I rejoined Welcome the hard way; leaving the UK with a 27-kilo dinghy that I was confidently told would be checked through to the final destination. I wouldn’t have to touch it again, they said.

Six immigration queues later, I had personally escorted that dinghy through every single airport checkpoint in Central America. It has now seen more of the world than most people. After more than two days of delays, negotiations, re-check-ins and a minor identity crisis somewhere between gates, I finally made it aboard. Now safely stopped on board, the dinghy and I are no longer speaking.

I arrived in Panama on 20 February and see instantly why people come here. Jungle pressing right up to the water, sloths dangling lazily in trees, pelicans cruising overhead like they own the place (they do), and birds of every imaginable shape and colour. The biodiversity is outrageous.

This time I was shopping alongside Liza, and we’ve become a very efficient galley double act. Liza and Laura had already done an impressive full inventory, so my role was simply topping up before departure two days later. Simple in theory. In practice, we still managed to go to the supermarket and the market about ten times.

The market was a joy. Piles of glossy fruit and vegetables, unfamiliar roots and leaves, and stallholders who were genuinely delighted to explain how to cook things we’d never seen before. We left with armfuls of produce and far more enthusiasm than fridge space.

On the Sunday before we left, I prepped a few meals for the freezer in case the crossing to Coiba was lumpy. Coiba, our first stop, is a UNESCO World Heritage site and completely stunning. On the morning of the 25th, which happened to be my birthday, we set off on a guided hike up the highest hill on Ranchero Island.

The path wound through thick jungle, across streams, past mangroves, with howler monkeys making their feelings about our presence abundantly clear. They shouted from the treetops with an aggression that suggested we were very much not invited. Our guide, Alfredo, casually mentioned they’d recently found a male killed by rivals competing for females. We took that as our cue to remain respectful and move along.

A coral snake slid across our path, black, red and yellow, smooth as silk and entirely lethal. One bite and that’s your lot, no antidote and no chance of reaching hospital in time. Alfredo assured us they only bite if disturbed. We were extremely undisruptive.

There was a chorus of cicadas on the return walk, a large brown tarantula minding its own business, hummingbirds flashing past, and capuchin monkeys being their usual charming, mischievous selves.

Back on board, Liza produced an absurdly good chocolate and courgette cake. We had it with tea in the cockpit and I felt ridiculously lucky to be spending my birthday there, jungle behind us, warm sea ahead, excellent company all round.

The following morning I stepped onto deck for sun salutations and was immediately distracted by what looked like the sea boiling. Thousands of small fish were flashing silver in tight formation. Through binoculars we could see sharks corralling them into a neat ball of dinner, slicing through, regrouping, repeating. Creamy dorsal fins, blade-like tails, smooth rounded heads. We watched, completely transfixed, for twenty minutes as they worked closer to the boat.

Then, naturally, the five of us squeezed onto the aft deck for a 20-minute yoga session. As you do.

We took the rib over to Coco Island for snorkelling and I’ve genuinely never seen so much underwater life. The water was warm, the visibility incredible. Clownfish darted in pairs, electric blue fish flickered through coral, green-spotted shoals moved as one, aubergine and indigo flashes glinted in the light. Puffer fish hovered with mild suspicion. Liza spotted a turtle and I dove down carefully to watch it feeding, smaller fish crowding in for scraps and cleaning duties. A yellow sea snake with black markings slid silently along the seabed.

We also collected floating rubbish and brought it back to the boat, following XOXO’s lead on the Oyster World Rally group about cleaning one beach at a time. It felt like the least we could do in water that pristine.

On Friday 27th we set off for the Galápagos. The ocean was crisp, blue and calm. Music playing, spirits high, and an onboard game of Crossing Cluedo underway. Jay secured his win by persuading Liza to wave the boat hook above her head on the bow. I came in second by convincing Laura to hold up bananas with a soft shackle in the saloon. Competitive integrity was not our priority.

We had a vast pod of dolphins at the bow for ages, and saw plenty more over the four-day crossing. We timed our equator crossing perfectly, right under a full red moon during a lunar eclipse. Swimming in 2,000 metres of clear ocean at 0° latitude is a slightly surreal experience. I was only mildly concerned about sharks the first time. Slightly more concerned at sunset when the water turned darker and the imagination became more active.

The eclipse peaked at 3am. I’d asked to be woken and was very glad I had. All five of us sat on the aft deck watching the moon darken and glow red in the middle of the Pacific. We poured libations to Neptune, and Jay had written certificates for each of us crossing the line, which was super thoughtful.

Arrival in San Cristóbal brought the full eleven-person immigration and inspection team aboard, divers included. They were thorough but efficient, and we were signed in by 8.30am, which felt like a small miracle.

Within an hour of arrival, sea lions were attempting to board. Standard Galápagos welcome.

I’m flying back tomorrow from this extraordinary place, already plotting my return. Next up will be Galápagos to the Marquesas, and then Marquesas to Tahiti.

The dinghy, thankfully, is staying put.

– Written by Cat Vizor