Monthly Archives: February, 2010
Panama to Columbia, Sailing Through the San Blas then Stranded in the Darian
The last week has been an adventure to say the least. I’ll start from where I left off last time at Luna’s Castle Hostel in Panama City.
Its 5am and 25 people sit on the sidewalk outside of the Hostel. All of us waiting for a convey of Land Cruisers to take us to Carti Panama on the Caribbean coast. Myself ready to follow along with my motorcycle. I put most of my gear on the land cruisers because I’m told the road to Carti is a little rough. The convey starts a bit late but we’re on the road driving at 120km per hour on the Panamanian freeways. My poor motorcycle is being pushed to the limit because its geared to cruise around 90 to 100km per hour. I get dropped a few times but manage to keep up until the turn off to Carti. Here the road turns into rugged gravel and mud. I have no troubles keeping up. I have to cross a big river. Its not so deep, but its definitely the longest I’ve ever crossed. I’m happy now that I had lots of practice in Costa Rica with Jesse and that scooter. We get to the end of the road.
The next stage is to put the bike on a little launcha which will take us up the river and into the Caribbean where our sailboat is waiting. I’m worried about putting the bike on the boat, but am reassured to hear that they do this all the time. Once we get to the sail boat the captain Jean Pierre, a Frenchman…from France as it happens, tells me to use a rope to strap up the bike which will the be hoisted ten feet in the air over the railing and safely on to the boat. Aside from the stress this is causing me it all goes to plan.
The rest of the passengers arrive on another boat and we’re on our way. We cruise about 2 hours to a little island where we stop for the night. I find out we’re now going to follow another boat and go to Sapzurro instead of Categena. I don’t know where Sapzurro is, but assume I will be able to drive out of there…
The captain goes on to the island, we figure to go buy a hooker, and spends the night. The rest of the passengers and myself party almost until the sun comes up. We all have pirate names by the end of the night. I’m Chopper. There is Sticky Fingers, Squirter, Luke Perry, and Bumbacla among others that I’m loath to say. I figure this is going to be a fun boat ride.
Jean Pierre arrives sometime in the morning and we get going while i’m still sleeping.
Our boat is a big 55 foot catamaran. There are plenty of beds, two little toilets, a kitchen, and enough deck space for a dance floor (which we take advantage of). Jean Pierre is an interesting man. Loud as anything i’ve ever heard, ready to blow his top for the slightest of infractions. For example, ‘don’t touch the fridge’, ‘don’t sit on that’, ‘don’t look at that’, ‘cease to exist’, and ‘this is the last time i’m doing this.’ All in Spanish or french or maybe both, I don’t know. But other times he is very amiable. We chat about motorbike and his boat. I steer the boat for a couple of hours to my glee.
I get a tattoo.
Of a anchor. On my shoulder.
Its not “real,” but am told it will last about 3 months. Its some kind of extra strong ink.
Everyone else gets a tattoo.
We stop at a different island each night. One night we have a bon fire on the beach.
The second last day we sail for 12 hours. A couple of people get sea sick. I’m good though. That night we drink the rest of our booze. I try not to think about the morning because our captain tells us that this is where we’re stopping. Sapzurro. Just past the border of Panama right in the middle of the Darian.
In the morning a boat arrives to take the rest of the passengers to Capurgana around the next bay. They all get another boat to Turbo.
A couple of hours later another boat comes to pick me and my motorbike up. The captain says its very easy to get to Turbo. All I have to do is put the bike on a cargo boat. and take on of the regular speed boats to Turbo where I will wait for my bike. Easier said then done. I am almost out of cash. By the time i get to Capurgana I have 40 dollars. My hostel is ten dollars a night. There are no ATM’s and no way to take out cash. I spend two days stressing out thinking about being stranded in a tiny little coastal town in Columbia,probably right on the regular drug running route. Yipee. My second day in Capurgana I only eat two buns to save what little money i have left. I use my water purification tabs so i can drink tap water.
I eventually strike a deal with several parties to get my bike on a cargo boat and to take a speed boat. I will pay everything in Turbo where there is an ATM. I am charged way to much because i’m a gringo and have nothing to bargain with. I feel horrible. I hate Columbia, sail boats, Frenchman named Jean Pierre, Sappzurro, and Capurgana.
When I arrive in Turbo and Take out money a small weight is lifted off my chest. I pay the speed boat and go looking for a hotel where my motorbike will be safe. A cabbie and myself drive around for a long while trying to find a hotel. I eventually find the perfect place. My room costs 3.50 per night. I’m very proud of myself.
