A reasonably good travel day. Got off O.K. at 0400and to the check in at 0530 for a 0700 flight. The flight from SFO to Miami was uneventful. I made up some sleep and spoke for a bit with an elderly lady on her way to Trinidad and Venezuela. She is an anthropologist and we talked some about the Maya, her specialty.
Got to Miami on time but had to leave the boarding area to get a tourist visa, a fact we discovered at the last minute. There was some confusion in the rush and I lost $10 in change for the visas. Oh well.
Got to Panama and breezed through customs. We were met at the gate by Ivan Hoyos. He is a personable young Panamanian who went to junior high and high school in the States. He speaks English with no Spanish accent but with a trace of a New York accent, strange. He was very helpful and got us to the Hotel Executivo, a nice but bland place. I had a local dish for supper and Bob had a burger.
Off for Las Palmas tomorrow at 0745.
Too much travel, I’m pretty bushed. Reached Rose by phone after two tries.
3/2
Woke early and had a buffet breakfast. The weather is warm and a bit muggy but not unpleasant.Ivan picked us up and a short drive got us to the puddle jumper airport. There we met the third member of our expedition, a young man of about thirty, John Herd. He has a short term job with USAID, working with ANCON, a local conservation group. He is not a naturalist but is working with their marketing section.
Bob’s ticket was made out to Richard Burkholder and this caused a major paperwork shuffle. After much ado, we got that straightened out with a flourish of seals and stamps we left on our short hop to La Palma, capitol of the Darien.
Capitol is a grand title for this single street shanty town. The town is mostly black with a few Spanish and mulattos. There are a couple of government buildings, the biggest and brightest being the National Police. We are definitely a presence here, all eyes follow us down the street. We met a local contact, Roberto. He’s a cheerful sort, a kind of combination boat driver and porter. We dropped off our bags at the local hotel and took a walk.
We saw ½ of the "capitol" on our five minute walk from the airport and we saw the rest in another couple of minutes. The boys decided that the only thing left to see was one of the local cantinas. We passed a pleasant hour in what we are told is the only air conditioned bar in the Darien. Today they offer 4-O air conditioning, two Open doors and two Open windows.
A couple of kids stopped by to say that Hernan is waiting and Ivan is suddenly in a hurry, this is his boss and the expedition leader. Hernan has been at Cana making last minute arrangements. He is a rugged looking man with a lifetime of experience in the Darien. His parents lead the first overland motor expedition through the Darien in 1960. It took them four months of back breaking labor through virgin jungle. Now half of that road is built, though impassable in the rainy season. Hernan says that there is a swath of destruction of the rain forest that spreads for miles on both sides of the road. Ivan is of the opinion that the Darien is doomed if the road is finished. There is something of a movement in Panama to finish the road.
We wait for another hour and a half for a favorable tide and head out for Punta Patino, an ANCON station where we will spend the night. This is a change, the original plan was to spend the night in La Palma.
The river at La Palma is also the sewer, there were people swimming in it. I felt dirty just walking across the rocks to the boat.
We head out across the Gulf in a speed boat and the trip is a 45 min butt buster. We saw two pods of Pilot Whales on the way and a ray jumped straight up out of the water in front of us. I saw the place where Balboa first sighted the Pacific. Pta. San Lorenzo in the Gulf of San Miguel.
Explored a mangrove swamp by boat for awhile. Saw many life birds in a very short time. Roberto is not really in tune with bird watching and runs the boat past good birds and stops for common ones. He seems to be using size for a criteria and wants to stop for every heron while completely ignoring a rare kingfisher.
Landing at Punta Patino was an interesting process. A tractor with a wagon attached drove out onto the mud flat to pick us out of the boat, saving us muddy feet. The station used to be a coconut plantation and cattle ranch and ANCON is in the process of returning it’s 50,000+ acres to primary rain forest. There is almost no primary rain forest left on the Pacific coast. It was exploited long ago because it is accessible. Primary rain forest has a canopy of mature trees and takes about 100 years to return after logging.
Had a good supper and a pleasant evening on the verandah talking and watching the sunset. Met Henry. He is a paramedic and he will accompany us. Hernan cleaned his 10mm pistol as we talked. He says it’s to scare away any white lip peccary we might encounter. He says he saw a heard of about 100 last night in Cana, hmmm.
3/3
Had a leisurely breakfast and embarked for the Embara village of Moge. Had to wait an hour or so for the boat to arrive, This is an introduction to Darien time. The boat is fully loaded so we stopped by the black coastal village of Punta Allegria to arrange a second boat for tomorrow.
