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| Still barefoot and confused in Bocas. |
Well it appeared the Panamanian government had caught wind of our plan and decided to issue a trade embargo on shipping white people via sailboat between themselves and Columbia because it was tougher to find a sail boat heading south than it was trying to explain what a turducken is to the local chief of police.
In Panama there are four locations for boating enthusiasts none of which are close together: Bocas del Toro, the canal on the Panama City side, the canal on the Colon side, and the San Blas Islands.
After persistently asking every boat in a 10 mile radius in Bocas, we got a restraining notice that didn't allow us within visible distance of any type of ocean going vessel. So we skipped town and decided to go to Panama City and try our luck there. Instead of taking the rough 2 day bus ride that routes itself through every possible mountain range between Bocas and Panama City, we opted for the cheap 2 hour flight.
On a side note as something that may interest fans of the Guinness World Record Book, Crystal and I had not worn shoes, flip flops, crocs, one-sies, or any other type of protective foot apparel for the past two months. We knew our barefootedness was coming to an end with the big city lifestyle quickly approaching however we were able to board and fly to Panama City without shoes which makes going through security that much easier but after bewildered looks from the airport staff upon landing, we were instructed we must have shoes on to enter the baggage claim area. We did weasel passed that one by saying they were in our check-in luggage when we actually had them in our carry-on backpacks however once we saw the littered streets of Panama City we claimed defeat and put on our flipee-flopees. We were a bit disappointed because we only had 72 years, 6 months, and 13 days before we beat the current record set by an Indian mystic who lived in a tree in the northwest Uttar Pradesh region. He obviously never visited Panama City.
We spent a little time exploring Panama City since our main focus was on finding a boat but two areas aren't to be missed: the fish market with endless stalls of fresh fish and ceviche and the old town with its European styled streets filled with Panama hat shops, entertaining ninos, and more importantly good food.
As much as the city had to offer, we were still stuck high and dry without a boat after a couple days of solid searching. Things would have been different if we would've had a bit more time but our days were running out before we had to be in Cartagena. So we had two options left: Go to the east side of the canal to Colon or try to find a way to the San Blas Islands and hope to find a boat there. Both had their problems. Colon is a place we were told to avoid at all costs due to the fact that the chance of getting mugged in the street in broad daylight is around 100%. The San Blas Islands are in the no-man's land between Panama and Columbia which we were unsure of how to get to without a boat and once we got there were pretty committed to that route without a way of getting back easily.
At this point an important decision had to be made and what better way to do it than while determining which Panamanian beer is the best: Atlas, Balboa, or Panama. After much deliberation and even more beers, we decided to go for it and head to San Blas. I wanted to see the Kuna Yala people of the San Blas Islands anyway and we wouldn't know unless we tried. We also decided Panama is the best beer but all three give you headaches if consumed in large quantities.
For one of the narrowest countries in the world, it is amazingly difficult to get information about the east side of the country while on the west side. A distance of only 50 miles. We knew there was a train that ran down the Canal multiple times a day but after that all we had were a few vague town names and a phone number that consisted both of numbers and letters for a cement mixing company in Colon. We didn't call.
The Panama Canal Railway was completed in 1855 to help with the huge influx of traffic wanting to get in and out of California during the gold rush. Prior to the railway the isthmus was crossed via dugout canoes and donkeys. The Canal itself was completed in 1914 after 10 years of construction and more than 12,000 deaths mostly due to tropical diseases. The Canal Zone history is a fascinating read if you are up for something more after getting through this post.
We had heard we could catch boats heading to San Blas in a town called Miramar which is basically where the road ends. After a few hot hours we were dumped out of the bus with the one other lingering passenger. We realized Miramar wasn't exactly the place we were expecting and we weren't expecting much. A few worn out streets with dogs to match lined with concrete houses accented by the two story pink police/military housing unit on the corner facing a dirty beach.
As soon as we stepped off of the bus an eager 'business man' approached us assuming he knew the only reason tourists would come here and that is to get to San Blas. After we confirmed our intentions, he guided us to the local boat 'captain' who was resting under the shade of his porch wearing the official San Blas Captain's Uniform: a single gold chain around his neck and a pair of cargo shorts. In all honesty it was too hot to be wearing much more.
