Peenie Wallie

And speaking of swastikas, the Germans stayed up all night drinking on the boat again.

It's really strange to think that I'm like this rock star that can speak two languages, and then you end up around some Europeans, and they tend to speak several languages. Fritz switches easily between English, German, and Spanish.

I fall back asleep, and when I wake up, maybe they're serving breakfast. One thing that they did well on this trip is keep us fed. We were served 3 meals a day, and the food was always good. One time, we had spam as an entree, which would be unforgiveable, if the rest of the food weren't so good. But the food was always good. Yesterday, we caught a barracuda, and they cooked it for us last night.

The cooks are constantly preparing food, serving us, cleaning up after us, and then preparing for the next meal. So, that part is pretty solid. You can't really get down on the cuisine, IMHO.

Now that I have my GPS charged and turned on, and loaded with the maps of Central and South American, the GPS is now tracking us through the Carribbean. I should have had it on the whole time, but there you are.

Then, after breakfast, I start going over the plan with Fritz as I understand it.

So, we sail to Sapzurro, Colombia then Obaldia, Panama then on another boat to Capurgana, Colombia then another boat to Sapzurro, Colombia then on a ferry to Turbo, Colombia.

WTF? What does all of this accomplish?

Like, clearly we are hiding something here. As it turns out, we're hiding the motorcycles from the authorities in Obaldia, Panama. There is no place in Obaldia, Panama to deal with the motorcycles. That's why we sail right past Obaldia, Panama the first time with the bikes. We sail right past it, get to the first dock we see in Colombia, and unload and hide the bikes in Sapzurro, Colombia. Then, we sail back to Obaldia, Panama and we march into the Immigracion office, and get our passports stamped with an exit stamp in Panama.

Now, we sail from Obaldia, Panama to Capurgana, Colombia, where we get an entrance stamp into Colombia in our passports. At this point, we are processed into Colombia, legally, except for the bikes. There is no place to process the bikes on this side of the sea/ocean/gulf/bay...whatever it's called. So now, we walk (or catch a boat) back to Sapzurro, where our bikes are hopefully waiting for us. Then, from Sapzurro, we arrange for someone to take us across to Turbo, where we can process our motorcycles into Colombia.

At least now, I have an understanding of the process, at a high level.

In hindsight, this is a super-sketchy part of the trip. Possibly the sketchiest part of the trip. Easily the sketchiest part of the trip so far. Just a wing and a prayer, it seems.

I talk with this about the one female on a motorcycle on this trip - Jenny. She's on a KTM, and Greg is on a KTM also. They're both riding down from Vancouver. And she's like in full-stage regret over chosing this option, as it costs several days of travel, and we really didn't get to stop and see the islands as much as everyone would like, maybe. And now, she's wishing that she had flown their bikes down to South America.

It really is hard to grasp how it's 2017, and there's no ferry operating between Central and South America.

The Darien Gap - Things Fall Apart.

Now, we're trying to get around the Darien Gap on a sailboat, with 4 motorcycles chained on deck.

We sail into the tiny port town of Sapzurro, Colombia. This is the first port town in Colombia that we come to. Fritz sails the catamaran up to the dock in Sapzurro, and tells me to get all of my gear that goes with the bike at put it on the dock. Like...lunatic German screaming like a bad Saturday Night Live skit. So, I take all of my gear and put it on the dock. I'm not clear what's going on. My gear is on the dock. The waves pick up a bit, and the sailboat starts rubbing against the dock. Fritz is now screaming at the top of his lungs WE ARE LEAVING!!!! and the boat starts to pull away from the dock, with all motorcycles and people still on the boat, and my gear on the dock.

So, in a panic, I jump down onto the pier, as now we are leaving all of my gear on the pier and sailing away.

Someone....please....help me! and I start throwing my gear towards the boat. Good samaritans appear to help secure my gear on the boat.

The German screaming at the top of his lungs the entire fucking time. ""ZEEE ARRRRRR LEEEEVINGGGGGG"

Throw my gear back onto the boat. Hop on after it, and now we go anchor in the small harbor. Me, deeply regretting ever taking this route.

Now, we anchor out in the harbor, and a boat comes out to meet us.

Fritz instructs me to negotiate with the boat how much he will charge to take the boat in to the shore.

So...I'm negotiating with the guy. He says he will charge something like....$20 for the boat, I think. I'm like...sure. Fine. What the fuck ever. I just want this nightmare to be over.

But now, Fritz starts negotiating with the guy, and one of the other people on the boat points out that Fritz is supposed to cover this part.

