Stats

Hitchhiked distance: 2435 kilometer

Number of lifts: 63

Average waiting time: 15 minutes 46 seconds

Waiting time total: 16 hours 34 minutes

Log you can find here.

My Route

I went from the very end of Panama all the way north into Texas. Most of the time alont the Panamericana.

People

I was surprised by South America already. All the people said, it would be so dangerous, but in the end it was very wonderful. Same for central America. Panama and Costa Rica are kinda former provinces of the United States, now independent and a lot of retired US-Citizens live there. I experienced the hitchhiking there as laborious. I mean, what is worse than hitchhiking in the US? Right, hitchhiking in a country which exists of retired Americans. Lucky me i reached Nicaragua at some point, where it was much more convenient. Very poor country, but nice hitchhiking experience.

Honduras was a good country to hitchhike in, but it seems that this place is suffering a lot by drug trafficking and corruption. I did not feel very safe there, which is very uncommon for me. I would describe the country neutraly as…wild. Beside that also very cheap. I think the people are bloodsuckers, want to make the most out of the tourists and don’t give a shit at the one side and very hospitality at the other side, have a really warm interaction. I was only crossing but had a very intense impression. Negative as well as positive.

In El Salvador you can pay with Dollars, the life-standart is a bit higher and the people are very friendly. It is a little bit my insider tip for Central America. I never recognized this country before, but now I would say: „Go there!“, if someone would asked me for a recommendation in Central America.

And then Guatemala. My love. People are so super nice, very cheap, a lot to see and hell of a hitchhiking experience. Definitely my favourite in the review and the country with the best hitchhiking in all North America. A lot of Pick-Ups, many fast pick ups, nice roads, stunning landscape. Here I will come back!

In the stats Central America has a very good average waiting time. This is mostly because of Guatemala! Just saying.

Roads

Panama has a long highway which gets a bit unsteady in the north. But with Costa Rica the best road quality in Central America. Nicaragua is a bit fucked up, Honduras as well. El Salvador and Guatemala are somehow in the middle of that.

In Costa Rica you should follow the road along the coast line instead of the Panamericana in the middle of the country. It leads through the jungle, along of endless palmtree plantations. An ecological disaster but exciting to watch. In Guatemala you have a lot of volcanoes along the road, it is very scenic and the temperate climate is very convenient. At least if you got out of hot Panama recently.

In the South of Panama is very dense jungle. Be careful, the roads can get fucking slippery through the humidity. I was in an accident there because of this.

If you hitchhike along the Transamericana, then better take the short way through the south-west of Honduras. And check the borders beforehand. If you end up at the wrong border, it can cost you an entire day because of low traffic. Some borders are also not recommendable to cross during the night. Nicaragua and Honduras are in general kind of troubled kids in this region. But go there and find out for yourself and don’t let yourself get influenced too much by my experience.

Tactics

Panama get through it somehow. Not perfect, but possible. Panama City has a kind of city rail, which has only one line, but goes to the other end of the city, which is quite helpful. In Costa Rica I would definitely use the coast. More relaxed surfers and higher chances to get a ride. In Nicaragua just go with the flow. Don’t hitchhike during the night in Honduras, if you are not interested in losing some weight of your luggage and experience the „real adventure“. El Salvador (City) is a wonderful place to hitchhike through, if you stick to my Hitchhiking in Cities – Guide. Don’t be afraid of this cities. But when I was there the sun was shining friendly and maybe my impression is a bit too positive. For Guatemala is not much to say. Enjoy the pick-ups, enjoy the hitchhiking, enjoy the people. Guatemala City can be a bit exhausting, but possible.

Impressions

Specifics

Nothing to say here for this time.

