End of a Continent
I rode to Jaco, a touristy beach town. I booked a hotel online, but check-in didn't start until 3PM. And there wasn't anyone at the office. There were people working, but evidently not in reception. So I sat and waited until someone showed up.
I found a lavenderia to get my laundry done. They promised it would be ready by 10 AM the next morning, so after dropping it off, I walked into the center of town to look around. There were lots of Realty companies displaying their listings in their windows. Plenty of very expensive places for sale, either on the ocean or with an ocean view. Seems to be a lot of ex-pats in the area. I was also asked if I needed marijuana or Coke. Mexican Coca-Cola is supposed to taste better because they use sugar instead of corn syrup, right?
On the way back to my hotel, it started to rain. Lightly at first, but with increasing intensity. By the time I got back to the hotel, I was soaked. I'm glad I was walking, because I do not like riding in the rain.
The next day, I followed the highway south along the coast. There is a lot of money being invested here, based on the development I saw. Costa Rica is Spanish for Rich Coast and it's certainly evident. I also crossed many rivers making their way down from the rainforest to the sea. Many of them appeared to be crystal clear. Some were muddy because of rain the night before, but none looked polluted at all. I have learned that about 28% of Costa Rica is protected national parks, wildlife refuges, or reserves.
Also, of all the countries I visited, Costa Rica was the only country without a military presence. In fact they had abolished their military altogether. To me, it felt like the safest country, although supposedly its roads are the 4th most dangerous in the world. Not because of violence, but because of road conditions. Frankly, I don't buy it. Road conditions in Guatemala appeared to be much worse, in my opinion.
I crossed into Panama after a typical mass of confusion at the border. 3 other motorcyclists arrived right behind me. A husband and wife from Austria had been riding south from Anchorage. And Daniel, from Florida, had been riding all over the United States and was headed to Argentina. Together, we helped each other get through the border, and soon we were having lunch together in Panama.
Daniel was the first American motorcyclist I had met since that other Dan in Morelia, Mexico. I have met Canadians and Europeans, but few Americans seem to do this. Whenever I told people that I was doing this ride, inevitably what eventually came up was how unsafe it was. Although to my knowledge, they hadn't done it themselves. Granted, there are risks, but in my opinion they haven't been unreasonable.
Panama had 4 lane divided highway from the border with Costa Rica to Panama City. And half of that was under construction. But I rode it on a Sunday, and no one was actually constructing, so the ride was relatively easy. I rode past this truck sitting in a field just north of David, Panama. I used to see this truck when I worked for the Port of Entry in Colorado years ago. How it got here, I don't know.
Northern, actually western Panama (go look at a map) is flatter than Costa Rica but is quite pretty. And whereas Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua all had large numbers of people walking or standing along the roadways, Panama's highway was relatively devoid of pedestrians. 2/3rds of the population lives in cities, with most of that in Panama City. Still, with the highway under construction, it took more than 7 hours to reach the Capitol. I crossed the Panama Canal and entered the city.
I was not home for Thanksgiving. I didn't realize how much I missed that holiday. Oft course, it wasn't turkey and stuffing that I missed, but my family. And although Susan had just left, I knew that I wanted to be home for Christmas.
There isn't a road between Panama and Colombia. You can ride the PanAmerican highway from Deadhorse, Alaska north of the Arctic Circle to Fin del Mundo in Argentina, but if you look on a map, you will find a roadless jungle from where the road ends in Yaviza, Panama towards Colombia.
Depending on where you measure to the closest road in Colombia, you will see a gap of 30-40 roadless miles. This is the Darien Gap. It is supposed to be a lawless area with drug dealers, guerrillas, and also some very bad people inhabiting and frequenting the area. Whether this is true or not, it discourages most people from crossing the gap on land. If that doesn't work, Panama's Border Police (or military?) Senafront, will forbid it.
There are rivers to cross and mountains to climb, but there are also foot trails and navigable waterways. And now there are many Africans, South Americans, and Cubans using those trails to migrate from South America into Central America. Many press on towards the USA and try to enter illegally. Many are successful. A road through the Darien could be constructed relatively easily, indeed, attempts were made in the 1960's. But I think that Panama doesn't feel completing the highway is in its best interests. It would make it easier for drugs to enter and for illegal immigrants as well. Sounds like someone else's southern border.
