Peenie Wallie

Dripping Wet

Today, I get up in Torti, Panama and get rolling early. I checked the forecast, it it looked like my best chance to ride was early in the morning.
So I get up and bolt out of there. A bunch of bird watchers were here last night. None of them had a 400 f/5.6 though. Which I happened to have with me.
I did shoot some of the hummingbirds, and they are kind of cute, but that's not really why I'm here.

So I bolt from the place and I don't get far before it's pouring again, so I seek shelter and stop. An hour later, I'm rolling again. It's hard to know when to keep riding and when to call it a day. But my thought is that, I'll keep riding as long as there's daylight. I need to get to at least Tocument, and preferably, all the way to Portobelo.

So, all day, it goes like this for me. Ride....stop and seek shelter. Ride...stop and seek shelter. Finally, I get to within about 10 miles of the hotel at the Tocumen airport, and I'm like...to hell with it. I'm not stopping. So I keep riding. Massive road construction project. Panama seems to be always building, but never quite finishing these massive road projects. Now, it's raining cats and dogs. The streets are absolutely flooded. The rain is 2 feet deep in places deeper.

But I'm not stopping. I keep going. If it's only 10 miles to the hotel, I'm riding, right?

I've never seen water like this. Like we're riding through a lagoon. 1'-2' of standing water. Who designed their drainage system?

By the time I get to the hotel, it has actually stopped raining. So, I'm sort of half-inclined to keep riding. The thing about this weather is, it's really hard (for me) to predict when it will rain, and when it won't. And if I need to ride another 60 miles to Portobelo, part of me thinks....dude....keep riding.

Finally, I get to the hotel. I'm thoroughly soaked. I walk into the hotel. They see that I'm soaking wet, and raise the rate. I'm like...no...I'll just make the reservation on Hotels.com. Is that what you want me to do? Well, if you do that, then it will take us a half an hour to get it. They're playing with me. I'm like..."I can make this easier for you. You don't want me here? I'll go somewhere else."

And I go outside, climb on my bike, and keep riding. For once, it's not raining. It seems like a stupid time to be checking into a hotel, soaking wet. And as soon as I start riding, I start to dry off.

That's the funny thing about rain. Riding in rain sucks, big time. But riding out of a rainstorm is exhilirating in a way that's hard to describe.

So I take off, following Waze north on the North Corridor. At first, just gridlock traffic, but eventually, we get out of the city, now heading north to Colon.

And I have no problem until I get to about 16 miles outside of Colon, at which point the bottom falls out.

I promptly pull my motorcycle under a shed where passengers wait for the bus. No one seems to mind, and I sit there for about 30 minutes or maybe an hour.

Then, this woman starts talking very excitedly. I look up and see that a power line/telephone pole is burning. Across the street, the whole thing is going up in flames, and sparks start exploding from it. I'm not making this up. Never seen anything remotely like it in my life. So I break out my 100-400mm long lens, stick the only functioning canon frame on it, and push the button, not sure what will happen. The pole explodes again, and I get some pretty good shots as Western Civilization basically melts down before my eyes. What in the absolute fuck is going on.

I try to tell the woman to call someone. I have no idea who to call, obviously. I'm not even really sure where we are, or how to speak the language, much less which authority to call.

It's odd, but the other people seem largely unaffected by the rain. They walk up and down the street in their clothes, sans umbrella, like the rain does not affect them. It's really hard to grasp. I've never seen anything like this. They don't run, or rush. Or bend over. Or hunker down. They just walk normally, through the rain, like it's not even there.

A cab comes, adn the woman gets in, and she waves goodbye and leaves. I'm not clear if she ever called anyone or not. I'm not clear how to communicate what I just saw, or who I should tell. This is a strange adventure I'm on. And it seems to get stranger every day.

It's now 3:00 p.m. I think that the poeople riding the bus are smarter than I am. They're not here any more. They've gone on with their lives. I'm still sitting here, like a moron, in a driving December rain, wondering if I will ever make it to the Carribbean/Atlantic coast. I've never even seen this part of Panama before. Now, it's 3:00 p.m., and I'm not sure if it will clear up or not. I hear thunder. And the rains continue.

