Memory Maker

"Flying is cheating, flying is cheating!" One girl I met put it really succintly, and so I was determined to sail to Cartagena from Panama. Not a cheap trip at $400, but an adventure and an opportunity to see the San Blas islands, home to the Kuna people, who run it as an autonomous part of Panama. The entire local economy is based on gathering coconuts, which for them is the local currency that grows on trees, and selling fish and lobsters and renting out hut space to the hordes of backpackers who visit.

There was initially the constraint of time, would there be a boat available when I needed to go? Secondly, would it be a good boat with a good crew? I met René and Ina a German couple in the first hostel Hospedaje Casco Viejo, he had done a lot of research on the net and was convinced he had found a good boat. A keen sailor himself, he had been very meticulous. I got in touch with the booking agent at Hostel Wunderbar, whose husband also runs a boat, and she assured me that she knew the crew, that they were reliable, that the boat was good and that the food would be good. She refused to give out the name of the captain and the boat as she said there was such intense competition between hostels, she didn't want to lose her monopoly on the boat. As the Footprint guidebook recommended Wunderbar, I was happy to go with it.

Unfortunately, there was no way of checking it and to board, I needed to go from Panama City to Puerto Colon and then on to Puerto Lindo where there was the yacht club. Colon is utterly bizarre. It is a major port and tax free zone with a huge closed shopping complex, but the old city itself is tolally lawless. The old buildings have tin shacks built within them and on them. Sadly, I didn't have my camera to hand, but the net effect was as if Gugulethu had been superimposed onto District 6. The only certainty is that you are going to be mugged eventually, although there were sufficient cops around the bus station to make it reasonably safe. Whilst waiting for the chicken bus that would take me on to Puerto Lindo, I was amused to see one pull up with the legend, "Los ricos tambien lloran". The journey was a further hellish 4 hours. I met 2 guys whom I assumed to be the crew, and I should have trusted my judgement there and then. However, the captain, a 67 year old Texan presented himself well and made all sorts of promises about what the trip would be like. The truth was somewhat different. Afterwards, we surmised that the crew had spent the time drinking rather than preparing (As I was to hear Bill the captain say during the trip, "alcohol is my companion but is not my freeyend"). We were stuck in Puerto Lindo for 2 days, there were no fresh vegetables to be had, which depressed me enormously. My fellow passengers were good people, René and Ina, a very bright physics graduate, Paul and Daniel a sometime Australian surfer who was a force of nature. After being told we had to depart before nightfall, we were hustled on to the boat after night fall, nothing was in place, but we were in good spirits and happy to be under way.

There was no wind to speak of, so we motored all through the night to San Blas, and the castaway desert island scenery was stunning. We were all convinced it was going to pan out well. We spent the day exploring Chichimi island, snorkelling and exploring a wreck that had run aground on the reef. By the time René, Ina and I returned to the boat in the evening, the captain who had drunk a vast quantity of rum had passed out, with a little puddle of vomit on the floor next to the bunk, the other crew member was nowhere to be seen. there was no power on the boat, no way to cook, to have a shower, or to read even. Besides which it was getting cold as the wind blew up. Other yachts were going out for a sail and enjoying the wind. Not us, I sat on the deck and played the guitar. Eventually, the first mate swam to the boat. He had been drinking on the island and was worse for wear. It fell to René and me to prepare dinner, we were so relieved to eat, that we let it go. We figured the captain needed to unwind too after being up all night, after all he was one of the most courteous gentlemen I have met. He used to greet us after every expedition with "Did you have fun and did you learn anything?"....

The next day. we motored to another group of islands to explore and snorkel, bought some very underage lobsters and then moved on to another island where there was a bar. My heart sank. Of course, the captain and first mate got totally and boringly drunk. Paul and I cooked this time, but the first mate was obstreperous and obstructive. Our vegetables had either run out or rotted and this was just the 2nd day! Our tiny lobsters could barely afford more than a morsel for each of us, and we were not allowed to grill them. What a waste! Morale took a turn for the worse.

The next day we went to Porvenir to clear immigration. Somehow they made a horlicks of that too, and we were stuck waiting for them on the boat for 7 hours. Daniel who was with them, told us that they drank whilst waiting to sort out the paper work. We finally started out at 6pm, into a headwind, meaning we had a very low speed over ground. We calculated that we had up to 70 hours of this hell to endure, with ham, vile processed stale bread, and eggs. On the 2nd day the water started running out too. We were unable to shower. The toilet which was totally foul became worse; it improved slightly after Bill cleaned it, the first mate somehow didn't feel it was part of his job description. The water that remained tasted foul too.. We all sank into a state of listless torpor, the sun was too fierce to spend too much time on deck during the day. The space was limited and we all had to work hard not to fray each others' nerves. To make matters worse, René caught Turner (the first mate) stealing our rum whilst we we at sea. He was pathologically unable to stop drinking. Bill, to his credit, did work hard and genuinely did want us to have a good time. But it was all too late, and though he made sure we got safely to our destination and was grateful for the help he gave him during the 3 long nights at sea, he knew in his heart of hearts that it had been a dreadful ride. His wife greeted us at the dock and she was horrified to hear our tale of the voyage. She normally travelled on board and saw to the food and housekeeping, but had remained in Cartagena to put the finishing touches on a historic novel she was writing. I am sure the trip would have been completely different had she been with us. She had prepared shopping lists and menu plans that had been nowhere in evidence.

