A couple of old videos. Rarely does the video upload work very well, so when we get the chance....

Cartagena

Cartagena is known as the "Romantic City". It is quite impressive as huge Spanish style mansions, churches and buildings sprawl through a walled city. The city built the wall after numerous invaders attempted to sack and take over the port. Mostly, we just walked around to see the sights and have vendors come up to us selling everything from beer to emeralds and even a trip back to Panama!

Pictures; street scenes, a self portrait, view of a church outside our hotel door, approaching the city

Holy crap we made it to South America!

Cap'n Jack welcomed us into his hostel in Portobelo, Panama. Over breakfast he dished out lots of helpful hints to help us find a safe ride to Colombia. After several hours of deliberation we finally decided to take a backpacker sailboat instead of trying to piece together several small launches by port-hopping. Although our bank account has suffered a near-fatal blow to its self-esteem, we arrived safe and sound to Cartagena and in the company of good people. But back to the beginning...

We left out of Portobelo on Wednesday. Portobelo itself is a quaint little town, a far cry from its ominous neighboring giant Colon. After deciding against a cheaper ride with a drunken Frenchman in a tiny boat with a dinghy that looked like a bathtub toy (Mom, Dad, we didn't get on that one for your sakes), we hopped aboard Wild Card with John and Joy. John secured our bikes to the OUTSIDE of the railings (heart attack!), and we crammed all of our gear into the forward-most cabin. That afternoon the other passengers and the first mate arrived from Panama City, and we all took off. We anchored near Porvenir, the first in the San Blas island archipelago. Everyone enjoyed spaghetti with yummy bolognese sauce and I tried not to be seasick.

On our second day out we went to immigration, got our passports stamped, and visited one of the Kuna Yala island villages. The Kuna Yala are pretty amazing. They have managed to maintain their land and keep autonomy over its use and laws. For example foreigners are not allowed to own property in their state or run businesses, and many of them choose to follow a traditional life path. They live on amazing white sand, coconut palm filled islets dotting the coastline of Panama, and the Caribbean dishes up unbelievable shades of blue.

In the afternoon we moved to another island where we all went snorkeling and swimming. While we relaxed in the fading sun John whipped up a delish dinner of chicken curry and a couple from a neighboring boat joined us for the meal. We topped that off with a round of rum and coke and had a lovely night on the deck. Oh! As we were sailing we were suddenly surrounded by several dolphins playing in the wake of the bow. Very cool!

The next morning brought a new set of islands and more sun than Eric or I could handle. While everyone else was comfortable in their swimsuits and shorts, we looked like characters out of a bad spy film. Covered from head to toe with dark glasses, hats, long sleeves and pants, we did not play the part of sunbathing tourists very well! Even when we jumped in the water we kept our long sleeved riding shirts on to prevent our white, white, moontanned selves from getting burned. The hilarious part is that I actually, for me, have quite the tan at this point, but no one would be able to tell :c) Anyway, most of the trip was spent between a rock and a hard place for us - on deck was in full sun but better for not feeling sick; inside was unbearably hot, worse for feeling woozy, but shaded. What are two fair skinned Washingtonians to do?

In the afternoon Apio, a Kuna man, pulled up in his dugout canoe to sell seafood. John bought live crab and lobster and made us a delicious meal of rice, tempura battered mackerel, coconut curry and heaps of lobster. That night, although still full from our late lunch, we ate all the freshly cooked crab, hot dogs, fruit, ice cream and cake. Marooned on the deck by our full bellies, we talked and laughed until it was time for bed.

The next morning was time for more snorkeling. We took the dinghy out to a teensy little island ringed by a coral reef and spent a couple of hours flippering around. Later we putted out to another island to swim, and Eric and I gathered some coconuts. We asked permission from some Kuna men who were there, and they gave us the ok. Everyone thought we were a bit nuts to be gathering coconuts from the ground, but after opening one the next day we won them all over. That afternoon was the beginning of the end of sailing for Eric and I. The anchor was pulled up and we left the serene archipelago for open water. And a small storm. Despite taking anti-nausea medicine, it was all I could do to keep from getting sick. I even went so far as to sleep out on the deck in the fresh air amidst rain and lightning! Luckily we managed to avoid feeling rock-bottom bad, but we were very excited to see Cartagena growing taller and taller in the distance the next day.

