route info, gps, maps, descriptions here

In the summer of 2016, over a momentary lapse of judgement I decided to packraft over The Darien Gap from Panama to Colombia. What better way to enter South America than with a big bang... as long as its not the bang from my inflatable raft poping.

meanwhile, Deadhorse will take a 5 day cruise with the Stahl Ratte - straight to Cartagena

Sept 22, 2016

Puerto Carti, Guna Yala, Panama

Day 1

Good news, I finally made sense of the sea charts on the sailing book - all that yellow stuff was not sandy islands but reefs. I found out its about 210km to Colombia... in a straight line. There are many towns and storms are possible during September and October. I gave up trying to rank my worries in order. Reefs poping my boat, storms, places to stay, sharks, narcos, farc, bugs, water and of course - getting hit by a coconut while resting under a palm tree.

After the impossible hills of the road to Carti, paddling felt great. The sun was baking hot and what about the glue holding the boat together? Would it melt? I kept checking pressure but it seemed fine.

From the port I knew there would be some tourists but this was bad. There werent any uninhabited islands and I was 15km away from the coast. I asked at one how much it would cost to camp and was told 45. Funny, I thought. I have 42, total. Then I was asked this.
"How much can you pay?",
"5?"
Nope. Go paddle 5km to another island.

Luckily I found an empty island and landed for the day. The ocean breeze and shade do wonders with the heat but perhaps the most upsetting thing was hearing all these coconuts fall without any means to open them. After a bunch hit the ground, I moved from under one tree, a coconut in the head would knock me right out or worse. Tourist found dead on an island, death by coconut, not a good way to go. (I also later found out that coconuts are a main source of income for the Kuna people, drinking one would be stealing.)

what you find on those deserted islands...

Day 2

By noon I already bagged 20km and went on to chat with Breeze and Debbie, sailing "The Blue Sky". The last thing I expected was to find myself adding books to kindle, in the ocean. They invited me to a nice breakfast - egg sandwich and watermelon and some amazing brown wonder bread with walnuts. They have been sailing here over the years and told me more about the area. They also told me they were fined 350$ for not stopping at a town. The locals and police arrived in the dark telling them they were smuggling drugs... They said they werent, so the fine was lowered to 250 but ended up going to town the next day and paying the full amount...
Before I left, I learned one more thing.
"Hold on, your paddle is upside down, its unidirectional, this way down - that way the whole paddle is under water."
Wow. Nothing like being told 2 days into the ocean that your paddle is upside down. Haha. They also offered me a shirt but I was really into the Robinson Cruzoe look, even if I get some painful sunburn patches.

Its hard to adjust first impressions, especially when everything you see or hear confirms them. So far it seems that some of the Kuna people are always trying to squeeze money out of you. It is their land and they can do whatever but it feels that you get treated like a big bag of money. And there are wonderful people who I wont get to meet. Or it could be me - traveling the beautiful, vast and wild places of north america for free has made me ignorant and not very respectful of rules and regulations. I am not a tourist, I didn't come here only to get suntanned, snorkel and party.

With a nice vacant island on the way, it was difficult saying no to an early day. I was seriously worried about finishing the Darien Gap too quick.

Day 3

In the morning the clouds gathered and I made a dash to the nearest island. It poured for an hour, enough to refill all my water. It was also getting quite cold and I went few times in the ocean to warm up. The wind wasn't too bad so I paddled on.

At 4 I reached Isla Tigre and asked if I can camp, they showed me under the roof of the bakery and I proceeded to gorge myself on cheap buns of bread and coconut cookies. Everybody quizzed me on my boat and I was glad to have brought a small photo album with me. Later I was invited to stay with one family and fed fish, rice and lobster. The traditional dances at the gathering were absolutely amazing, it felt like I was sent back in time except for the bright lights illuminating the arena. Not a single cell phone was up in the air, there was no electricity except for private solar panels, one pay phone which you cant use because it needs a card and no matter how hard I tried, I could not befriend one of the dogs...

Day 4

Nothing gets you ready for a 35km day of unprotected coast like oatmeal, fish and plantanes. 25 buns, 17 cookies and 2 cakes in the bag to go.

Later it was rough but not that bad at all, looking at the coast an emergency landing is definitely doable and there were few villages onshore as well. The problem was that there was a BP level crisis going on, both of my gas bottles had ruptured and were leaking through the dry bag. A plastic bag over top contained the problem.

By 5 I was close to another town but opted for an empty island over the havoc of crunching 500 people and houses on an island smaller than a soccer field. Few guys came by to visit me on their way to fish, they go back at 11 in the dark, paddling of course.