Der Beitrag Hitchhiking in… (15) Central America erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Looking through the window at my side. To the driver pointing on me: „He has no seat-belt.“ Driver: „Ahm…well. There is no seat-belt on this side.“ Policemen: „This is forbidden, you can’t drive like this.“ Driver: „Okay, what are we going to do then?“ Police: „How about….a coffee?“ Driver: „One dollar for a coffee?“ Police: „Yes.“

Canada

Note: It is forbidden t hitchhike in British Colombia.„Where are you heading to?“ „Vancouver.“ „What, all the way? Well….there is a bus station, I could give you a ride to.“ „Nono, it is alright. I am hitchhiking. It is not far. One ride and I am there.“ „Yeah thats true.“ „I just wanted to walk a bit further, I don like this position. Maybe use the onramp over there.“ „You can walk under the highway pass. There is more space to stop. And you sure will find a ride.“ „Cool.“ „The guys from the highway patrol might give you a hard time, when they see you. I don’t care, I am not from the highway patrol, as you can see.“

Northern California

Two cars stop. „What are you doing here?“ „Hitchhiking.“ „You are not supposed to do that here!“ I give him already my passport. „aha, where are you going?“ „Seattle.“ „To the jail?“ My suit, my suit….. He checks my papers, the younger cop arrives and starts chatting with me. „Ah don’t worry, you are not in trouble.“ As if I would be worried. I tell him my story. The other cop comes back. „Hey Frank, this guy hitchhiked all over the world!“ „Really?“ „Man, I would love to give him a ride to Winters, but I guess this wouldn’t help.“ Third car arrives, which is very unusual. They called for the Sergeant. Now all three of them are surrounding me. Sergeant: „Where are from?“ „Pardon?“ He gives me a clap on the shoulder. „Where are you from?“ „Oh, Germany.“ „Nono, where in Germany?“ „Frankfurt.“ „Oh, I lived in Frankfurt for two years. And Frank, you also lived in Germany, right?“ „Right.“ Short chat about how beautiful Germany is and that they really liked Sachsenhausen. Then they suddenly all turn around and walk to their cars. While they go the Sergeant said: „Well, you are not supposed to hitchhike here. So….hitchhike your way out! I don’t want to read about you afterwards!“ Alright.

Special: The Mexican

„They deported me already 13 times.“ „Really?“ „Yes, but I always came back! They fly me out, then I go dancing, to some party in Tijuana. And when I am drunk, I go back.“ „So it is possible to cross the border?“ „In the past it was easier. But I know how to do it. If you do it the first time, it might be difficult. But I did it so often, not a problem. If they catch me and deport me, I just try the next day.“ „Do you have friends, that pick you up from the border?“ „Nono, my family sends me money and I take a Taxi to the Greyhound station and then go by bus. I don’t know why they still deport me. It is a waste of money!“

Der Beitrag Traffic Exists. Hitchhiking Possible; (12) The very best of: Police controls erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Upcoming my 40km walk via the only road there was. It was still hot and abnormally humid, like at the border before. After 2 kilometers of walking I found my car, I wouldn’t have been able to walk the full distance. Not with that weather. The road was very compact and plowed through the hilly jungle terrain. Many curves and even more gradients that I hadn’t seen before. The road is existing since about 5 years. Before that the driving time was 10 hours. Walking you could do it in 8. But I think that is an urban legend. After an accident where my former captain (thanks)  pulled us out I was standing on a nice, paved road towards Panama City.

A hurray for the busdriver!

As I was standing there a group of pupils gathered at a bus station. They were fascinated by my appearance. They sent out a delegation to ask me some questions. At some point the “school bus from hell” arrived. You could hear the roaring bass drums from far away. The bus was colorful painted with spray paint like everywhere in Panama. The two exhaust pipes were fixed vertical at rear of the bus reaching over the roof. As it came over the hill top everything on its front was blinking. Some windows were open. The beat sounding through the streets. As if Busta Rhymes himself was driving the bus.

Without my choice my head started nicking with the beat and my body started swinging on the street. Also the kids were very happy jumping into the bus like a horde of Lemmings who found a gas chamber. The bus turned, drove another 150 meters, stopped and the pupils jumped out again walking back to the bus station. Well, maybe wrong direction but the music was superb.

My last Dollar I spent for 30 Minutes of internet and hitchhiked to Panama City. Hitchhiking through Cities is always kinda tricky. First I caught a bus. The ratcatcher (people that make you get on the bus) introduced himself as Mr. “Panama Kanal”. Thanks for the ride “Panama Kanal”. A woman helped me to jump the Metro with her ticket and I went until the final stop. Easy navigation with only one metro line. Several small rides and I was at the other end of the city. Well, that wasn’t hard.