The captain of the cargo boat told me he would arrive at 6pm. I begin waiting at 4 by the pier. I have a beer. I buy a beer for another guy that sat down with me looking to chat. He appears to be very poor, but he is very kind and seems content with things.
My bike arrives at 5:30. I am so relieved that things eventually work out. I pay the captain his asking price. Way to much. He looks smug. I curse his boat and hope it sinks.
My opinion of Columbia has now changed. In fact its done a 180. The people here in Turbo have got to be the kindest most helpful I’ve ever met. I’ve been here now for a night and most of two days. People will stop you on the street all the time. And they don’t want anything from you or to sell you something. They want to know where I’m from. Where I’m going. Where I’ve been. What I think of Columbia. They are very proud of their country, and I think they have every right. Columbia is no longer run by guerrillas and drug lords. They still exist. But, things have changed.
For example, earlier today I went to the customs to get my bike registered and was guided into a nice air conditioned room. The agent was very efficient but, their computer system was temporarily down. I was offered coffee while I waited. Good Columbian coffee. In every other country I’ve been customs are hot, disorganized, and the people overworked and unhappy.
I also had to change my oil and get my rack on my bike re-welded today. Both excellent experience and so “special” prices.
So I’m really looking forward to seeing the rest of Columbia. Although, most of it is going to be from the seat of my bike. I have to be in Peru for the 19′th to meet my parents. So tomorrow morning I’m hitting the road. I foresee many long days on the road ahead. But I’m looking forward to it. My bike is as good as ever. And I want to eat up some km’s.
Until next time.
Kent
Photo Uploads are not working so hot right now. All will be on facebook.
SECOND LEG COMPLETED 9556 km, The road to Panama City
Three months and almost 10000 kilometers. Wow. I can’t put it in words how truly awed I am by the distance that I’ve covered. In the three years that I owned by last motorcycle I put on about the same distance that I’ve done in three months. Thank you to all the donors who have already contributed and to all those who have pledged to donate per kilometer. Our friend Dan is a real inspiration to me and I know that he and his team at Global Peace Network will be able to make a big difference to many people thanks to everyone’s support.
Santa Teresa to Panama City, in two days…
Saturday morning, Jesse and I woke up bright and early, 530am, so he could get on a bus back to Liberia. That poor scooter was dead or close to it. Maybe a blown head gasket, it wasn’t going anywhere soon. Thankfully there was a road, mostly paved, to the ferry from Santa Teressa. To bad we didn’t know about it before we decided to take the road from hell. Anyways, Jesse got on his shuttle and I decided to sleep in a bit and meet him at the ferry. Unfortunately, the shuttle did not take quite as long as he thought so we ended up on different boats. But I saw him on the other side and we said our farewells. Looking back at the week, it was a little rough. The mishaps are still a little raw and fresh in our minds, but I know its something that we will both look back on fondly. Maybe in a few months…or years.
Anyways, I got off the boat at around 12:30 thinking that would leave me plenty of time to make it to the border. Besides I would be taking the Pan-American Highway, paved the whole way. So I got on the highway and was on may way towards San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica.
In Mexico I learned that big cities are to be avoided at all costs because they are virtually impossible to navigate through without GPS or an act of god. But, maybe Costa Rica would be different, I thought. They have more signs here, they kinda look like the ones back home, and generally seem to be right. I would try my best.
Driving into San Jose the traffic steadily got more and more congested. No big problem. At this point I am an old hand at driving through busy traffic. Weaving, passing, and revving my engine at people to get out of the way (my horn fell of somewhere in Mexico, but I actually like doing this more, for the obvious cliche reasons). The road was divided and it was very clear that I was still on the Pan-American. But not for long. Good ol Central American logic. Put a sign up saying to go one way, but actually you need to go the exact opposite way. There was a sign that even said Frontera de Panama 380km and I thought wow, maybe Costa Rica has got the sign thing down. The arrow said go straight and straight I went. Right onto Highway 27 going out of the city and in the exact opposite direction I wanted to go… bah
So back I went to the original sign and found somebody to ask on a motorbike. He drove in front of me for a bit to help me find the road. He said ‘Directo’ meaning straight on through, direct route, no turns, easy to do. Maybe for a Costa Rica’n. This road proceeded to wind though many neighborhoods turning into a single lane, then a one way, then a divided highway, then back to a single lane. All the while I have no idea if this is still the Pan-American. But yes it was. Once out of the city there was another familiar green sign with a big number 2 on it. Yipee.
