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.