How I Started SUP in Panama & Why You Should Too

The Accidental Paddleboarder: My Unexpected Introduction to SUP

I landed in Panama with nothing but a well-worn backpack, a vague itinerary, and an appetite for adventure—though, to be fair, my idea of adventure at the time was more in line with sipping freshly cracked coconuts on a hammock rather than engaging in any actual physical exertion. My plans were simple: soak up the sun, eat my weight in fresh ceviche, and maybe, if motivation struck, hike a volcano. Paddleboarding? Not even on my radar.

But, as it often goes with the best travel experiences, fate had other ideas.

It was one of those effortlessly golden afternoons—the kind where time slows down and the salty air clings to your skin in the best way possible. I had been aimlessly meandering along the coast, watching the waves roll in, when I stumbled upon a small, sun-bleached wooden shack. Its faded sign read SUP Rentals, and propped against its walls were rows of paddleboards, gleaming under the sun like freshly waxed surfboards.

I had never tried SUP before, nor had I seriously considered it. But something about that moment—the way the water rippled lazily in the distance, the boards standing like sentinels, waiting for their next rider—felt like an unspoken invitation. I lingered. I watched. I told myself I was just curious.

Then, in a moment of impulsivity (or possibly heat-induced delirium), I found myself standing at the counter, handing over a few crumpled bills and scrawling my name on a waiver that, in hindsight, I probably should have read more carefully.

The rental guy—a tanned, barefoot Panamanian who exuded the effortless confidence of someone who lived on the water—gave me a knowing grin. “First time?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded, suddenly feeling equal parts exhilarated and concerned.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “You’ll either love it or fall a lot. Probably both.”

I laughed nervously, but before I could change my mind, he handed me a paddle, pointed toward the shoreline, and sent me on my way.

And just like that, my SUP journey had begun—completely unplanned, entirely unexpected, and about to be one of the best decisions I’d ever made.

First Time on the Board: A Comedy of Wobbles

If you’ve never tried stand-up paddleboarding before, let me paint a picture: imagine standing on a rolling log while trying to elegantly balance a tray of drinks during an earthquake. That’s exactly how it felt. Unstable. Unpredictable. Completely out of my depth.

The moment I stepped onto the board, I was immediately aware of how utterly non-buoyant my legs felt. My feet, which I had always trusted to keep me upright on solid ground, had seemingly forgotten their job. My arms, gripping the paddle as if it were a life raft, flailed wildly as I tried to find some semblance of control.

Then came the inevitable.

Splash.

I barely had time to register my first fall before I was already submerged, surfacing with an awkward gasp and a mouthful of saltwater. From the shore, a group of locals—clearly more seasoned in the art of standing on floating objects—watched with bemused expressions. I could almost hear their silent amusement, their mental wagers on how many more times I’d go under.

I climbed back on, determined. Wobbled again. Tried to stand with too much enthusiasm.

Splash.

This continued for what felt like an eternity but was probably just an embarrassingly short amount of time. My overcorrections were my downfall—literally. Leaning too far forward? Water. Shifting too far back? Water. Making any movement whatsoever? You guessed it—water.

But somewhere between those graceless wipeouts, something clicked.

I started to understand the rhythm of the board. How to distribute my weight, engage my core, and—most importantly—trust the process. Instead of overthinking every micro-adjustment, I let my body learn the subtle art of balance on its own.

And then, almost magically, I was standing.

It wasn’t perfect—far from it. My legs were shaking, my paddle strokes were awkward, and I was 99% sure I still looked like a baby giraffe on roller skates. But I was up. I was moving. And, despite the rough start, I was absolutely, undeniably hooked.

Panama: The Perfect Backdrop for a SUP Newbie

If I had tried SUP anywhere else, I might have quit before I even got the hang of standing. But Panama? Panama felt like it was designed specifically for paddleboarding rookies like me—a paradise that forgave my flailing limbs and lack of coordination.

For starters, the water was warm. Every time I tumbled in (which was often), instead of a frigid shock, I was greeted by a refreshing embrace. It felt less like failure and more like an invitation to try again.

Then there were the conditions. Panama offers a bit of everything, but for a beginner, the gentle lagoons and calm coastal stretches were a dream come true. The waves were merciful, the wind wasn’t out to sabotage me, and the currents—at least in the right spots—were kind enough to let me figure things out without sweeping me away like an unclaimed beach towel.

And the scenery? Unreal. I’m talking emerald-green mangroves that looked like something out of a nature documentary, mirror-like lagoons so still they reflected the sky, and secluded beaches that seemed like they belonged on the cover of a travel magazine. Even when I wasn’t fully in control of my paddleboard, just being in that setting made the whole experience feel magical.