The slowest ride of my life

Day was already at dawn. I was smoking a cigarette as that small Toyota truck started to drive away. I had to run a little to catch it and asked where he was going. 400km towards the border? Neat. I could come with him? What a nice night ride. Henry, the driver, told me that he has to go slowly because there was a problem with the tires. Well, I have no problem with going slow. I never declined a ride because it was too slow. And then we started. Going 40 km/h. 40… damn that really was slow. Henry couldn’t go faster but the situation got really bizarre as he told me that he was going to the 2500 kilometer distant El Salvador and will arrive there in 5 days. 2500km and 40 km/h. Took some time to settle in my head. You have to know that I had to go to El Salvador, It was on my route. I thought that sounded like a safe ride. Through Central America with a single ride, relaxed, easy. It sounded nice.

Soon we came to a police checkpoint. I had no seat belt because it was broken. The policeman, a mirror image of Kojak himself, leaned through the window. Why I had no belt? That was illegal. We palavered a little. After some time: wondering faces. How should we handle that? “How about a coffee?” the policeman asked. “Coffee?”, Henry asked unbelievingly, “for one Dollar?” “Yes, for one Dollar”. So we paid one Dollar and went on. Bribery seemed like a funny business in Panama. Henry told me later that he had a police check where he paid with a pack of sweets to get further.

After a short snoozing break it was time to continue at 5am. Long road ahead. My inner unrest made the decision to not drive with Henry for the upcoming 5 days and that 40km/h were slow anyway. At the border to Costa Rica I took the chance and continued hitchhiking. 2-3 hours later I was standing somewhere at the coast. Had a ride with an American pensioner living in Costa Rica coming home from surfing. Besides that it wasn’t easy to hitchhike. I received my perceived first middle finger since Spain. From some old fart. My impression was, that worse than the USA can only be a country full of retired US Americans. At least for hitchhiking. After some time Henry showed up again with his bumpy tire. The little Toyota bumped towards me with his 40 km/h and collected me again, like a safety car at Formula 1.

We were going to drive until it was late at night. Especially the last 60 km (2 hours) were really unnerving. Friday night, everybody not amused of us crouching over the main road. Henry wasn’t even able to change lanes. Everybody was passing us on the right, a lot of screaming and ranting, Henry was going 30-35 km/h sometimes to let the others pass. As if they couldn’t do it on their own. He was a nice guy but driving like a sissy, I had to get out of that car. I was going crazy. I wanted to use the night to get to the Nicaraguan border. And then another episode of “Your journey will get you what you need” opened up…

Satisfying needs on the street

I hadn’t eaten so much in the two days with Henry. No money. Not drinking much either. I was in a desolate condition but again to lazy to stop and get organized. There was traffic and I had to get going, I still had cigarettes against the hunger and for my nerves. I asked a truck but they were full. As I waited one guy from the truck came over and handed me the equivalent of 3 Dollars. I was very pleased since I could buy some water with that. In the end the money was saving my ass at the border since I had to pay the famous emigration charges without having money. After a minute my comrade came again handing me a pack of chocolate cookies. Wow. Food.

Then I went on. I hitchhiked at a construction exit beneath a very bright light (it was night already). A chauffeur took me with his limousine bringing me to the next city. As I had already closed the door exiting the car  he asked if I needed some water. Of course. Exactly what I need. He gave me three bottles of water. Spare change, food and water. So I was standing at the end of the village and was in general pretty pleased. In general. Then I found the real kicker.

Strong wind was blowing, the street again brightly enlightened by lamps of a construction site. There she was standing. Fulfilling my last wish. The porta potty. The door was wide open, swinging in the wind as if it was talking to me: “Come over and shit on me. I am here just for you.” The revelation. Adams apple. Seductive. Nicely ventilated by the opened door. Paradise was opening in front of me.

The night was super, I would be reaching the border and even find the time to sleep a little since the border would open only after 2 hours after my arrival. Although, I couldn’t say that I was really happy arriving at the immigration seeing at least 100 people standing, sitting, sleeping, waiting for the gates to open. 2 hours of waiting became 3 hours of sleeping until I finally went towards the border.