Now things got a bit tricky due to three main factors:
- We weren't exactly sure where we were.
- We weren't exactly sure where we were trying to go.
- We had no idea of the distance involved between these two non-exact locations.
Well after a bit of a "Who's on first?" conversation in figuring out the above questions, he gave us a price which seemed high for any distance and told us he wouldn't be leaving until the next morning at 9 am sharp. It was just after noon when we arrived and we had left as early as possible in the morning to try and get as far as we could in one day, hopefully to the islands but unless we were willing to spend most of our life savings and donate a kidney for an immediate departure, we would have to wait as there were no other options in this one boat town.
Once negotiations were settled the 'business man' was excited to take us all the way across the street to the restaurant/hotel so we wouldn't get lost and hoping his tip would increase. After dumping our bags in one of the two rooms/jail cells, we had a bite to eat, walked around town checking out all the sights it had to offer which took less than 5 minutes, and then spent the rest of the day in what can only be summed up in the pictures below:
We woke up the next morning ready at 9 am sharp to get things going. Turns out 9 am sharp means sometime in the afternoon whenever the captain's hangover wears off and piloting a boat off shore is a better option than getting yelled at by your wife. So we were able to enjoy more of the great action the city had to offer including the diverse menu of the restaurant which served the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And by the same I mean whatever dry pieces of chicken and plantains you couldn't wash down with a warm coke at the previous meal were saved and served again. You just had to hope you got your own leftovers and not Rosa's.
After sitting around for what felt like days, el capitan finally shows up rushing us as if it were our fault he was late and leads us to his 25 ft cargo boat loaded to the gills with supplies to deliver to San Blas. As we looked for the seats buried beneath the suffocating amounts of cargo, we were directed toward the front of the boat and told to sit on top of the large ice chests full of fish. He then loaded a few more rusty propane tanks between our legs before handing us what appeared to be life jackets in a vein attempt to be concerned about our safety. And to give us the best possible odds of our boat being used for a July 4th celebration, he climbed in the back and lit a cigarette before his helper lowered down two sloshing petrol tanks to fuel the small outboard on our journey. Then with one crank we were off....until about 50 ft from the dock while we were passing through the narrow cut leading outside the reef the engine died. About thirty attempts later, after some MacGyver engine repair and being within arms reach of the exposed reef, we were off and running again to battle the 5 foot swells outside the reef with the 50 hp motor for the 3 hour trip.
Well after 4 rough hours with no end in sight, Crystal began getting worried that we were being taken into the mangroves for our loot. The thought had been crossing my mind as well but I figured they wouldn't have put our bags next to the decrepit propane tanks if they actually cared what was inside them. However after being covered in sea salt and baked by the sun for the most of the afternoon, I was just hoping the natives weren't too hungry wherever we ended up.
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| Thumbs up for oversized hats and cabarets. |
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| Insert own caption. Your guess is as good as mine. |
As much as the city had to offer, we were still stuck high and dry without a boat after a couple days of solid searching. Things would have been different if we would've had a bit more time but our days were running out before we had to be in Cartagena. So we had two options left: Go to the east side of the canal to Colon or try to find a way to the San Blas Islands and hope to find a boat there. Both had their problems. Colon is a place we were told to avoid at all costs due to the fact that the chance of getting mugged in the street in broad daylight is around 100%. The San Blas Islands are in the no-man's land between Panama and Columbia which we were unsure of how to get to without a boat and once we got there were pretty committed to that route without a way of getting back easily.
At this point an important decision had to be made and what better way to do it than while determining which Panamanian beer is the best: Atlas, Balboa, or Panama. After much deliberation and even more beers, we decided to go for it and head to San Blas. I wanted to see the Kuna Yala people of the San Blas Islands anyway and we wouldn't know unless we tried. We also decided Panama is the best beer but all three give you headaches if consumed in large quantities.
