Had a blast in San Blas.

Our final morning in paradise was unfortunately far from paradise. The wind was howling and the sea was nothing but whitecaps after another stormy night. This did not bode well for our boat ride back to the mainland. Adrian and I momentarily considered staying another night but a quick feel of my hair changes my mind. It’s sticky with sea salt and probably looks even worse. Paradise was lovely but a shower and dry bed was more enticing. Plus, we didn’t have enough money left in our wallets to pay for the night.

It was 6am when we got up. As predicted Nick and Arianne were still sleeping but Britt and Gunn were ready and packed and just as worried about the weather. None of us was looking forward to riding that tiny boat across those big waves. But we had no time to rethink our plan when Negro arrived just after 7.

The boat ride was better than any of us expected. Negro piloted the boat slowly and managed to avoid all of the big waves and unlike our experience in Bocas the boat never went airborne or felt like it would topple. We stopped to pick up others on the way, including 3 American girls one of whom spent the entire ride throwing up. I assumed it was the ocean but when we got to the shore, they admitted they had all partied too hard the night before. Oh great I hope Puky Brewster isn’t in our van back to Panama City.

When we got on shore, we discovered other travelers but no 4x4 SUVs to take us away. Negro chatted with some locals and then explained that the river had flooded in last night’s storm and none of the vehicles could cross it to meet us. So we would had to go up river and meet them instead. Negro began to say goodbye but not Britt and I reminded him that we needed our change. It was obvious Ricardo hadn’t told him about this so he made a call and then opened his wallet to give us the couple of bucks we were owed. Good thing because we needed to pay an extra $2 for the extra boat ride up the shallow river (photo above).

When we finally got to the SUVs down the river, we were greeted by crazy Judy and her brother. Just two SUVs and there were 15 of us to take back to Panama City. Judy apologized but said that with the bad conditions, some of the drivers hadn’t shown up. I was pretty sure the real story was that they only had enough people coming out this morning for two SUVs and hoped that all of us leaving would fit in the two vehicles in order to save themselves the cost of paying for another driver. Britt, Gun, Adrian and I were piled into Judy’s brother’s jeep, followed by the 3 American girls (yes, Puky Brewster was sitting right next to me). I thought we had a full load but then 4 Israeli’s were shoved in the back and one in the front next to Adrian. With 13 of us packed in like sardines, the brother started up the jeep and took off through the mountains again. He was as crazy a driver as Judy was. But it still took almost 3 hours to reach the highway.

Once on the highway I was looking forward to a fast ride back in to town. But we had to stop at a passport control office to get checked back into Panama. What? We didn’t do this when we went out. Apparently, we should have. My heart was pounding, hoping that we weren’t going to be in trouble. But my heart wasn’t pounding as hard as Britt’s. When she reached into her bag to get her passport, she discovered Frank (or Frankie, or Francesca, etc) had stowed away. She let out a scream and Adrian grabbed her bag and tossed Frank to the curb while Gunn and I laughed hysterically. Bye, bye Frank, can’t say I’ll miss you, but thanks for the entertainment. Then it was time to deal with Adrian and I’s passport problem. Actually it was a non-problem, as the official didn’t seem too bothered that we weren’t in the system and waved us through.

We got to Panama City quickly but only the Israeli’s and Adrian and I had reservations at a hostel. Britt and Gunn were going to try the hotel Nick and Arianne had recommended. It was nearby Mamallena (but supposedly cheaper and nicer). But the American girls had no plan of attack. Our driver drove to a couple of hostels to try to find them a room but there was no space. The Israeli passengers got quite annoyed at this and demanded the driver just drop the Americans somewhere and take the to their hostel. I don’t know why they were so impatient – I was the one sitting beside the puking girl. They obviously didn’t believe in travel karma. I told the American girls to get out at our hostel. While they didn’t have room, but they did have super nice staff who would help them find a room in the neighbourhood, most likely at the same hotel the Norwegian Girls were going to. With that we said goodbye to Britt and Gunn. We had been really lucky that we were stranded on a deserted island with them and Nick and Arianne, and, of course, Frank.

Going to the dogs.

Grey skies – not exactly what you want when you’re hanging out on a deserted island in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, that was what we woke up to. But thankfully, the rain that poured down all night had stopped. Our mood wasn’t improved by breakfast which was a meager half of a hamburger bun with fried egg. Nick and Ariane had wisely brought a shopping bag full of groceries with them and shared their milk with us which at least made the instant coffee more palatable. Negro had said he’d come after breakfast to pick us up for our snorkeling tour but when he didn’t arrive in the hour after breakfast, we all began to think that the weather may have caused him to rethink it.

The sun threatened to come out so Adrian and I picked through the snorkel gear to find a couple of sets and headed out from the beach to see what the reef was like just off shore. We swam past the sea grass, and then the garbage and finally reached the coral and fish. It wasn’t bad for being only 20 metres from shore. And on the way back we had to navigate through a school of hundreds of thousands of tiny grey fish which was pretty neat. Back on shore I told Nick and Arianne to give it a go. Just as they were coming back, Negro arrived. We rounded up the rest of our snorkeling gear, as well as Britt and Gunn and headed out.

