Panama City Panic

I have managed to find the BMW Motorrad people, get Blondy in for some work, and more or less navigate through the city. I have griped about Garmin before, but I must say that today Mr. Garmin did his job in getting Blondy and I back from the dealership.

Heideneau rear: from Victoria to Panama and still has life, I hope...

Front tire: TCK 80 with usual weird wear.  I could have chanced it until Colombia, but opted for Pirelli M90 as there is lots of water about...

I was not having much luck with Garmin for the past few days, and landed in Panama city by flying on the seat of my pants, which I think is a pilot's term, but I will steal it. Somewhere south of Guatemala, the Mexico chip set ran out, and I have been running on very basic satelitte input into Garmin. I installed the South America chip set last night,and lo and behold, I now have streets for Panama City. Believe me,that is a real advantage, considering the amount of one way streets, new construction, and byways that they have going here.

I have also confirmed that I will be loading Blondy onboard the Steel Rat next Saturday, November 17th, so that we can get to Colombia. For those of you who missed Social Studies class, the Pan American highway does not go all the way through the isthmus of Panama, and there is about 80 to 100 kilometers of bog, swamp, and other stuff to keep the two countries separated. I talked to a Panamaniam the other day who was glad of it, as there does not seem to be much love lost between the Panamanians and the Colombians.

My experience with the BMW Motorrad people is worth noting, as I could not seem to find anything very current on ADV rider, or the HUBB site either. Even getting an accurate location for them was a bit of a challenge, and I had the telephone book in front of me. With some sleuthing, I managed to get what I thought was a location and headed that way with Blondy a day or so ago. I got within spitting distance, and ended up getting a cab to follow right to the place. It is all about high end BMW vehicles, and although they sell BMW bikes there, it is clearly an auto sales center first and foremost, and of course only the wealthy Panamanians frequent the multi-story building.

While I was waiting, I took particular notice of a Beemer 650.  It was tricked out, and I don't know that I have seen one of these in Canada.  Dual Exhaust, 2013 switches and a changed position for the  rear shock adjustment. It was priced at $12,500.00 so it definitely was a BMW....

Once I had established that they did not have any rear tires of any shape for Blondy, I was able to purchase a Pirelli M-90 front tire at another moto shop and bring it to BMW to mount. My rear brake shoes were done, and it was also time for an oil change, and I wanted the brake fluid topped up and the brakes bled, because I wasn't sure when the the last time that I had done this.  I found that the rear brake pads were down to thin air, so luckily they had a set in stock..

 They had a couple of these weird little scooters in the shop....

A New Pirelli M90 ...new for Blondy and me.

Shiny new brake pads..

A brake bleed for good stoppin'

 This guy did his best to please the gringo.  I felt sorry for him when he tried to test ride Blondy: he didn't make it too far.

My son the photographer has mentioned that there are only about two people who are remotely interested in bike shots, so I have also included some random shots of Panama city and its citizens.  I must say that the people have been very kind and open. I had a very interesting conversation with a dude who had been to Montreal. (Why do most Centro Americans think that Quebec is all of Canada?)

I may find that I should have waited until Colombia for both sets of tires, but I have another week here in Panama, and the amount of water on the roads warranted a hard look at the TCK, and I think that the Pirelli will cut the mustard for awhile.  We will see....

Drowned in David, Panama

Somehow, even though I am not working, I knew today was Monday.  I did not sleep too well, partly due to the anxiety of another border crossing, combined with an overly exhuberent  watch dog of the small and yappy variety.  He spent most of the night outside my door, barking at shadows, bats, and  will-o-wisps..

I had shut it down well before dark, and had a bit of a walkabout in the last Costa Rican community that I would be in for awhile.  I discovered that there were some ruins, well, not really ruins, nearby. I elected to miss them, as it turns out that they are spherical balls, carved from stone, and no one has a sense of their origin.  They were about 20 km's out of my way, and I had an early start to hit the Panama border in the morning.

I arrived around  8:00 AM after a couple of hours ride in the morning fog and breaking sunshine.  Thankfully no accidents this morning, but I did remark on the fact that travelling south, south east is bound to put the sun into a drivers' eyes.  I know from experience that most mistakes are made in the first 30 minutes of a ride, as well as later on in the afternoon, when I am tired and not focussed as much as I need to be.

