“This is it, I can feel it,” Kalyn
said as a mangy looking pickup truck roared toward us. The truck
slowed as the two men inside looked at our outstretched arms, the
thumb enthusiastically stuck out skyward, and finally rollled to a
stop on the side of the road. “I knew it!” Kalyn exclaimed as she
hurried to the passengers side door to exchange information.
They were headed to the Panama border
and so were we, a match made in heaved! We clamored into the back of
the bed, sitting back into our backpacks, our legs outstretched
toward the open tailgate, the ground whizzing past as we picked up
speed. Local school-aged children smiled and waved as we passed, some
giggling as we waved back shouting “Buenas Dias!”
It had only taken us about six minutes
to get our first ride, being picked up by a pair of surfers one
Australian and the other South African. Once on to the highway the
boys asked whether we were headed to the real border crossing or
the unofficial border crossing. Wanting
stamps in our passport to ensure we weren't thrown in jail, so we
opted for the first option. Hopping out of the truck, we gave thanks
and said our goodbyes as the truck headed East and we began walking
West. Several minutes passed as we walked by literally thousands of
banana trees, blue bags covering each bushel of bananas waiting to be
picked and shipped to Del Monte processing factories. A blue
semi-truck blew past us and then came to a screeching halt, sending
wafts of burnt breaks and leaving skid marks several feet long on the
hot pavement. Kalyn and I exchanged looks before I shrugged my
shoulders and we jogged to talk to the driver. Our rock climbing
skills came in handy as we hauled ourselves up to the open door.
 |
| Kalyn unloading! |
The
drivers name was Carlos, he was 33 years old and had four children
and was hauling Bananas to a Del Monte plant near the border. In
broken Spanish, Kalyn asked about the many buttons ans switches in
the cabin and then we shrieked with laughter as Kalyn pulled a wire
sending a massive blast of sound out of the horn. Getting out at the
banana plant, we walked less than a half-mile and were examining a
crispy dead snake on the road when, unprompted, a car pulled over. We
jumped in and about five minutes later realized we were in a taxi!
The driver sent Kalyn into near panic when he told her he would be
charging us for the ride and that the border crossing would cost
nearly $50 for the both of us. As Kalyn translated and I began
mirroring her outrage the driver began to laugh, first quietly, then
heartily as Kalyn asked, “Are you messing with us? He's messing
with us! I can't believe this!” (There were exactly four swear
words I left out of that rant, i'm guessing if you know Kalyn you can
figure out what words and where they go). We gave the driver a dollar
at the border and crossed uneventfully into Panama.
Several buses and a
boat taxi later (costing a whopping 10 bucks between the two of us),
we found ourselves on Bocas Del Toro Island walking with several
volunteers toward Palmar Tent Lodge, our home for the next several
days. On the boat and during the walk we became fast friends with
J.C., a rugby playing ultra-hiker who hails from Alaska, Lori, a
beautiful earthy 20-something from Oregon, and Tortuga AKA Sophie, a
quiet but fun college dropout with a “connection” with the local
sea turtles who comes from Washington. We've spent the past three
days living in Paradise in the company of these three spirited
individuals and the other two dozen or so guests at the eco lodge.
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| Kalyn, Me, J.C., Tortuga (Sophie), Lori |
 |
| Home Sweet Home! |
The first evening
we setup camp and got familiar with the facilities including a
gorgeous rainwater fed outdoor shower, quaint hostel-style kitchen, a
beautiful wooden main lodge, and stunning white-sand beach.
The
first night we were here we spent several late-night hours combing
the beaches for leather-back turtles coming ashore to lay eggs. J.C.
informed us that he and the girls had watched a turtle over eight
feet in length and nearly four feet in height spend several hours
digging false holes before laying her eggs in a hole carved more than
a meter deep into the sand. At nearly two in the morning we gave up
and trudged back to bed. The sun rises around 5AM everyday, so
sleeping in an open-netted tent in the jungle allows for about a 7AM
“sleep in” until the sun is too bright and the humid air too hot
to stay sleeping for long. We lazily spent the morning swimming,
boarding, and reading on the beach before realizing we were burnt to
a crisp despite being fairly tan and wearing sunscreen. We headed
into the lodge, grateful for the shade and easy-listening tunes. As
the sun lowered in the sky we ventured on a walk that took us in and
out of the jungle and onto several stunning beaches before we stopped
at an abandoned bar and headed back, taking advantage of some photos
with the numerous pieces of driftwood and trees washed ashore.
As
night descended, we mingled with volunteers and guests, eating a
five-course meal of freshly prepared fish dishes reminiscent of a
certain trip in Mexico involving a week of fishy meals. As we were
cleaning up someone ran up the steps and shouted TURTLE!!!
sending everyone in the lodge
running for the beach. We made it to the volleyball court before
slowing as a massive round shape came into view under the moonlight.
Slowly, leaving a four-foor-wide tractor wheel trail in the sand, a
leatherback sea turtle made her way ashore. We watched from a
distance as she circled an area and began digging, her passive front
fins sending sand flying through the air. After nearly a half hour of
shallow false-holes, she began digging deep into the sand. Another
half-hour passed before she repositioned her body over the hole and
cautiously lowered eggs into their nest. We watched as round white
eggs of several different sizes began to pile up, first slowly, then
rapidly until we estimated nearly four dozen eggs lay snuggly
together. The five-foot-long ancient looking mother maneuvered her
tail and hind legs as she gently covered her babies, softly packing
the sand down to protect them. Kalyn and I looked at each-other,
amazed at what we had witnessed, and both feeling a twinge of guilt
of invading the century-old endangered mother's reproductive process.
Although we kept a respectful distance, the power of the moment
resonated with us as something sacred.
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| Not my photo, but the turtle we saw was similar to this size! |
It had
taken over an hour for the turtle to lay her eggs, and as she made
her way back to sea we left the beach as quietly as we could.
Slipping into bed, we both fell fast asleep despite the busy symphony
of animal and insect noises outside the tent. Waking in the morning
to searing pain on my back, I realized Kalyn had already awoken and
left for the lodge. Following suit, I washed my face in the
conch-shell fed rainwater sink, and joined Kalyn, the girls, and J.C.
For breakfast. J.C. was leaving in the afternoon and spent the
morning downing rum-punch and pineapple cocktails while regaling us
with stories from his 15,000 miles of backpacking across North and
South America, his wild fishing days in Alaska, and a hilarious 40th
birthday party in Mexico involving getting married to himself! He
sadly parted, leaving me with one of the coolest pieces of camping
gear i've ever seen: a homemade beer-can stove that weighs less than
3 grams, boils water in less than 5 minutes, and was a trusted travel
companion of J.C.'s for 11 years. I am STOKED and can't wait to use
it!
 |
| I learned that me gardening is the equivalent of sticking Kalyn on a rugby pitch and telling her, "just go for it!"... I was clueless but managed to only pull out one "weed" that was actually hibiscus flower bush |
We haven't exactly figured out what we are doing when the sun rises tomorrow, but we plan on maybe heading East into the mountains and finally, North
back toward our final destination of Nicaragua!
-Ashley
Fun fact: During a
conversation with the owners of Palmar Lodge, we mentioned being from
Chico. Turns out a couple from Chico, Jenn and Jake (something), were
departing from the Palmar dock just as we were arriving...what are
the odds?
