Panama

Other than a canal and tax evasion, we were not too sure what Panama was going to offer us - we don’t earn enough to merit tax evasion and we’ve experienced our fair share of canals, both on them (in a kayak), in them (due to our lack of talent in a kayak) and next to them (walking, running etc), to sate our thirst. As it turns out, the riding in Panama has been stunning.

In some ways, our experience of Panama has been the opposite to that of the Yucatan, where the riding was dull but the stops were truly fantastic. Here, especially in the western half of the country, we have ridden along grinning inanely at each other whilst (other than the notable exceptions of the two archipelagos that bookended the country), the stops have been less exciting.

As we first entered, the landscape was much like that at the end of Costa Rica - lush banana plantations and hill-clinging cloud creating a mystical aura. As we climbed up and over the Talamanca Mountains, we had views of the Caribbean and the Pacific, practically seeing both shores of Panama in the same day. Bright birds continued to capture our attention, causing Ali to brake and Lizzie to almost crash into the back of him. We also had our first sloth sighting from the road, a grey furry lump up in the tree that elicited our squeals of excitement when it deigned to do something as interesting as scratch itself. From here we had the unexpected pleasure of the PanAmerican, which for a good stretch of Panama was being upgraded - this meant one side was practically complete but closed to traffic, allowing us to ride on wonderfully smooth, new asphalt with no cars to avoid. The risk here was uncleared debris - some of which speared Lizzie’s tyre (see picture) but fortuitously did not puncture it.

Superman Tyre

Empty Highway

We decided to detour off the PanAmerican for one stretch, in order to pass through some more hills (I think the slippery slope towards masochism is one-way only) and some much more quiet, lesser visited, Panamanian villages. The roads in these areas were flanked by fincas (small farms), growing mainly sugar cane, coconuts and maize. It seems that as people often find themselves waiting by the roadside for a bus, they’ve seen fit to build small shelters under which to do so, so each of these fincas had effectively built their own bus stop for themselves and their workers, often with a big bunch of bananas hanging in them; in our minds, this was a welcome snack whilst they waited for the bus but maybe it was just a convenient place to leave them to ripen.

The last stretch into Panama City after this was less pleasant - a few days of head down, get-on-with-it riding, as traffic increased, particularly freight bound for the large amount of traffic piling through the canal, and the hard shoulder worsened. We extended our route slightly to cross the canal at a quieter bridge, allowing us to take the obligatory selfies and then ride along the canal, seeing some astronomically enormous tankers pass through one of the canal’s three locks. A short brush with some spaghetti junctions and insane traffic later and we rolled into our hostel, weary but elated that we had ridden across the whole of Central America, unsupported. We drank to that.

Centennial Bridge

Massive Boat

As mentioned, our time in Panama was bookended by trips to two of its many archipelagos. The day we crossed the border from Costa Rica we caught the boat over to Bocas del Toro, a collection of islands with a distinctly Caribbean vibe (complete with pineapple empanadas and the like). We stayed on one of the quieter islands, on a little cabin stilted over the water and a diving board from the bedroom into the sea (I’m sad to say it was this gimmick that persuaded us to stay here). As we sat on the jetty both days, we saw dolphins swimming past and also an incredibly bizarre rolling wave that may have been a whale. Or just a wave. We were intoxicated by our proximity to nature and the pleasure of jumping off the dock in the dark to splash around in the phosphorescence and feel like we were casting spells out the end of our fingers.  

Gimmick Diving Board from Room

At the end of our time in Panama, we spent a few days camping and touring around the San Blas, a collection of hundreds of islands populated by the largely independent and autonomous Kuna people. This seemed an appropriate time to read Robinson Crusoe, which we both did and felt we were able to empathise so much more with Crusoe’s internment as we lay on some tiny 10m x 10m islands with just a few palm trees - a bit of immersive book reading!

Reading Robinson Crusoe

Pretending to be Robinson Crusoe

Sometimes, it’s not until you notice the appearance of something, that its prior absence becomes apparent.  For example, the few windy days at the end of Nicaragua made us appreciate how apparently windless our route in general has been.  Similarly, in Panama the sudden presence of beer halls or ‘jardins’ in every town, large or small, felt a striking appearance. Large, concrete monoliths, short on character but long on beer logo murals. It’s not that there hasn’t been plenty of beer being consumed elsewhere, but these buildings are so distinct, and often play loud music (even when they seem to be empty).  We haven’t necessarily noticed more drunken antics on the street, but if we were looking for a discotec we’d not have to stumble far to find them.

For some reason, cars in Panama
don't have front number plates which
allows space for innovation

As previously mentioned, everyone knows about the Panama Canal. It brings a lot of wealth into Panama, as evidenced by the huge metropolis of Panama City, although sadly this doesn’t seem to transfer much beyond the central belt of the country. Boats passing through the canal pay a toll based on weight - the largest payment being $829,000 in July this year (following the recent expansion of the canal, much larger boats can pass through). Entertainingly, the smallest payment was 36 cents by Richard Halliburton who swam the canal in 1928.

Unusually for two countries with a land border, there is no road connecting Panama and Colombia - the impassable area between them being known as the Darién Gap. This is an area of dense rainforest and jungle, untouched by development and so still full of the dangers that brings (dangerous wildlife, minimal habitation to stock up supplies etc) and, until recently, hideout for the FARC. Some suicidal maniacs have crossed this with their bikes in the past but we’re not that kind of masochist and so this leaves two options for sensible people - get a boat or fly. Not having the best sea legs, we have decided to fly to Cartagena in Colombia to resume our journey. The reasons that no road has been built are many - our cynical side thinks the Panamanian government has little interest in reducing the incentive, and thus the revenue, of passing through the canal, which a road link would bring. There is also a serious amount of drug trafficking from Colombia up through Central America to the US - a road would just give the cartels another route to try to exploit and potentially spread violence wider. Some of the other reasons include protecting the rainforest, containing the spread of tropical diseases and protecting the livelihood of indigenous peoples in the area. For whatever reason, it doesn’t look like there will be a road crossing anytime soon, and touring cyclists and overlanders will have to continue to break up their journey as they move from one country to the other. Oh well, that’s 500 fewer kilometres we have to cycle.

View from Panama