After a late lunch we headed east along the Pan American highway for a while and then turned off south to a small fishing village called Boca Chica where we stayed for a couple of nights.
The village suited us very well. It was a bit shabby but not sleazy, scruffy but not dirty and little children ran freely in and out of the banana plantations.
Health and safety Panama style
Supper on Thursday evening was at the establishment of Senora Wimpey. Alan called her that in homage to the character in Popeye movies who was somewhat generously built in the rear section. Her establishment was very relaxed, consisting of a corrugated iron roof, a concrete floor and a number of white plastic tables and chairs. Amongst these, in no particular order, roamed children, chicken and dogs although only the latter seemed to be interested in our food. Supper however was a triumph, it was a fish called corvina and it tasted wonderful.
Fishing boat setting out to sea at Boca Chica
On Friday morning we pottered down to the boat dock past all the fishing nets drying in the sun and asked around until we found somebody who was prepared to take us out to the islands, of which there are apparently more than a hundred. Our boatman took as around various islands for a while and then we were dropped off at a little uninhabited island with a palm fringed, pure white sandy 'Bounty bar' beach on both sides with just a very small ridge of rock between the two sides.
Our personal treasure island
Sue pretending to be Ursula Andress
After an hour or so of gentle snorkelling we picked up the boat again and were taken to another larger island where there was a restaurant which had both beer and prawns. The whole trip (about four hours) was immensely enjoyable and after we got back we both agreed that the little 'treasure island' that our boatman took us to must rank among one of the most wonderful places we have ever visited.
Lunch stop
Bounty bar country
Blue footed booby landing on our boat
After stopping off at a rather seedy town on the Pan American Highway for lunch and to pick up provisions we discovered that our fridge was no longer working. Alan lifted the bonnet and started rummaging around and scratching his head and before too long a chap came along and he also started rummaging around under the bonnet. Ultimately it was agreed that what we probably needed was a new domestic battery and, like so many other kind people that we have met on our trip, the chap then went out of his way to take us to a 'Casa de Baterias'. Wonder of wonders, the battery specialist stocked the correct Optima battery and, after checking that ours was completely dead, a new one was duly fitted and the fridge started buzzing nicely again.
On Sunday we had another long drive along the Pan American highway which included navigating our way through Panama city. Panama City itself was not a delight to drive through, in fact it was b....y awful. Matron, the verbal manifestation of MapsMe, threw up her hands in horror and we navigated by a combination of intuition, the compass and reference to MapsMe without Matron's interference.
We had a bit of trouble finding somewhere to stay on Sunday evening but eventually found a pleasant enough place which was something between a farm and a hotel not far from some attractive lakes.
Farm stay at La Margarita
Our plan to have a day's respite visiting the lakes did not come to fruition. When we got up on Monday morning the light in Lucy's rear door was not working, the invertor was complaining and although the fridge was buzzing it was not cold. To our simple minds this suggested that the means whereby the power is transmitted from the primary battery to the secondary battery had somehow become interrupted. So, we had a day of electro-mechanics instead.
This involved returning to Panama City which did not fill us with joy. First stop was at a 'Casa de Baterias' who said they couldn't help because the problem was not the battery, it was the electrics that were 'mal'. The chap there pointed us in the direction of an auto electrical mechanic and he rummaged around inside the vehicle in the time honoured manner, scratched his nose in a way that has become ominously familiar and then directed us to a different and even more specialised auto electrical engineer.
The second specialist was a fine fella, he rummaged around quite a lot and said he thought he could sort it out. After about an hour and a half he decided that he couldn't fix it but he thought his brother could. Whilst all this had been going on we had got chatting to an exceedingly nice young taxi driver whose name was Gustavo and he then guided us through the heavy Panama traffic to specialist number three. By this time it was about four in the afternoon and specialist number three, Senor Juan, said he could fix it but not today and asked us to return at eight o'clock the following morning.
Faced with the prospect of a four hour drive back to La Margarita where we were staying and a four hour drive in the morning to get to the mecanico by eight in the morning, our only sensible option was to spend the night in Panama city. Gustavo then took us across the city to a perfectly nice hotel which we would never have otherwise found which charged us only thirty dollars a night for a perfectly decent room.
We delivered Lucy to Senor Juan at eight o'clock on Tuesday morning and he had the vehicle until half past three. We filled in the time sitting on a tour bus, complete with commentary in four languages which we neither of us listened to. We did however go and have a look at one of the locks on the canal but there were no ships in it at the time. The canal system runs some 80 kilometres from the Caribbean to the Pacific and consists of lakes and inlets connected together by stretches of canal with locks. We did wonder why there are locks and apparently it is because the lake is significantly higher than sea level on either the Pacific or Caribbean side.
Pacific to the left, Caribbean to the right
The under side of Panama City
Old Panama fish market
Fishing fleet with Panama City skyline behind
By mid afternoon on Wednesday 14th December we were in the Darien. Our aim was to get to La Chunga, a village inhabited by the Embera indigenous people, where we had the best chance of being taken to see a Harpy eagle's nest. After driving for about four and a half hours we got to Puerto Quimba where the road finishes beside a river and where there were lots of boats and a lot of army who asked us lots of questions. Having satisfied them that we were not smuggling cocaine we left Lucy in their care and got into a very rickety launch and sped off to the village of La Palma where we stopped for the night.