Somehow, the utility pole still stands, and now there seems to be no more firey explosions.

Everyone has left, and now a new person comes and hails a cab. I don't say anything to him about the explosions on the power line. I'm not clear how to communicate what I've just witnessed, so I just let it go.

I am glad (and pleasantly surprised) to learn that one of my cameras is still functioning. That means that, if I do ever make it to Portebelo, then I'll have at least one camera to photograph the islands with.

Finally, I check the forecast. It looks like it's not going to stop. The forecast for rain for Colon shows 100% in the forecast for the foreseeable future. So I figure, fuck it. Let's ride there. In the driving rain, and get this over with. Christ.

So, at 3:00 p.m., I set my Waze to Portobelo. 34 miles. 1 hour. 11 mins. Here we go, people. Hang onto your asses.

So I climb onto my bike and take off into the rain.

I have my CC Filson bag inside of a trash bag. I don't know why I don't have waterproof gear. I don't really have a good answer for that one. I'm glad to know that one of my cameras is still working though.

And I just roll out into the rain.

When I get to Colon, surprisingly, the rain stops. I only went 8 miles before the rain stopped.

And now, I'm riding towards Portabelo. Eventually, I find my way down to the coast, and maybe you will never know what it's like to ride a motorcycle out of a pouring rain. But now, imagine, riding a motorcycle out of the pouring rain, and finding the Carribbean coast. That's what happened to me today.

I see some people swimming down on the beach, and they're callng to me...come on, amigo! So, I go down to them, and they hand me a beer. This is what the ride is about. Putting yourself out there. Pushing the envelope. This is where I ended up.

Now, I tell them, I have to roll on. Still must make it to Portabelo. Still about 10 miles to go. As I get back on my bike, it starts to rain again. Now, I ride out of the rain once again, and I'm following the coast. I'm not really clear what direction. East?

I begin to wonder...will they have a gas station? Will there be a hotel? You never really know the answers to these questions, it seems. Only I know that I was told to be in Portabelo on Monday morning at 10:00 a.m. to load the motorcycles.

Now, I'm wondering....will there be any signs of cililization in Portabelo?

I roll into town, and I see that there is a Hostel, at least. With WiFi. It costs $10.00 a night. Beers are $1.00. So I check into the hostel.

Now, I have a place to stay, and a place to eat. I'm still not sure on the gasoline part. But, the boats have to have gasoline. So, there has to be a gas station, right?

I'm just glad to be here. I'm so sick of riding in the rain all day. So dangerous. So much not what I want to be doing.

I ask the owner of the Hostel...he says that he knows the guy that brings the sailboat in on Monday. He says we just go down and load the motorcycles by hand. I find that hard to imagine, since my bike weighs 500 pounds.

But, I've done my part. I'm here. I'm ready to load my bike on and sail through the San Blas Islands for 4 days.

And, I have internet access. Woohoo!

My papers and clothes are all spread out all over the place, hoping for them to dry at some point in time. Everything thing I have got pretty soaked today. Not really a fun ride, but I am glad that I made it here, anyway. Now, tomorrow, I can relax. :)

For some reason, everyone here speaks French. Not clear how the frogs found this place. I ask the owner if there's a gas staion on the town. He says that it's a gecko, pointing to the lizard on the dining room table. I'm like..."No...otro. Es stacion para gasolina en PortoBello?"

Finally, he grasps that I'm not interested in, or referring to, the lizard. I'm asking if there is a gas station in town. He assures me that there is.

That's one thing I want to make sure is that I'm not leaving the country with a half a tank of gas. I want my gas tank to be full.

He indicates that the motorcycles will be loaded on by hand. I find it hard to grasp that this is possible. I can't even pick it up if I drop it. And somehow, he's saying that we can all just pick it up and put it on the boat. OK. We'll see then won't we?