So we made it to South America! We spent the last couple of days hanging out in Cartagena working out our land-sickness, me getting food poisoning, walking around the beautiful city, and having drinks with everyone from the boat. I feel a bit like dragging my feet on setting out into the unknown again, but it is inevitable and all a matter of getting back into the swing of things after 2 weeks off of riding.

PS Eric is being extremely unhelpful. I'm trying to write, and Eric is making up all sorts of ridiculous songs with the intention of distracting me. The most recent, being sung in a sinister voice, "Bacon, eggs, cheese, mayonnaise. Onion rings, french fries, yum, blue cheese. I call it death on a bun. Dunanandun. Death on a bun."


Photos: All of us on the dinghy going snorkeling!; Kuna Yala woman and her child; sunset off the coast of Panama; hold on Gigi!; Kuna dugout canoe

Diablo Rojo

Here are some photos of one of the beastly buses in Panama. We're not sure how Sensual Jenny and Sensual Rosemary feel about sharing the same bus...

Part deux

We spend the evening on Lake Gatun chatting, eating a delicious grilled chicken, rice, turnip greens and baked beans meal, and enjoying the cool, night air from the roof. Lightning flared in the distance and a huge halo encircled the moon. Luckily for us, Panama is not in a hurricane zone :c) We went to bed tired but happy from the good company and the amazing experience we had all had.

In the morning Eric and I were up with the sun, as always, and while everyone else was snoozing we read, watched the morning mix of clouds and light and water, and I took some fun photos of the boat. Once everyone was moving about coffee and later pancakes got underway. Pancakes - what a luxury! Once the canal adviser was onboard we headed out to finish the last set of locks - going down this time. We pulled in first, and then slowly, slowly a massive car carrier lumbered up behind us. Right behind us! We kept making joking gestures to the people on the decks, "Stop!" Once they were in snug behind us the bells rang, the valves were opened, and the water began rushing out. We slowly eased our ropes out, lowering our position in the canal. Once we were done being lowering the gates were opened, and we cruised slowly toward the next set of locks. Three sets later we were through, we pulled in our lines, and cheered. Holy shit, we just went through the Panama Canal. What a monumental event - so simple and commonplace, yet so rare that I may never see it again.

We cruised about 5 miles toward the Atlantic before turning West into Shelter Bay Marina. We pulled into the most beautiful, amazing dock ever, and the crew immediately began working to get Persistence ready for the journey up to Florida, it's next scheduled stopping place. We all noshed on cheeseburgers and fries for lunch, and Eric and I tried to stay out of everyone's way while they did important things like pump diesel and work on the clutch. In the evening I took a hot shower, in spite of the heat, just for the luxury of it. The fan in the room created enough of a breeze that the hot water felt wonderful and, combined with a good scrub, I finally felt clean after 3 days of sunscreen, sweat and saltwater. We all met up for dinner and beers at the yacht club, and I even raided the book exchange (I'll finally get to read Guns, Germs and Steel!) After 2 months with the boat the delivery crew was excited to toss back a few Panamas and chill in front of the flat screen TV - Drillbit Taylor was on the menu. By the time 11:30 rolled around, though, we were all beat, so we headed back to the boat to get some well-earned sleep.

The morning brought a beautiful day and a delicious breakfast. Up at dawn, again, Eric and I packed up the bikes and then waited for everyone to wake up on their own schedule. Once we were all ready, we headed back to the boathouse for pancakes, toast, bacon, and LATTES. LATTES!!! I was in complete heaven! We loved spending a leisurely morning with everyone, but if we were going to make it anywhere we had to get going. So, we took a round of photos, exchanged contact info, and wished each other well. It was so wonderful to have experienced everything with such great people. Chris, Tiffany, and Patrick were awesome - funny, warm, inviting, and always ready to share a good moment over a beer. Bob, the owner of the catamaran, was also great - incredibly generous, open and friendly. We were grateful to have been welcomed us in as crew and friends. It is truly an experience that was a highlight of this trip, and I genuinely wish that our paths may cross again in the future. Cheers!

