Decisions Made and Paddling in Nicaragua

After finishing our practice paddle around the Bocas islands, we had some decisions to make. It was still high surf season and we heard the breaks along the Caribbean coast were still high. Fidgit and I didn’t feel comfortable enough in open water to brave the high waves, though we still wanted to find a way to move along in the journey.

Paddling Around the Bocas Del Toro Islands

After the training days, we took a rest day before leaving to paddle around the Bocas Del Toro Islands to practice what we'd learned in a semi-protected environment. As often happens in this trip, we were introduced to two knowledgeable islanders on our last day. Carla and Angie were both helpful in offering their personal knowledge of the area and its waters. We were able to set off more well- prepared in many ways.

Panama, the Bocas Del Toro Region, and Learning New Things

Flying into Panama City at the end of January, I was hesitant though excited about the next section of our journey. Our plan was to sea kayak along the coast of Central America from Panama to Belize, learning more about the sport as we went. To aide with that plan, we invited a kayak guide and friend Richard to join us for a couple of months, which he excitedly accepted. Not having much experience in the sea or in kayaks other than recreationally, I was unsure how my body and spirit would adapt to the new environment. I was hoping to have some time in our boats in the US, but even with the kayak company pushing to get them to us, they arrived the day before we flew out. Fidgit and I landed in Panama City, met up with Richard, ran a few errands, then got moving to Bocas Del Toro as soon as we could. After the overnight bus followed by a boat ride to the main island, I was grateful to have a space of our own. Over the next few days we had time to paddle around, including a foray across a channel to another island, and practice in our boats before leaving. I felt more prepared as we paddled along the southwest side of the island, though the thought of paddling the entire way north to Belize still sat heavy in the pit of my stomach. Fidgit, Richard, and I crossed a small channel to a canal and paddled to where it connected to the sea. At the mouth of the canal is where we set up camp for the night, planning to head out to sea early morning to avoid the afternoon winds. I fell soundly asleep soon after dinner, exhausted from the days activities. At sunrise the next morning, we were packing our boats and swatting flies away, eager to try our hand at open water. Richard had explained the basics- we had to paddle hard and straight through the waves to get out past the breaks, and I was nervous. I didn't feel strong enough to paddle through waves- I'm a hiker and all my strength is in my legs, damnit! Thankfully I was able to shift my perspective to positivity before we paddled out. As I went through one wave, then another, I started feeling better about it. The third hit, and I looked to my left and saw the bottom of Fidgit's boat shortly before the fourth wave hit and I was knocked under myself. I bobbed back to the surface with paddle in hand and grabbed my boat with my free hand. I was able to roll my boat back over as Richard came over and helped me get back in, then we both pumped the water out of the cockpit before he paddled away to help Fidgit right herself. Now with some residual water lapping at my feet, I aimed once again out towards the waves. I went through a few more before getting knocked over. Richard was still with Fidgit, so I attempted to get myself back into my boat alone. After a few failed attempts to launch myself into the cockpit with waves continually coming in, the kayak was sitting low in the water. A set of strong waves came through, after which I looked over to Richard and Fidgit as they washed ashore. Shortly after, the waves pushed me back onto the sand as well. We were able to drag our drowned kayaks out of the lapping waves, then reconvened to decide on a different plan. We were all full of adrenaline from the clusterf**kus that had just happened. We were also exhausted, so decided to take the day to rest on shore, watch the waves, and decide what to do next. After helping Richard move the kayaks and reconfiguring my things, I set up my bug net and tarp before falling asleep. I woke up to high winds blowing sand across the beach and sun beating down, so I had to reconfigure my setup. But first, water! After the fog of thirst was lifted I was able to fuss with my shade set-up long enough to get sunburnt before crawling back under it for the rest of the afternoon. Fidgit, Richard, and I reconvened near sunset and decided that we'd try again to break through the waves in the morning if they looked docile enough. The next morning, the waves were not being docile at all. They were taunting us as we watched from shore, going from a few minutes of small waves to ten minutes of large waves crashing in. After seeing that, we chose to go back to the island we came from and do more skill building.

Humbled, we paddled back to Bocas town. After a day of rest, we dove into training. Three sessions per day for five days that included rolling practice, paddle technique, a paddle stroke for every occasion, self rescue techniques, assisted rescue techniques, and practice practice practice. At the end of each day, I was exhausted though felt like progress had been made.

Panama- Biking Yaviza to Colon

After the Darien Debacle, we eventually made it to Panama; though we paid dearly in time, mental and physical energy, as well as financial cost. Once in Panama - very much shut down on the hope of crossing the Darien - Fidgit and I tried to cut our losses and look on the bright side of things. We took some time off to rest and both came down with chest and head colds. I think it came from running ourselves ragged for months on end.