Blondy gets fumigated.  I then drove through the bay where the fumigation machine is working for trucks, and got a faceful of God knows what insecticide, fungicide, or some sort of cide....

I arrived at the border relatively refreshed, in spite of the poor sleep.  The border between Costa Rica and Panama is a bit confusing, as there is a bit of a no man's land in between the two areas.  I wandered back and forth a bit, getting directed and redirected by cops and others, until I finally lucked on the proper exit for Migracion for Costa Rica.  I also met a handler. I was firm with him abut the price, and made it clear that his rate was for both border.  To his credit, he did save me some time, and certainly helped me find out which window to be at, and which form to fill out.  I did see one instance where I gave him some cordobas, and he folded it up and passed it to one of the immigration dudes as a payoff. I don't think he saw that I saw that he pocketed the other bill himself.  I didn't say anything, as we were towards the end of the process, and I was happy with the expidited manner in which the piles of paper were being dealt with.  I honestly don't know how a Spanish speaking persion deals with the paperwork, and the added formalities associated with importing and exporting a vehicle, whether it be a moto or a car.   In this case, I was glad to pay the guy $20.00 to expedite the process.  He also turned me onto a money changer, who gave me a fair deal on the exchange, as I had checked the going rate the night before.  I was glad to be rid of 10 million dollar notes and back on the dollar system, even if it is the American dollar.

I was through both borders and on my way by 10:00 AM, which is some sort of record for Central America.  I stopped and drank a gallon of water and had two snickers bars, the first in three months (more on this in a minute), and then was on my way, after shooting the bull with a young soldier who was checking out my bike.  I should have got him to pose on the bike, complete with his automatice rifle, pistol, and camo gear (Panama has an army, if you remember...).

A few miles down the road, I was stopped and put through the usual stuff.  Sometimes I wonder if these guys bother to read the passport or the paperwork that they demand.  I was getting hassled about Florida, which I think was a Honduran border town.  It was on my Passport, and this Aduna dude was somehow thinking that I was in Florida, US of A... sigh... Off I go soon afterwards...


It started with a sprinkle, and then the taps turned on...My kharma was good, as I saw the Golden Arches through the ever increasing downpour, no, dare I say: Monsoon.  By the time it broke, I was safely sitting inside a Maconald's, sipping on a coffee and munching on a crispy do-dad (pay attention: snickers and crispy Mac processed do-dads)  Also note that the Macdonalds was situated in David, Panama, in case you have your maps out...

I had missed the onslaught of water, and I amused myself with the map of Panama for a bit.  The deluge was over in 30 minutes, and I proceeded to wind it up and head south. I have said it before, and I will say it again, that processed food will be the death of society as we know it.  What initially started as a slight irritation in the lower bowel areas soon became a crying reminder that if I didn't find a place to park the bike and get into the bushes, there was going to be shit to pay.  Well, needless to say, these roads do not have shoulders, and I was in a lineup of post border anxious idiots who wanted to be in the capital in 30 minutes, instead of 3 hours.  The long and the shit of it is that I did not make the bush.  For those of you who have parented  and done diaper duty, there is only one feeling worse than facing juniors' morning load, and that is knowing that you have filled your own pants.  Crap! I am blaming Macdonalds'  and that damed crispy do-dad for turning my bowels into mush. Of course the two snicker bars added to the mix, and by the time I was able to park Blondy, I was having diaper flashbacks as the unholy aroma of self shit wafted up through my helmet. As they say, what was done was done, and now I needed a new set of pants, socks, and boots.  Short of that, I needed a shower, which wasn't going to happen.  I opted for door three, which was to find a river.  Fortunately for me and Panama, I had been crossing over and remarking on the very clean looking rivers all flowing out to the Pacific. I soon found a river, managed to get Blondy off road and near to the river, and stripped down to begin the washing in the bullrushes routine.  While I kept my right eye peeled for 10 foot anacondas (no, that is Brazil), I managed to clean up most of the mess.  I was not wearing my heavy riding pants, so the quick dry pants that I have came off and got a thorough washing in the river. (sorry down river people, but it was an emergency).

So, it has started to piss down in my stopover, Santiago, Panama. I did not stay at the Hotel David, simply because they spelled grand incorrectly...I am across the street in the Hong Hotel, run by Panamanian Chinese..