It didn’t take long to realize that Panama wasn’t just a great place to start—it was the perfect place to fall in love with SUP.

Learning the Ropes: From Paddling to Gliding

Once I stopped treating my paddle like a medieval jousting lance, things started to shift. My technique—if you could even call it that at the start—began to refine itself.

The first revelation? Bend the knees. Trying to stand straight and stiff was a recipe for disaster. Once I softened my stance, I felt an immediate difference—the board stopped feeling like an enemy and started to feel more like an extension of me.

The second breakthrough? Look ahead, not down. My instinct was to stare at my feet, desperately monitoring every little wobble. But looking down only made me more unsteady. The moment I lifted my gaze, trusting my balance instead of micromanaging it, everything felt more natural.

And then, one magical moment, it happened.

I took a deep, steady stroke, and instead of feeling like I was battling the board, I glided. The movement was effortless, smooth—like I had unlocked some ancient, waterborne superpower I never knew I had. I wasn’t just surviving on the board anymore. I was moving.

Here’s What Helped Me Most:

✔ Keeping my strokes even and deep, rather than frantic. At first, I tried to muscle my way through paddling—big mistake. The key was control, not speed.

✔ Trusting my balance instead of overthinking every movement. The more I relaxed, the less I fell. It was almost annoyingly simple.

✔ Breathing and letting go of the panic grip. At one point, I realized my hands were clamped so tightly around the paddle that my knuckles were white. Once I loosened my hold, I felt a huge shift in how fluid everything became.

Each small adjustment brought me closer to that feeling of effortless movement, and with every session, I became more confident. The awkward newbie phase? It was starting to fade. I was finally getting the hang of this.

Encounters on the Water: Nature, Locals, and Unexpected Magic

One of the most unexpected joys of stand-up paddleboarding in Panama wasn’t just the thrill of mastering balance or the beauty of gliding across turquoise waters—it was the intimacy with nature. Unlike boats or jet skis, which roar through the water, SUP is silent and seamless, allowing you to drift through landscapes that feel untouched, like you’ve entered a secret world only accessible by paddle.

Some moments felt almost surreal. One afternoon, while paddling through the mangrove forests of Bocas del Toro, the water was so still that my reflection stared back at me with eerie clarity. Then, out of nowhere, a sea turtle appeared—serenely drifting alongside me, as if I had unknowingly signed up for a guided tour of its home. I stopped paddling. The turtle turned its head slightly, acknowledging me in the slow, deliberate way that only ancient creatures seem to do, before vanishing beneath the surface.

Another time, while gliding over the crystalline waters off the San Blas Islands, I found myself surrounded by a school of tiny silver fish. At first, they darted beneath my board, little flashes of light weaving through the water. And then, as if choreographed, they leapt in unison, a glittering cascade that caught the sun before vanishing beneath the waves again. It was the kind of moment that happens so fast you almost don’t believe it—like nature playing a private trick on you.

But it wasn’t just marine life that made these paddles special. It was the people, too.

One morning in Playa Venao, I met a seasoned local paddler, an older man who had been paddling these waters for decades. He glided past me with effortless ease, his paddle strokes smooth and deliberate. We struck up a conversation, and he shared insider tips, secret SUP spots, and stories about these waters that made me appreciate Panama beyond its postcard beauty.

“There’s something about being on the water,” he told me. “It slows you down. Makes you pay attention. People talk more, listen more out here.”

And he was right. There’s something about paddling side by side with someone that breaks down barriers. Conversations feel more fluid, more open. Maybe it’s the rhythm of the water, or maybe it’s the simple fact that out here, away from the noise of daily life, people are just more present.

SUP as More Than a Sport: A Mindfulness Experience

I had always assumed that SUP was just another trendy water sport—something people did for a good workout, a sun-kissed selfie, or the occasional core challenge. I figured it was yoga’s saltwater cousin, requiring balance, strength, and a decent tolerance for public wipeouts.

But out there, in the stillness of the Guna Yala waters of San Blas or the misty mornings of Bocas del Toro’s mangrove trails, I realized it was so much more.

With nothing but the sound of my paddle slicing through the water, the rhythmic lap of waves against my board, and the occasional call of a seabird overhead, SUP transformed from a sport into a moving meditation. It became a rare opportunity to be completely present—no phone, no distractions, just me, my board, and the pulse of the ocean beneath me.

Something about the motion itself was hypnotic. Each paddle stroke felt like a breath in, each glide forward like a breath out. The stiller I became in my mind, the steadier my stance became on the board. My body and the water seemed to sync, and instead of fighting for balance, I started trusting it.