We had a beautiful ride from the marina to the canal. There was very little traffic, and we got to see a sloth! I saw it from a distance, and seeing this creature dragging itself across the road I thought for sure it was some soon-to-be roadkill miserably trying to make it to safe ground. Luckily, for both me and the sloth, it was just trekking from one side to the other. We hung out with it until it was safely concealed in the vegetation and then continued on. After a brief stop at the supermarket to eat lunch and wait out a short downpour we continued on. We made it as far as Maria Chiquita, and given the drunken drivers, crazy Diablo Rojos* and narrow winding road we decided to stop. The town was very closed to us, but we eventually worked out a place to stay next to the police station. We pitched the tent in a light but steady rain, and crossed the road to dine on 1/4 chicken each along with fried plantains - $1.75 a person. Dark, drizzly, and with nothing to do we crawled into the tent, chatted for a while, and soon fell asleep.

Today we were up before dawn. We packed up our campsite, ate oatmeal (no surprise there), and had a much more pleasant ride on to Portobelo. Portobelo is a really cool, tiny little town tucked right along the water behind an island. We found Portobelo Hostel, walked in to check it out, and found Captain Jack. His place is full of great tilework and good atmosphere. Right away he was helping us out on our quest to find a boat to Colombia giving us everything from advice to a checklist to make sure the boat we choose is up for seafaring safely. We still don't know exactly how we'll be getting there, we just know we will. We'll keep y'all informed!

*Diablo Rojos are in their mid-life crisis. What started as an innocent existence ferrying school children to and fro, these yellow Blue Birds were hauled south as soon as they were outdated, sold into Panamanian hands, and are now living large. Adorned with sweeping pastoral scenes, feather boas, rims, dual chrome exhaust systems and names like "Terrorist" and "Tupac," these bullies on 6 wheels don't take crap from anyone. But they like to dish it. Revving their engines at stop signs and around blind curves, their drivers peer through the tiny 1 foot unpainted, untinted slit in the windshield, blaring the horn at anything that gets in the way without taking their foot off the accelerator. I'm not exaggerating.

Through the Canal!

Well, ever since we met another cyclist in Nicaragua and he told us about working the lines on a boat headed through the Panama Canal we decided that we'd like to do something along those lines. And we finally did!!!!

Me and Merilee spent last Sunday riding around to the different yacht clubs in Panama City looking for one that would let us set-up camp and ask folks going through the canal if they needed help with the lines. After visiting several clubs the Balboa Yacht Club and a man named Raul helped us out by giving us a spot to set up the tent and access to the radio in the morning to call out to possible boats heading through the canal. We set up camp Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning we were on the docks Merilee with the radio in hand! As Merilee is trying to find her radio voice, Raul quickly tells us that "those people those people might be going through the canal." So with all my confidence in going up to people I do not know at all and ones that I am asking a favor for inquire if those people are indeed going through the canal. And yes they are, and sure we can help them out with the lines, oh and also we will be headed through tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

Well, somehow that was easier than we had anticipated. We had a ride through the Panama canal the first morning of the first hour that we had tried to find someone! The boat is named Persistence and the crew consisted of Captain Chris, First mate Tiffany, and Patrick. What did he do anyway? And along for the ride was the owner Bob. Chris, Tiffany and Patrick are delivering the boat from Insonata, Mexico to Annapolis. That night Bob generously bought us dinner and drinks and we sat around telling stories about our separate journeys. Since the canal caters to giant commercial ships because they makes hundreds of thousands of dollars off them, boats like our small catamaran tend to get pushed through whenever the canal has the time and patience. So we had to wait until Friday to head off. That was alright. Me and Merilee made the most of it by purchasing our first pizza in over 7 months, riding to Albrook mall (think Tacoma Mall times 1000), and Merilee wanted to get sick one more time over local barbecued chicken.

Thursday night me and Merilee brought our bikes down to the boat for loading and to facilitate an early departure the next day. We stumbled around half drunk on a wobbly dock trying to get our bikes into a dingy and then unloaded all the baggage two bikers have. Chris and Patrick secured our bikes to the mast and we all went into the Balboa Yacht club for one last drink and plate of yucca fries! Yum!