After recovering from illness, we looked into renting bikes and heading back down to Yaviza to cover what ground we could before flying back to the states for a proper rest (flights were already booked). We were able to find a place that had bikes they’d drop at our hotel. We planned the route simply: road biking from Yaviza to Colon along the roads. The skinny-tired road bikes were dropped off, and we took a night bus to Yaviza- it was terrible to try and sleep though we made it.

After sleeping for a few hours at a hostel in Yaviza, Fidgit and I changed into our bike shorts and were off! The road out of Yaviza is newly paved, so the first day’s challenge was more the oppressive heat and humidity than potholes and cracks. We cycled most of the day, resting a few times to eat and attempt to cool off. Making it to Metiti for the evening, we exhaustedly fell into our beds for the night.

The next day, Fidgit and I moved along slowly through the heat and humidity. Dripping in sweat by lunch, we stopped on the porch of a small shop. We were immediately approached by an intoxicated local, who harangued us for a few minutes before moving on to harassing a nearby dog. Wanting to put my head in their cooler, I grabbed the coldest gatorade I could find and sat gingerly on the bench (saddle sore-ness is real) next to Fidgit as we ate our lunch. Leaving the shaded shop’s bench, it seemed to get hotter as we moved into the afternoon sun. Thankfully, the afternoon rains came in fast and hard about an hour later.

Unfortunately, during that downpour was also the time Fidgit’s rear tire decided to get a pinch flat. We found a covered bus stop and attempted to fix the tire. Double unfortunately, we were unable to fix the flat along the roadside due to lack of usable tools.. After hours of trying to fix the tire and with the sun going down, we limped into the small town of Torti for the night. The next morning, we discussed our options. We could stop, or we could try to fix the flat and continue. Fidgit then went to each tire place in town, trying to get a patch or replacement tire or new tube. None of the shops had such narrow tires or patches. At the end of the day, exhausted and beyond frustrated, Fidgit decided to take the bus back to Panama City. I would continue to Colon solo and meet her in a few days.

The next morning, I set off early and alone. Biking along, I had mixed feelings. I felt guilty and sad for continuing without Fidgit, worried about what could happen to myself or my bike, as well as excited to see what ground I could cover along the roadside. I rode along and ended up making it over 60 kilometers before stopping at another roadside grocery store for lunch. After finishing my sandwich, I snacked on salty chips while drinking another ice-cold gatorade before once more getting onto the bike and riding on. I ended up making it to the edge of Panama City before calling it a day- 134 kilometers, according to the GPS. I stood in the cold shower for a while that night, washing off the coat of dirt/sweat/car dust.

Waking the next morning, I was sore from the waist down. I put on my bike shorts knowing it would be a rougher day and also knowing I could likely make it to Colon. Leaving Panama City was scary on a bicycle, dodging potholes with vehicles zooming past. I thought it may ease up as I got further from the city, but it  wasn’t until 30 kilometers out that I was able to find a useful side road to follow. I pedaled along, trying to be gentle on my rear end when on the saddle and struggling with the roller-coaster-like hills. Stopping for lunch at an open-air restaurant, I sat (gently) in the seat and nearly stayed there, drinking three sodas and staring longingly at the dark clouds in the distance, trying to will them in my direction. After an hour or so, I stiffly stood up and pedaled on, the two women from the restaurant coming out to watch me head off. The clouds never did find me that day, though I did make it to Colon that evening, just barely. I walked into a hotel, got a room, and laid in bed for a while gathering energy to go find dinner before passing out for the night.

I had the chance to pedal around Colon the next day. It was disappointing, to say the least. At the north end of the Panama Canal, Colon is a port town without much else. Along the Caribbean coast, there was razor wire and fencing around a swath of land labeled on my map as a park. Housing projects and huge shipping warehouses made up the majority of the city, so after a quick cruise around I headed to the bus station and made my way back to Panama City, rest, and Fidgit.

Armenia to Turbo

Armenia was a great place to recharge and plan for the upcoming mountain section. We tried to rest as much as we could before heading into the mountains. After Armenia, we walked up to the small tourist town of Salento, at the edge of the Parque Nacional Los Nevados. We felt ready and excited, though unsure about the route we were looking at. The trailhead at Valle del Cocora had at least three trails heading into the mountains with no maps showing which went where, and we weren’t able to find a physical map for the area. Fidgit and I had spoken with a couple of guides and had digital information, we hoped that’d be enough.