So, I'm like...yeah...this whole fucking Darien Gap is turning into one giant cluster fuck.

Now, they negotiate with the skiff owner. A price is settled on. Now, we start to load the motorcycles one at a time from the catamaran onto the little dinghy, using the mast as a sort of make-shift crane/lift.

All of the bikes are covered in rust, except for mine, because I sprayed it thoroughly with WD-40.

One rider comes up to me and starts attacking me for being smart enough to put WD-40 on my bike, and preventing it from rusting. Like...how stupid can one person be? I mean, you have to understand that the people you meet in these type of adventures are going to have poor impulse control. That they're moronic shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. So stupid that he would criticise some who was smarter than him and prevented their bike from rusting. Idiot.

They load one bike into the dinghy at Sapzurro, Colombia, and it takes the motorcycle to the dock. There, they unload it from the dinghy, and push it up onto the dock somewhow. But just completely 3rd world sketchy nightmare. I can see the motorcycle falling into the bay in my mind's eye. I have to think it's happened. And there's nothing you could do. No one to sue. No insurance. Your bike would just be gone. $15K bike just disappears in the blink of an eye. I can't even watch. Somehow, they get the bike on the dock. Now, they come back to get another bike. Then the 3rd bike. Finally they come back for my bike. My bike will be the 4th bike, and they're all exhausted by now.

We untie my bike, and somehow, they get it loaded into the dinghy without dropping it in the Carribbean. I just want this nightmare to be over.

Now, more German screaming about the gear being in the dinghy that needs to go with the bike. I just want it to end.

So, I put pretty much everything i have in the dinghy.

Now, we get to the dock and they expect me to lift the bike by myself, it seems. I'm screaming. I need help. I need help. Finally, somehow, we lift it, manually, by hand, up onto the dock. I can't believe it didn't end up in the bay. Like, we're certainly not out of hte woods yet, but we've got one leg of the nightmare out of the way.

Jenny walks around the town of Sapzurro, and finds a hostel. Greg and I walk around town looking for her. This though is much better than what we saw in the San Blas islands. Like...proper small stores with drinks for sale and such. We find Jenny, and she's arranged for us to stay in a hostel. And tells them that we'll be back at some point. Tonight...tomorrow. Some time. And when we find her, we ride our bikes across the small town, and a small bridge/walkway up to the hostel. They open the hostel gates, and we ride our bikes into the back of the compound and lock it up so they can guard them for us.

I leave a few items in my room at the hostel, and I'm not sure really what all to leave. Fritz was very clear that we'd only need essentially, our passports. Whatever documentation we needed to clear Immigracion in Obaldia, Panama. But I decide to bring most of my gear, including my CC Filson handbag beacuse there is some question if we'll be able to clear Immigracion in both Obaldia, Panama and Capurgana, Colombia tonight before they close the Capurgana immigracion office at 5:00 p.m. Then, I walk back to the pier to be shuttled back out to the San Blas Cat.

The town of Sapzurra, Colombia is on the border of Colombia and Panama. It's the border town that separates Panama from Colombia. So there are soldiers walking around the streets of town. I ask them, "SENAFRONT?"

And they look at me blankly.

"Fronterra?"

"Si. Fronterra," they reply.

So, it's not SENAFRONT, but it's certainly the Colombian equivalent of SENAFRONT. And...like...Ooops. I basically just told them that we were smuggling motorcycles in from Panama to Colombia. Doh!

Now, we go back to the pier, and there is some question as to whether the crew of the San Blas Cat will come pick us up in the dingy or not. They start telling me to get ready to swim and I'm like "I'm not swimming. This town is full of boats. Someone will take me out there if they won't come get us.

So, eventually, reluctantly, they do, in fact, return from the San Blas Cat to pick us up in the skiff. So, we load onto the skiff, and they run us back out to the boat. Fritz is beside himself. He's not happy that we took so long on the island, but we did, in fact, need that much time to secure a place to store our bikes.

We sail now back North and West to Obaldia, Panama. At Obaldia, we anchor, and a boat comes out to meet us. Fritz, our boat captain, is conspicuously absent while we unload from the boat San Blas Cat for the last time, and pile into the skiff to go and clear immigracion in Panama. We unload onto the beach at Obaldia, Panama, and just start wandering around, searching for Immigracion.

We've effectively stashed our motorcycles illegally in Colombia, then returned to Obaldia, Panama to clear Immigracion.

We sort of stumble through the streets of Obaldia, Panama, looking for Immigracion.

