Caribbean

After one of the longest days of my life, complete with a flat tire, a car bomb and way too many miles to count, I finally made it to Taganga.  I got to the hostel a bit after 10:00 p.m., with Brian understandably wondering what exactly happened to me.  I was exhausted.  We wandered back into the little town for some food (I found a great burger) and a few beers.  While drinking a beer and looking out over the dark Caribbean sea, I realized that I had actually ridden my motorcycle across the entire South American continent.  Wow!

Taganga is a nice little Caribbean town in northern Colombia, near the Venezuela border.  Brian and I stayed in a clean and pleasant hostel called Casa Philipe, which had a surprisingly good kitchen.  The next day we wandered down to the beach and the two of us got into a boat for a day of fishing, spear fishing and snorkeling in the warm water.  We capped off the afternoon by eating our catch under a palapa, set on a remote, boat-access-only cliff overlooking the Caribbean.  Great views and great hammocks.  As we were eating, the skies opened up with a heavy downpour.  Our boat ride back to town was a bit damp, with a nice lightning show.

The next day, we left the small town for Cartegena.  Brian left early in the day via mini bus and I left a couple hours later.  It was a very hot, but interesting drive.  I rode through a lot of coastal marshlands with blessedly little traffic.  The ride went by pretty fast, except again, for finding the hostel.  Cartegena is an old city with a circuitous city plan, made up primarily of one way streets, dead ends, walls, lots of traffic and useless GPS maps.  It made navigating on a motorcycle a little difficult.

We also discovered that Brian likes fruit.

Cartegena is hot.  Really hot, as well as ridiculously humid.  We spent the first day in a hostel located in the old part of town.  It had a pool, but was not air conditioned.  I don’t think I ever sweated so much in my life.   At the hostel we met Mark, another guy on a KLR who would be sailing on the Stahlratte with us.  The next day, the three of us left the hostel for an air conditioned apartment in the newer part of town.  It was sheer luxury.  Finally, after several days, I was able to dry out my gear and enjoy a very comfortable bed.  Cartegena is an interesting place.  But, for some reason, I didn’t take any pictures.  I guess I forgot.  But, instead, here is a picture of my chin before I shaved this crap off.

My first visit to the Stahlratte was slightly alarming, as the boat was undergoing quite a bit of maintenance and had piles of stuff strewn about the deck.  But, the crew finished their work and tidied up the vessel surprisingly quickly.  My next experience with the boat was absolutely terrifying.  I had to ride my motorcycle off a low dock and into a zodiac (rigid hull, inflatable boat).  This took place in the Cartagena harbor, a saltwater environment.  After getting the bike into the very small boat, we motored out to the Stahlratte, where it was hoisted (on a somewhat old looking line) onto the deck.  I felt great relief when the boat was no longer suspended over the ocean and tied securely to the deck.

The next day, Mark, Brian and I arrived at the dock around 8:00 a.m. and after some shopping, exchanging of money and settling into the  boat, we were off.  As part of the deal, the Stahl Ratte had taken care of the exit stamp for our passports.  For the motorcycles, we were recommended to “not worry about it”.  I am hoping that this doesn’t come back to haunt me in the future.

Once on the boat, we got to work meeting the crew and passengers.  Brian, Mark and I turned out to be the only American passengers.  There was an Argentinian couple, traveling to North America by an interesting custom made 4wd camper.  The other twelve people were German or Swiss. One German couple was traveling in a Land Cruiser that they bought in South America.  A third duo, two very funny Swiss guys , were traveling to the U.S. in a Ford Econoline van, complete with a picture of Mr. T painted on the hood.  The Swiss guys and I conversed in a mix of bad German, Spanish and English.  We generally figured out the message.  Ludwig was the gregarious German captain, who had been on the boat for something like 12 years.  Nice job!  Ludwig taught us that Bob Marley was actually singing “German, German, we be German….” one night.  Ludwig #2 was a diesel mechanic, also from Germany.  Roli, also German, was at least 7′ tall and ironically, could often be found in small places like the kitchen and engine room.  Dexter, a great Swiss guy rounded out the crew.

On our first day we sailed into the evening and through the night.  Along the way, we had great meals and enjoyed a very beautiful night sky.  Being on the deck of the boat, at night, in a hammock was very peaceful.  Oh, and the boat has a diesel engine that is more than 60 years old.  It has never been overhauled.  I was very impressed by this.

In the late morning, we arrived a the San Blas Islands.  The Islands are Panamanian territory, but are administered by the Kuna people; the local natives.  It felt as if we sailed into a postcard.  I’ve never been to a beautiful tropical place like this before.  We spent two full days in the islands.  While there, I snorkeled, had some great meals, enjoyed a fun BBQ on the beach, with a bit of rum and really enjoyed the place.

When our time in the islands was up, we motored towards mainland Panama.  Again, terror ensued.  My (and Mark’s) bike was once again winched up in the air, over the ocean and this time, lowered into a dugout canoe.  Seeing my motorcycle laying on its side in a narrow wooden boat that some dude made with an axe did not give me a feeling of peace.  From the Stahlratte, we took about a 15 minute boat ride to shore.  Here, the bikes were basically manhandled out of the boat and up a steep and slippery muddy bank.  I was very relieved to have the bike back on land.  I was not happy about the bent shift lever.

Finally, ready to go, I got on my bike and hit the start button.  Nothing happened.  The engine did not turn over.  No sounds.  Tried a few more times and nothing.  This was not good.  I panicked a bit.  Mark offered some suggestions.  I figured it was something electrical so I first checked the battery.  Fine.  Then, I checked fuses.  I found one, not the main starter fuse, but one of the small 15 amp fuses on the side of the bike was very corroded.  I replaced it and the bike started up.  I was pretty happy about this but was not totally convinced that the two were related.

But, since the bike was now running, it was time to head to Panama City.  After crossing a big river…