The next morning, Merilee and I had our introduction to sailing. We learned how to tie a bowline. The strongest knot that holds two lines together. We also learned about securing ropes to the cleats on the side of the ship. With these two important skills we can now sail the world. But, we decided to start with the canal. We started off a little late heading into the canal, because of the notoriously late canal advisers (which all ships must have while transiting). No worries! More time for us to practice tying knots. I know there is a question ya'll must be wondering; what are me and Merilee actually going to be doing with our ropes? Well, every small ship that goes into the canal has to be tied at the four corners of the boat to the side of the canal and kept taut. As the boat is either raised or lowered to the new water level, the rope must be let out or pulled tight accordingly. This keeps the boat from moving in the funky canal currents and hitting the side of the canal and incurring a fine because you have wrecked your boat and scratched the canal. So I was stationed on the bow starboard, and Merilee on the stern port. We came into our first set of locks heading upward. We were behind a massive ship that made us appear small. Real small. The men on the side of the canal throw us a rope which we tie our rope to (with bowlines) and they pull our rope to the side of the canal where they secure it. Then as all the ships in the lock are ready the water level is raised. The massive container ships use rail cars with massive cables to hold them steady, it is pretty cool to see. We went up three locks the first day, for a total of something like 80-90 feet up. It was a little daunting the first time, but once you know how it goes it feels easier. After we made it up the three locks we had to motor our way to the Atlantic side locks to be let down. The canal stopped us though right before the last set of locks and we had to stay the night on Lake Gatun.

.....to be continued

Panama City

Riding into Panama City was hectic. Terrible shoulder, lots of traffic, my back wheel unknowingly came uncentered (it was far too loud to notice) and I tore up my sidewall (luckily my Schwalbe should still be intact). While going over the bridge of the Americas we took over an entire lane because pretty much the only way we could stay safe was to force people over into the next lane. If we ride all polite-like people just take advantage of us and zoom by at unsafe speeds and distances. So sorry to all you people who have felt the need to snarl at us along the way from your horns and open windows...if we could trust everyone out there to drive nicely we wouldn't have to stop traffic just to get by narrow bridges, roads without shoulders, lanes with drop-offs, etc. Whew, a little venting there.

Back to the story...then we got a police escort. For the first time on this trip we encountered a neighborhood where we just couldn't go. White, on bikes, lots of gear = no passage through El Chorrillo. We were stopped by two men who were sports leaders through a local church in hopes of helping the barrio youth avoid joining gangs and getting involved with drugs and violence. They told us straight up that we would for sure get robbed if we continued on alone (an opinion that we heard repeatedly after arriving in the city, so it wasn't necessarily just hyperbole), so they called the national police to ensure us safe passage. We'll never know what may or may not have happened had we not met these two men, but we are grateful just the same. We followed the armed police truck along the waterfront lined with high-rise slum buildings. At one point we left an elementary school behind to the echoes of "Fuck you! Fuck you!" being hurled at us by a 9 year old. Just a few blocks out of one of the poorest urban areas we had seen, the scenery changed drastically, and we were left to our own devices to find lodging in the regentrified colonial neighborhood of Casco Viejo.

Casco Viejo is still a work in progress - UNESCO declared it a world heritage site so it is slowly being revitalized. Our hotel is stuck somewhere in limbo. At nearly 100 years old it used to house canal builders back in the day. Now, it is being renovated bit by bit. We were lucky enough to find it at just the perfect stage of ragged being replaced by modest comfort 'cause that means it's not too expensive - 15 bucks a night including breakfast. In exchange for bad carpet, a curtain that doesn't cover the window and no bathroom on our floor we get the luxury of a new mattress and sheets, funky lobby decor, a manual elevator straight out of Steampunk lovers' dreams, and original Spanish tile lining the walls and floors. The best, however, is a little terrace on the 4th floor with practically 360 degree views of the city. The poor elbows up next to the rich, and in one blink you can see the high-rise slums butting up against the Causeway teeming with BMWs and joggers.

Next up on our list of things to do is to pack up our disaster of a hotel room and move to the marina. There we'll camp for a few nights in the hope that some vessel will be willing to take two cyclists on an amazing ride up the canal. Keep your fingers crossed for us!

Photos: Chandelier in the awesome elevator; view from the balcony, flags on the causeway, Eric exhausted after working on his wheel. Again. For several hours. Eric with one of his hard-earned coconuts

We're getting closer...

