Panama Canal

I often tell people I did not know anything about Panama, other than it has a canal, but what a beautiful country. . . and interesting canal. France began construction in the 1880's, then over 20,000 dead later (disease mostly) the United States took over and completed the job with a over 5,000 dead. The Panama Canal linking the Atlantic and Pacific is considered one of the most ambitious construction projects in the world. And the canal more than haves the distance between the oceans. The possibility of this shortcut was first mentioned in 1534 by Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain. And today is one of the most important trade routes.
The three biggest customers are the United States, China, and Chile, in that order. However, when you look at these huge ships built to Panamax specifications, meaning they are the maximum size the canal will allow, you have no idea what they are carrying. The boats are just big piles of tractor trailer size containers with very little crew evident on board. Docks are collections of immense cranes designed specifically to lift the containers and are equally vacant of people.



I have seen many working ports starting from Mobile, Alabama on the Gulf of Mexico to the Panama Canal and they all look pretty similar - very industrial and not many people around. If you want the gritty humanity of Steinbeck's, Cannery Row, you need to look at local waterfronts - but brace yourself for the gritty. This is the result of containerization.
We have always shipped goods in boxes but in the late 1960's and early 1970's a series of international conventions were developed to standardize shipping containers. Now they are the same world wide, moving easily from boat to truck to train facilitating world trade. Conversely, the lower shipping cost meant domestic production of goods moved overseas. A correlation is the real wage of the middle class in the United States has steadily declined since the early 1970's. But then again nations that did not have a middle class now do. Hard to not consider these things as the freighters line up to pass through the locks at a cost of hundred's of thousands of dollars each, depending on their cargo.

Riding into Panama City

Someone said to me, "Panama City is just like Miami except they speak English". I suspect the pace of construction is faster in Panama City, the city appears to be springing off the shores of the Pacific. I had stayed the previous night in La Chorrera less than 40km outside of Panama City anticipating an easy Sunday morning ride. Heading into the city I was surprised by the volume of traffic for Sunday morning, but then Panama is a big city on the Pan Am highway . . . and it was not Sunday but Monday. Time can be so elusive. The highway deteriorated approaching the city and shoulders disintegrated into scale models of the canyon lands. Approaching Puente de las Americas the shoulder disappeared but a sidewalk appeared. However, the right side was too narrow forcing me to carry my bike underneath the bridge to the other side before walking across. Later in the day Matt and Paul actually rode across the bridge . . . crazy. I enjoyed my walk across taking pictures of the canal passage and catching glimpses of the skyline between the hills.

Drivers were friendly and encouraging as they cruised by 3 feet away.The bridge dropped me at the door step of Casco Viejo. I followed a map in my head from Google that was efficient for finding the hostel, Luna's Castle, but, incidentally, placed me in the "most dangerous neighborhood in Panama," Chorrillo. Chorrillo is the same neighborhood that burned during the US 1989 invasion of Panama resulting in many deaths. I kept pedaling.
The hostel is located in Casco Viejo, a World Heritage Site, that was originally founded in 1519 then re founded in 1673 after Henry Morgan sacked and burned the city. The hostel is actually built on the original city walls. Matt is working on repacking his headset at the base of the wall.


Casco Viejo is under going a major renovation. I am surprised to see so much capital investment in today's economic climate. Buildings are a mix of fully renovated and fully dilapidated in a neighborhood that includes the Presidential Palace and French Embassy across a small bay from the new high rises and luxury shopping malls Panama City.















Overall, a nice place to rest and play.

