September 15, 2016

El Valle De Anton, Panama

It wasn't until I left the AC bubble that I realized how hot it was. A fruitless quest to find canister gas fuel for my Jetboil meant that I'll use the MSR stove with gasoline for the paddle over to Colombia. Deadhorse was patched up and I was off.

Leaving Valle de Anton, I had high hopes of finding some amazing backroads, last time I ventured off the map in Panama I met the most amazing people and the most beautiful trails.

even Costa Rica's vertical roads couldnt compare. I had to zig-zag to be able to go up, if it was any more wet I wouldn't be able to get a grip

Unfortunately after a backbreaking push (literally zig zagging across the road) it ended at a private gated community. I also had to walk a good chunk of the steep descend as it didnt feel safe, even with disc brakes.

With the shamefull possibility of getting back to where I started, I continued on in the dark to climb out of the large crater of Anton Valley. Once it flattened out I asked at the first house if I may pitch my tent in the yard, they invited me to their guest house.

Two days on the Panamerican highway and a scary ride over the bridge of the americas took me over the Panama Canal.

some things they don't teach you in driving school. Instead they use highway signs to teach you how to pass.

The bridge of the americas can be a death sentence to cyclists but traffic was low enough so I took my chances

looking down on the Panama Canal, I thought about trying to cross on the other side but a cop honked at me and told me to keep going.

Nope... that's not an island. Note the "smaller" ship unloading this giant ball of steel and "made in china" stickers!

I shamelessly took the Corredor Sur toll road, despite explicit signs prohibiting bikes, I dont think I had it in me to handle the city traffic. Second time a partol caught me, they escorted me few kilometers out.

and I was back on the normal roads but one thing that really bothered me is... HOW DOES THIS GUY SEE THE ROAD?

The road over the San Blas hills to Carti was steep, especially with 10+ days of food, the boat and winter gear. After paying an outrageous $20 at a checkpoint it was all 60km/h downhills and 1km/h walks up. I was in Guna Yala, an autonomous region which is a part of Panama. It has a long and bloody history during the spanish invasion and its fight for independence.

lots of weird birds flying around the trees here

Arriving at the dock, I was able to buy gasoine for cooking but water was another story. I was pointed over to the restaurant where a 700ml bottle was $2. I needed 20L. Camping was also not allowed and I was told to leave my bike here and go to the island... 4km out in the ocean... to pay for a hotel.

I rode back up the road and asked some workers if I can camp. They set me up under a roof but as I was setting up my tent one told me there are pumas and showed me to one of their bunks. All of them were Nicaraguans, working here 11/12 months of the year for $3 an hour.
"It pays 3 times better than in Nicaragua."
They told me last month a puma came into camp and almost killed one of the dogs. The one that always walks slowly and looks so terrified the whole time, poor animal. Water was also not a problem, they filled all my bottles with rain water and gave me few more containers bumping the total to 22.5L.

Tough life here with the crazy no-see-ums and mosquitoes, I slept in the metal hut with the fan on and my blanket over my head, kind of glad I am not out there with the pumas, tigers and the snakes of the jungle.

It was go day. I drove onto the port again and waited for The Steel Rat - a german sailboat which will take my bike across to Cartagena. As for me - I am paddling all the way to Colombia with Rubber Duckie.

Paul has ridden across Australia and from Deadhorse, Alaska to here. We hung out for a bit few days ago in Chepo. His plan is to ride all the way Argentina and then north from South Africa, work for 2 more years, retire and continue riding. He will be one of 14 motorists on the sail boat.

Onboard the ship, amongst cold glasses of water I quized the captain, Ludwig for the sea and obstacles. He said its about 200km to Colombia, good to know. I also figured out how to read those damn sea maps. My biggest concern was storms. While there are many landing spots on the islands, there are few unprotected stretches where a storm can be quite tough to handle. Ludwig was more worried about reefs popping my boat and the drug smuggling in colombia.

"Va a donde?"
"Colombia,"
"Es impossible!"
Locals took turns looking at the boat, poking it, testing the pressure and pointing and laughing. I too wondered. Am I really taking a light packraft in the open ocean?
I thought of how uncomfortable I was in the wide channels of The Mackenzie... well, its too late to turn back now.