As usual, we had to find a place to stay. We saw a large, public looking building on our right, so we decided to check it out. As we approached we saw that it was a mosque. Cool, it would be awesome to stay in a mosque and talk with the locals there. However, there was one big problem. Me. Although I'm not very girly, the fact that I have a vagina was enough to put us out of luck. "Who is that? Your wife...girlfriend...?" "Oh, no, that's my sister." "Ah, oh, uh huh, well..." Whisper whisper in Arabic to a companion. The verdict: "It would be best if you could find somewhere else to stay." I suppose we'll never really know what happened there. It seemed that my femaleness was the problem, but perhaps there was some other reason. It was mentioned that people would be coming throughout the evening to worship; perhaps they wanted to preserve the mosque's environment for them. Perhaps other cyclists had stayed there and the sweaty odor of months of putrefied exertion was enough to make them decide never to invite bikers in again. Who knows.

So we continued on down the road, spotted a private school and, helmets in hand went to ask for a place to lay our heads. MC said yes! MC is a warm, wonderful woman with tons of energy from Pennsylvania. And Haiti. And Florida. She speaks French, Creole, Spanish and English but says that everyone teases her in each language. She introduced us to Erik Omar, the night watchman, made sure we had everything we needed and bid us goodnight. That evening Erik Omar took us to his sister's home in town so we could use the internet. We took a van stuffed with weary workers on their way home or to the hospital for the night shift. We got off in town and walked through the center by crowds of people shopping, having a sweet after-dinner treat at bakeries, and meeting with friends. When we arrived at his sister's house we were immediately ushered into the living room and introduced to all the family members. We noticed all the instruments in the room, and so they handed Eric a guitar. He strummed along a bit and Erik Omar's brother in law played us some regional folk songs on a 4 stringed ute-like instrument. While I wrote a blog and did some research online, Eric kept everyone entertained with stories from our trip. To our surprise they suddenly brought us out heaping plates of food, and we gorged on delicious fried plantains, fried chicken, and fried empanadas - quite the divergence from rice or pasta! They kept insisting that when they feed guests they want them to be FULL! so we kept eating. When we were completely finger-lickingly full they all sang us a song, said a prayer for us for safe travels, and dropped the three of us off at the school. What a wonderful, unexpected treat to have spent the night with Erik Omar's family!

The next day we were on to very different tasks than usual - coloring! Eric and I colored paper bears for each of the students, and later we went out to play with the kids on the playground. After a couple of hours of fun it was time for us to hit the road. We said our goodbyes, thanked MC for her fantastic hospitality, and headed out for...the beach!!!

We arrived at Santa Clara just 40 km later. We decided to take a peek at the beach to see if it were worth checking out for a while, and it certainly was. Most beaches seem to have been taken over by luxurious, exclusive estates and over-priced restaurants and bars with a foreign vibe. Although there were some beautiful homes on the way down the narrow road, Santa Clara was simply a beautiful local community with a police station, parks and churches tucked into the greenery. The beach itself was quiet, with a handful of locals enjoying a relaxing afternoon under thatch roof huts. The sand was white and flecked with shells, and the water was calm and perfect for swimming. In the distance was a rocky island covered with birds and topped with a cross, and several fishing boats were anchored just offshore. We decided to stay the night, and it was lovely. I swam, read, swam again, read some more. In the evening we cooked dinner and Eric went on an epic quest for coconuts. We still don't really know what coconut etiquette is(as in is it OK to take coconuts from trees that aren't yours?) so he decided to wait until nightfall to start. After about a half an hour of throwing fallen coconuts at the coconuts still hanging from the tree he finally achieved his goal - two brown ones perfect for eating! We decided to save them for later, and called it bedtime. Unfortunately, some local kids did not want to go to bed. They cruised into the park just after we had fallen asleep and blasted everything from reggeton to house from their ridiculously powerful car stereo. I'm sure they had fun, but I was exhausted by sunrise the next morning!

Our last night before entering Panama City we stayed with the local fire department. Without a moment's hesitation they offered us their meeting room. It was one of those rare times when we pull off the road and have a perfect place to stay - safe, comfortable, bathrooms included - within 5 minutes. We cooked dinner, ate ice cream, scoured the guide book for information about our ride into the city the next day and broke open a coconut. It was so freaking delish! We offered some to the firefighters, and the bowl came back empty within 2 minutes! That evening we slept like logs despite the highway traffic 10 meters away and woke up with the jittery anticipation that only comes before a tough ride.

Photos from the last post: Double banana!; me with Luz Maria and her family; Eric with MC and her students; Eric with Erik Omar and his family; view of Santa Clara beach
Photos from this post: More of Santa Clara, Guadalupe station fire truck, coconut!

