuit of what turned out to be a large pod of false killer whales (Pseudorca crassidens), feeding and traveling in a southern direction. This is a fairly uncommon species, but famously active and playful, and as we soon noticed, very drawn to our Zodiacs. These 15-foot whales, some with calf and many showing battle scars or damaged fins, often leaped right out of the water, thus affording us unparalleled sightings. Not only that, but they would swim alongside us, turning on their sides to look right up at us, or practically sticking their heads out of the water to get a closer look—what a thrilling experience to be eyeballed by such a creature in the wild! All four of our Zodiacs hung out, with wildly excited passengers inside (so much so that the Expedition Leader, myself, actually fell in!), with these magnificent animals for an hour or so, before letting them get back to their own devices. An absolutely unforgettable experience, and one of my finest whale sightings.
It is with heavy heart that we finally board the ship to leave Coiba behind, and as if to bid us farewell, a chorus line of about fifty Mobula (Thurston’s devil rays) started repeatedly leaping clear out of the water, falling back in with a great splash.
Our third and last day in the country of Panama was spent in one of my very favourite places, the island of Coiba. At 493 square miles, it is the country’s largest island, located in the Gulf of Chiriqui. In 1991 it was declared a national park, to protect its pristine forests, many endemic species and subspecies and spectacular marine life. The island was a federal penal colony for years, which funnily enough preserved it in the state it is now. The penal colony was abolished in the year 2001, and now all but 51 of the prisoners are gone.
Our morning started out bright and early with a couple of different walk options: one a hike through dense forests, the other a bird-watching stroll around the park ranger station. In the meantime our crew set up camp on a neighbouring islet, which we adopted for the day. This idyllic little spot is named “Granito de Oro,” or little grain of gold, and is the most incredibly picturesque little islet you could possibly imagine: small stretches of golden sand inhabited only by palm trees and hermit crabs.
Coiba has a well-developed coral reef system, and we all immersed ourselves in the marine world, swimming over different shaped clumps of coral home to myriad reef fish like parrotfish, angelfish, surgeonfish, Moorish idols and many more. Amongst these were occasional sightings of moray eels and white-tipped reef sharks, and off in the blue, large schools of jacks and other large silver fast species.
Once out of the water we either relaxed on the golden sand or took kayaks around the islet, until all of a sudden the cry went out: “Whales! Whales!” Whether we were on shore or on the ship, the call got us running to our Zodiacs to take off in pursuit of what turned out to be a large pod of false killer whales (Pseudorca crassidens), feeding and traveling in a southern direction. This is a fairly uncommon species, but famously active and playful, and as we soon noticed, very drawn to our Zodiacs. These 15-foot whales, some with calf and many showing battle scars or damaged fins, often leaped right out of the water, thus affording us unparalleled sightings. Not only that, but they would swim alongside us, turning on their sides to look right up at us, or practically sticking their heads out of the water to get a closer look—what a thrilling experience to be eyeballed by such a creature in the wild! All four of our Zodiacs hung out, with wildly excited passengers inside (so much so that the Expedition Leader, myself, actually fell in!), with these magnificent animals for an hour or so, before letting them get back to their own devices. An absolutely unforgettable experience, and one of my finest whale sightings.
It is with heavy heart that we finally board the ship to leave Coiba behind, and as if to bid us farewell, a chorus line of about fifty Mobula (Thurston’s devil rays) started repeatedly leaping clear out of the water, falling back in with a great splash.
