Panama is a city that eludes definition. It's a place where a large colonial, historic center is mere blocks away from a large, modern downtown and beautifully restored, gentrified buildings reside next to crumbling shells of what used to be mansions. Our timeline didn't give us a lot of time in Panama city, but it warrants more time. We stayed in a renovated mansion in the middle of Casco Viejo, historic area of the city. The couple days we spent there gave us a great opportunity to walk around the city, take in the history and of course visit the Miraflores locks.
The locks are quite simply, incredible to behold. This is a relatively "small" ship apparently, but I assure you it is not. Not to get too techinical, but the little tugs you see at each corner are modified locomotive engines, 8 of which hold the ship in place while the water drops in the locks. The canals also create enough hydro-electric power to power then entire operation.
After not enough time in Panama City it was time to head towards Portobelo, where we had free accommodations until our departure from Panama. As we left Panama City the weather continued to pour on us, thoroughly soaking us. It didn't help that bridges were flooded and pot holes were hidden. Mixed with heavy semi-traffic, splashing up all this water there was no way to stay dry. We arrived at Captain Jacks hostel, the only place in town and a meeting point of Colombia bound travelers. Here we met a Quebecer, an American and a Russian, all on bikes bound for Cartegena. The nicest thing I can say about Captain Jacks is that it was free, at least for us. The deal is that when you book a charter through him you get to stay for free. This apparently wasn't the case for everyone and where two blocks you could get a beer for 60 cents, Captain Jack charged 2 dollars. Needless to say it wasn't a place to visit again.
After a few days of avoiding our hostel with the other travelers the time came to hit the high seas. Waking up to driving rain, yet again, bikes were loaded, by hand, down into a little skiff, where rather than tie bikes down, the owner would simply sit on the bike and hope not to hit a wave. This did not present a particularly good omen but this is the way in Panama. There was one section of boat large enough for a bike to sit in however after loading and unloading 3 bikes the local captain wanted to be done and insisted that the last two bikes go in one trip. Not only did this mean that the back wheel was balanced on a bench, making it too high to sit on, it meant the balance of the boat was thrown off so it took much more work to balance the bike. Combined with a rear wheel precariously close to falling off said bench and an affection for our toes it made for a long ride to the boat.
Safely loaded on the the Wild Card we met the crew and had a short safety briefing. This consisted of suggesting not to be drunk on deck while the boat is moving, not to step on the anchor retrieval button and don't fall off the boat. Then we were off.
Now a short aside. In Panama city we had purchased a pretty decent supply of Gravol, only to find out in Portobelo that these miracles of modern medicine had been forgotten in Panama city. After a quick visit to the medical clinic we found out that the entire city of Portobelo was out of any anti-nausea medicine it had. So Kate was the only one of us to have any Gravol (10 capsules) and the rest of us had some ginger, soda crackers and a prayer that Poseidon would be merciful. he was not. Within an hour the seas gave us a head wind and no shortage of large waves. After a long night of sea sickness among all but one us morning could not come fast enough.
We awoke in a calm bay in the San Blas after being pitched around our cabin for the majority of the night. We were lucky enough to have a beautiful day and were able to visit on of the Kuni indian villages. The Kuni are a totally unique people, while they technically live in Panama they have retained a completely independent form of governance and strive to maintain their culture. Even after spending 2 months in Central America, the culture shock was intense. The closest thing I can think of is a mixture of Gilligan's Island and a poverty stricken reserve. People were either dressed in incredibly ornate traditional garb, or clothes that the missionaries had brought, most of which lay discarded in piles about the village. It was the first time I've really felt uncomfortable in a long time. Especially when I found out that the chiefs daughter was dying and she was not allowed to travel to Panama City where she would be able to receive free medical care and money given to the chief for medicine for her had been used to buy rice to feed the rest of the village. It made the cookies we'd brought seem incredibly trivial, though the children didn't think so.
That morning took some time to digest. But a short boat ride to a group of deserted islands seemed to clear minds a little bit. We arrived around supper time, giving us a chance to relax on the deck. The bow of the ship had a collection of bean bags and a sun shade and light, making it a nice place to relax day or night. The boat also had a cat onboard. Purchased from the Kuni's, it hadn't been off the boat since. We affectionately called it boat cat, or alternately little beast. The only thing it enjoyed more attacking our feet was attacking our feet, or beards if you'd let it.
