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.
We had been in touch with a follower, and she invited us to the western Panama town of Puerto Armuelles. She and her husband were renting a house there for the (North American) winter, and they graciously offered us some space to be able to catch up on work and rest. We readily agreed and, after packing up our kayaks and thanking the people we had met in Bocas, made our way by bus to Puerto Armuelles. After switching buses in David, we met Lucy and her husband Brahm at the bus station in Armuelles and they took us to their house. They had also introduced us to another retiree living in the small town who had a passion for kayaking, so we met up with Robin the next morning to spend some time on the water. I learned how to surf waves in a kayak and had tons of fun in the water, before curling up exhausted at the end of the day.
For the next few days, we fell into a routine of waking up with the birds, writing and poring over maps between meals and good conversations with Brahm and Lucy. In the end, we had caught up on work, were well-rested, and had a plan to move forward on this journey. The plan was to travel up to Nicaragua and paddle along Rio San Juan to the Caribbean, then south along Costa Rica. We once again packed up and headed off after thanking Lucy and Brahm from the bottom of our hearts.
Once in Nicaragua, we had to find our way across Lago Nicaragua (we were hoping to paddle it, but the head wind and large waves would’ve taken us to the center of the lake), so with the help of our hosts at the Blue Morpho, we found a boat that would take us to San Carlos where we could resupply and set off down the river. The boat ride became more cramped as we slowly motored along the shore, picking up others and their luggage, until I was sure we would sink if another bundle was added. Near that time, we pulled up to another boat and were told to shift into it. More heavily laden in the new-to-us boat, though also sitting higher in the water, we continued along the lake to San Carlos.
After a half day of putting boats together, grocery shopping, and enduring the heat and humidity, as well as a good night’s sleep, we were ready to go. Packing everything in and paddling out from San Carlos, we immediately had a strong headwind. Paddling into the wind was not fun, though I was appreciative of the cooling factor and the clouds passing across the sun. Getting back on the water after such a long break was invigorating though as we paddled into the afternoon, I grew tired and the wind continued pushing my patience. As a hiker, I’m still not used to using my arms as much as I need to for kayaking. Fidgit was ahead as we neared a small town that I wanted to stop at. I tried yelling and waving, though the wind whipped my words back into my face as quickly as they came out. Richard waited out on the water while I went into the town, only to find out that the= place I was looking to stay was a bit further downstream. Not wanting to concern Fidgit more than necessary, I ran back to the water and got back into my boat.
Fidgit was nowhere to be found when we got back out on the river. Richard and I paddled quickly down the river, thinking she had rounded the bend or tucked in somewhere out of the wind. We later found out she had been in the shadows as we passed, and was as stressed as we were. Thankfully, we were able to stop a little bit downstream at the small farm I had found ahead of time. Fidgit caught us there and decided she wanted some time alone, so Richard and I stayed while she camped elsewhere for the night.
The next day, we all reunited in the amazing small town of El Castillo. Fidgit got there before Richard and I, so she was able to scout it out and gave us all the details when we arrived. There is an old fortress in the middle of town, so after we safely made it through the rapids along town and beached our boats, we walked over to check out the museum at the base of the stone castle. El Castillo was an important fortress that kept many a pirate ship from making it further up Rio San Juan. After hours of wandering through the museum and fortress, we wandered down the cobblestone street as the sun set. The next day, Fidgit was able to do much of the work to obtain a boat permit to continue down the river. It took until later in the day, so we decided to stay and explore the area a bit more. We ended up hanging out with a coffee/chocolate maker most of the day named David. He spends his time between California and Nicaragua, and seemed to enjoy showing us around as much as we enjoyed learning about the area.
The next morning, we packed up and headed downstream once more, unsure of how things might change as we began making our way along Nicaragua’s border with Costa Rica. Also, we were unsure of the crocodile situation, though no one we talked with seemed concerned. As we paddled along, we went through some more rapids, Fidgit and Richard found the remains of an old steam ship, and we saw our first crocodile. It was on the bank of the river and slunk into the water as I passed by. Fidgit saw it too, and yelled back to Richard, who didn’t hear her. We later figured out that the crocodiles in this area are hunted, so they escape into the murky waters to avoid capture. I will say, it is very disconcerting to be sitting a few inches out of murky waters as you watch a meters-long prehistoric beast slink into the same water nearby.