Der Beitrag Porta Potti and the slowest ride in my life erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Unionized mosquito swarms

Although the flowering vegetation and the fauna-rich area I was surprised to not being bothered by a single mosquito that night. A welcomed change, to see that they have strict working periods here. I had been unbelievably lying in my tent for several minutes with my head lamp trying to find insects. There were none. The other side of the coin showed its terrible face at 5:45. Start of work. All mosquitoes to the time clock. So whilst I was deconstructing the tent I had mosquitoes all over me like bees sticking on their honeycomb.

But I made my first goal for the day. To wake up early. Since my possible lift was about to leave at some time. I waited at the army office for somebody from the boat to drop by. And the young guy from the day before with whom I had a nice chat came over. Today a little grumpy. I greeted nicely and sticked to his heels on the way to the boat. The whole crew was already working. They unloaded masses of booze for the duty free shop and lowered washing machines, fridges, freezers and other electronic stuff from the roof. Several of the packages had a rough landing. The whole process, including also 800 packages of water bottles and 250 units of 24 packs of coke, took several hours.

At some point I turned around to join the group of younger people to have some chit chat. The guy from the day before was with them and I realized that he wasn’t even part of the crew. And also, he was rather grumpy. “Do you have a lighter? It might take some time there.” “Where would you go?” “Puerto Obaldia, with the cargo ship.” “Not possible. No passengers allowed. You have to take a Lancha. My friend can drive you.” What a bold lie. Very bold since the same guy who had told me the day before that it wouldn’t be a problem to go with the boat now said “No puede (Not possible).” And even more cheeky since the military and the captain had already given their ok. Damn bloodsuckers!

All for the crew, all for the club

Since there was nothing else to do, I, at some point, joined the human feeder band and helped them for the next hours to unload the ship. The captain was amazed. He also was a nice comrade. Laughing all the time. A latino by the book, originally from Panama, always keeping his cool. Not even ruffled by the dropping gas refrigerators. A well trimmed schnauzer, short-trimmed hair and jug ears. A combination of Ernie from the Sesame Street and Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction. A mediocre loud, authentic laughter that made you laugh as well and always up for a joke. But also he spoke fast and mumbling. I didn’t understand a word of his. Pity. Still, I liked him.

At noon we started towards Puerto Obaldia. 20 minutes of sailing and an immigration stamp were waiting for me. I even got lunch for my working aid. So friendly. Ready to enter the new country. My backpack was completely ripped apart by the next friendly commander. Immigration was closed and I had to wait 30 minutes. That really pissed me off since I had hoped to continue with the cargo ship. With my passport stamped I headed back for the ship as fast as possible.

A lift to Panama!

Let’s make it short. After some hassle and back and forth with the army and the captain, my name made it to the crew memberlist and I had my ride to the next road, passing the Darien Gap. Just as easy as that. Passage completed. From then on I was a worker on a cargo ship and it was a welcomed change from normal hitchhiking. The whole journey took us about a week. Together with Ernie L. Jackson and a crew consisting mostly of Kuna people, the indigenous people from the San Blas Islands.

The first night we stopped at one of these islands. After we had roped up the ship I went for an excursion to the island. It wasn’t much bigger than three football courts but from one edge to the other full with huts. It was the first real culture shock I remember. Not a single house made of stone, all the huts were traditionally covered with thatched roofs or Bamboo (I think). I strided through the streets and felt like in an ancient viking settlement.

In the big main building there was a ceremony going on. I joined them. In the middle two men sat in hammocks singing traditional Kuna songs. Sounded like indian Chantis. Very relaxing. As I made two pictures several people approached me taking me outside forcing me to delete the pictures from the camera. It was not allowed. I apologized. Still I wanted to restore them later with a special program (didn’t work though). After the surprisingly interesting walk I went back to the ship finding the whole crew drinking. Last evening. Next day we would be at the main Kuna island where the bigger part of the crew would be staying for two nights with their families.