Negro dropped us off at Isla de Perro, a large sandy island (photo above) with a volleyball net, small snack shop and many tourists already there. We had to pay $1 to visit which none of us had, assuming we were just going snorkeling. Negro instead paid for us and told us we could pay him when we got back to our huts. He said he’d come back for us later and we’d be back in time for lunch. We stopped him and asked about the snorkeling and he pointed out to a dark shape in the water. That was the barco esconditio. The island was beautiful but not quite what we were expecting.

Oh well, Adrian and I grabbed our snorkel gear and swam towards the dark shadow. We weren’t expecting much and were shocked by what we saw. The boat was a 60-metre ship that had obviously been underwater for decades. It was thoroughly incrusted with beautiful coral and absolutely teeming with fish. It.was.awesome. We immediately called to the other 4 and told them get out here. After an hour of swimming around it we were all a little hungry and thirsty. Despite’s Negro’s assurance before he left that we could put things on a tab and then pay him back later, the little hut didn’t offer much. Nick and Arianne shared one of their stash of granola bars with all of us which helped stave off the hunger. To get my mind off of the lack of food and water, I went back out to the ship although by this time it was crawling with newly arrived visitors, some of whom were ignorantly walking and climbing on the coral. I couldn’t take that anymore and headed back to shore just as Negro appeared on the horizon. I informed the other 5 and before Negro had even pulled the boat up to the beach we were already in it, hungry and ready to go back. The beach was lovely but since none of us were prepared for it we were just as anxious to leave.

Back at Iron, we all ran to the picnic table and had our utensils in hand ready to eat. It was 2 and breakfast had been at 7:30 so we were starving. After last nights hot dogs and this mornings tiny sandwiches we weren’t hopeful. One of Oneida’s daughters brought out a plate of chicken and rice which we all dug into. There was complete silence as we gobbled it down – except for Adrian who decided to educate us all on the glory and versatility of the humble spud versus boring rice. I was glad the rest of the table was laughing because after 12 years of hearing it, it was old news to me. He continued his ruminations, proposing that while we were all roughing it out here, our host Kuna family was on the other side of the island with wifi, satellite tv and freezers full of ice cream and chocolate.

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing nothing. Reading. Lounging. Sunning. Although not in that order as the clouds came back later in the afternoon. Adrian and Nick bored the rest of us with their three hour conversation on music. Nick was a musician which meant Adrian was in heaven talking about the most underrated hits of the 80s. Thankfully, they stopped when dinner was brought out. Actually we all stopped. For our last dinner, they staff wowed us with two huge platters of crab. We tried to figure out what sort of crab produced claws as big as our fists but gave up and just dug in. There was even dessert, another platter but this one was full of pineapple. Finally we had a meal that left us truly stuffed. As the dishes were cleared away, Ricardo brought us back to reality reminded Adrian, Britt, Gunn and I that Negro would be picking us up tomorrow morning 7:30-ish to take us back to the mainland. But his wife stepped in and said “siete en punto” as she cleared away the dishes. Yikes. 7am sharp. That was an early start.

It was now time to settle our bills. And even though Ariane and Nick have a decent understanding of Spanish, it was rather confusing. Particularly when Adrian reminded me that we paid a $10 deposit back at the hostel. Unfortunately Ricardo had no clue about that nor does he have change for the Norwegian girls and us. But he promises that tomorrow we’d get it from Negro when he brought us to the mainland. As for our deposit, that was beyond any of our translation capabilities. But it worked out okay because Ricardo had done the calculations wrong and undercharged us. So the $10 was their money anyway.

As we finished our drinks by candlelight again, we said goodbye to Nick and Arianne who begged off from the early wake up call. We also got a chance to say goodbye to Frank and one of his offspring when they made an appearance in our room. I said goodbye to them by tossing them out of the room.

What’s Spanish for brakes?

The alarm went off at stupid o’clock, unaffectionately known as 4am. Thanks to our trip to the grocery store we had some cereal for breakfast and then dragged our butts to reception carrying just our day packs with just enough stuff for our two night getaway. There was another couple waiting whom I recognized from a few days ago before they had had to relocate to a nearby hotel when they forgot to reserve their room for enough nights. There was also a group of Israelis ready to head out too. Downstairs there were two white 4x4s waiting for us one driven by a super energetic lady named Judy. She hustled Adrian and I into her jeep and then drove off with the other driver claiming that we were his.

We got about a block away when Judy got a phone call that made her do a crazy u-turn and head back to the hostel.
“I’m sorry I don’t what is going on. I’m the driver for your island but you have to go with the other guy.” She said to us via the rearview mirror, while talking in the cell phone, steering and shifting at the same time.

I was kind of glad we were going with the other driver as Judy scared me. But this didn’t bode well for the beginning of our journey (although I was too tired to care). In the new SUV I was lucky enough to get the front seat while Adrian was squeezed into the back with the gaggle of Israelis. My relief at being with a sane driver disappeared when he shot off and barreled down the dark streets of Panama then on to the expressway east in record time.