I have to admit though that the following photos give the impression of an idyllic trip.

The chicken bus in Colón.. "Los Ricos Tambien lloran"

René and Ina

René and Paul

Group photo at Chichimi Island. Turner (first mate), Daniel, Bill (captain) René and Ina

Exploring the wreck that had run aground on the reef by Chichimi

A star fish in the crystal clear waters

René spotted this sting ray, and we had fun following it for quite a while, but they are graceful and fast and it eventually disappeared into the murk.

Classic Robinson Crusoe castaway island by Chichimi

Chichimi island

A rare floral treat in the midst of sand, coconut palms and course weeds and succulent plants.

Kuna fisherman hawking their catch

Sergeant major fish going ballistic over some food debris

Cayo Limón looking towards Darien, the inhospitable all but impassable part of the isthmus before the Colombian border.

The waning sun Cayo Limón

Our crew + Paul and Daniel off to the bar in Cayo Limón


Our meagre lobster/crab ration to feed 7 hungry people

Paul and Paul waiting for the potatoes to boil

Daniel and Ina breakfasting on deck

Ina adding colour to the boat and mango peel to the sea

Sunset at sea

Land at last! Our first view of the Cartagena skyline

Panama City

The visit to Panama city was truncated, because there was a sailing boat leaving for Cartagena within a couple of days. The journey to Panama City from David took about 6 hours and initially was spectacular as we travelled alongside the mountainous spine of the isthmus. The bus stopped for a lunch break and we were all amused by the toilet paper vending machine positioned outside the loos.

Panama City itself is a place of huge contrast depending on which way you are facing; it's like Dubai, it's like a beautiful old colonial city like Granada, with very interesting buildings of character. It's like a badly designed British council estate and it's like a slum. I wish I would have had more time to experience a bit of the life here, just a collection of jumbled impressions. There are very many wealthy people who live in the high tech buildings, and they seem to mainly go to the American/ Sandton type shopping malls, with all the big name designer shops and food courts. The old city had a number of fruit and veg market vendors and some good restaurants. The more soulless part of the city where I stayed one night with 60s architecture,had very little in the way of supermarkets, no market stalls and the most dire eateries catering to the local workers and a MacDonalds.

No visit to Panama City could be complete without a visit to the canal, which I managed in spite of the rain and the time pressure. At Miraflores locks, there is a viewing area where you can watch the boats being raised and lowered as well as a very well presented museum, about the construction, environment and the systems. It's an amazing tale of French hubris, defeated after 22000 deaths mainly due to yellow fever, of ingenuity and lateral thinking by the Cuban doctor figured out that the Aegyptis mosquito was the vector and therefore had the swamps drained which minimised the threat and finally of can do machismo by the Americans who finally took over the project, with their massive steam shovels and 60 000 000 pounds of dynamite. Gatun Lake was the largest artificial lake in the world for a time. Panama is a huge watershed along its spine and this abundance of water is necessary for the locks to function, as well as provide for the city and agricultural needs and of course sustain the rain forest that still exists there. For me, the best bit of the excellent museum was at the end, where there is a simulator, giving a pilot's eye view of a complete transit. Apparently, training is rigorous, as the clearances are so tight and this is the only canal in the world where the ship's captain has to give over the helm to the pilot for the duration, from coastal water to coastal water.

The toilet paper dispenser on the journey to Panama City

Urban decay in Panama City

Bobbie and Ollie, with the Dubai-like skyline in the background

Tarted up buildings around the Presidential palace in Casco Viejo, Panama City

Restaurant Coca Cola, a really good value diner, with simple good food in Casco Viejo, where I ate often

The ruins of Panama Viejo, with the modern high rise developments in the backgound. Panama Viejo was razed to the ground by a British buccaneer centuries ago, just a few walls and towers remain.

A boat heading inland from the Pacific from Miraflores locks

Miraflores locks at low level

A boat entering the lock to be raised. On either side are little railway engines or donkeys (2 at the front, 2 at the back) with taut lines to keep the bat aligned with the canal. They travel with the boat until it ready to leave the lock under its own power.

Looking down the Avenida Centrale in Casco Viejo, the old tramlines are still evident.

The regentrification of Casco Viejo. Apparently these buildings can be purchased for as little as $60 000. I'm sure as security improves, they will become bijou apartment houses. It's mostly dangerous to wander outside prescribed areas in Panama City, especially at night.