Consequently, taking a vehicle from one continent to the other in the western hemisphere requires either a boat or an airplane. And there isn't a scheduled ferry between the countries either.
Knowing that I was going to have to fly my motorcycle or find a boat, I made the decision to end my trip in Panama and fly my motorcycle and myself back to the United States in time for Christmas. I hope it is just the end of a chapter and that someday, I can continue in South America. But for now, the trip south has ended. What follows is a brief summary of my preparations in getting myself and my motorcycle home.
I had 3 options-fly, ship, or turn around and ride home. Flying would be the quickest. I made a few phone calls and found an air cargo service to Miami.
I rode out to the cargo terminal at the airport, where my motorcycle was soon strapped to a pallet
shrink-wrapped
and the next day, flown to Miami. I had hoped to find a freight forwarder to arrange transportation the rest of the way to Colorado by truck. But the easiest, quickest, and least expensive way was for me to fly to Miami, get the motorcycle released through Customs, and arrange transportation to Colorado, myself. So I booked a flight to Ft. Lauderdale-it was a couple hundred dollars less than to Miami-and then before I left Panama, played tourist by visiting the Canal.
The Miraflores locks
raise and lower ships on the Pacific side. I watched some smaller tugboats being repositioned from the Pacific Ocean to the lake that feeds water to the canal. Larger ships wouldn't go through until after 3 PM that day, but I did not want to wait that long to watch them. So instead, I went back to the hotel to find a motorcycle transport company online.
I found one with a warehouse in Pompano Beach that would accept the motorcycle for shipment to Colorado. So, the next day, I said goodbye to Latin America and flew home to the USA.
I rented a pickup truck, drove to Miami, got the motorcycle released from Customs, loaded it into the back of the truck, and headed to Pompano Beach with it. If I could get it there before 4 PM Friday, they would accept it and then I could make arrangements to fly home myself. Otherwise, it meant staying in southern Florida over the weekend, and returning on Monday. Apart from a few small hiccups with Customs, I was able to do it successfully.
The next morning, I began the final leg home.
I had left Colorado on October 15, 2016. I returned 64 days later. I had traveled in or through 8 countries, traveled over 11500 miles, ridden more than 6700 of them on the motorcycle, and would be home for Christmas! In my mind, a great start to exploring Latin America.
For those of you who found and read this blog in real-time, it is just the end of Chapter 1. Check back in the Fall of 2017 to see my continuation. As always, I would love to hear your questions or comments, so please leave them. Thanks for following!
Stephen
I found a lavenderia to get my laundry done. They promised it would be ready by 10 AM the next morning, so after dropping it off, I walked into the center of town to look around. There were lots of Realty companies displaying their listings in their windows. Plenty of very expensive places for sale, either on the ocean or with an ocean view. Seems to be a lot of ex-pats in the area. I was also asked if I needed marijuana or Coke. Mexican Coca-Cola is supposed to taste better because they use sugar instead of corn syrup, right?
On the way back to my hotel, it started to rain. Lightly at first, but with increasing intensity. By the time I got back to the hotel, I was soaked. I'm glad I was walking, because I do not like riding in the rain.
The next day, I followed the highway south along the coast. There is a lot of money being invested here, based on the development I saw. Costa Rica is Spanish for Rich Coast and it's certainly evident. I also crossed many rivers making their way down from the rainforest to the sea. Many of them appeared to be crystal clear. Some were muddy because of rain the night before, but none looked polluted at all. I have learned that about 28% of Costa Rica is protected national parks, wildlife refuges, or reserves.
Also, of all the countries I visited, Costa Rica was the only country without a military presence. In fact they had abolished their military altogether. To me, it felt like the safest country, although supposedly its roads are the 4th most dangerous in the world. Not because of violence, but because of road conditions. Frankly, I don't buy it. Road conditions in Guatemala appeared to be much worse, in my opinion.
I crossed into Panama after a typical mass of confusion at the border. 3 other motorcyclists arrived right behind me. A husband and wife from Austria had been riding south from Anchorage. And Daniel, from Florida, had been riding all over the United States and was headed to Argentina. Together, we helped each other get through the border, and soon we were having lunch together in Panama.
