The mixture of tropical sun and rain found an end as I came closer to the capital, Panama-City. I could a verify my information, that in the region Colon-Portobelo-Palenque are some boats which bring you to Columbia. I won't take a plane and I heard about a boat at the Pacific Coast but this won't offer me access to the beautiful San Blast islands and the pulsating north of Columbia I have heard of. But, before I had to skip the center of Panama City.

 

I have chosen a less well known bridge to cross the Panama Canal further north and was surprised about the peace I found. Almost no traffic and a wonderful road through a national park where I had a long talk about the history of this region after I had ask the police guard/ park control about the route of the road and he does not think that a road directly through a national park causes problems by dividing biotopes. I touched his Panamanian proud and he began to tell me everything about the importance of this region for South American history. Part of his job is to inform visitors about it anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I just stopped because I needed a break and I saw benches, suddenly I had a history lesson. The Spanish needed a path through Panama, a pass to Peru and of course they could despoil Panama more easily as well. They started to walk from Portobelo throughout the jungle. Vasco Nunez de Balboa's tremendous trek from the Atlantic to the Pacific in 1513 demonstrated that there is short way to reach the goods of South America. It quickly became the crossroads and marketplace of Spain's empire in the New World. Gold and silver were brought by ship, hauled across the Isthmus, and loaded aboard ships for Spain. It was commonly known as Camino de Cruces (Road of the Crosses) because of the never ending gravesites along the way. Imagine the thick jungle, indigenous with poisoning weapons, poisoning plants and animals, shortage of water and food, the heat, the heavy weight of the goods like gold and add the danger of pirates who wanted their share of it. My fascination about it almost lead me to trek at least a few kilometers on the Road of the Crosses but my most inner wish was to get this boat to South America. I left and cycled north towards the Atlantic Coast.

 

I strongly believed to find a solution to pass by the Darien Gap. This part of Panama is totally different. Dark skinned Panamanians with a different dialect and Caribbean flair line the roads. Alcoholics and beggars approached me and people drove cars just to cruse around with a bit with music switched on to the maximum. My hopes were so high that Portobelo will present a solution but it was a big disappointment. I saw plenty of ships in the harbor but I left in confusion. I talked to a few captains most younger than me. They play a ugly game and the worst were the stupidity of their lies:

 

"You know, it costs a lot to sign out at this port and to sign in at the port in Catagena in Columbia."

"Oh, it is so expensive?"

"$70 each and I have to buy water and food for ten people to supply them four days."

"So, you want me to pay $500 and this is a good price in comparison with the others?"

"Yeah, you know, there is no one who does it cheaper, the price is kind of fix, you know."

 

I knew. This idiot told me he gets $5000 without paying taxes and justifies this with little money for signing in habours and to buy supplies! Another young captians passed buy and thanked for the last party and asked for the date of the next. I know for what they use the money. I continued. A month ago a famous German boat names "Stahlratte" left a little village further east for the last time of the season. There might be another boat in the habour which fills the cap.

To cycle to the furthest point became a huge challenge. Up-down-up-down. I could not believe how challenging this had become. Little hills with steep climbs and my chain was squeezing by the rain of the last weeks, I had use all my grease. Restating to the elevation profile of my friend Pius, my expectations were little but the profile could show those little hills and their intense grades. Those profiles are usually pretty helpful but this time they did not present the true hitch. I spend my time searching for boats in small villages like Miramar, but there was nothing to be found. The people are unfriendly, even don’t like to speak to you. The little response I got was in a very hard understandable Spanish, they did not face me to talk, used words I never heard of before. I summarize the information I got:

 

• maybe there is a captain

• a captain will leave soon

• the captain is already in this village

• the captain is in Panama City

• right now no strangers are allowed on the boat

• for $250 it is allowed to take a stranger until the border

• until almost the border they could take me

 

’Aha!’ I walked back to the beach to wait for a captain who maybe comes back or is already there or...I had to stay over night anyway.

The police gave me some cans of food and I pitched my tent on the beach. It was a beautiful view and maybe I could have been able to enjoy the solitude and seclusion but I was desperate about the thought how I should get to Columbia.

 

Diary quote:

 

“Just came back from the end of the world. You cannot pass from Panama to Columbia without being a drug smuggler, approved to fight poisoning animals or being able to pay a lot of money to take a private boat. I searched two days at the end of the world, spoke to lots of people. The road ends, there is nothing but rainforest. I feel lost. Two crazy situations appeared where I almost could take a boat or cargo to the Panamanian border. "Another ship is waiting for you there!" I had no trust in those words. No success, I rode back the same way I came. I heard of another crossing, flight distance of 35 kilometers but without a road connection. I had to cycle back in the big loop to Panama and further east to the Atlantic Ocean. I started in a weird mood after two days sleeping at the beach without success in finding a solution. Now I am searching for information in the internet about this other way to pass the Darien Gap and to tell everybody that I am still alive, that’s the good information. The bad: Still no option than paying 500 dollar for passing a border!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cartí became my destination. Even if it is just 35km away from the villagers where I searched for a boat, it became a two days ride to get close to Cartí. There is just one street, back through the capital.

 

Diary quote:

 

“I cycled back, the same meters I cycled before. From Miramar until Panama City, where I slept at a police station. I always read the travel description of my friend Pius. On his travel he had several interviews for the local press. Until yesterday nobody took an interest in me. But here we go: I am in Panamas television and newspapers. All I can say is that I look sexy, I just bought my 7th sunglasses and saw me talking on the camera. I can’t remember about what I talked and how many mistakes are included but at least in the newspaper they can correct my Spanish. At 5 in the morning I had to leave. Otherwise the ‘Jefe’ (boss) would see me and the nice guard would get into trouble. It wasn’t easy to ride trough Panama City in the morning traffic but I am still alive. Nobody expect cyclist east from Panama, so I became something like Madonna or the Beatles. People stopped me to talk and were fascinated by my story. Panamas citizen are totally nice anyway but since I passed the capital I got more applause and shouts than ever. Now I found my bed in the fire department in Chepo. I have to stay here, because Chepo is the last city with a bank and today they had no money left. The manager hopes for tomorrow, my hopes are with him. I need a transfer to have money for several boats I have to pay to pass the border to Columbia."

 

The fire department in Chepo became my home for two nights but I got no money from the ATM and decided to leave and take the risk to travel on a shortage of money. Beside doing the calculations and being worried about the upcoming costs for entrance fees, food and boats, I enjoyed to be in Chepo. I was the only white person. The only guy with a long beard and bright eyes. The guy in the ‘barberia’ (barber) just felt in laughter as he saw me. A man with a holy bible in his hand invited me to come to the church. Why not? I dislike the church but the ideals are good. It became a nice event. Singing, clapping, dancing. All with microfon and soundblasters. The definition 'Church' was definitely wrong as we were in his living room. I will never understand why religion has such an importance if nobody follows the good contents it gives the folowers of this faith. At least it gave these people and me joy and hope for two hours.

 

In the respective view it was pretty stupid to start towards Cartí without having enough money to reach the other continent but I assumed the ATM wont be loaded soon and everything will work out, somehow. Cartí, an island in the Kuna Yala district, should be my first stop and everything was prepared for an adventurous trip to cross into South America.