Council house architecture and old slum side by side in Casco Viejo

Panama

The simplest way to get to Panama City appeared to be by bus to San Isidro and then another to David direct. I figured that if I took the first bus of the morning at 0530, I would be in David by about 4pm. After an initially very boring drive inland we swept down to the coast again to Playa Domingo. A sleepy little town frequented mainly by the hippie set and surfers. After this we started to ascend the high ground that forms the spine of Central America and the views to the coast from the hairpin bends were spectacular. It was on one of these bends that a rear tire blew out on the bus, but apart from the bang and the flapping of the ruptured casing we continued on to San Isidro uneventfully. After walking to the Tracopa bus terminal, I had a couple of hours to kill, so I played some flamenco to the bemused passers by. I dozed through much of the next leg of the journey, but it was most enjoyable winding through rolling hills before the ground flattened out as we approached the border at Paso Canoas.

David is Panama's 2nd city and it seems to have been founded, or at least populated by Europeans who thought they were going to California to join the gold rush, but were dropped off in Panama. Instead of continuing on to their intended destination, they stayed and made a life. I attempted to go to the main museum,Osbaldia, but this was closed for restoration, or rather left open and empty, so that vagrants wouldn't break into it. Next was the Police museum, which had a rather tedious display of photographs from the conflict with Costa Rica, which Panama won apparently, but the US ceded the Panamanian territory to Costa Rica as the result of some terrible misunderstanding on their part(?). Finally I went to Museo El Casaron, which housed clothing and artifacts from the colonial era in the house of a Dr Mueller who had come to Panama by mistake. Apart from seeing the old clothes, bottles and furniture and agricultural implements, there were some bond certificates for the original Panama Canal, which the French didn't manage to build.

THe Art Deco bank on the edge of the Parque Centrale

The old colonial house which is now Museo Osbaldia, and belonged to a former President of Panama. Now empty and waiting for repair

I had read that there was a very beautiful walk called the Quetzal Trail, that links Cerra Punto to Boquete through cloud forest by the side of Volcán Baru and si determined to do it. The 2 hour ride from David brought me into an Alpine setting, where many small holdings produced an abundance of vegetables, although mainly onions and potatoes at this time of year. It was lovely to walk in the fresh cool air after the oppressive heat and humidity of David. I rose early the next morning to make the walk alone, which I did slowly in the hope of seeing a beautiful Quetzal bird. Sadly, I found out at the end that this is the wrong season for them, they tend to migrate at the end of April and reappear towards November. It was utterly magical to have the trail to myself initially, so peaceful, pausing every few minutes to scan the canopy and the undergrowth.
Towards the end the illusion of mystical beauty was destroyed as I encountered other groups of walkers, including one with a professional guide; they neither saw nor heard a quetzal either.

The Alpine scenery at the Cerro Punta side of the trail before Refugio Respiguo

The trail at the start

Looking up into the cloud forest canopy

Still looking for those elusive quetzales

Willie the toucan at Pension Topas in Boquete, the final destination of the walk. Sadly caged alone in an aviary now, because he is so tame, having been hand reared from being abandoned at birth, that his owners fear that he'll be stolen and sold.

Looking down on Boquete from the hill behind the town. It is now full of American and European retirees attracted by the fresh climate and mountain air. It is surrounded by coffee plantations and hills and occasionally you can even see Volcán Baru. The big estate agents are there now and property prices are high.

Manuel Antonio

Almost all the fellow travellers I spoke to prior going to Costa Rica said if there was only one thing they could see, it would be Manuel Antonio national park. this is about 2/3 of the way east down the Pacific Coast, just outside of Quepos. I arrived on Sunday afternoon with 2 American girls whom I had met at the border, Andrea and Sophie and as the hostel had only room available for 4, we shared with a German surfer called Matt, who happened to be a kickass electrical engineer who had just finished an internship at MIT. The following day, the park was closed, so I went boogie boarding for the first time, and after I understood that you have to ride the white water once the wave has broken, I managed a few good rides. However, I also managed to bruise my ribs badly when I got tumbled over the edge of the board and fell heavily on it. It pained me for about 2 weeks.

Manuel Antonio itself is how I imagine a game park in Disneyland would be. Hordes of tourists were clustered around guides on massive paths. The guide was expensive but worthwhile, as he was brilliant at spotting things long before the others (attracting a cluster of the others) and had good knowledge. There was also the added bonus of being able to take photos with our cameras through his telescope, which is how I have the images below.The park itself is small and beautiful primary forest on the edge of the coast. However it is far too touristy for me to want to return.

After the walk, it was great to relax on the beach and swim, whilst hordes of capuchin monkey and racoons attempted to rifle through unattended bags for snacks.

Melissa a mural artist and I with our guide, Miguel on the beach at the end of the tour

An ibis

A tiny tree frog, which Miguel spotted , even after showing it too us, it took a while to realise that it wasn't just some patch on the leaf

3 toed sloth (diurnal)

Another one enjoying a (very) leisurely breakfast

A 2 toed sloth (nocturnal) evidently having a bad hair day

A capuchin monkey, looking for something to steal. So called because they are dressed like capuchin monks

A boa constrictor sleeping in a tree above the path beside the beach.

A tree crab! This actually lives and feeds in trees, and eats fungus from the leaves and stalks

A "Fitou" or stick bird, that mimicks dead branches when threatened by a predator, in this case a nearby hawk. It iself is a nocturnal hunter of small animals

The idyllic beach