Taboga's earliest inhabitants lived in thatch huts, fished the rich Pacific waters, and left behind little more than a name. When Vasco Nunez de Balboa arrived in 1513, the Spaniards established a settlement by the straightforward method of killing or enslaving the indigenous population and seizing their gold. Spanish colonization continued as a dominating presence for decades. In 1549, Panama freed its enslaved indigenous people, and some chose to return to the island. A fort was built on neighboring Isla Morro to protect the harbor -- an acknowledgment that Taboga's strategic position made it valuable and vulnerable in equal measure. At low tide, Morro connects to Taboga's main beach, Playa Restinga, a sand bridge that appears and vanishes with the rhythm of the ocean. The bay between the two islands served as a natural harbor, and the fresh water supply on Taboga made it a logical place to settle, resupply, or wait.

Henry Morgan and Francis Drake both knew Taboga well. The island's protected harbor, just a short sail from Panama City, made it an ideal staging ground for raids on Spanish shipping and the mainland itself. Between attacks, pirates used the bay to catch their breath, repair their vessels, and stock up on supplies. The irony was not lost on the Spanish, who had fortified Morro precisely against this kind of threat. But fortifications are only as strong as the garrison manning them, and Taboga changed hands -- or at least changed guests -- with the shifting fortunes of Caribbean piracy. British and Dutch companies later established more legitimate services on Morro, including a small theater and a boat repair shipyard. The island became a waystation for travelers heading to the west coasts of North or South America, a place to wait until the next ship departed for its final destination.

France's attempt to build the Panama Canal in the 1880s brought a different kind of visitor to Taboga. The Canal administration constructed a 50-bed sanatorium on the island, later known as Aspinwall, for workers stricken with yellow fever or malaria -- diseases that were killing canal laborers by the thousands on the mainland. The island's elevation, sea breezes, and distance from the swampy lowlands of the canal route made it a marginally better place to convalesce. Those who did not recover were buried on Isla Morro. The French canal effort would ultimately fail, defeated as much by disease as by engineering, but Taboga's brief role as a hospital island left a mark on its landscape and memory. The sanatorium is long gone, but the history of suffering it represents remains woven into the island's layered past.

Modern Taboga is a 20-minute boat ride from the Balboa-Amador Yacht Club -- close enough to be Panama City's favorite weekend escape, far enough to feel like a different country. The village has no real roads to speak of; old pickup trucks serve as taxis, but most people walk. Trails climb the island's 300-meter peak, offering views back to the skyscrapers of Panama City shimmering across the water. The church of San Pedro, the second oldest in the Western Hemisphere, opens for services on Saturday afternoons and Sundays. Throughout the year, the Taboganos celebrate religious festivals with a fervor that belies the village's small size -- San Pedro, La Virgen del Carmen, the Passion of Christ, and Carnival all receive full observance. Brown pelicans nest on the island's far side, accessible only by boat. The fishing boats still go out. The community still manages to preserve its customs and natural environment with remarkably little outside help. Taboga has survived conquest, piracy, disease, and proximity to a major capital city. It does not appear worried about what comes next.