For one of the narrowest countries in the world, it is amazingly difficult to get information about the east side of the country while on the west side. A distance of only 50 miles. We knew there was a train that ran down the Canal multiple times a day but after that all we had were a few vague town names and a phone number that consisted both of numbers and letters for a cement mixing company in Colon. We didn't call.
The Panama Canal Railway was completed in 1855 to help with the huge influx of traffic wanting to get in and out of California during the gold rush. Prior to the railway the isthmus was crossed via dugout canoes and donkeys. The Canal itself was completed in 1914 after 10 years of construction and more than 12,000 deaths mostly due to tropical diseases. The Canal Zone history is a fascinating read if you are up for something more after getting through this post.
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| Picture of a picture of the Canal locks. |
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| All abroad. |
Nowadays the Railway is mostly for tourists and it's a great way to see the Canal while relaxing in the air-conditioned passenger cars and avoiding the threat of any tropical diseases. The trip was a quick 1.5 hours before we had to depart in the welcoming and friendly town of Colon. What Colon lacks in hospitality they do try to compensate for by having the most intricately painted busses in Central America. We got on the first one heading south and didn't look back.
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| Classy yet subtle. |
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| Nothing says good bus service like a half naked woman taming two white tigers. |
As soon as we stepped off of the bus an eager 'business man' approached us assuming he knew the only reason tourists would come here and that is to get to San Blas. After we confirmed our intentions, he guided us to the local boat 'captain' who was resting under the shade of his porch wearing the official San Blas Captain's Uniform: a single gold chain around his neck and a pair of cargo shorts. In all honesty it was too hot to be wearing much more.
Now things got a bit tricky due to three main factors:
- We weren't exactly sure where we were.
- We weren't exactly sure where we were trying to go.
- We had no idea of the distance involved between these two non-exact locations.
Well after a bit of a "Who's on first?" conversation in figuring out the above questions, he gave us a price which seemed high for any distance and told us he wouldn't be leaving until the next morning at 9 am sharp. It was just after noon when we arrived and we had left as early as possible in the morning to try and get as far as we could in one day, hopefully to the islands but unless we were willing to spend most of our life savings and donate a kidney for an immediate departure, we would have to wait as there were no other options in this one boat town.
Once negotiations were settled the 'business man' was excited to take us all the way across the street to the restaurant/hotel so we wouldn't get lost and hoping his tip would increase. After dumping our bags in one of the two rooms/jail cells, we had a bite to eat, walked around town checking out all the sights it had to offer which took less than 5 minutes, and then spent the rest of the day in what can only be summed up in the pictures below:
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| Option 1: Sit and sweat while watching others do the same. |
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| Option 2: Sit and sweat while watching Rosa chop up squid and swat flies. |
After sitting around for what felt like days, el capitan finally shows up rushing us as if it were our fault he was late and leads us to his 25 ft cargo boat loaded to the gills with supplies to deliver to San Blas. As we looked for the seats buried beneath the suffocating amounts of cargo, we were directed toward the front of the boat and told to sit on top of the large ice chests full of fish. He then loaded a few more rusty propane tanks between our legs before handing us what appeared to be life jackets in a vein attempt to be concerned about our safety. And to give us the best possible odds of our boat being used for a July 4th celebration, he climbed in the back and lit a cigarette before his helper lowered down two sloshing petrol tanks to fuel the small outboard on our journey. Then with one crank we were off....until about 50 ft from the dock while we were passing through the narrow cut leading outside the reef the engine died. About thirty attempts later, after some MacGyver engine repair and being within arms reach of the exposed reef, we were off and running again to battle the 5 foot swells outside the reef with the 50 hp motor for the 3 hour trip.
Well after 4 rough hours with no end in sight, Crystal began getting worried that we were being taken into the mangroves for our loot. The thought had been crossing my mind as well but I figured they wouldn't have put our bags next to the decrepit propane tanks if they actually cared what was inside them. However after being covered in sea salt and baked by the sun for the most of the afternoon, I was just hoping the natives weren't too hungry wherever we ended up.