Bye to the Pacific until Peru

After several days of riding, eating, and sleeping in the rain, I was ready for a rest day to unpack and dry out. Santiago is a small regional commercial city with a small selection of hotels and food along the Pan American highway. A good place to eat and write for 5 to 6 hours in air conditioned comfort. I am getting pretty good at finding my way around, one would hope after nearly 7 months, and after a quick tour around the city found the best deal with wifi. I noticed my first mosque in Central America and not the last in Panama. Matt and Paul rolled in the next day and we walked over to Micky D's, my first on the trip, and began the days eating. Noticed the determined looking walks. The next I felt ready to roll after a day of rest and recovery. I decided to head for a beach on the Pacific Ocean about 140+km away. The broad agricultural valleys, decent road with a shoulder, and desire to go swimming allowed me set a blistering average of 16+ mph for the initial few hours. I rolled into Santa Clara in the late afternoon and found the Santa Clara beach. $3 to camp on the beach for the night under a palapa with a few restaurants stretched out along the beach. I was not to ambitious but enjoyed a swim in the pounding Pacific surf but was a little wary of the fierce undertow, ate, and relaxed in my hammock on the beach.Getting to the beach was a bit of effort but it meant that Panama city was only 120 km away. I could go there in one day or two depending on whim. And it meant I could fall asleep to the surf and wake to morning light.I usually wake with first light. A wonderful time to walk the beach with my camera and cold instant coffee. My tranquility was briefly interrupted by a playful pooch.



Until another opportunity for play presented itself and left me to the sunrise. Until it was time to pack up and pedal towards Panama City.

Observations

A video produced by Matt Kelly, who I have been traveling with sporadically since Cholula, Puebla, Mexico. You can view more of his creative genius at www.pedalpanam.com
We will be taking a boat to Colombia on Monday.

Observations from Matt Kelly on Vimeo.

New Personal Record!

I am a steaming sponge cycling my way across the tropics, and have arrived at a new economic index to suit the times. The Beer and a Coke Index or BCI. Usually around 2 in the afternoon I stop for a 12oz beer and a coke. I have been doing this daily since crossing the Tropic of Cancer. They can be consumed sequentially or mixed to be consumed at once, Peruvian style. On the way into Panama City I stopped at a Chinese owned mini-super, in Cocle, Panama, and broke my previous record of $1, set in Mesa, Panama. I bought a 12oz Atlas beer and 12oz Coke, both in returnable glass bottles, for .85 cents! Panama wins the lowest BCI to date, congratulations Panama. Costa Rica and Belize have the highest BCI of $2 - $2.50, boo hiss. Most Central American and Mexican beer have a lower alcohol content of 3-4%
Panama, also, has abroad range of foul tasting American beers made all the more tempting by sophisticated advertising.

Administrative Note

I moved the page links to directly below the header photo. People interested in making donations directly can go to the page "How to Give Me Money," the link is located directly below the header photo. However, the PayPal Donations button still functions. Thanks for your time and attention.

Watch Out!

Sorry, I published out of order . . . but maintained chronology. Two posts down is "Over the Divide," accounting an epic little day of riding. And I almost stepped into this manhole lacking a cover - I wonder if anyone keeps stats on how many people fall into these things? A brief google reveals open manholes to be a world wide problem, especially in Asia during the rainy season when you can get swept away and drown . . . what a crappy way to go. However, in places where people walk the streets to collect aluminum cans for weight (not deposit) you can be sure any unsecured hunk of iron is going to be harvested.

Rainy Season

I left my first pacific beach after another swim and rode in the rain yesterday. I camped off the road under a mango tree in the rain smelling of fermenting mango. Thunder pounded the hill tops and I winced while cooking in the rain. I saw stars then the rain started again. I packed up in the rain then rode in the rain. I stopped to get a cup of coffee and 2nd breakfast while it rained harder still. I sat drinking a beer and coke in front of another chinese owned grocery watching the rain - total cost $1, dry moment priceless. I dragged my ass into Santiago, Panama eating wanton soup while it rained and decided to get a dry hotel room. The rainy season is here and i expect the next month to be more of the same. . . at least it is warm.