Day 5

In the morning the owners of the island came by, cleaned up all the garbage from the beach and charged me 2.50 for the night. Another storm was brewing but turned out to be a flop, still, 2.5L in the bottles.

Over at the town, a kid was took me to the store where I scored few onions and peppers. I asked if there is a garbage bin I can trow stuff into and I was pointed to the ocean. Its very sad that people here don't care about garbage, they dont know better and there likely aren't any better options. I wonder why they ever started eating candy bars, coke and purified water...

I felt so bad about avoiding towns initially, it's true that you hear only about bad stuff and I fell for it.

With how the coast was I opted for an early day at a neat island which turned out to be covered in garbage. I did my fair share of "adopt a highway," island edition and cleaned up the south beach by burying all the junk. Not the best but isn't that what they do at landfills anyway?

At night the tide came up fairly close to me and the crashing waves through the darkness created a pretty scary experience. I slept with the headphones in and some music on, thinking if I will be brave enough to go for the 40km+ of open ocean across the bay once in Colombia...

Day 6

I finished the planned 16k by noon and really wondered why aren't more people doing this. The paddle has been absolute piece of cake, like a walk in the park with a piece of cake or pie (depending on your preference). Bug-less, windy and shady islands make perfect stops and the friendly Kuna people are always cruising around, fishing, hunting lobster or bringing fruits from the coast. Even if you don't fancy doing the longer stretches of open water, one can take a boat ride over them. If you can spend some money, camping becomes trivial and you will find many cabins, good shade and protection from rain, cold beer and great food.

that awkward moment when you kind of wonder - what did the camera focus on???

Day 7

It seems to storm every night, I was awaken by lightning and winds and by 6 I was ready to go. I wanted to do a long day today but it seemed that there was a another storm coming in and while wondering if I should give it a go, a man on a dingy invited me to stay on the island.
Pablo runs the coconut oil press in town and lived for 8 years in England. He spoke good English but we managed to talk well enough in Spanish. I asked him what he thinks about all this garbage and he said it is a problem but unfortunately the chiefs and elders do not listen, they say its "natural" for it to go in the sea. It only happened in the last 20 years that this "new" stuff came to the island, before they only ate natural foods, bananas, plantanes, fish, yuca - the garbage decomposes and feeds the fish. He too shared my opinion of how comercial Carti and the upper San Blas are, a sailor for example is charged $80 to sail in Kuna Yala territory, many towns charge 5-10$ to visit the island and 5-20$ anchor fee for overnight stay.

About the last thing I expected was to be naming some Kuna kid, a man pulled up in a dingi and asked me to name his daughter.

"Every year the sea rises and now we put more material on the island. This here is all plastic garbage on the bottom and covered on top." While few islands have been abandoned, many locals fight global warming and rising sea levels with plastic bags.

Day 8

At sunrise there was a rush of dingis going to the mountains to farm, I packed up and rolled on. The yatchers I met earlier had warned me to stay away from Ustupu so I took a rather scary direct line over the entire bay despite the strong winds and big waves.

The more time I spent, the less hopeful it seemed, I was fighting winds and waves, even the waves had waves which in turn had... guess what? GARBAGE. ...and every now and then one would break over the bow and snap me out of whatever trance I was in.

Still, despite the weather I was making good progress and aimed at a lone island out in the sea 30k by 2pm . It was definitely a surprise when I saw Kunas there, waving at me and helping me pull my boat up the shore.

Clearly hanging around here vs continuing paddling was a no brainer

Few weeks ago somebody had robbed the coconuts there, so now the nearby town stations a couple of people every day and night to guard them. I was quickly offered a plate of fish and rice and a hammock. Since the roof of the school in town blew off during a storm, the teachers came to visit, one of them spoke good English. Over rum, octopus, cold beer and dominoes the evening passed. In a surreal moment a Colombian fishing boat pulled up, the guys handed my friends 3 fish and landed on the island. It felt that this small ritual has been going on for ages, I was only an observer. The Colombians, giants amongst the Kunas cooked their fish, borrowed rice and slept on a small tarp under the shelter, headphones in, blasting loud latino music. Maybe its the only way to get the sound of the wind and crushing waves out of your ears and get some rest. Just as I snoozed another Colombian boat landed, that is the life on small islands out in the ocean.

The Kuna Gang at Isla Iguana, gringo, prof, michel and pirata.