Finally after 5 hours, an island with an actual building was in sight. This was El Porvenir, the fist of 378 islands that make up the San Blas Archipelago. 49 of these islands are inhabited by the Kuna Yala people. They are one of the only tribes of native Central Americans that survived the onslaught of the European conquistadors relatively unscathed due to the island chain's geographic location. Although claimed by Panama, the Kuna Yala are a completely separate region and greatly value their independence with their own check points and immigration offices at the border of their territory. Up until just a few years ago they still used coconuts as 'hard' currency. Derelict hand written signs can be still be seen on coconut trees reading "Do not pick".
Once our official entry was complete in Porvenir we hopped back in the boat and were taken to an adjacent island that was crowded with wooden shacks and a couple of concrete buildings. We were instructed that this was our getting off point whether we liked it or not. Our arrival on the island attracted a bit of attention as the locals knew we would need something but they just weren't sure what. There were a few sail boats anchored around the island and in the distance I could see lots of masts around another island so we needed a way to get there. So we were back to another round of negotiations without much leverage.
The Kuna Yala have their own native language. Their Spanish is sometimes ok and English almost non-existent. Luckily for us one of the island leaders joined in our forum and his English was quite good. His name was something like Pablo but more native islandy and he was very helpful as our newly elected point man. He also had a boat and a much better price to ferry us to the other island. So we loaded our gear into his small boat while his son put the outboard on it and we were on the water again.
There were plenty of sail boats around the island where we were heading which gave us more hope than we had had in days. However, our hope slowly faded away after our generic call out on the radio for any boats heading to Columbia was met with complete silence as we stared at the radio hoping a genie would come out and grant our wish. After waiting too long for a non-answer on the radio we motored over to a couple of boats that had people on deck to give our search one final shot. We were informed that most people here are anchored for the season and there aren't too many boats heading to Columbia now. This would have been good information to have in Panama City. Now we were back to square one, without a way to Columbia, and more immediately without a place to stay for the night as the sun was setting. Luckily Pablo helped out again and said he knew a lady who would rent us a room back on his island so back we went.
Once back and our accommodations arranged, we continued to pester Pablo on how we could get to Columbia from here. He said there were two options he could think of: Get on a chartered sail boat or work our way along the coast line jumping on local cargo boats. Well it appears anyone there operating a sailing charter is trying to pay off their boat in one trip because the prices were outrageous and none were leaving in the near future. The 2nd option didn't sound great either. We had just spent 5 unenjoyable hours on a local cargo boat and getting to the nearest port town in Columbia would require at least 2 full days. On top of that details were pretty sketchy about how we officially leave Panama and enter Columbia. Google Maps shows a clear and distinct line between the two countries but in reality it is a completely different story as there is nothing down there resembling a border unless you consider drug runners, guerrilla fighters, and actual gorillas immigration officials. We were in a situation that is eerily similar to what happens every four years in the States when we have to elect a president: deciding on the lesser of two evils.
Well Pablo could see our consternation at the situation we were in and overheard us mentioning we wished we could get back to Panama City so we could just fly to Columbia. He decided to give us a third option which was to take a 10 minute boat road to the mainland where 4x4 trucks make the trip to Panama City in 2 hours. We didn't need to discuss this over a few beers. We asked where do we sign up.
Although we realized we weren't going to Columbia by boat, we were finally able to relax with the few extra days we now had and spent the time enjoying the island with the Kuna Yala. They live an extremely simple lifestyle with just enough electricity for the necessities and sometimes running water if you ask nicely otherwise you shower with a water basin and half a coconut to pour water over yourself. Without much running water, plumbed toilets are an issue also so they devised a series of piers around the island with outhouses at the ends. by outhouse I mean a few boards in place for a bit of privacy and one board to sit on depending on your business. I would recommend taking your own toilet paper and not to go swimming when the tide is coming in.