The entertaining of an alcoholized crew

Kuna people can’t drink much. Was my feeling. Especially the older ones were drunk very fast. As I was already in bed, “fun” started. The second captain, a tall, disgusting person that could easily have made it to the Hells Angels, was quarreling with our chef, Pablo. I really like Pablo since he took really good care of me. With his head he nearly reached my belly button, he had a fluffy beard making him look like a Catfish and he was always equipped with a basecap of some Panamanian Schlager star. They were cursing at each other. I had no Idea why but the second captain always asked: “Dormiste, dormiste?”, “Did you sleep? Did you sleep?”. At some I could hear a smack when this bastard hit the poor, outgunned Pablo. The next day Pablo had a black eye.

Second act: I tried to sleep but above me, in his hammock, there was swinging “the snorer”. But it wasn’t really a snoring, rather a snotting. Snoring gets familiar as soon as you tap into the rhythm of the snorer. Not with the snotting. Isolated slime chunks that are – often but irregularly – pushed back and forth from the inhaled air inside the throat. And on the top of that: respiratory blackouts. Sometimes I thought he had died. Then I relaxed for a moment because I thought the snotting was over. Every time it continued with an even louder rattling inhale. Like Chinese water torture. You never know when the next drop will hit. The movie of the drunk crew continued. At some point two of the younger ones brought the old, fragile ship mechanic carrying him to his hammock at the end of the ship. I had seen before that he was totally drunk. Looks like he wasn’t even able to walk. At some point I left the hammock beneath the snotting guy and took over the hammock directly beneath the old mechanic.

At some point I opened my eyes. What was going on? Mr Mechanic was poking, clumsy as the old and tattering man he was, with his hand through the darkness. As if he wanted to reach a far distant object. He wanted to get out of his hammock but was extremely drunk and in general a little senile. I watched him for some time, in my head saying “You can do it, come on oldie!”, waiting for him to make some progress.
In the end I got up to help him out. In that moment he dropped out of the hammock like a newborn calf. I helped him to get up, he was shaking. Taking his hand I led him to a nearby barrel that he grabbed, stabilizing himself starting to urinating directly on board. As he was done he fumbled his way back to the hammock that I was already holding in preparation because I really didn’t want to pull him out of his own piss the next second. Skillful, the same way he had fallen out of the hammock, he fell back in and asleep.

About gas bottles and Kuna woman

The next day we stopped at the main Kuna island where we would be staying for the upcoming three days before we would go north. The daily routine on the ship was pretty exciting. We stopped at uncountable amount of small islands, loaded and unloaded fridges, boats, groceries, air conditioners and loads of gas bottles. Many gas bottles, sometimes over a hundred per island. Also, a young Kuna joined us because he needed a lift to Carti. It was also my own goal since there the first road was starting. So we went for several days from one island to another selling gas at Kunas.

It was so interesting for me, I really enjoy experiences like that way more than looking at some tourist attraction. Here there is business. Here is life. Buying, selling. Exciting harbourlife. Joking, haggling. Discovering how people challenge their everyday routine. When I am watching my crew members, how they deal with their relatives.

Especially the Kuna women were very fascinating for me. They are dressed in a short skirt and a colorful blouse, headscarf, nose piercing and some kind of curly leg warmers. They seemed very proud to me. They were the ones that were doing the business whilst the men were hanging around. I have no idea about the Kuna culture and am too lazy to read up on them, but that proudness and self confidence appeared very sexy to me.

At the end we arrived to Carti. The friendly captain and several others including me went off the ship. A Lancha was prepared that would bring us 3km to the coast, where the street was beginning. I had crossed the Darien Gap. The whole northern American continent in front of me. Ready to be explored. This was probably the second most difficult and second most important passage of my journey. Done! I can tick that. I was relieved and happy.

I started walking immediately. Several thousand kilometers of hitchhiking in front and in the back of me. I have to get to Guatemala and continue to Mexico from there.

Der Beitrag Hitchhiking with a Cargo boat to Panama erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Finally back on a good old speed boat

After one hour the “boarding” started. The crowd became even denser. I aquired a big black plastic bag for my backpack for 1000 Pesos (around 30 Cent) in which I put my backpack. I entered the boarding zone as my name was called. As I was packing my stuff a friendly worker approached me. Took my backpack, weighed it and demanded 10.000 Pesos. I asked them, why? Well, it’s more than 10 kg. I was already on the boat. My Colombian seatmates signified that there was no such thing like overweight luggage. “No hay plata! No hay plata!” (No money!). I was close to grabbing my purse but stopped inconspicuously. My backpack was already loaded (at least I hoped so) and so I just ignored their demand for more money. It worked. Escaped the tourist trap properly. Damn scammers everywhere… really.

