Seventeen
We motored out, passing under the Bridge of the Americas—the suspension bridge connecting North America to South America—and we floated in the river while Diego departed on a pilot boat. We stopped one more time for Robert to collect the fenders and dock lines, and then we pulled into Panama City near the delta and picked up a mooring ball at La Playita Marina.
The rest of the crew had a few things to do: lines were washed, coiled, and left on the lifelines to dry. Marcella walked around the deck with a bucket of water, scrubbing away dirt with a wet brush. Elayna cleaned all the dishes from the day. Jonas wrote his captain’s log and Eivind dropped the dinghy into the water, the small inflatable boat kept on the stern of Eik that would take us to shore now that we were away fro