As we neared another small town, a guy came out on his dock and started shouting to us from the Costa Rican side. We were unsure about legality of going into CR, so we ignored him and docked a bit downstream. He quickly got into his cayuco and paddled over. Very friendly, he told us about the hostel he runs across the way. We decided to go check it out. Ruben was his name, and he was another kind soul looking for both company and business. As it so happened, he also had a room that was in the middle of being re-floored, so Richard offered his carpentry skills. A deal was struck, and Ruben’s dad and brother came over the next morning to work with Richard on the floor. Working hard most of the day, they only stopped for the day when they ran out of nails. During that time Ruben had caught a large fish, and we all feasted before heading to bed. Another day of good food and enjoyable company later, we were ready to continue down the river.
We left Ruben on the dock and paddled to our next stop- a Nicaraguan border guard station. We were supposed to stop at each one to have our zarpe/permit checked to be able to move onto the next one. Since we had spent a couple of days at Ruben’s, our permit had expired, so we had to get another before continuing down the river. After obtaining another zarpe, we paddled on, careful to avoid the shoreline as that was where we were told the crocodiles would be hanging out. At the end of the day, I asked Richard and Fidgit how many crocs they’d seen and each of our numbers were very different- Fidgit said over a dozen, Richard said about nine, and I had only seen one! Sneaky buggers would sink into the water before I got there, I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing.
Over the next few days, we paddled toward the sea, stopping at the different border guard stations along the way. Near the river split we hope to take south into Costa Rica, we stopped at the border station that we were hoping would be able to stamp us out of Nicaragua. The border guards sent us over to the immigration office. The immigration officer then spent thirty minutes telling us why he adamantly refused to stamp our passports, even though he did have a stamp. He did mention how his friend in the next town ‘might’ stamp us out when we got there IF we stayed at his hotel and possibly paid him to do so. Frustrated and fed up with the thinly veiled attempt to extort us, we talked among the three of us and decided to paddle across the river to the Costa Rican border patrol office.
We had been in touch with a follower, and she invited us to the western Panama town of Puerto Armuelles. She and her husband were renting a house there for the (North American) winter, and they graciously offered us some space to be able to catch up on work and rest. We readily agreed and, after packing up our kayaks and thanking the people we had met in Bocas, made our way by bus to Puerto Armuelles. After switching buses in David, we met Lucy and her husband Brahm at the bus station in Armuelles and they took us to their house. They had also introduced us to another retiree living in the small town who had a passion for kayaking, so we met up with Robin the next morning to spend some time on the water. I learned how to surf waves in a kayak and had tons of fun in the water, before curling up exhausted at the end of the day.
For the next few days, we fell into a routine of waking up with the birds, writing and poring over maps between meals and good conversations with Brahm and Lucy. In the end, we had caught up on work, were well-rested, and had a plan to move forward on this journey. The plan was to travel up to Nicaragua and paddle along Rio San Juan to the Caribbean, then south along Costa Rica. We once again packed up and headed off after thanking Lucy and Brahm from the bottom of our hearts.
Once in Nicaragua, we had to find our way across Lago Nicaragua (we were hoping to paddle it, but the head wind and large waves would’ve taken us to the center of the lake), so with the help of our hosts at the Blue Morpho, we found a boat that would take us to San Carlos where we could resupply and set off down the river. The boat ride became more cramped as we slowly motored along the shore, picking up others and their luggage, until I was sure we would sink if another bundle was added. Near that time, we pulled up to another boat and were told to shift into it. More heavily laden in the new-to-us boat, though also sitting higher in the water, we continued along the lake to San Carlos.
After a half day of putting boats together, grocery shopping, and enduring the heat and humidity, as well as a good night’s sleep, we were ready to go. Packing everything in and paddling out from San Carlos, we immediately had a strong headwind. Paddling into the wind was not fun, though I was appreciative of the cooling factor and the clouds passing across the sun. Getting back on the water after such a long break was invigorating though as we paddled into the afternoon, I grew tired and the wind continued pushing my patience. As a hiker, I’m still not used to using my arms as much as I need to for kayaking. Fidgit was ahead as we neared a small town that I wanted to stop at. I tried yelling and waving, though the wind whipped my words back into my face as quickly as they came out. Richard waited out on the water while I went into the town, only to find out that the= place I was looking to stay was a bit further downstream. Not wanting to concern Fidgit more than necessary, I ran back to the water and got back into my boat.
