2-14-10 Carti, Panama part II

At the coast there were perhaps a hundred 4x4 vehicles parked near a small building on the beach which served as a general store, dock authority and hangout point for shady characters.  After jabbering with the locals for a bit we were quoted $200 to bring our bikes out to the catamaran which was anchored offshore about a mile on the leeward side of an island.  We felt like they were trying to stick it to us so we kept asking around and came to find out that there was a river about a mile away that served as an impromptu port. 

We rode out to the little river which had a lean-to for an office and a stack of styrofoam for a table.  Here a guy offered us a price of $60 to get us out to the catamaran plus an additional $2 for port fees, we took it.  He told us to wait while he brought is boat around into the shallows of the river where we could load.

Tom and I were both curious about how we would load the bikes into the boat as there were no winches, docks or ramps to pull up to.  After waiting a few minutes we saw our boat captain putting up the river in a dugout canoe with some old paint on it.  He'd nailed some boards to the sides for extra freeboard as well.

Tom and I exchanged silent looks as things didn't seem to add up but after some intense questioning we agreed to proceed.  The boat was pulled up into a small swamp next to the river, parallel with the bank.  Next, several boards were placed as ramps up into the canoe and I was instructed to ride the bike down the little slope and up the ramp, stopping before dropping into the canoe.  By this time we had a crowd of people around us, just as eager as we were to see how things would work out.

I rode to the top of the planks then hopped off the bike while several other guys steadied it.  We then pushed it forward until the front tire touched the bottom of the canoe before picking up the rear of the bike and swinging it in as well. Several drops, drags and scrapes later and we had it in position.  With the bike standing upright in the canoe we then jammed two planks diagonally under the bike, resting on the sides of the canoe to hold the bike up.  Tom repeated the same procedure and with equal success.

We piled all of our gear in the bow of the canoe then jumped in. Tom was behind his bike and I was behind mine, with the captain right behind me.  We slowly trolled out of the swampy area and into the river, which wound through the jungle.  After a few minutes we emerged at the mouth of the river and the ride instantly became more interesting.  The waves weren't big but were enough to start rocking the boat.  For a hundred yards we threaded our way between submerged trees, our path marked out by pieces of trash nailed to the trunks.  And then we were in the open water.  It was a humbling experience being there at sea. A little rogue wave could have easily bumped us enough to send both bikes to the bottom.  It was strangely calming, however, as I had a keen sense of what I could and could not control.  I can't stop the bike from falling to the ocean floor, so why even worry about it.  This is how I look at things not only in this trip but also in life which leads to a worry-free existence.

Perhaps five minutes after hitting open sea my bike fell sideways in the canoe, rocking the craft violently.  We'd been taking on water which had lubricated the smooth wood bottom of the boat, causing the rear tire to slide sideways.  The bike came to rest on the side of the canoe. The captain slowed down to a crawl but we kept moving.  We were pointed directly at our catamaran, 'Fritz The Cat', aptly named as it was a catamaran owned by Fritz, a wild Austrian.

As we got closer I could see a pot-bellied man sporting a Speedo and a black and white horizontally striped shirt.  "Hello, Hello!" He said, sounding like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

"Velcome, velcome aboard"

We stayed in our canoe as Fritz went to work moving the boom of the main sail above us which had a winch coming off it.  We tied our bikes up in a cradle of rope and slowly hoisted mine aboard, which took about ten minutes.  Once we swung the bike on deck we took the winch off and slowly rolled the bike around the bow of the cat onto the portside, dodging pop-up windows, rigging and the mesh trampolines until we got it into position where we lashed it to several strong points.

We got Tom's bike into position as well then plopped down on a little bench, happy to have the bikes secured.  Fritz was still sporting his Speedo, though it wasn't a speedo, just some black briefs.

Within hours Torben showed up as well as Mark from Minnesota and James from Ontario, all motorcyclists as well.  It's a natural funnel here for motorcyclists as it's the only way to get around the Darien other than flying or going on the less scenic Pacific side.  It was a late night sharing stories with each other and making plans for South America.