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Let’s go sailing.

That’s almost leaning over.

Flat seas, blue skies and perfect breeze.

We have an escort into the anchorage.

Pretty prefect.

We’re joined at anchor.

The underwater world.

The flat water goes on forever.

Dinghy safaris go deep into the jungle.

The road stops here.

Martin Martinez gives us the lowdown on his farm.

Are these farmed?

We’re enveloped in the mangroves.

Ruffian &amp; Free Spirit are mere silhouettes.

Sunrise, in the morning.

Someone is looking forward to a big dinner.

Smoked on ground coconut. Yummy.

These’ll heat things up a bit.

Before. All a bit dull and pitted.

After. All rather shiny and smooth.

The sun sinks in Ustupu.

That’s easier than paddling.

Diesel filling, San Blas style.

An old shop in an old town.

A labyrinth of alleyways awaits us.

Fiona holds court.

The store has everything you need, as long as it’s a variety of machetes.

The focus is on the parade.

Ustupu celebrates.

The parade is off.

The venerated are venerated.

A world of interesting faces.

Historic revolutionaries on show.

The sport of the island.

Hills, protected water and Ruffian.

Inland, upriver reflections.

The river runs out.

Cold freshwater bathing.

Rivers are the highways into the forest.