Cruisin' down the freeway in the hot hot sun

Well, sometimes it is quite hot, but we've had the double-edged fortune of cloud-cover. Several of our afternoons have been cut short by torrential downpours despite our attempts to skip lunch breaks and try to outrun it. Luckily, the people of Panama have taken excellent care of us along the way, so we've managed to stay comfy and dry.

So where were we...the school. We provided lots of entertainment for the kids who arrived early in the morning for Saturday band practice, mostly in the form of peering at us though the cement block windows and giggling hysterically at their stealthiness. They then began tiptoeing around the classroom where we were to sneak in the back door. Oh man, that's what we get! Once we were all packed up we chatted with them all for a while and then headed out.

The road was up and down to Remidios, but we had a good shoulder most of the way, one of the things that makes or breaks our riding experience. Other things that we have come to appreciate: chairs, showers, potable water, dark chocolate. Anyway, as the threat of rain approached replete with thunder and lighting, we decided to ask yet another school for a bit of help. At the Chiriqui Technical School we were lucky enough to find people working on a reconstruction project. There we met Osvaldo and Rosemary and, after talking about everything from poverty to indigenous languages we settled in for the night. We cooked an *amazing* meal - rice, lentils, carrots and potatoes all mashed together into oblivion. It was a tough choice that evening - rice...or pasta. Rice...or pasta.

While Osvaldo was out caring for the grounds, we read ourselves to sleep. Eric is rereading The Fountainhead (sorry Patrick, he read it first) so as to avoid rereading the Central America Lonely Planet. I am reading Paula by Isabel Allende. It was recommended to me by a friend we met in Oaxaca, and it is so good that I am savoring it slowly. One page I'm in tears, the next I'm LMAO. It is an amazing exercise in emotional breadth. And for the record, I'm finally old enough to have more than just one favorite book. The Stranger, Crime and Punishment, A Farewell to Arms, and now Paula. The Life of Pi may have had a place here, but I got mad at the ending.

After sleeping soundly in Remedios our next stop was not so lucky. Damn those roosters. Seriously. No one needs to get up at 2:00 AM. No one needs to hear those scraggled, pitiful attempts at a crow. And, for those of you who don't know, cocks are call-and-response animals: one starts, and all others within earshot think it is their ultimate duty to start shrieking too. Ay, our tent does not take into account the noise factor of Latin American semi-rural camping. Oh, and all this was after being kept awake by the night-shift police officers watching 300 just a few meters away. Nothing like CG gore to give one sweet dreams.

So the rooster thing was quite unfortunate, but our stop in Los Ruizes was actually very pleasant. After laboriously working our way up and down steep hills reminiscent of Sonora, Mexico, we stopped at a bus stop just when it seemed that we would have not an instant of dry weather left. The clouds held their breath, fooling us for a minute, but just as we were convinced that we might still have a chance it began to pour. We drowned our sorrows in delicious $1.75 plates of rice, beans, beef, and fried banana, and acquiesced to the situation. No more riding for the day. We crossed the street to the police station, got the ok to set up shop under their thatch-roof, and set about buying food like ship-wreck survivors. For all of you who don't know, the Joneses are vultures and hoarders when it comes to food, and if there is sugar involved the claws really come out. For example, I cut up some pineapple for dessert before dinner. As I ate one innocent preview chunk Eric snarled, "Fine, so YOU get to eat one but not me!" We laughed when we realized how deep our affliction goes. So we had gone most of the day without proper nutrition, due to it being Sunday and a particularly deserted stretch of highway. After desperately eating oatmeal for lunch we were lucky to find Los Ruizes in real life even though it wasn't on our map. The moral of the story is that we bought and ate massive amounts of white bread. We actually went so far as to eat cookies and wash them down with soda.

After saying goodbye to the police we enjoyed a beautiful downhill ride through pine trees, clouds, and grassland. We arrived at Los Boquerones in the afternoon and decided to ask yet another school if we could hang for the night. Luckily they told us no, because that gave Luz Maria the opportunity to whisk us away to her small, cozy house filled with friends and family. Her son Humberto showed us the way, and there we met her daughter Lesly. They both made us feel right at home! After settling in we were fed dinner (bacon was involved!), and then we all sat and chatted in the living room about our trip, politics, family, etc. We went to bed happy and comfortable, and spent the night rooster-free. In the morning Luz Maria made us breakfast, and we packed up our bikes once again. She gave me her red bandanna, just like my threadbare one that Dad gave me, so that I could remember her and her family when I wear it. We took several pictures, said tearful goodbyes, and set off into the cool, sunny morning.