Fidgit was nowhere to be found when we got back out on the river. Richard and I paddled quickly down the river, thinking she had rounded the bend or tucked in somewhere out of the wind. We later found out she had been in the shadows as we passed, and was as stressed as we were. Thankfully, we were able to stop a little bit downstream at the small farm I had found ahead of time. Fidgit caught us there and decided she wanted some time alone, so Richard and I stayed while she camped elsewhere for the night.
The next day, we all reunited in the amazing small town of El Castillo. Fidgit got there before Richard and I, so she was able to scout it out and gave us all the details when we arrived. There is an old fortress in the middle of town, so after we safely made it through the rapids along town and beached our boats, we walked over to check out the museum at the base of the stone castle. El Castillo was an important fortress that kept many a pirate ship from making it further up Rio San Juan. After hours of wandering through the museum and fortress, we wandered down the cobblestone street as the sun set. The next day, Fidgit was able to do much of the work to obtain a boat permit to continue down the river. It took until later in the day, so we decided to stay and explore the area a bit more. We ended up hanging out with a coffee/chocolate maker most of the day named David. He spends his time between California and Nicaragua, and seemed to enjoy showing us around as much as we enjoyed learning about the area.
The next morning, we packed up and headed downstream once more, unsure of how things might change as we began making our way along Nicaragua’s border with Costa Rica. Also, we were unsure of the crocodile situation, though no one we talked with seemed concerned. As we paddled along, we went through some more rapids, Fidgit and Richard found the remains of an old steam ship, and we saw our first crocodile. It was on the bank of the river and slunk into the water as I passed by. Fidgit saw it too, and yelled back to Richard, who didn’t hear her. We later figured out that the crocodiles in this area are hunted, so they escape into the murky waters to avoid capture. I will say, it is very disconcerting to be sitting a few inches out of murky waters as you watch a meters-long prehistoric beast slink into the same water nearby.
As we neared another small town, a guy came out on his dock and started shouting to us from the Costa Rican side. We were unsure about legality of going into CR, so we ignored him and docked a bit downstream. He quickly got into his cayuco and paddled over. Very friendly, he told us about the hostel he runs across the way. We decided to go check it out. Ruben was his name, and he was another kind soul looking for both company and business. As it so happened, he also had a room that was in the middle of being re-floored, so Richard offered his carpentry skills. A deal was struck, and Ruben’s dad and brother came over the next morning to work with Richard on the floor. Working hard most of the day, they only stopped for the day when they ran out of nails. During that time Ruben had caught a large fish, and we all feasted before heading to bed. Another day of good food and enjoyable company later, we were ready to continue down the river.
We left Ruben on the dock and paddled to our next stop- a Nicaraguan border guard station. We were supposed to stop at each one to have our zarpe/permit checked to be able to move onto the next one. Since we had spent a couple of days at Ruben’s, our permit had expired, so we had to get another before continuing down the river. After obtaining another zarpe, we paddled on, careful to avoid the shoreline as that was where we were told the crocodiles would be hanging out. At the end of the day, I asked Richard and Fidgit how many crocs they’d seen and each of our numbers were very different- Fidgit said over a dozen, Richard said about nine, and I had only seen one! Sneaky buggers would sink into the water before I got there, I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing.
Over the next few days, we paddled toward the sea, stopping at the different border guard stations along the way. Near the river split we hope to take south into Costa Rica, we stopped at the border station that we were hoping would be able to stamp us out of Nicaragua. The border guards sent us over to the immigration office. The immigration officer then spent thirty minutes telling us why he adamantly refused to stamp our passports, even though he did have a stamp. He did mention how his friend in the next town ‘might’ stamp us out when we got there IF we stayed at his hotel and possibly paid him to do so. Frustrated and fed up with the thinly veiled attempt to extort us, we talked among the three of us and decided to paddle across the river to the Costa Rican border patrol office.
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