Day 9

The "Columbianos" were gone at first light, off to fish, sell fish and fight the waves. I was invited to visit the town but the catch was I can't arrive on my own. Until noon we went looking for lobster, snorkeling and napping and then a boat ride to the coast.

No photos are allowed in the small village where huts are crammed one next to the other, presenting dangerous overhead obstacles to a tall foreigner. At all times I was tailed by kids, curious onlookers would point and smile, some kid would utter an English word learned at school. All huts are built with wood and some sort of a palm leaf for a roof, very strong and well constructed. (Unlike the school whose roof blew off) Normally there is a cook/living room hut and a separate sleeping quarters, Michael, my host invited me to his living room hut and we watched a video of Mexico on the school laptop.
"How long did you ride in the video?"
"2 months"
"Its like we have been in Mexico for 2 months."

it didn't take long until I was handed a wild piglet

Day 10

As much as I like to visit with people and learn and sleep dry, I miss the solitude and quiet of the north. I spent upwards of 7 days without seeing a single soul and weeks between resupplies in the Yukon and Northwest Territories. Perhaps that is why I am so excited to get to Colombia, get on the bike and go find the most remote roads or trails.

I paddled alongside a man in his dingi to Isla Pinos, from there avoided miraculously the downpour and managed to sail for a bit. By sail, I mean trying to get it going for 30 minutes and drifting 1km down the coast.

these two passed me like a traffic cone...

As the rain started pouring I found a decent spot on one of the last islands on the route. Its all unprotected coast from here to Colombia. The wind blew all night and it was worryingly strong, the kind of wind you shouldn't try to paddle in.

Day 11

I went for it anyway and aimed at two rock islands in the distance. It wasn't until later that I realized the trouble I was in. The sea was rough but worse was the wind. I was getting blown out away from the coast. 3 to 5km/h and paddling back ashore was incredibly hard. Even if I made it, the 3-4 foot waves crashing on the rocky coast made no available landings. I kept on, going at an angle and making little progress. If the wind doesn't ease, I will have to spend the night out.

it was bad. 5km direct line from the coast and I had absolutely no control, however - unless a storm hits sleeping in the boat would not be that difficult. Cooking will be dangerous but I have lots of oatmeal.

It got a little better and I finally got to 3km from the coast, it was already 1pm and I still had a ways to go. Even with the calmer weather, waves were just the kind that really slows you down. The approach to my planned stop was tougher, lots of rocks and reefs off the shore but by 5pm I was on the final stretch to a small town called Anachucuna. That was over 11 hours of non-stop paddling. Garmin says 34km but I am sure this is off, maybe it somehow measures the vertical movement from waves as distance traveled.

A kid drove his dingi out to greet me, a man on a horse said hi too. I went to town to ask if camping by the shore is okay but a man on the way to the Congreso invited me at his place and introduced me to his family.
"Rest here, they don't speak Spanish. I will be back in 3 hours."
The congreso is a daily meeting with the chief where issues are discussed, work assigned and whatever else may be going on in a small village. Sadly no photos were allowed in town. But no photo can portray the excitedness of the army of kids carrying my paddle, water and dry bags to his house, the rice cooking on the small wooden fire, kids inspecting my photo album with a flashlight and the spacious huts of a coastal village, waking up in the kitchen to the cracking fire at 5am or that little Guna kid just curiously staring at me during the entire time I pack up.

Day 12

What I thought would be an easy 17k to Puerto Obaldia turned into quite the rough paddle. The wind blew from 3 different directions (never from the back) and after lots of course corrections and 8 hours I reached the tiny border town.

The town sports a large military compound of Senafront, the border police. I got my passport checked twice, got stamped out of Panama and by luck not charged anything for that. The border town was quite the change from the dirt narrow streets of Kuna villages, internet, music, stores and... wait for it... POTATOES and SAUSAGE.

Looking at the bright sunset over the Darien mountains reminds me of the alternative route. Jungle, bugs, animals, farc, cartels and bribes. What a contrast from the islands, sun and sand of the Guna Yala.

I found a good spot to camp near the Senafront base and made the grave mistake of giving some food to a dog, he stared me down for a good half hour and then he left.

I left at 6am and finally made it into Colombia.

With how the open sea has been, I opted not to continue from Capurgana. It has been windy non-stop for the last 4 days and who knows where I'll end up if I go for the bay traverse.

For some reason there was no screams of hapiness, celebration and feeling of accomplishment. I was kind of sad it all ended so soon. I quietly squeezed everything in 2 dry bags and went to wait for the internet to work in the immigration office. Welcome to Colombia. Welcome to South America!