The boat was in a similar state as the one I rode from Trinidad to Venezuela. Just with better equipment. The benches were equipped with cushions and a seat back and it had three outboard engines that were real monsters. Still, the ride was as uncomfortable as the last time. An ongoing up and down through the waves. The one noticeable difference was, that the Colombians celebrated every splash, every hard bounce with cheering, laughing and applause. These people were going on holiday. The Venezuelans had been going home.

When I arrived in Carpugana I was in the middle of the Darien Gap. There were three more villages further from here: Sapzurro, La Miel and finally Puerto Obaldia. Between Sabruzzo and La Miel is the official border of Panama and Colombia. The immigration though was at Carpugana (Colombia) and Puerto Obaldia (Panama), meaning that I had to check out here before I could continue. Of course I had forgotten that. Very determined I went from the boat to the very first shop, packed myself with water, had a Sprite and started walking towards the jungle path. Somewhere already in the jungle I remembered about the stamp and had to walk all back to the immigration office again. But then I finally started.

Walking the Darien Gap

So I was heading to Puerto Obaldia on foot. I knew it would be around 2-3 hours between the first and the second village, and another 30 minutes crossing the border to La Miel (first village in Panama) and further from there some more hours to Porto Obaldia, although that last part I was the least sure about. Anyway, I wanted to do that the day after. That’s why i just started. The path was well made, there were even signs, but it was muddy. After a while I found myself to be in the deepest jungle. Jungle, incredibly moist and uphill. I was till wearing long trousers that were completely wet before I had even done the first half of the hill. Jungle is just the same as a vast Bio-Sauna. This short hike took a lot out of me.

The sign at the village boundary said 30 minutes. You have to cross a mountain. From the top of it, it was only 40 minutes to the next village. Okay. Someone wasn’t sure about the distance. It took me an hour to get there. As I arrived I had to take a bath in the ocean, get rid of my t-shirt and switch to short trousers. That made the situation more bearable. I had a fish for lunch and continued to La Miel. Further to Panama. It was a rather unexciting path. A lot of exhausting steps upwards and a lot of exhausting steps down again. A short conversation with one of the three military outposts, reassurance that I will come back (what I did definitely not had in mind) and then I was in Panama, Juchee!

And oh, how beautiful Panama is!

Well, it was ok. La Miel wasn’t the pearl that I expected and every step was controlled by the military. My question for the path to Puerto Obaldia was answered briefly with “No hay, no hay” (There is no path). But of course it was there. 2 hours on foot I was told by a local. Meaning 4-5 hours for me. I also understood that the military doesn’t want to see me in the jungle.

There comes a boat, oho!

I checked out the area. There was a duty free shop in La Miel where you could get primarily cheap whiskey. As I was just heading for the next beach to set up my tent I spotted a cargo ship. Should I try to hitchhike it or rather enjoy the paradise around? Of course I had to hitchhike! If there is a chance to get a ride I will not let it fly away.

It was a rusty, small cargo ship with around 10 crew members on board. I asked for the captain. A jung man showed me the guy. Where they were heading? To Colon. Oh my god! Colon. It was about double of the distance that I had to make to get to the next road. If I could join them? The captain was speaking very fast. I didn’t understand a word. Just that we would talk about it the next morning and that I need the approval of the military. Nothing more easy than that. I talked a little to my young contact and he assured me, that the captain would take me to the immigration in the next village.

So I had a talk with the secretary at the military office. No problems there. They wanted to see the departure stamp, sure, if I had 500$? 500… what? Nope. No money. I will not pay here. Oh, I need it for the immigration. In cash? Of course I didn’t have the money and who would be as stupid as to carry 500$ around?

Military dialogues

That’s how all the fun started. Since soldiers are not allowed to think he had to ask the commander. And of course that did not match the rules so I wasn’t allowed to leave the country. But I have the money, but not in cash. I just need internet to check that. No, not possible. No money, no continuing of the journey. I have to walk back to Colombia to get the cash from the ATM. That was some dilemma since the lift was already here. And the worst thing you can do to me is to sabotage my lift. So I didn’t accept without struggling.