Over the Divide

On Sunday, we chilled at the Hostel Heike, in Bocas, waiting for a census official to show up and count us. Finally after answering some questions - name, age, single/married/divorced, nationality, and "where did your mother live when you were born?" - we were out. Bocas is nice but I am happy to leave the backpacker tourist scene behind - to many youngsters with new gear drinking, oops I mean traveling, on mommy and daddy's credit card. Matt, Paul and I caught a water taxi back to Almirante and started pedaling along the coast. I knew nothing of Panama, other than it has a canal, and we were surprised by the beauty of road as it weaved the Caribbean coastline through dense jungle. The only noticeable agriculture is small scale bananas. We stopped in a small river valley to camp under a palapa and locals were floating timber down the river, presumably, for local use. Many women wear indigenous dress that consists of a bright primary colored mu mu with bands of colored accent.



The next day we continued rolling along the coastline for 40+km until turning inland to begin climbing over the continental divide. Towards mid-day the black top shimmers in the heat and we breath in a blast furnace. I do not think I am going to acclimate to temperatures in the 90's with equal humidity. With a light breeze to your back the air is still and the sun beats down like a molten sledgehammer. I need a camel's hump. Each day's ride I drink 4-6 liters of water, 2 or 3 cokes, beer, juice - each time I take in liquids I pump them out in a renewed sweat. The climb is absurdly steep as it shoots upwards for the Pacific Ocean watershed. Thankfully, cold clear streams tumble through the jungle providing a welcomed chance to cool down and wash away stinging sweat. Late in the afternoon the steep loose surfaced roads reduce me to a walk. However, the pace is only about 1kph slower, 3.5kph versus 4.5kph. I get lots of encouragement or blank stares.I begin to top out at what I think may be the continental divide but after a brief drop I begin rolling upwards again. I am feeling driven and on my own - Matt and Paul are somewhere back there being reasonable.I want to arrive at a reservoir that drains into the Pacific watershed. The day at this point feels long. I am starting to take it personally and feel the occasional need to scream "Fuck Me!" at each climb up another hill. To make things worse some jackass in a truck taunts me that it is not over yet. I reached the reservoir late in the afternoon with, optimistically, two hours of light left. Reservoirs are in valleys, which is why they can hold water, so I know i will have to climb to leave the reservoir - thinking is becoming a little simplistic at this point. After buying a pineapple snack I start climbing out of the valley - I want this climb done! But damn these mountains are big! I just never considered them because there is no snow. I want to wake to a glorious morning descent. After 95 nasty kilometers in over 7 hours of ride time I am over the other side. I stop at a small store in Valle de la Mina to buy some water and two beers. I am forced to crash in a field off the road by dense fog as it rains , and pass out after making dinner.
The next morning dawns bright and it is all down hill baby at well over 70kph the only thing slowing me down is a herd of cattle.The scenery had a tropical Swiss alpine vibe and was screaming beautiful as I banked through turns and kept momentum over the small rises.I finished my day 120km along with my first swim in the Pacific Ocean and a Paulaner Salvatore (or three). I stayed at El Mundo Bar, owned by German expats, in the quiet town of Las Lajas, and got pleasantly drunk with a charming couple from San Francisco before crashing in a hammock overlooking the Pacific.