I was amazed that even at this stupid early hour there were long lineups of locals waiting for buses at the side of the road. The day really does begin and end with the sunrise and sunset for these folks. I drifted off to sleep and woke up about an hour later when we pulled up to a little fonda (no not bridget or jane, but a hole in the wall shack café on the side of the highway) for some coffee. Then it was back on the highway that soon dwindled into a pothole-ridded road. And by potholes, I mean giant pits, which our driver preferred to swerve around without slowing down. That meant a lot of flying back and forth inside the vehicle but amazingly none of us got car sick.

We turned off the highway onto a gravel road that slowly (well fastly, at the speed our driver was going) turned into a dirt road and then mud road as me headed up and over the mountains of Panama’s continental divide. The road was very twisty and treacherous but our driver’s preferred technique for handling it was going as fast as possible downhill so he could use the momentum to get up the next hill. At one point there was a truck in front of us that couldn’t make it up a hill and we almost rear-ended it. Our driver reversed at full speed to give the other driver room. It was just as scary as any roller coaster and I wished I knew how to ask “where are the brakes” in Spanish.

The road became worse the further we went. But we got to catch our breath when we stopped to pay our Kuna tax of $6 each as we entered the Kuna Yala territory. Then it was back on the death road through the jungle for another hour and half ride which even involved driving across a river. I was relieved when the road suddenly became paved only to realize we were now on a runway of a small airport that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, except perhaps by drug runners. We pulled up to the small terminal at the end of the runway where lots of other travelers were waiting all looking similarly green in the face after their ride in. The terminal apparently was now the dock for the boat transfers to the island.

As we waited for our boat to whisk us away to Iron (ee-rone), our driver told us that he had to take us to another port further in the jungle. So we reluctantly got back in the truck. The trek was a short one to the banks of a river where a few boats and about 15 other travelers were waiting including the American couple from this morning. Judy was also there yelling instructions – I don’t know what coffee she drinks in the morning, actually I do so I can avoid it. She came up to us and once again apologized for the confusion. Our boat was there but the Americans’ luggage wasn’t; it was still making the trek on another SUV. Eventually after an hour of farting about it arrived and we got on the small 12 person lancha with 10 other folks. Most got off at the stops along the way, leaving just us and the American couple who were also headed to Iron which apparently was the furthest west of all the islands.

We flew across the water, eventually slowing down as we approached a tiny palm tree covered island with a handful of huts dotted on the white sand. As the boat curved around to the other side, the Kuna family living on the island ran out to greet us. The women wore red skirts, and what looked like leg warmers until I realized that they were beaded leg wrappings. We learned that Iron was the name of the owner and the older woman greeting us was Oneida (spelling a guess)his wife. There were also countless kids and other members of the extended family who lived in the huts we had seen on the other side of the island. On this side was where they housed us visitors. There were four huts, all basic but with a comfy bed and wooden floor. Woohoo. The bathroom was a toilet in a hut that had to be flushed by pouring water down the bowl, and the shower, well the shower was something we didn’t get introduced to. No worries we changed into our bathing suits and jumped in the water just steps from our hut. From the water we got a clear view of the rest of island including another grouping of basic huts where we spotted Matt from the Canal bus stop. He told us the accommodation at that end was really basic – sand floors and no bedding. But he didn’t care it was cheap and the view (photo above) was priceless.

Soon we were called for lunch where Adrian and I met the other 4 people staying with us. The American couple were Nick and Arianne from Portland. And the two others already on the island were Britt and Gunn two girls from Norway. While chowing on our rice and fish, Ricardo introduced himself to us. He was Iron’s best friend (and brother-in-law) and looking after us while Iron was in Panama City. He also formally introduced us to our boat captain, Negro who told us he was going to take us out tomorrow on a boat tour to some other islands. We all asked for a good snorkeling place and he told us he know the best place that has a barco escondito – or sunken boat. It sounded amazing we just hoped we didn’t mean an old lancha on a sand bar.

After lunch we went back in the water but soon the weather changed and the clouds looked quite fierce so we decided to read. Well I decided to read. Adrian went nosing around the island and found out that Oneida’s daughters had two kittens in one of the hut which he immediately demanded that he play with. They were pretty darn cute and we cooed like idiots as we held them and posed for pictures with them until dinner.

At exactly 6:30 we were served dinner which was hot dogs and rice. Good thing we had a box of sangria with us. We shared it with the 4 others - it was my postponed birthday after all - and enjoyed the evening sitting at the table chatting by candlelight. Britt and Gunn had arrived the day before and assured us the food had been better. But they also warn us about the cockroaches that come out after dark. I wasn’t really bothered – unlike sand flies and mosquitos they don’t bite me. But Arianne was freaked out. To make her feel better, Nick decided to give the cockroaches a name. From now on we were to call all of them Frank. Well Frank (or one of his many children all named Frankie or Francesca) popped up on the thatch roof near the picnic table as well as in the toilets. However as it became pitch black we lost sight of Frank and every one chilled until 10pm when we decided to pack it all in for the night. After the crazy trip out here, we had finally found the brakes.