Friends had told me that the commander was a cool person and just his soldiers were rather stupid and incompetent. So I just walked into the commander tent, found him sitting on his hammock and explained my situation. He showed understanding but was like “You can go there, but not from here”. A little naive I asked if it was possible then? He mumbled … yes. That must have been the unofficial sign that we are breaking the rules now. I went back to his soldiers and told them confidently and triumphantly that I was allowed to go. The commander came and confirmed and there was my official exit permit.

Next step was talking to the captain. He seemed to be fine with it and just mentioned tomorrow morning, tomorrow morning. A clear sign that it is not as safe as it seems. But what could I do? Anyway I was allowed/had to sleep next to the commander office.

Where is Walter?

Before hitting the bed I made an excursion to the opposite beach. La Miel has two beaches. One with the duty free and one full of garbage. And two houses. On of it was Jimmy’s, an American. The other one was Walter, a Colombian who wants to create something there. Jimmy wasn’t around (I expected that since two acquaintances had been living there some weeks before) but Walter was.

I have to give you lovely regards from Walter, I promised to mentioned this here. Walter lives there on the beach with two cats, a dog and a self-dug fishing pond with 13 islands, each populated by 1-3 palms. Looks like a small swamp. He had dug that monstrous pit all alone with a shovel. Also there was a horse and various unfinished projects.

So I was hanging around with Walter in a hammock and we had good conversation. At some point the rum made it into his hands (that’s good for chilling), a coconut was opened (he had a lot of them) including nearly a loss of one of his fingers through an overconfident use of the machete. While smearing blood everywhere he conjured a cocktail with fresh coconut milk. Sun was setting slowly and we had some fried Bananas, with Tuna, Mayonnaise and Ketchup. Sounds awkward, was very tasty.

Walter is a good-hearted person and I was told to tell the world that he is eager to meet people, has a lot of space and charity and a very lonely existence at the end of the world. I am sure he likes to host people, doesn’t want money, and if you need information write to me. I promised that to him and maybe I will go there again by myself. And to be honest: The guy deserves a woman. He’s an awesome and caring person.

Catchin da lift!

This corner of the world, within the Darien Gap, is definitely remote and beautiful. No cars but roaring subwoofers in all villages. Maybe some time ago a subwoofer agent came through and sold them all every second house superb overdimensioned sound systems. Each village seems to have a sound system to sonificate at least 5000 persons running all day long with 10-20 village-people in front of it drinking beer listening to Caribbean music. It’s interesting as long as you don’t have to sleep in front of it. Which I had. On my forced campsite next to the military office. It was hard to get some sleep. But: The next morning the cargo ship will leave. Fact. I planned on getting up at 6 to not miss that. And I had no alarm clock so I had the get up somehow before 6 to pack my stuff to get my next ride. That one was everything but guaranteed…

Der Beitrag Hitchhiking around the Darien Gap – Jungle Fever erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

We climbed the next steep hill and another curve should introduce the following abyss. We didn´t go fast, but i recognized, that the car slowly started turning around. The car breakaway!My driver immideately started to scream: “DEUS DEUS DEUS!!!!!”, again and again. As if this would help. I tensly grabed the handle above the door and expected the car to overturn soon, when we get crosswise to the street. But the car luckily turned on. Firt relief, but we were still drifting towards the abyss beside the street.

I knwe at this point already, that we wont have a brtal accident. Mit hitchhikers-brain immediately took the lead: “Hopefully we can go on soon.” Don´t lose any time. We stopped finally. Standing half on the street and half on the abyss. We have been fortunate to not go down the abyss. And the car was still working. Just we couldn´t get out of where we stucked.

Lucky us again, my captain from the cargo boat, with which i crossed the Darien Gap, came along with another Jeep. Oh captain, my captain. He pulled us out, thanks for this. It was the first time, that i had an accident since 8 years of hitchhiking. We haven´t been fast, it was just because of the humidity. Unbelievable, how this could have happenede. I had to remember the accident i was discovering in the Amazonas. Thanks Deus…..

Der Beitrag Traffic Exists – Hitchhiking Possible; (8) The accident erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.