Panama (Part 2)

The Panama property purchased by Clyde Whelen consists of three separate parcels that line up one on top the other from the road on up the ridge. It is sandwiched-in between two cattle paddocks. To get to his home you need to go up a very long, steep driveway for about a quarter of a mile. It is situated in the middle parcel. There’s a sign at the bottom indicating that only 4x4s  are allowed because only four-wheel drive vehicles can make it up the whole way. It looks to me as if this land was of least value to the rancher; it’s rocky and there is no creek in the upper area. So it was not surprising that it was sold off to foreigners wishing only to build a home-with-a-view.

 

This property had been developed by a Brit couple: he did the building, she did the landscaping. They began the work at least seven years ago. He was apparently a knowledgeable and experienced builder; she planted lots and lots of fruit trees. Like its neighboring plots, this too had been formerly a grassy (mostly treeless) paddock used for cattle grazing. Now, the trees that had been planted have grown up. And along with the trees were lots of overgrown grass and brush. And so the property had reverted back to a sort of forest when Clyde arrived here last August (about the same time I started working in Somerset). Since then he has been spending considerable man hours weed whacking and thinning out the unkempt growth. He has been working side-by-side with his hired hand (Abél, a local, 70-year old campasino) making sure that the fruit trees could get sufficient light and space to grow and yield abundant fruit. There are mango, guava, and avocado trees here, along with a few banana and palm trees.

 

According to Clyde, the couple had told him they had lived here about five years before deciding to relocate to the Caribbean side of Panama, the impetus being that there was better paying construction work to be had over there. They had begun moving out and putting the place up for sale for about two years before Clyde came along.

 

There may be a creek at the very bottom parcel. It is quite overgrown there and it is hard to penetrate into that area to investigate it. But to use a gravity-based water system the source of the water must be above its intended destination, not below it. And so Clyde’s water source is above his lot yet not on his property at all. The original owner had allowed a PVX pipe to tap into a spring-fed creek on his adjacent property. That pipe either lies on top of the ground or is buried a few inches below the ground as it cuts across the rancher’s land and enters Clyde’s property just above the middle parcel. As long as the pipe is properly protected from cattle hooves the system is efficient and reliable, and the supply of water is endless and free. 

 

The Brit had built a garage just off the road at the entrance. Its walls and roof are constructed of corrugated steel. Here he stored his tools and materials and had used it as his workshop. Clyde uses it for the same purpose. He bought a commercial grade generator on its own trailer and stores it there, along with various items from storage that he had brought here.

  

Clyde’s house is off the grid. Electricity is generated by two solar panels mounted out of sight on the roof. Electricity is stored in two batteries whose amperage level is indicated by a monitor and can be read at any given time. It uses 110, just as in the states, and the outlets accept the U.S. type of plugs. Other than lights, the electric system powers a washing machine and dryer, though Clyde does not use the dryer. There’s a small swimming pool that probably has a need for electricity for its pump system. However, I was disappointed when I arrived and saw that the pool had been drained. (Clyde told me at the time that he didn’t want to bother with the maintenance because he was too busy with too many other things—he’s anything but a multi-tasker. But later I discovered that it was the roommate here who didn’t want to be bothered with it and had drained the pool before Clyde arrived.)

 

The stove, refrigerator and hot water heater are powered by bottled propane. These tanks are periodically refilled as needed and only need to be placed out on the road where they are picked up and exchanged for fully charged tanks on a certain day of the week.

  

The framing of the house was done in welded steel. There is cement board for the walls attached onto commercial, light grade steel channels. There is some wood used in the casements of windows and doorways but not much as wood deteriorates and gets infested with pests in this warm, humid climate. The siding is a pre-painted cement product.

 

By Panamanian law the foundation and pillars need to be constructed of concrete, according to prescribed amounts and placements. Floors are all tiled, both inside and out on the porch. So you can walk around the house and there is no creaking floor whatsoever. The roof is done using red-colored concrete sheets of mock Spanish tile, with typical mortared caps along ridges and hips. Ceilings, soffits and fascias are all done in white vinyl. (OK, enough of this second wave of tedium.)

 

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While here, I have discovered what retirement means: to sit with a good friend and chat the day away while time just slips on by. That’s mostly what I have been doing with Clyde. A few days after I arrived I suggested to Clyde that I clean the pool and fill it with water; that we could laze around in there and when I leave the water could just be drained out, watering the grounds nearby. He gave his OK (after all, water is free!) and I did just that. It took 10 hours to fill it with a garden hose. It was heavenly delight. And I finally got some sun on my face and shoulders while chatting away as usual.

 

On the weird task front, so far we have undertaken two, with a third still pending. There was a huge steel boom attached to the top of his generator that held lights (the kind that are used to light up a work area). He asked me to help him pick that up and hang it against an outside wall of his garage. It was incredibly heavy—two heavy for just the two of us. Still, we managed to get it into place using a primitive lever system and got it tied up as planned. Next, we dug out about 50 feet of ¾" PVC pipe, freeing it up for a repair he plans to do. That repair, if we get to it, involves adding a T and an extension and installing a valve. The third and final weird task will involve draining and leveling the water tank to which this same pipe is attached.

