Coiba National Park

Listen first. Water slaps against a wooden hull. A heavy, wet heat settles on your skin. Somewhere in the green wall of forest ahead, a bird gives a harsh, scraping cry. The air smells of salt and of leaves rotting slowly in the shade. This is Coiba, an island off the Pacific coast of Panama. For much of the twentieth century, very few people chose to come here. Today you come by choice, and that change is the centre of this island's story.

Coiba is the largest island on the Pacific coast of Central America. It sits off the coast of Veraguas Province, surrounded by dozens of smaller islands and islets. Together with the open sea around them, they form Coiba National Park. Panama created the park in 1991. In 2005, UNESCO added it to the World Heritage List. Most of the protected area is water, not land. Keep that in mind as you look out from the boat. The sea around you is the main reason this place is protected.

Here is the first surprise. Coiba's forests are in such good condition partly because of a prison. In 1919, Panama opened a penal colony on the island. It operated for most of the twentieth century and finally closed in 2004. Most of the island was off limits. There were no towns, no roads crossing the forest, and almost no fishing fleets or loggers. Inmates worked on farms near the camps, but large areas of the interior stayed almost untouched.

The prison had a dark reputation. Former inmates and human rights groups described harsh conditions, isolation, and violence. During Panama's period of military rule, political prisoners were also held here. Locals still speak of men who disappeared on the island. Some of these stories are documented. Others are now part of local folklore, and the full record is still incomplete. Ruins of the old camps remain on the island. Grass and vines now cover concrete walls and rusting roofs.

Most visitors arrive by boat from Santa Catalina, a small surf and fishing village on the mainland. The crossing takes you over open water, and on some days the swell can be strong. Watch the surface on the way. Flying fish sometimes skim away from the bow. Pelicans and frigatebirds follow the boats. At certain times of year, the boat may slow down because a dolphin pod, or a much larger animal, has come up to breathe nearby.

That larger animal is often a humpback whale. Humpbacks from the Southern Hemisphere travel north to these warm Panamanian waters during the southern winter. They come to mate and give birth. You might see a spout of mist, a dark curved back, or a tail fluke lifting slowly before a dive. Guides here are used to these moments. They usually cut the engine and keep a respectful distance. Then everyone on board goes quiet and waits.

Under the water, Coiba belongs to a larger network. It is part of the Eastern Tropical Pacific Marine Corridor. This is a conservation partnership that links protected waters around the Galápagos Islands of Ecuador, Cocos Island of Costa Rica, and Malpelo and Gorgona of Colombia. Ocean currents connect these places. Sharks, rays, and turtles move between them. Divers often compare Coiba with the Galápagos, and the comparison is not only marketing. Both sit inside the same moving system of open-ocean life.

Divers and snorkellers come here for the reefs and for the big animals. White-tip reef sharks often rest on the sandy bottom. Schools of jacks and snappers move together like silver curtains. Turtles graze along the rocks. With luck, you may see manta rays, hammerhead sharks, or even a whale shark. Bahía Damas, a bay on the island's eastern side, holds one of the largest coral reefs on the Pacific coast of the Americas. Reefs this large are rare on this side of the continent.

On land, the forest has its own story. Islands often produce animals found nowhere else, because populations live apart from the mainland for thousands of years. Coiba has its own species and subspecies. These include a local agouti, a small rodent that looks like a long-legged guinea pig. There is also a local form of howler monkey, and a small brown bird called the Coiba spinetail. Remember the harsh call at the start? It may have come from something even more colourful.

That colourful bird is the scarlet macaw. On mainland Panama, these large red, yellow, and blue parrots have become rare. Habitat loss and the illegal pet trade pushed them out of many areas. On Coiba, healthy populations survive. They fly in pairs, and they are loud. You will often hear them before you see them. Look up when you hear that scraping call. A flash of red against the green canopy is a sight many visitors remember long after the trip.

Many day trips stop at small islands near Coiba. Granito de Oro is a popular one. It is a tiny island with pale sand, a few trees, and clear water close to the shore. Snorkellers often see turtles and reef fish only a few steps from the beach. On the main island, there is a ranger station. Visitors can register there, learn about the park, and walk short trails into the forest. Crocodiles live in some rivers and mangroves, so always follow the rangers' advice.

Coiba is not a polished resort, and that is part of its value. Facilities are simple. Rain can arrive suddenly and heavily. The sun on the water is strong, even under clouds. Conservation here is still a debate. Panama has worked to keep large-scale tourism and development off the island. Scientists, fishermen, and tour operators do not always agree on how to balance protection and income. When you visit, you are part of that balance.

Think again about the two lives of this island. For decades, Coiba was a place of punishment, where isolation was the purpose. Now the same isolation protects forests, reefs, and animals that have almost disappeared elsewhere. The prison walls are slowly falling down. The macaws nest in the trees nearby. The island did not plan this second life. It grew in the space that people left empty.

Before you leave, take one quiet minute. Look at the line where the forest meets the water. Notice the colour of the sea near the reef, a lighter green over sand and a deeper blue over rock. Listen for the macaws, for the waves, for the engine starting again. As the boat pulls away, watch the island become one long, low, green shape on the horizon. That is how it looked to the prisoners too... and how it may look for many centuries to come.