Considering all the effort and money and power struggles
that went into the construction of a huge canal cutting through Panama, it
amazes me that it is still impossible to drive from Panama to Colombia. We met
several bikers who were riding from Alaska to the tip of Patagonia, and this is
the only spot on their trip where they were forced to fly or take a boat. The
border, aka the Darien Gap, is covered in impenetrable forest filled with drug
lords and dangerous animals. Supposedly anyone who tries to cross it never
makes it out. And on top of that, there’s no ferry and no cheap flights. We had
our heart set on meeting some friends in Colombia, so we begrudgingly forked over
the cash for a 5 day sailing trip from El Porvenir to Cartagena.
We piled onto the boat with thirteen others, about half of
them doing the bike trip I mentioned. It started out lovely, and TK and I
perched ourselves at the bouncing bow, enjoying the wind and the scenery.
Within an hour we were both in the back, puking over the side and curling up in
misery. Those not prone to sea sickness ate spaghetti up front while five or
six of us moaned in the back. We tried looking at the horizon, tried closing
our eyes, tried facing the breeze, tried munching ginger, tried to sleep
through it, but nothing helped. Down in our cabin I sweated and squirmed
through the whole night, using all my self-control to not puke on the bunk
below me.
At 5 am the thrashing stopped and they dropped anchor. We
got up later to see that we were parked alongside tiny picture-perfect islands.
We spent the day jumping of the boat and swimming between the islands. The next
day we moved a bit further, to where the indigenous Kuna people live. Women
canoed to our boat to sell crafts, and men sold lobsters, crabs, and beer, all
of which we bought. Our captain took us
to a larger island where they live, crowded into simple straw huts with
hammocks as their only furniture.
After these two days of lounging around islands, the boat
set sail for 40 hours to Cartagena. This time I had the foresight to take a lot
of Dramamine, so I felt great and slept through most of it.
We piled onto the boat with thirteen others, about half of
them doing the bike trip I mentioned. It started out lovely, and TK and I
perched ourselves at the bouncing bow, enjoying the wind and the scenery.
Within an hour we were both in the back, puking over the side and curling up in
misery. Those not prone to sea sickness ate spaghetti up front while five or
six of us moaned in the back. We tried looking at the horizon, tried closing
our eyes, tried facing the breeze, tried munching ginger, tried to sleep
through it, but nothing helped. Down in our cabin I sweated and squirmed
through the whole night, using all my self-control to not puke on the bunk
below me. 
At 5 am the thrashing stopped and they dropped anchor. We
got up later to see that we were parked alongside tiny picture-perfect islands.
We spent the day jumping of the boat and swimming between the islands. The next
day we moved a bit further, to where the indigenous Kuna people live. Women
canoed to our boat to sell crafts, and men sold lobsters, crabs, and beer, all
of which we bought. Our captain took us
to a larger island where they live, crowded into simple straw huts with
hammocks as their only furniture. 
yay for updates! Nice to see all the great photos- and I love the title of this post.
ReplyDeleteHere is another account of the Darien Gap: Crossing the Darién Gap (2013).
ReplyDeleteThat documentary was filmed on March 2013.
Happy travels!