 

Since arriving here we have only made one side trip in his truck. On Saturday we visited Los Islotes, a new development being built now for well-heeled foreigners looking for a beach house get-away. Go here for a look-see at its slick marketing: https://www.losislotes.com/

 

When Clyde purchased and moved into this property there was already a fellow living here. His name is Martín (Mar-teen), who is the engineering supervisor for development of the infrastructure at Los Islotes. Of course I met him when I got here and we hit it off, despite the language barrier. To make a long story short, Martín invited me to visit there in order to get an appreciation for his work. The idea was to check out Los Islotes and then go for a swim.

 

Clyde kept Martín on as a roommate.  Martín’s girlfriend, about 20 years his junior, stays with him here. Her name is Julissa (You-lisa). Julissa’s family runs a restaurant just outside the gates of Los Islotes. That’s how they met. She’s a shy local girl.

 

So on Saturday off we went and found Martín at the restaurant. It’s currently undergoing a face-lift and he was obviously doing some work there. After a few preliminaries he jumped in the truck and got us through security at the gate. Then we all drove around the grounds. He pointed out the three houses that have been built there so far and the high overlook with the superb view of the islands below. The beach on the left of the islands belongs to Los Islotes and the beach on the right is a public beach called Playa Plaza. We noticed the streets and curbs with sewer pipes installed in culverts, which were all our friend’s handiwork. Then we drove down to the beach, stopping before a massive gate while Martín got out and unlocked it. We drove in and he locked the gate behind us. Then we trekked down to the bit of beach front development there: a big bar with a roof and a long table with a thick, natural wood slab for a table top, two outdoor showers, and other amenities that beach-goers usually look for when lounging around at a beach. I had my swim suit on underneath my pants and I stripped down as soon as I saw the waves.

 

By myself I walked a long way out into shallow water until it was about waste deep. The sand beneath my feet was smooth and firm. Then I sank into the water and paddled around some as the waves broke over me. It was nice to cool off. Clyde and Martín went walking along the beach. I wasn’t in the water long and soon came back to join them, changing back into my pants.

 

Then we doubled back to where we had parked and headed out in the other direction onto Playa Plaza. It was low tide. We circled around toward the nearest island. There was a bit of water to wade through and we rolled up our pants legs to get over to that island. While traversing the island my right sandal broke. I later fixed it, but it was a drag walking around for the bit of time that remained of our tour. Martín took some photos of us.

 

After this trek we returned to the car. Next on the agenda was a quickie tour of a mangrove swamp that was relatively dry. I stayed behind due to my broken sandal and my companions soon returned. That appeared to be the end of the tour. We exited through the same gate. The security officer there asked for Clyde’s last name and had him sign his name. This was to be, and in fact already was, a gated community. I believe I heard they are planning to build something like 250 houses here. 

 

We quickly found ourselves back at Julissa’s restaurant. I met her sister and her father and they offered us some cold beer. Julissa brought out some chicken soup and plates of rice. There are many rice fields right around this area and I was told that this rice had been grown right here. In fact they grow and harvest rice three times per year. Last August tractor trailers were hauling rice out of here, according to Clyde, and now in December that is  happening again.

While we finished up the father brought out Rosetta, his big, green parrot, and set him down near us. We toyed with the parrot for a little while, though no one could get him to say anything.

 

As for birds in this area, there are parrots, hummingbirds, frigate birds, toucans, falcons (yellow-headed caracara), cattle egrets and vultures out and about. At night you can hear howler monkeys that let loose with a loud sort of cacophony of vicious-sounding “barks.” Clyde and I spied a family of about six of them up in the trees near Playa Plaza.

 

For some reason I was feeling low-energy after lunch (which was really my breakfast) and I was content to return back to our hilltop perch. My mood soon lightened up and we spent the rest of the day as we spend most days, chatting away. 

 

Clyde is a font of knowledge on a variety of topics and an articulate fellow. I have a few stories myself and we are never short of material to discuss. He has worked in optics and lasers for Boeing and has also worked for Microsoft. He’s got an aptitude for techno-scientific detail. He knows about building, agriculture and bee keeping and participated in 4-H programs as a kid. He has worked various types of jobs: factory jobs, volunteer jobs as far away as New Zealand. And Clyde is a truth seeker and truth teller. He’s been married and divorced twice, has one daughter. He grew up in Southern California, just west of LA, and has lived and worked around Seattle, WA. He’s 67 now and fully retired.

 

All this to say that Clyde is very different from me. We both value truth. This is what brought us together and this is what our friendship is founded upon. I don’t know if I will buy into his dream here in Panama. I suppose if it is meant to be it will happen.

 

Ah, the tropics! It is tranquil here, so far from the daily grind of humankind. There are no chemtrails in the sky, no horns honking, no TVs and sirens blaring. At night the background pounding of the surf and the many stars above make this a ponderous place to be. Much more needs exploring and this is a beginning.