The friendly and astoundingly tri-lingual staff at Bocas Water Sports offered to take me out on a day tour—exploring the great secrets that the Bocas archipelago had to offer. The first stop was Dolphins Bay, a stop that was made that much more entertaining considering we were right in the heart of dolphin mating season...

The name of the bay did not disappoint: as left and right, horny dolphins breached the surface doing sequenced pirouettes, all impressively in mid-coitus. And you thought handcuffs were creative?

We then skirted quickly through a rainstorm to arrive at Crawl Cay (photo), a restaurant/bar which seems to sit in the middle of nowhere—sort of like a truck stop for tired transcaribbean boat tourists. The thatch-roofed cabanas sat out over the water and I did some great snorkeling underneath: navigating through whole schools of jack and around intimidatingly sharp-toothed barracudas. Neon coral blew in a weird breezy fashion on the floor and quick little lobsters dodged in and out of rocks and caves. As if the middle-of-nowhere bar wasn't unearthly enough, the crazy creatures of the waters definitely convinced me I wasn't in Kansas any more.

Red Frog Beach—the next victim on our hit list—named for its abundance of—you guessed it—red frogs. We docked by a small wooden walkway and began the trek into this boundless jungle of forest greens and palm yellows, sloshing our feet through mud and sand. Our guide Irvin (pronounced ear-veen) was keen to point out several sloths, a massive eagle, and expectedly, tons of those little red frogs—I snapped a picture one crawling up his chest. After about 15 minutes we had arrived—to the crashing waves, bright reflecting sand, and arching trees of Red Frog Beach. There was this almost-mysterious hazy mist that settled right above the waves giving everything this ethereal feel. I smushed down the beach a bit and ran into a park guard who, without being asked, requested if he could take my picture. He positioned me, directed my pose, and snapped a good one of me waiting under a giant leafy canopy.

From the virgin looks of it, you wouldn't think a beach like Red Frog would have any restaurants or bars. But oh my friend, you would have severely underestimated the Panamanians' (and tourists') ambition and drive for a good cold drink at the beach. To the left of the water, set back a few hundred yards, was Flip Flops—a simple little three-sided cedar bar with swings for seats. Going with the au natural theme of the bar, was a ladder propped up against a nearby tree—the coconut storage room.

On our way home, we passed through hospital point—which all of us decided to pass up because of the unwanted implication of its name. We flew back through the calm waters of Bocas like it was a lake. I'd always wanted to go on one of those swamp tours in Florida, where they take you on giant hovercrafts. This was probably as close as I'd get to it: swooping nearly passed outreaching mangroves and tall plants. Right as we were returning to the dock it started to rain. Our timing was perfect.

View photos from this article: Part I and Part II

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