Coastin Rica!

To address the question from mobiusjones about our map link, (which if you have not checked out is on the right hand side of the page below our information) yes we still do use that but.... here in Central America it is the rainy season and it has been very very very cloudy recently and so our GPS that uploads the coordinates has not been able to work. But, here is a quick rundown of where we stayed in Costa Rica North to South along the West Coast; Canas Dulces, El Garabito, Jaco, Damas, La Uvita, Ciudad Cortes, Rio Claro, and Coopabuena.

We have been running behind on blogging because we have met so many people to stay with recently that it has been hard to find time to use the internet! Anyhow, we just finished riding the Coastal Route of Costa Rica. It is pretty amazingly beautiful. All along the way are small beach towns, tons of coconut trees, banana trees, birds, iguanas, monkeys and other animals we do not know the name of. Also there is lots of foreign investment in property, condos, luxury hotels/spas and that kinda thing.

We stayed in a small town of Damas. We stopped into the local school to see if they would be willing to let us sleep on the grounds for the night. They very graciously offered us a classroom to stay in so we could avoid being out in the nightly rain. Sadie, one of the teachers, invited us over for coffee and cookies that evening. She is not only working as a primary school teacher, but also going to school for her masters in Administration and raising two children...whew!! She was very chatty and told us about the palm trees that are lining the side of the highway where we had been riding. She told us they are palm plantations, from which Costa Rica is one of the leading producers in Palm oil. She told us how the people that work on the plantations are forced to live in company housing and work for no pay. They receive rice, beans, and cooking oil for their labor. A very sad example of modern day slavery. Sadie was very candid, she believes that tourism is having a strong negative impact on Costa Rican culture. It is understandable because much of Costa Rica's coast is being taken over by large resorts that locals could never think of entering.

Random stories!! In Ciudad Cortes we met with the president of the local area schools and he lent us his newly constructed rental house. We got to be the first two people to sleep in it!

One day I decided I had had enough of the coconuts taunting us from the trees along the side of the road. We pulled over and for about 10 minutes I tried throwing, climbing, coaxing a coconut to fall. Finally, it did. Eric 1 Coconut 0 Fresh Coconut is delicious! I guess I changed sides mom.

Costa Rica has good bread and brown rice! Finally.

In Rio Claro we asked the police if there was somewhere good to stay. They told us we could stay in a community center and invited us to eat dinner with them. We had a nice dinner of rice and cabbage salad and oatmeal water. Oatmeal water is actually pretty good. One of the officers is making not one but TWO collections of all 50 state quarters from the USA. He is missing 2 quarters from one collection and 6 from the other. Washington state is missing from both. DOH! Great gift idea to bring with us missed!!

Then we climbed. and climbed. We went up to Coopabuena. It rests roughly 2000 meters above our nice flat coastline, and we went up to it in under 20 kilometers. We went to meet a friend we had been in contact with through helpx.com. He is making an organic farm in Coopabuena and invited us to stay with him. We got to a small house where we met Scott. He lives simply and basically. He has a love for bananas and hacking things with his machete. We did not do much work, but that was fine with us because we always need some rest. We cooked us huge pots of soup and sat around sharing bike excursion stories. Scott took his own trip last year from Seattle down to his farm. We tramped through the mud looking for guava and taro root, but the bugs got the real harvest; fresh blood. We send our thanks to Scott for his hospitality and hope to see him when he rides back to the PNW.

We decided it was time. Time to say we have biked through every country in Central America and so we headed into Panama. Crossing the border was just as annoying as usual. There was a lack of signs, too many people yelling and trying to sell us stuff and border officials who like to tell us nothing about what is going on. For the first time we were brought into customs, and as they were about to search our drug laden bags a bus full of people showed up and the inspectors decided two dirty bicyclists pose little threat to the safety of the Panama. So here we are Panama! Somehow we have to go around the Darien gap, probably the hardest spot on this trip. Our road ends. We have to take a boat.


Photos; Costa Rica landscapes, children and Sadie from Damas, Eric opening a treat, Merilee showing off her bug-bitten leg