Panamanian Promise

A trek across Panama to the pristine Pearl Islands reveals what may be the ultimate getaway at Isla Viveros

by Skip Knowles

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PANAMANIAN PROMISE

My heart was still aching from the big one that got away, when another popped into view.

The first was a giant fish, but this second one was a winding tropical island glimmering far below our plane, covered in palm trees with empty beaches that wandered amid blue-water shoals. The kind of spot that elicits an emotional reaction upon first sight.

When you see a place that is so Corona-commercial perfect, it almost creates a mild panic that you better get a piece of it quickly or it's going to get away. I'd had that sneaking feeling ever since I'd started exploring Panama a week prior, and the view from the sky of this exotic archipelago was making things much clearer than a million real estate brochures ever could.

Circling above the Pearl Islands, pilot Andre' Beladina dipped the wing of the Beechcraft Baron 58 down toward the sea, and the new private-island luxury golf community he co-founded, Isla Viveros, popped into view: strips of ivory sand wrapping around glimmering beach coves, rock promontories rimmed with sea foam, huge palm trees reaching for the ocean, and the new airstrip emerging from the jungle. The first house being built was visible, and the dim outline of the new Jack Nicklaus golf course soon to come. But most of all, that bone-white beach that is the best in all the Pearls, Isla Viveros' standout section of the 20 miles of waterfront the island has due to its three-pronged shape.

Beach after isolated beach shined in the sun, all with one thing in common: nobody and nothing on them. In the cove that will become the marina, a mob of frantic seabirds caught my eye, and I could see the long silver flashes of big fish churning below them in a frenzy.

Naturally. "Abundance of fish"-that's what "Panama" means in the country's indigenous language. For residents of this island, at least, it will soon mean "abundance of incredible vacation homes."

Isla Viveros is positioned to become the ultimate vacation home retreat. Its Hawaii-like waters are breeding grounds for both whales and whale sharks, and clear blue waves jostle over shallow reefs and white sand just 20 minutes by air from thriving, sophisticated, Panama City. Yet it feels remote, because the Pearl Island archipelago is in the middle of the Gulf of Panama. Panama is among the safest Latin American countries, and both the city and roads are comfortable day or night, but there is something to be said for the secure feeling of the 20-plus miles of what is effectively a moat surrounding Isla Viveros. You can come here and completely relax, leave items on the beach and let the kids run free.

Long known for oceanic riches and the legendary pearl-diving industry, the Pearl Islands and Isla Viveros are only 20 miles from some of the best known marlin grounds, giving residents the unbelievable option of running offshore to battle billfish from their own boat, and returning for golf along ocean-view holes in the same day. Or, perhaps, a more languid day of just beach-hopping by kayak through the sheltered waters to the many nameless coves.

To call Panama an adventure paradise is akin to calling St. Andrews "a nice place to golf." That much was clear during a week aboard the Lost Coast Explorer, a 100-foot yacht that underwent a million-plus dollar retrofit to start doing adventure and real estate tours to the west near Coiba Island. We saw few boats, and caught 60-pound giant cubera snapper at will from the 30-foot sportfisher-tender, off Ladrones and Montuosa Islands, along with tuna, dorado, big sharks and jacks.

On day three, four sailfish and a marlin crashed the baits behind our 30-foot sportfisher-tender by 10 a.m. Then, the fish of all fish, a 450-pound-class blue marlin, charged into the small tuna we trolled, smacked it three times with his sword, and made a stunning fast run before throwing the hook in a slashing great leap, leaving us breathless and sick. The kind of blue-water leviathan you hope to ever see once in a lifetime.

The giant's tail flashed in the sun, a silver-blue crescent nearly four feet wide, as it escaped in a whitewater explosion. Perhaps my most memorable moment in a lifetime of offshore fishing.

Our Panamian captain, Chicho, called it an "off" day.

We cruised the coastal parklands of Coiba on the Explorer, diving with sea turtles and sharks off a no-name isle, debating which subspecies the legions of dolphins crisscrossing under our bow belonged to, and how a bird like the enormous shocking red and blue scarlet macaw can possibly exist in nature.



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