Well, in spite of the frog choker, and the embarassing incident with my plumbing (at least I did not get Blondy stuck), I had a relatively good day, and I have just received notice from the German skipper of the sailboat that he has room for two more bikes and people for the 17th of November.  I had planned on going down to Colon and shopping around for a boat or barge, but I think that the 5 days in the Caribbean will be okay too.  I now have a week and a bit in Panama to get things squared away.  I think I will buy a bathing suit and perhaps a new towel... My run for the day:
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Pura Vida...A Good Life...

I had one final walkabout of Granada before getting ready to pass into Costa Rica.  The old colonial town has a good feel to it, and I enjoyed my short visit there.

It has taken me a few hundred kilometers and a couple of days to feel like posting.  I left Granada rested prepared for a tiresome experience at the Nicaraguan/Costa Rican border.  While it was all of that, I did manage to get through in about two hours or so.  I did have some help on the Nicaraguan end, but the guy was straight up, and I did not feel like I was been taken.  Met a fellow from Calgary who was bus trekking, and felt a lot better about my freedom to ride.


As per expectations, soon after I finished with the two border issues and was on my way, I was stopped by Costa Rican cops.  I was prepared for shenanigans, but the guy was straightforward, just wanting to see my passport and license.  He shook my hand, and the other guy, in broken English, said that he hoped I would have a good time in Costa Rica.  That was the last cop that I talked to, and becuase Costa Rica has decided to invest in education rather than their military (they disbanded their army in 1949), I have not had one issue with guys and guns in the last two days.

About 10 minutes after I left the two Costa Rican police, I came upon a huge line up of trucks and buses.  As is my habit, I split lanes and got to the head of the line, only to discover that there had been a horrible accident.  A SUV had smashed head on into the front of a chicken bus (converted school buses) and there was parts and pieces of both vehicles all over the road, not to mention about 500 people watching the police and bomberos do their thing.  It was pretty clear that speed was the issue, as the SUV, which I think was a Dodge was pretty well destroyed.  The motor and front end of the bus was taken out, and the bus was on its side, with peoples' stuff strewn all over the place.

After a short wait, we were able to move forward, and I quickly got in front of the slow moving trucks and buses.  It was then that I noticed the police pickup in front of me, with a body in the deck of the truck and a thin sheet covering it.  I had to follow this makeshift hearse for the next 20 km. until the cops turned off.

With the dead guy leading the parade, it was sobering and uneasy feeling that soon became part of my day.  This guy had left Libertad just before me, with all sorts of hopes and dreams for the Saturday morning.  In an instant, either through his neglect and carelesness, or the bus drivers' he ran his last ride.  It is unfortnate that machismo seems to rule so many of these drivers' wheelhands: if they would not pass on blind corners and not undertake stupid moves, maybe more of them would be alive.  From what I can see, it will take a huge upswing in enforcement, and an even greater focus on improving the roads so that slow moving vehicles, ox-carts, and even wagons do not contribute to the frustration and angst which leads to people taking stupid and deadly chances.

I have seen more than one vehicle coming at me in my lane, and they are assuming that I am a moto because of my one-light.  I wonder what would happen if that speeding bus were to come upon those one-eyed tractor trailers that I have seen as well?  We know the answer to that one, and that is why there are so many crosses beside the roads, although the further south I go, the less I see the remembrances to dead drivers, even though the fatalities and stupid practices continue.

Well, rest in peace, poor soul...

On a lighter note, I can say without a doubt that Costa Rica is a jewel of a country.  The trees and foliage are absolutely stunning, and just when I think things cannot get any greener, I run across a field that is glowing green in the sun.  Everything  and everyone  seems to be brighter, and certainly happier than either Honduras or Nicaragua.  The Costa Ricans possess a self-assurdness and a world view that clearly gives them a perspective which is unique, and to my mind, very healthy.  Costa Ricans look after their country, and the dirty rivers and dirty streets that I had come to expect in Central America do not exist in Costa Rica. People take care of themselves, and their environment.  I am very impressed with the country, and I understand why so many Norte Americanos are moving here, which must piss some 'Ricans off.

 Twin Volcans on Lake Nicaragua

Way down on the western coast of Costa Rica

 

 I had to stop and get a shot of this place: it reeked of money

The Costa Ricans do it right: a turtle in every pond...

What a delight to have highway signs that let you know where you are, where you have been, and where you may be going....

Apparently I missed San Jose, but that's okay too.  Next stop, Panama...