As for our accommodation, it consisted of a bamboo hut with the beach as our floor. It was obvious they hadn't had visitors in a while as they had to put a bed together for us but it turned out to be quite nice and rustic. We would smooth all the sand out before going to bed so we could see all the whimsical routes the sand crabs took during the night and try and track them down in the morning. Other than that it was your typical island setting with about 150 natives and 2 travelers from North America. We played chase with the kids on the beach, watched fishermen almost swamp their boat in their excitement to catch a school of fish while the women rolled over from laughter on shore, and got a kick of watching each other nervously use the outhouses over the water.
Once our official entry was complete in Porvenir we hopped back in the boat and were taken to an adjacent island that was crowded with wooden shacks and a couple of concrete buildings. We were instructed that this was our getting off point whether we liked it or not. Our arrival on the island attracted a bit of attention as the locals knew we would need something but they just weren't sure what. There were a few sail boats anchored around the island and in the distance I could see lots of masts around another island so we needed a way to get there. So we were back to another round of negotiations without much leverage.
The Kuna Yala have their own native language. Their Spanish is sometimes ok and English almost non-existent. Luckily for us one of the island leaders joined in our forum and his English was quite good. His name was something like Pablo but more native islandy and he was very helpful as our newly elected point man. He also had a boat and a much better price to ferry us to the other island. So we loaded our gear into his small boat while his son put the outboard on it and we were on the water again.
There were plenty of sail boats around the island where we were heading which gave us more hope than we had had in days. However, our hope slowly faded away after our generic call out on the radio for any boats heading to Columbia was met with complete silence as we stared at the radio hoping a genie would come out and grant our wish. After waiting too long for a non-answer on the radio we motored over to a couple of boats that had people on deck to give our search one final shot. We were informed that most people here are anchored for the season and there aren't too many boats heading to Columbia now. This would have been good information to have in Panama City. Now we were back to square one, without a way to Columbia, and more immediately without a place to stay for the night as the sun was setting. Luckily Pablo helped out again and said he knew a lady who would rent us a room back on his island so back we went.
Once back and our accommodations arranged, we continued to pester Pablo on how we could get to Columbia from here. He said there were two options he could think of: Get on a chartered sail boat or work our way along the coast line jumping on local cargo boats. Well it appears anyone there operating a sailing charter is trying to pay off their boat in one trip because the prices were outrageous and none were leaving in the near future. The 2nd option didn't sound great either. We had just spent 5 unenjoyable hours on a local cargo boat and getting to the nearest port town in Columbia would require at least 2 full days. On top of that details were pretty sketchy about how we officially leave Panama and enter Columbia. Google Maps shows a clear and distinct line between the two countries but in reality it is a completely different story as there is nothing down there resembling a border unless you consider drug runners, guerrilla fighters, and actual gorillas immigration officials. We were in a situation that is eerily similar to what happens every four years in the States when we have to elect a president: deciding on the lesser of two evils.
Well Pablo could see our consternation at the situation we were in and overheard us mentioning we wished we could get back to Panama City so we could just fly to Columbia. He decided to give us a third option which was to take a 10 minute boat road to the mainland where 4x4 trucks make the trip to Panama City in 2 hours. We didn't need to discuss this over a few beers. We asked where do we sign up.
Although we realized we weren't going to Columbia by boat, we were finally able to relax with the few extra days we now had and spent the time enjoying the island with the Kuna Yala. They live an extremely simple lifestyle with just enough electricity for the necessities and sometimes running water if you ask nicely otherwise you shower with a water basin and half a coconut to pour water over yourself. Without much running water, plumbed toilets are an issue also so they devised a series of piers around the island with outhouses at the ends. by outhouse I mean a few boards in place for a bit of privacy and one board to sit on depending on your business. I would recommend taking your own toilet paper and not to go swimming when the tide is coming in.
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| Outhouse or office: Conference call on line poo. |
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| Outhouse or playground: Why not let the kids decide. |
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| Bargaining for textiles and possibly a small child. |
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| Bedroom - sand crabs free of charge, other crabs come at a higher price. |
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| Immigration station, 4x4 depot, restaurant, and hotel. |
And then we were off to Columbia.
Plenty of pictures added to the Panama link under Images on my blog site.
Hope everyone is well,
JB