After catching up on sleep on a relatively stable bed, we awoke to a beautiful sunny day. We spent the day visiting white sand beaches, snorkeling a nearby reef and jumping off the boat. Aside from getting a little cut up on the coral, it was a great day. Easily the high point of the trip.
We left the next morning for Cartegena. 40 hours of motoring into up to 15 foot waves ensued. Slowing our progress at times to .3 knots at times. At least we weren't going backwards. Thankfully most of us had found our sea legs a little bit and no one got terribly sick again. It was however not a particularly fun two days. Days were spent below decks, trying to avoid leaky hatches, reading books or watching tv, and night were spent sleeplessly trying to stay in our beds as the sea threw us around the room.
None to soon Cartegena came into site. I instantly liked the city, so flat and immobile. After unloading our things and making it to a hostel we took to exploring the city. We were in a nice old area which was in the process of gentrification. Nearby was El Centro, the oldest and most well restored part of Cartegena. To quote my friend Mr. Billy fan, "It's just stupidly, cartoonishly pretty," a more than apt description.
We really enjoyed wandering around Cartegena, as well as enjoying the 2000 to 1 exchange rate pooling our money to become millionaires. Yes, that is in fact 1,000,000 Colombian pesos, and yes I did feel much more badass holding that than the $500 it actually was.
We also made friends with one of the local police, Felix. He was our guy in Cartegena. He'd swing by our hostel everyday to talk for a while, see how we were doing or if we needed any help with anything. Super nice guy and really contributed to the atmosphere of the city for us. The other local we met was Manuel, an Argentinian who was living in Cartegena and had just opened a pizza shop. Our first day looking for lunch, Kate and I were stopped by Manuel who was walking around the square, trying to drum up business by selling fresh calzones. By the next day we were hooked and searching desperately for more delicious calzones. In Cartegena a $2 lunch is a blessing, not to mention one that'll fill you up with ham, egg and tomato. We spread the good world around the hostel and within two days Manuel was making daily rounds by our hostel to stop and chat and empty his basket of goodness.
After loving the city for a few days, Christmas came about and we found out that we needed to take our bikes off the boat. Ho ho ho. Merry Christmas. After spending 3 or so hours moving 4 bikes from boat to dingy and dingy to dirt we fired up our faithful steeds and rode off into the sunset, or thats what we would have done had our bikes run. Two dead batteries, broken turn signals, and a pletora of other problems meant that while all but my bike would run, none were healthy. 5 days exposed to salt water, with no rinses or protection had wrecked havoc. This after our captain had assured us that tarps or lubrication were unnecessary, messy and noisy and he'd never had a bike not start upon arrival. Great. After spending 4 more hours wrenching on my bike, trying to make her fire, with the sun setting, two police showed up.
Thinking that they were here to tell us we had to leave, me with a broken bike on private property, and not in a good mood I did not expect this to go well. Instead they asked us what the problem was and told us it would not be a good idea to leave it on the street over night. A few minutes later, bike more assembled, the police returned to tell us that we could park the bike at their compound 2 blocks away. Joking that i should bring the guard lunch tomorrow as payment. We pushed the bike to the compound, thanking everyone profusely before going back to El Centro to enjoy the festivities.
Christmas night in Cartegena was a spectacle. People were dancing in the streets, there was live music and the ambiance of a huge party across the city. We went to Santo Domingo square, the center of El Centro for dinner with Neil, an American biker we met on the boat.
Boxing day was spent again fiddling with my moto and after Neil was kind enough to tow my back to the hostel with his gorgeous KTM. After some further trouble shooting I narrowed the issue down to the carb. Low and behold after a complete dis-assembly and cleaning and a newly charged battery Big Ugly Lived once more. Just in time for pat's bike to die.
After a few more days exploring the city and giving Colin a studly new hair cut, New years was upon us.