Panama

As hard as it was I managed to tear myself away from the Costa Rican coast to head for Bocas del Toro, Panama. But as MLK said:
Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable... Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.
Slightly different context . . . but we had some stiff climbing ahead and I am ready for a change of continent.
The border was a pleasant 45 km pedal over a small ridge, past more bananas, bananas, bananas, and through some drizzle. Border crossings are always interesting and you can never be sure what will find. I realize now that my experiences with the US/Canada/Mexico are not typical. Often borders are confusing ramshackle affairs with official buildings differing little from the vernacular huts - though usually with metal roofs. Panama was somewhere in between, however the bridge seemed downright hazardous.
Requirements for entry into a country vary as well. We heard that Panama requires proof of solvency, $500 will do, and proof of onward travel in the form of a plane ticket. Matt read of a cyclist that was required to buy a bus ticket to enter Panama within the past year. Obviously absurd, and I was ready to make a scene. But like many crossings it was a swipe of the passport, whack with a stamp. The only novel event is that we conducted our paperwork 10 meters from the bay where trucks were sprayed down as part of agricultural pest control (probably DDT).
We changed our Costa Rica colones for Panamanian balboas, but they actually use US dollars. I have not used dollars for awhile . . . well, since the US, and the texture felt finger tip familiar. While changing my currency at, yet another, Chinese owned grocery I noticed prices were considerably lower and Guinness is brewed in Panama!
We started pedaling with the hope of making a boat for Bocas del Toro off the Panama coast. We had one good sized climb that turned out to be a steep little ass kicker but really quite nice in a painful way. But the road was in good shape and Panama has shoulders unlike Costa Rica. We made the docks as the sun dropped and realized the water taxi was not going to fit us and three bikes - no way. The scene was complicated by a small entourage attempting to negotiate our trip to Bocas on different boats - for which they expected a tip. Occasionally, this is useful but usually aggressively annoying - the later this time. But they figure out you are not the typical tourist and we negotiated a boat to Bocas for $40 total, 3 people and 300+ pounds of bikes and gear.
Bocas is nice but a little touristy for my taste on the main island. However, Matt found a cayuca maker in his wanderings. He was replacing the gunnel on an older boat and answered our questions cheerfully. The size boat he was working on is carved from single log in 3 weeks and costs about $250 to buy new, then more for paint etc... Good to know. We all agreed that was cheap for all that work

Now we are stuck hanging out at a hostel in Bocas because tomorrow is the ten year census. Everyone in the country must remain inside until someone comes to your door to count you and give a you a 12 page, yes 12 page census form. Foreigners are included. Afterward, you receive a receipt that allows you to move about. So not much point in going anywhere. The hostel is cheap, with free coffee, tea, pancakes in the morning, WiFi, and kitchen facilities - beats a crappy hotel. I am thinking the country will start to move a bit by noon time but i have been told to be prepared to sit in until 6 pm. I will go shopping in a little while and stock up on food to cook for the day.




Meanwhile, rainy season is here in full force and we have been practicing the sitting part for census Sunday. I am feeling confident in our ability to deal with this adversity.

Going Coastal

On the way into Cahuita I passed the "sloth sanctuary," and thought, "that is just the place for me . . . I wonder if they serve free beer"? I have a hard time passing good beaches by and so i have been stopped on the Caribbean coast, agian. Though I managed to cover 20 km in the past week. I am a complete sucker for undeveloped beaches, big waves, and pleasant company.
I met Alex, Sophie, and Kat in Cahuita, from Quebec City, who are traveling for 5 weeks. Nice to spend some time around beautiful women and work on my French comprehension . . . not that I need to speak French.



Nevertheless, hanging out on the beach, body surfing and eating is more fun with others (plus adoptive dogs). One night we grilled a four kilo piece of red snapper that made us pretty popular around dinner time. We walked for nearly four hours start in town along the beach and jungle trails in Cahuita National Park to visit a beach around the point.
Costa Rica has been great for wildlife viewing and this was no exception. We saw a sloth in the trees not doing much of anything - they are called Perezosos in Spanish meaning lazy(s). Raccoons looking for handouts and a curious Capuchin monkey.













































The area is not noted for fishing because the deeper water off the continental shelf is off shore a ways, however kids were fishing with hand lines close to shore and having luck.

Kat, Alex, Sophie, and myself have been moving down the coast together from Cahuita to Puerto Viejo. They continued on to Bocas del Toro in Panama the other day and I guess it is time to get moving myself. . . maybe I'll get around to some surf lessons.Though sleeping in the hammock hotel at Rockin'J's in Puerto Viejo has been nice with good food and company. Oh look another perfect Caribbean sunset . . .