Daniel was the first American motorcyclist I had met since that other Dan in Morelia, Mexico. I have met Canadians and Europeans, but few Americans seem to do this. Whenever I told people that I was doing this ride, inevitably what eventually came up was how unsafe it was. Although to my knowledge, they hadn't done it themselves. Granted, there are risks, but in my opinion they haven't been unreasonable.
Panama had 4 lane divided highway from the border with Costa Rica to Panama City. And half of that was under construction. But I rode it on a Sunday, and no one was actually constructing, so the ride was relatively easy. I rode past this truck sitting in a field just north of David, Panama. I used to see this truck when I worked for the Port of Entry in Colorado years ago. How it got here, I don't know.
Northern, actually western Panama (go look at a map) is flatter than Costa Rica but is quite pretty. And whereas Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua all had large numbers of people walking or standing along the roadways, Panama's highway was relatively devoid of pedestrians. 2/3rds of the population lives in cities, with most of that in Panama City. Still, with the highway under construction, it took more than 7 hours to reach the Capitol. I crossed the Panama Canal and entered the city.
I was not home for Thanksgiving. I didn't realize how much I missed that holiday. Oft course, it wasn't turkey and stuffing that I missed, but my family. And although Susan had just left, I knew that I wanted to be home for Christmas.
There isn't a road between Panama and Colombia. You can ride the PanAmerican highway from Deadhorse, Alaska north of the Arctic Circle to Fin del Mundo in Argentina, but if you look on a map, you will find a roadless jungle from where the road ends in Yaviza, Panama towards Colombia.
Depending on where you measure to the closest road in Colombia, you will see a gap of 30-40 roadless miles. This is the Darien Gap. It is supposed to be a lawless area with drug dealers, guerrillas, and also some very bad people inhabiting and frequenting the area. Whether this is true or not, it discourages most people from crossing the gap on land. If that doesn't work, Panama's Border Police (or military?) Senafront, will forbid it.
There are rivers to cross and mountains to climb, but there are also foot trails and navigable waterways. And now there are many Africans, South Americans, and Cubans using those trails to migrate from South America into Central America. Many press on towards the USA and try to enter illegally. Many are successful. A road through the Darien could be constructed relatively easily, indeed, attempts were made in the 1960's. But I think that Panama doesn't feel completing the highway is in its best interests. It would make it easier for drugs to enter and for illegal immigrants as well. Sounds like someone else's southern border.
Consequently, taking a vehicle from one continent to the other in the western hemisphere requires either a boat or an airplane. And there isn't a scheduled ferry between the countries either.
Knowing that I was going to have to fly my motorcycle or find a boat, I made the decision to end my trip in Panama and fly my motorcycle and myself back to the United States in time for Christmas. I hope it is just the end of a chapter and that someday, I can continue in South America. But for now, the trip south has ended. What follows is a brief summary of my preparations in getting myself and my motorcycle home.
I had 3 options-fly, ship, or turn around and ride home. Flying would be the quickest. I made a few phone calls and found an air cargo service to Miami.
I rode out to the cargo terminal at the airport, where my motorcycle was soon strapped to a pallet
shrink-wrapped
and the next day, flown to Miami. I had hoped to find a freight forwarder to arrange transportation the rest of the way to Colorado by truck. But the easiest, quickest, and least expensive way was for me to fly to Miami, get the motorcycle released through Customs, and arrange transportation to Colorado, myself. So I booked a flight to Ft. Lauderdale-it was a couple hundred dollars less than to Miami-and then before I left Panama, played tourist by visiting the Canal.
The Miraflores locks
I found one with a warehouse in Pompano Beach that would accept the motorcycle for shipment to Colorado. So, the next day, I said goodbye to Latin America and flew home to the USA.
I rented a pickup truck, drove to Miami, got the motorcycle released from Customs, loaded it into the back of the truck, and headed to Pompano Beach with it. If I could get it there before 4 PM Friday, they would accept it and then I could make arrangements to fly home myself. Otherwise, it meant staying in southern Florida over the weekend, and returning on Monday. Apart from a few small hiccups with Customs, I was able to do it successfully.
The next morning, I began the final leg home.
For those of you who found and read this blog in real-time, it is just the end of Chapter 1. Check back in the Fall of 2017 to see my continuation. As always, I would love to hear your questions or comments, so please leave them. Thanks for following!
Stephen
Look like you had a rather interesting trip. I have never traveled for so long, but if I do get a chance to somewhere interesting, I'll surely do it.
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