Peenie Wallie

And after I gas up, my iPhone quits working. My iPhone 6 is not working right. It's performing intermittently since I dropped it in the hotel pool last night.

I'm not really clear that I trust my Garmin Montana to take me to Colon, even though it's only like 40 miles away, and there are a limited number of routes to take to get there.

I really like how the Waze works now that I've reconfigured it.

And, if it's not working, I'm sort of in a panic.

Like...there's a reason most people don't ride motorcycles across continents. Because they're smarter than I am.

So, I turn off the iphone, and then turn it back on, at which point it seems to start working properly again.

So now, I have a full tank of gas. Two functioning GPS units (essentially). And I start rolling towards Colon. Now, the entire way, my Garmin keeps showing that I'm on the wrong road. It wants me to turn every chance it can, and is adamant about it, and never varies.

After about 10-20 miles, I start to wonder if I don't have the Waze app configured to avoid toll-roads. Sure enough. I check and I have it set to avoid toll roads, and now, it wants me to go where Garmin was trying to get me to go the whole time. Onto the freaking toll-road that runs North/South just west of the road I'm on. Moron.

So now, I'm on the toll-road rolling north.

Every so often, they have the cop-with-radar-gun silhouettes that would probably get me if a) I wasn't so used to seeing them and b) if they put them at the right angle.

Eventually, I get to Colon. It never rains on me this time, which is nice. But once I get to Colon, I get to the Zona Libre, only to realize that it's closed on Sunday. So. Fucking. Stupid. Third world nonsense that I'm getting tired of.

So, I can't get to the FedEx store where I shipped the package to clarify the contents of the package, per their request. I'm beginning to think that I'll just sue them once I get back to the United States.

I spend some time trying to find the Panafoto that's in Colon, but not in the Zona Libre, but they're too stupid to have a Panafoto website that lists the different store addresses.

I'm through with this place. So I just roll out of town, heading back to Portobelo.

On the outskirts of Portobelo, I stop at Captain Jack's. It's a nice place to eat, right on the water. The guy working there says there are monkeys on the island, and the people next door will take me out to the island. So, maybe I can get some monkey photos.

He sends me down to a building with a large mural of a woman snorkeling (or scuba diving?) on the side of the building. I think it's called Scuba Portabelo?

So, I go down there and ask the first guy I see if he'll take me out to the island so that I can see some monkeys.

But he says maybe there are monkeys there. Maybe not. Sometimes they are out there. Sometimes, not. It's hard to say, apparently.

He says he charges $10 to go out to the island in a boat, but if I just wait a minute, he'll take me out there for free, as he's going out there anyway.

So I'm like..."Fair enough."

And, now, I see that he's down at the dock/pier, and he's at the boat, and he's looking at me like I'm holding things up and this is where it's hard to make a call. Like...where should I leave my stuff? My helmet/CC Filson bag, riding boots, riding jacket and pants...what do I do with all of this stuff?

"Where should I put my stuff?" I ask him.

"Just put it there by the lockers is some space," he replies.

Like...I just go back and shove my gear into and beside a locker, and now I'm climbing into the boat.

Now, as we head out to the island, I notice that he's not driving the boat. He's got someone motoring the boat, as the three of us head out to this island, which is easily visible from the scuba store/restaurant.

As we get there, I see that there are other people on the island. They're dancing and singing. The island has calm shores, and white sand beaches. Very different than the coast down at Panama City, where the beaches are black.

We unload, and he starts to tell me how his father bought this island some time ago, and he questioned his rational at the time. But now, fast forward 20 years, and it looks like a pretty smart investment. They try to get people to come up here from cruise ships that land in Colon.

And we land and unload, and now, I'm getting a free tour of his private island. See....this is what you don't get from the news agencies. This is the story that doesn't make the news. The crazy gringo that trusts someone and goes out to an island and, instead of getting butchered and sold into white slavery, instead gets a private island tour. He goes off and instructs some of the workers on where to clear the vegetation.

While he's instructing the help on where to clear the mangroves and other trees, I decide to go for a swim with the GoPro. So, I'm sort of wallowing around like a manatee in the Carribbean. And, quite honestly, I haven't spent a lot of time swimming on this trip. I really haven't. But the ocean is just divine here. The island protects the beach from any waves that might want to wander in out of the Carribbean. And I'm sort of wallowing around in the shallow water with my glasses on. Thinking...can life get any better than this?

At some point, everyone loads into the boat, (including the other people that were partying/dancing on the beach), and we head back to the scuba store we left from. We pull up, and I climb out, and of course, my stuff is exactly left it, because it was the owner of the business that took me out to his private island. All our fears are poorly founded, I think.

So, now...what...I get on my bike...and keep riding, right? What else. I ride now to my hostel at the Portobelo Hostel. Now, I get here. I think that maybe there are some other bike riders with me? But no...some people will go on the boat, but I am the only one with a bike, it seems.

Now, as we sit at the bar, we plot what I should do with the bike.

"What you have to do, for sure, is go get a tarp. And spray down your bike with WD-40. And then..."

"And I'm like...wait a minute...hang on...slow down...I've got to write this down....Where can I find this stuff?"

"At Chinos," Marco replies. "He has different sized tarps..."

And I'm thinking like...how has a week gone by and I've done nothing to prepare for this boat ride. Like...how does this happen? Where does the time go?

So now, I go down to Chinos, but they don't have a tarp. So, a guy outside tells me that another store has it. But I'm like..."No...come on...you show me..."

And now, I'm following a total stranger through the streets of Portobelo. Only we go a block or two, and now I see the place he mentioned. We go in, and he tells them what I need, and then he leaves. I chase him down outside to tell him thank you. Like..what country has people like this? Why is our perception of this world so different from what it is truly like?

I purchase a tarp, and can of WD-40, and some duct-tape/packing-tape. So now, in theory, I have everything that I need for this excursion tomorrow.

Jennifer texts me and tells me to put my iphone in a bag of rice, so I buy a large bag of rice also. When I get back to the Hostel, I turn off the iphone and shove it deep down into the bag of rice. I figure it can't hurt, right?

Now, I come back to the hostel, and it's happy hour. We have 1 beer for $1.00 at happy hour. Somehow I drink 3 of them.

For the record, someone asked me about mosquitoes. There are mosquitoes here also, in Portobelo. I just saw one. So, I'm not clear who started the rumor that there are no mosquitos in Panama. But there are certainly mosquitos in Tocumen and Portobelo, anyway.

Now, we're at the bar drinking, and talking about the boat tomorrow that we will sail on...SanBlasCat.

Bring our bike to Sapsuro.
10:00 a.m.
Check email. But I don't have any email. None.

Wildcard
One World

Captain Jack's has a page. It has all of the boats on it that are leaving.
SailColombiaPanama.com
boatstocolombia.com

FARC used to control this area.
Now it's safe to go to there though.

OK. So, when I'm in Sapzurro, Panama, then I need to catch a boat to Capurgana, Colombia, where I'll get my passport stamped. Then, I go back to Sapzurro, and figure out what to do with my bike. I need to ship the bike to Necocli.

Sapzuro.
Tell the lady that Marco Polo sent me.
Hotel right at the end of the pier. Donde Triny is her name.

Ask for Sombrero. Everyone knows him. He's the main guy.
Tell him that Marco Polo sent me.

Sombrero is the guy who can help me bring the bike Necocli.
Tell him that Marco sent me.