I just had one more obstacle. The highway split just outside of another big town. The sign said both way were the number two. I took the bigger, more friendly looking route right through the city. Nope. Tons of traffic, blistering heat, too many people, and once you get through the city the road simply ends. Some number 2. So I went all the way back through town, blistering heat, tons of traffic, way to many people, and took the other route. Finally. Beautiful Highway.
And beautiful it was.
I passed through one of the highest passes I’ve ever been on. Rivaling, if not surpassing the height of the roads in Guatemala. The road was pristine. Twisting up a mountain for an ascent that took almost an hour and then working its way across the peaks and valleys of the high mountain pass. Awesome fun. I caught up to a Subaru that was going just a bit slower than my pace, so I decided to follow him as it is difficult to pass a fast moving vehicle on the tight roads. The guy in the Subaru picked the pace right up though and we raced through the twisties passing all the old cars that have significant trouble going through these roads. We eventually caught up to a big line of traffic stuck behind a couple of slow moving semi’s so I gave him a thumbs up and easily got passed the rows of cars using the shoulders and center of the road.
I originally wanted to get right down to the border of Panama on this day, but by five o’clock I had only mad it about half way through Costa Rica. And there was a nice little town at the bottom of the mountain pass.
I pulled into the central plaza and spotted two beautiful girls, clearly tourists, who might know of a good place to stay. The two girls, from France, told me zat I should go to ze same place zey ver at, a hotel overlooking the plaza. The price was right and I ended up getting a room right next to them. They asked me if I wanted to go for a drink with them and off we went. I knew I had a long day ahead of me tommorrow, but the company was excellent and the beer cheap.
I woke up early, with a good hangover, the kind that only a good ride can get rid of. Packed my bike and got on the road. I needed to get to Panama city today. My friends from Nicaragua had found a boat that could take my motorbike and I needed to get there to reserve my spot. I was looking at about 700kms and a border crossing. It would be a long day.
The guy at the front desk of my hotel spoke really good English and was a fellow motorcycle enthusiast. He told me the fastest way to get to the border, which was not the Pan-American, and about a really great road for motorcycling which would take me to the main highway.
This, I think was the best road I’ve ever seen (up to this point). It climbed up through a beautiful green and mountainous valley and was hairpin turns, switchbacks, sweeping rights and lefts, fast sections, and all on brand new pavement. It lasted for about an hour and by the time I got to the highway, I had easily forgotten about my hangover.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Once I got into Panama, the Pan-American basically turns into a big freeway. It took me about five and a half hours to get to Panama City and it was dark when I arrived. I knew this was not a very good idea to be riding in one of the biggest and most dangerous cities at night, but I really wanted to get to the hostel where my friends would be.
Once closer to the city the traffic became incredible. I road on the shoulder for about an hour, passing the slow moving traffic. I spotted a Hotel called the Backpackers Inn and thought maybe it would be best to grab a room and head into the city in the morning. I walked into the reception where they told me the price was 25 dollars. Now I know to you folks in Canada and US might think this a bargain, but this was a bit ridicules for Panama, one of the cheapest Central American Countries. Some backpackers inn. So I kept going.
I formulated my plan. I have no idea where the hostel is. I know the name is “Luna’s Castle.” I decided to go to a central location, not quite downtown, and ask a cabbie to take me there for the regular fare. I of course would be following on my motorcycle. So I found my cabbie, he knew where it was, and I was there in about 5 minutes. What good luck, my instincts were right.
However, when I got to the hostel reception, they told me that there were no beds left, and not a single place available for me to sleep. Not good. They said there was nothing else close and that my best chance would be to go downtown and find something. Not what I wanted to hear.
I got back on the bike. Somehow found I road going downtown and started searching. Eventually I found a real shady looking 24 hour hotel, not really the most appealing place. I think it was called Edens paradise or something really sleazy. But, they had a good secure parking lot with video cameras and a big steel gate. My room was 25 dollars. Should have stayed at the Backpacker’s Inn…
The next morning I got back to the hostel and was able to score a room. I was also able to book the same boat as my friends. Both me and my motorcycle should be on a boat by tomorrow afternoon for the voyage through the San Blas islands and on route to Columbia.
Unfortunately, I didn’t take any pictures in the last two days, So I hope my descriptions have been good enough. I was pretty stressed out about making it to Panama City to get this boat. But I’ll be sure to take lots on my boat voyage to Columbia. The trip is going to be five days, but it could take longer if the seas are rough.
Kent