 As we ascended from Valle del Cocora, Fidgit and I were excited to be off roads and back on trail. We kept following the trail as it ascended then descended and the elevation wore on us. Mid-afternoon, Fidgit asked a woman going the other way how far away the Finca/shelter we were aiming for was, and we discovered that we were on the wrong trail. Looking at our digital sources (GPS, phone app map), we still couldn’t figure out where we were supposed to be, so we decided to continue to a different Finca and figure it out from there. The trail became more rutted and muddy as we continued our ascent. Every step forward, we slid back. Unable to make it to the Finca before sunset we found a flat-ish spot next to the trail, set up our tents, and dejectedly crawled into them as the clouds descended around us.

The next morning dawned rainy and cold. We trudged on after packing up our damp tents, wind whipping around us. Mid-morning, we made it to the Finca. They didn’t have any extra food, though did give us ‘agua panela’, or sweetened water, to warm us up. The people at the finca were kind, and gave us directions to where we were trying to go. Fidgit and I clambered our way up a drainage to the lesser-used trail that would take us the direction we wanted to go. Up and over a pass followed by an immediate steep descent into the next valley, and we were ready for lunch. While eating in a wind-protected area, we discussed our options going forward. Looking at our our map sources, looking at our food supply (we had already eaten two lunches that weren’t planned for because of missing the finca meals) and looking at the current time, we knew we would have to camp at high elevation another night if we chose to continue deeper into the mountains. In the end, we opted to walk out down the valley. It was a tough blow to the ego, as well as sad to leave the mountains. Dejectedly we descended along a trail that led us out.

The next couple days for me were spent going through the many emotions I had about deciding to retreat from the peaks of Parque Nacional Los Nevados as well as the part I played in what I saw as our failure to make it through them. It’s tough to process what was going on for me during that time- I would say there was a lot of turmoil and sadness to muddle through even as we physically moved forward along a different route. I think it also helped my psyche that we weren’t completely out of the mountains- we were now walking along them to the city of Pereira.

Pereira was a dusty city with people hard staring as we walked through, though it had its benefits as well. I had plans to make the most of our slight change of direction; I was looking at getting corrective eye surgery in Medellin, and had been in contact with a doctor there who requested I have a Pentacam procedure before my consultation with him. So while in Pereira, I made an appointment with a local optician and was able to get the Pentacam procedure taken care of.

From Pereira, we walked on, and descended along a river valley to the heat and added humidity of the Colombian lowlands before ascending once more. In this area we passed through many small towns and villages, seemingly places the rest of the world zooms through without noticing. Fidgit and I also made quick work of it (as quick as one can while walking) as we made our way toward the city of Medellin.

As Fidgit and I closed in on Medellin, I once again fell ill. Thankfully this was a shorter burst of everything evacuating my body and I only felt like crap for a day or so. Then we made it over the last pass and into the city for a longer rest. After a day or so of resting, I went into the eye surgeon for a consultation and he said I was a great candidate for the corrective procedure. So I made an appointment, got PRK to correct my eyesight, and Fidgit became my caretaker for a few days after the procedure as I slept and healed. It was an odd feeling to be mostly blind and helpless for a few days, though it was nice to be in a semi-stupor and sleep a lot. After a few days I was ready to get up and move again, though my sight didn’t fully clear for another few weeks as my eyes healed. Over the next week, we rested, walked through Medellin, went to the dentist, caught up on work, and I went in to the eye doctor for my post-op appointment and was approved to continue moving.

Time in the city passed too quickly and our rest in Medellin came to a close. Fidgit and I packed up then made our way out of our last city in South America. We walked on, descending out of the mountains and back into the hot humidity of the Colombian jungle. Thankfully it took us about a week to fully descend, so we had plenty of time to enjoy the last we’d be seeing of the Andes on this trip. We even got to do some bush-bashing to shortcut a long switchback. As we crept closer to the Caribbean, the humidity soared in the morning, and we would usually get an afternoon drenching storm to cool off. I use the term ‘cool off’ loosely, as the temperatures never dropped below the mid-70s, even at night. We walked from town to town. Most evenings I felt like a puddle of my former self from sweating so much, the oppressive humidity preventing it from cooling me much.

A week and a half after leaving Medellin, Fidgit and I made it to the port town of Turbo. We met up with a guide who said he’d help us get into Panama from Colombia and we made our plans to leave the continent of South America. We had to wait a bit, so we tried to keep a low profile in the heavily Afro-Caribbean influenced town while passing the time. A day or so after arriving, we walked our last steps on the continent of South America and boarded a boat to Panama.