Again it was off to El Centro, where the streets had been closed to make room for restaurants to seat dinners, stages were set up for live bands and a big party. Walking around atmosphere was incredible and at midnight fireworks went off all around El Centro. We didn't know about the fireworks until about 30 feet from us we heard an explosion, then a larger explosion overhead. While in Canada there is generally a huge safety zone, keeping all the bystanders well away from the fireworks, this is a concept lost in Colombia. An armory of fireworks proceeded to go off, setting off dozens of car alarms and covering El Centro in a thick layer of smoke. Ash and still burning cardboard rained down around us as we watched a pretty incredible display of firepower.
On January first, Kate and I needed to get going towards Medellin. Billy and the two of us made our way, leaving Patrick and Colin to sort out Patrick's still broken bike. January 1st is a great day to drive down here. We got a late start after a nice breakfast and traffic was really light. Unfortunately I quickly found out that my fan had become inoperable because of the boat and I needed to pull over before my engine exploded. Some trouble shooting later I thought I might have it, and again we took to the road, making it a full 10 kms before my engine was about to overheat and we needed to stop again. After hot wiring my fan I realized that my fan motor was seized. Upon opening up what was once a sealed unit, it was clear that the salt had stuck a brush and the fan wasn't getting power. Unfortunately, being a national holiday, everything was closed, and since I had Kate and her things on my bike I only had my basic tools, not my normal plethora of tools, fluids and spares. After some prairie ingenuity and thanks to some motor oil and q-tips I once more had a functioning fan and we were once again off. In doing this I think I found the only real use for a q-tip other than the forbidden use on ears.
Just as dark set in we reached Medellin, a large modern city and found our way to the Tiger Paw Hostel. A hostel which on an online hostel site had stated it had parking, it did not. Thankfully, the owner was a really nice guy and lived only a few blocks away. He let us park our bikes at his apartment and we settled in. The Tiger Paw was super nice, although their funky pool table took some interesting rolls. The three of us spent a few days enjoying Medellin and walking around the town until the others met us. Pat and Colin dropped off bikes at a mechanic to deal with some latent issues and Kate and I started to sort out how to get her to Bogota and safely home. We quickly decided that riding 8-13 hours (weather dependent), solo through the mountains didn't sound fun so after looking for a bus we decided to go out on a limb and check flights. Low and behold there were two seats on a flight which connected to her Bogota flight, for less than it would've cost for all the buses! Easy decision. We spent the rest of our time in Medellin enjoying shopping, getting things together and spending some quality time together. We also found a local brewery with the best beer I've had since California. We spent a night doing a brewery tour, sampling all 5 of their different brews. After one more day together, there were some sad goodbyes as Kate ended her adventure and flew home.
After two more days and one birthday party, it was time to move on again. Yesterday morning we left Medellin bound for Manizales. Before we were able to get out of the city I got in an accident. Turning left I had someone suicide pass me in the oncoming lane. He t-boned me, hitting my knee and gas tank. Thankfully I was able to retain control of the bike, gently setting it down, without hitting the ground. If you've ever heard the quote about how when a car and a motorcycle argue, the motorcycle always loses, the guy that came up with that evidently never owner a KLR.
I suffered a good bruise on my knee, where the car hit me and the bike ended up with a dented tank and bent rad and fan assembly. Nothing broken on either of us. And after bending things kind of back in place, and replacing the fan fuse Big Ugly lived again. The car ended up with a big enough dent in the bumper that it blew out the inner fender lining on the wheel well. I think we'll call it a draw. After a good once over, checking that it rode straight and everything was functional we continued 4 hours to Manizales.
After 4 beautiful hours on great roads, winding through the Andes, we arrived in Manizales, where we promptly became lost. After driving around this maze of a town we finally found our hostel. Local secure parking was a ridiculous 1000 pesos an hour all night, for each bike (we'd previously been paying 3000 to 5000 for a whole day), so the hostel owner allowed us to leave our bikes in front of the bar. This morning we found out that we'd have to move them tonight for the bar. After some heavy lifting and monkeying around we are relaxing comfortably, knowing our bikes are safely parked on the second floor balcony and front lawn, respectively.
I know this was a little bit of a long one, so thanks for hanging in there.
Bray