On the way to La Palma
Riverside property at La Palma
Nobody in La Palma could tell us when or if there would be a boat leaving for La Chunga which is reached by going some way around the Darien coastline and then up the Rio Sambu. So, it was more in hope than expectation that we wandered down to the boat dock on Thursday morning. By a stroke of serendipity a launch was leaving right then and after a two and a half hour boat trip and a forty five minute walk through the swampy, steaming, mosquito infested jungle we arrived at the Embera village of La Chunga.
Fishing boat adorned with pelicans
The pontoon on Rio Sambu
Walking through the swamp to La Chunga
We were immediately greeted by the village 'hospitality officer' and guide who took us to our lodgings with one of the local families. Sue was slightly fazed to begin with as our bedroom was a piece of wooden floor shared with several sacks of rice and the washing, however someone produced a mattress and mozzie net later on so all was well.
The La Chunga Hilton
Honeymoon suite at La Chunga Hilton
The slightly disappointing news was that the Harpy eagles are no longer in this area. We found out later that one of the nesting pair was shot and killed a couple of years ago, apparently by a 'jealous' member of a neighbouring community who resented the little bit of 'tourism' that La Chnuga was getting from the interest in the birds. The surviving eagle had unsurprisingly left the area after its mate was killed.
We spent a wonderful couple of days in the village. The Senora cooked our meals with the food we had brought with us, our guide took us for walks in the jungle, Alan wandered around taking photographs whilst Sue chilled out in a hammock, we bathed in the river and generally soaked up the atmosphere of the village.
Village house, La Chunga
La Chunga village
I'm a celebrity, get me out of here
Bath time in La Chunga river
Curassow, La Chunga
Squirrel monkey, La Chunga
La Chunga river
We really warmed to this small Embera village. There was a pervading air of contentment and happiness, we never heard any signs of discord, the children ran freely and we only heard a child cry once when he banged his head. Their horizons are limited by the river and the jungle of the Darien but it seemed to us that their wealth could be counted by the fewness of their wants.
La Chunga swimming club
A child's life in La Chunga
Children playing in La Chunga
Wash day, La Chunga river
Siesta time
The first launch that came along was full to overflowing so we let it go and so frankly was the second one but as there were only two we got into the second one. We then had a three and a half to four hour trip which to begin with involved going at fairly high speed with a grossly overloaded boat down a muddy river that was full of fallen trees. Luckily there was a man sitting on the prow with a large flashlight and depending upon the degree of anxiety with which he was flashing it the driver either went to left or to right.
All was well until we got out on the open sea when a fishing net snagged the propeller which took some time to disentangle. Then about a mile from La Palma we ran out of fuel so the driver picked up a very large single bladed paddle and he, Alan and someone else took it in turns to paddle the boat along the shoreline until another launch came along and gave us a tow as far as the gasoline station at La Palma. Having refuelled we finally got back to Puerto Quimba where Lucy had been domiciled for three days and, lo and behold, there she was without a screw missing!
Our little adventure into the Darien was a wonderful experience but Sue, for one, was quite pleased to get back to civilisation and a hot shower! Since we returned to Panama City on Saturday 17th December our time has been devoted to catching up on the usual admin and domestic tasks but, more importantly, working through the complexities of getting Lucy shipped across to Cartagena in Columbia, there being no road through the Darien gap.
The first stage involved taking Lucy to the Vehicle Inspectorate in Panama City early on Monday morning. We had been fortunate in being able to link up with a fellow traveller, a young American called Josh, in Nicaragua and we had agreed to share a 40 foot container, thus reducing our costs. Josh had found a really helpful agent, Boris, who gave us very clear step by step instructions of exactly what we needed to do.
We thought the inspection would be very detailed but, in the event, it only involved them making a note of the chassis number and then telling us to come back after two o'clock to collect a certificate. We went back at about three o'clock and then waited around until about half past four when we got the required certificate saying that the vehicle could be exported.
We all met up with Boris in Colon (the port city at the northern end of the canal) on Tuesday morning and, having produced five photocopies of just about every document and piece of paper in our admin folder, we proceeded to customs. The customs office was in festive mood and most of the personnel were wearing party hats and reindeer horns but it didn't seem to make them any more efficient.
From there we took the trucks, in the company of Boris, to the container port which actually more closely resembled a large scrapyard. The vehicle was reversed onto a low loader and the low loader was then jacked up so that Alan could drive it into the container and then exactly the same procedure happened with Josh's vehicle. They then secured the vehicles with wheel blocks and large nylon straps and then they closed and sealed the container with the customs seal. They wouldn't let Alan put a padlock on the outside due to customs regulations so we hope Lucy will be safe on her journey.
Loading Lucy into the container
Lucy safely tucked up in the container
Our flight to Cartagena leaves early tomorrow morning, Friday 23rd December, and so a new chapter will begin. Our Christmas will be a different one this year and we shall miss spending it with our loved ones but we shall certainly be raising a glass of margarita or two in the warm Columbian sunshine.