When we find the immigracion office, they need copies of our passports, of course. As always. I actually happen to have a color copy of my passport left, so I hand him this, and he stamps me out of Panama. Afterwards, I go to the place where they sell copias, because they're only a quarter so I buy 4 more copias.

Then, we walk around looking for some drinks, and I find a store and buy a couple of drinks because I'm exhausted and hot and sweating like a whore in church.

Now, we head back to the skiff. He's supposed to take us now to Capurgana, Colombia. But now, a soldier with a machine guns shows up and, apparently, they want to see our passport stamps, so now we go to a different office where one of the Immigracion officers takes a photo of everyone's passport stamp with a Samsung cell phone. Hard to grasp, but that's what he's doing.

Now, we go back to the skiff on the shore where they pack us into this skiff like sardines, and then hand out life vests until they run out, and then we set out into the Carribbean, motoring at top speed from Obaldia, Panama to Capurgana, Colombia. So, for those of you playing the home game, this will be the third time we've crossed the border between Colombia and Panama today.

This time, we motor past Sapzurra, Colombia and continue down to Capurgana, Colombia. At Capurgana, they motor us into the harbor and unceremoniously dump us onto the wharf. We were all supposed to pay $10. I get off without paying, and then they ask if I've paid, and I'm like, "well...no." So then I pay my $10. There were 16 of us in the boat, if I'm not mistaken. And they're concerned that they're $10 short. It's not really my problem, as I see it. I gave the guy 2 $5.00 bills.

Now, we wander through the town, as always, looking for Immigracion. We find the place for Immigracion, and even the guy what works there. But it's 5:20 p.m. by the time we get there. They close at 5:00 p.m., and then open in the morning at 8:00 a.m.

So, that means we have to spend the night in Capurgana, Colombia, and try to collect our motorcycles tomorrow. Now, we're all 16 of us, wandering around the town of Capurgana, looking for a place to crash for the night. I get into a hostel with some of the other guys from our boat for something like $10 or $15 a night, and I tell Greg and Jenny that I'll meet them in the morning at the Immigracion office before it opens at 8:00 a.m.

Then, I start wandering aroung Capurgana, Colombia looking for a place to eat, and I run into 2 different people that know me, and I have no clue who these people are. Apparently, I met them at some point on the way down here. Really an unsettling feeling.

I stop for dinner on the street outside of a restaurant in Capurgana. Just surreal. A horse pulls a trailer down cobblestone streets through the center of town. People walk up and down the streets but there are almost no gas powered vehicles. At around 8:00 p.m., some of the businesses start closing up shop, rolling down the large steel store-fronts like you might see in New Orleans.

The streets of Capurgana appear to be primarily composed of traffic of pedestrians, children on bicycles, stray dogs (peros del calle), and cats. Oddly, the cats have collars and this is the first time I've ever seen this in Latin America.

And I decide to turn in for the night at my hostel.

-- Misc Observations

The Lonely Planet books are clearly the way to go. Why I leave on an adventure without one I will never know.

And, everyone on the boat brings a skill set, without question. Everyone helps in some way. Some bring cameras. Some brings guide books. Some bring knowledge. Some bring mechanic skills. Everyone contributes, and makes you feel like a complete novice/beginner in some aspect of your adventure.

-- The Panama Ferry

So, the story about the ferry is that there was a ferry, and it operated between Colombia and Panama for about 4 months. It came over here from Europe. Reportedly, they bribed the president of Panama to allow them to run the ferry, and they did operate it. But it never operated at capacity, and after 4 months, it went out of business. And the former president of Panama is now in jail for taking bribes.

It would carry a maximum of 600 vehicles, but they never had more than 5. Colombia wouldn't allow them to land cars. This boat came from Italy. It was operated by an Italian company. It would carry 1,500-1,600 people. But never actually carried more than 200 people. Adriatica (like the Adriatic sea). This was in 2014. 3 years ago.
Owner of Colon 2000. Two other panamanians organized the ferry business. 2x a week they sailed from Colon to Cartagena. Martinelli. He got it free from Italy as a bribe...as a payment for some business. There were 3 companies in Panama that owned/operated the boat - under the name of Colon 2000.

2014, Fritz tried to get his ferry going. He went to Cartegena. They charged him $500 a day to anchor out in the bay. They wouldn't even let him in the bay.
He transported 3 bikes. You can see it on youtube.
SanBlas Ferry. Went twice to Cartagena with bikes. But wasn't allowed to carry cars.

The website was: http://www.ferryxpress.com

Prince Thumb - A dutch cruise ship comes through here. They don't take cars.