I remember one sunset session off the coast of Playa Venao—the sky painted in a gradient of pinks and purples, the water glassy and golden. As I paddled further from shore, the usual noise of beach life faded away. No boats. No music. Just the whisper of wind and the hush of the tide. I stopped paddling and let myself drift, standing tall but feeling weightless. That was the moment it hit me: SUP wasn’t just a sport—it was an experience, a mindset, a way of connecting with something bigger than myself.

In a world that constantly demands speed, urgency, and stimulation, SUP offered stillness, simplicity, and clarity. It forced me to slow down, to move with intention, to listen—not just to the water, but to myself.

It’s funny how sometimes, the most unexpected things—like standing on a floating plank in the middle of the ocean—can bring the deepest sense of grounding.

The Addiction Begins: Why One Session Wasn’t Enough

One session was supposed to be just that—a single, impulsive attempt at something new, a checkmark on my list of "things I tried in Panama." But instead, it lit a fire.

One session turned into two. Then five. Then a near-daily ritual whenever I found myself near the water. The ocean became a second home, and the paddle became an extension of myself. The more I paddled, the more I fell in love—not just with the sport, but with the constant challenge it presented.

Every day on the board was different. Some days, the water was calm, glassy, effortless. Other days, the tides shifted unpredictably, throwing in a new challenge—stronger currents, a sudden gust of wind, tiny rolling waves that dared me to stay balanced. But that was the magic of it: no two rides were ever the same.

At first, I was simply trying not to fall. Then, something changed. My body learned to respond instinctively—my knees bent at just the right moments, my strokes became more efficient, my core tightened automatically with each shift of the board. It wasn't just about balance anymore—it was about control, about rhythm, about flow.

And let’s be honest: it’s just plain fun.

I started racing against a friend, turning casual paddles into impromptu sprints, laughing as we nearly knocked each other off our boards. Some mornings, I challenged myself to catch tiny waves, feeling the rush as the water propelled me forward, if only for a few seconds. Other times, I did the exact opposite—lying back on the board, floating under the open sky with absolutely no agenda.

SUP became more than a hobby. It became my personal happy place—a way to move, to breathe, to escape, and to reconnect, all in one fluid motion.

Why You Should Try SUP in Panama

Here’s the thing: SUP in Panama is for everyone. Whether you’re stepping onto a board for the first time or you’re the kind of paddler who chases waves and challenges the wind, there’s a perfect spot for you here.

If you’re a beginner, Panama’s calm bays, lagoons, and mangrove channels are ideal. Places like Bocas del Toro and San Blas offer glass-like waters and gentle currents, making it easy to find your balance and build confidence without the fear of getting tossed by waves. Many locations also have friendly, knowledgeable instructors who make sure your first paddle isn’t a struggle-fest.

If you're starting in Panama City, head to Plaia Shop, where the staff is not only friendly and welcoming but also experienced in all things SUP. They offer rentals, so you can try paddleboarding without committing to buying your own gear right away. And if you do fall in love with the sport (which you probably will), they have a buy-back offer, making it easier to upgrade or switch boards as you progress. Whether you need help picking the right gear, tips on technique, or recommendations for the best paddle spots, Plaia Shop ensures you’re fully equipped for an incredible experience on the water.

For those who crave adventure, Panama doesn’t hold back. You can take on the open ocean in Playa Venao, where rolling swells add a dose of excitement. Or, if you’re after a real challenge, try a downwind paddle along the Pacific coast, letting the wind and waves carry you on a high-speed ride. And for the truly bold? There are even SUP river routes, winding through dense jungle where you’re as likely to see howler monkeys as you are another human.

The beauty of SUP in Panama is that you can go at your own pace. Want a peaceful sunrise paddle with nothing but the sound of your strokes on the water? Done. Looking for a full-body workout that tests your endurance and core strength? Easy. Hoping to find hidden coves, uninhabited islands, or places you’d never reach by foot? SUP makes it possible.

Beyond the personal experience, it’s one of the best ways to see Panama’s diverse waterscapes. You can glide through the Caribbean’s crystal-clear shallows, where you’ll see starfish beneath your board. Or, venture into the Pacific’s untamed coastline, where dramatic cliffs, remote beaches, and powerful tides create a completely different world.

Whatever your reason—adventure, relaxation, fitness, or sheer curiosity—there’s no better place to start paddling than Panama. The water is waiting. All you have to do is step on the board.

Final Thoughts: My SUP Journey & Where It’s Taken Me

I never expected to become a SUP enthusiast. But that impulsive rental in Panama set off a chain reaction of adventure, confidence, and connection—both to the water and to myself.

If you’ve ever considered trying SUP, do it. And if you’re wondering where to start, make it Panama. The water is waiting, and trust me—so is your next great adventure.