The villages here are all either black or Indian. There seems to be no mix except for the larger towns like La Palma and there are no Campesino(Hispanic) villages in the area.
Ran several miles up the Moge River to the village. This is a jungle river and the channels are confusing. Lots of exotic plants and birds on the shore, saw my first Toucan. When we reached the village, one of the locals who came with us from Pta. Patino went ahead to negotiate our stay. We had planned to camp at the landing but they would have none of it. We walked into a beautiful village and were shown a large pavilion-like elevated palapa (tambu) with a balsa log staircase. They have not had visitors for two years and want to be hospitable, I guess. The tambus are open and elevated about 10 ft. There is a fireplace made of a square of sand about six ft. across with three logs pointing toward the center. Furniture is simple, hammocks.
Our gear is brought from the launch, about a five minute walk and set into our tambu. We are attended by about 15 beautiful kids who sit at a respectful distance and watch our every move. John says he feels like we are in a fishbowl. We are introduced to Eloy, the chief, a young man of about 25 years. We are also introduced to the regional chief. The rest of the day goes by like a dream. The children are playful for the most part but some watch us quite seriously. I have a long talk with Eloy. He shows me his home and I show him pictures of mine. Before we climbed the log to his house, he called up to his wife. He hesitated a minute and then we went up. The wife was just finishing a quick tidy up of the place, picking up some kids clothes and putting them away. I guess things are the same everywhere. Rose would have a fit if I just dropped by with a guest before she had a chance to tidy up. He is very friendly and we manage O.K. despite language problems.
We are shown a selection of baskets and wood carvings that are beautiful. We paid asking price and spent a bundle. I hope my purchases make it home O.K.
The village had a meeting to discuss our stay and tourism in general. Hernan says that they have a meeting every time anything at all happens and discuss things at length. It took an hour or so and they let us stay. The reason that they haven’t had visitors in two years, per Hernan, is "People don’t come down this way much anymore."
We rest and walk and play with the kids. I blew up a balloon and let it float over the side and down to the ground. The kids went after it, of course, but then they brought it back and carefully put it back with the rest of my things.
About 4:00 PM John and Henry had a pickup game of basketball with the local talent. The hoop is set Indian size so John did pretty well, being over six feet tall. The local guys are great players, the game being a favorite pastime around here.
Some of the local ladies did some dances for us. The had to use an oil container for a drum because theirs had been eaten by mice. They were very embarrassed but danced anyway. They did the Shrimp Dance, the Tapir Dance, the White Faced Monkey Dance and others. They were great. One of the women had her whole body, from the neck down , painted blue, a local cosmetic thing. Bob did a hacky sack demonstration for the kids and was a big hit. The binoculars were a big hit, too. Everyone wanted to try them out.
The most durable buildings in town are the school and the health clinic. These are provided for every village by the government. Eloy says that every child gets six years of school. We have a couple of Pipas (Cocos) and retire to supper, an Indian dish of chicken stew over rice. Great.
The village of 600 is spotless. The children are sweet and great fun. The people are wonderful and this is a peak experience. The trip paid for itself today.
Hernan and Henry both pack side arms but they kept them out of sight today. They look pretty formidable and that’s a comfort considering what Hernan describes ahead.
Henry is an interesting character. He is from a military family and attended the Panamanian Military Academy. He did not take a commission because he opposed the Noriega government. He is a jungle paramedic, one of thirty in Panama. He teaches jungle survival and medicine to teams from many countries. It is reassuring to have him along.
We sleep al fresco, no mosquitoes here.
3 /4
Awoke this morning to the sound of roosters at about 0100, 0200, 0300 & 0400. There was a radio on loud at about 0430 for some unknown reason. The floor was harder than it looked and my rolled up air mat makes a lousy pillow but everyone was settled by the time I figured all this out. Otherwise I slept O.K.
I awoke feeling refreshed. I had a strange sensation of being half awake and thinking that being in a Choco-Embara village in the Darien was a dream. I really woke up and here I am, with the sounds of a waking village all around me. Had a great breakfast of fried eggs, fried plantains and village coffee that is grown, picked, roasted and ground here, great stuff. Hernan scored us a couple of pounds to take home. Packed up and found that we had to wait awhile for the tide.
Had a nice chat with Alberto Rice(?). He is trying to learn English from two mimeograph sheets and a small workbook. We got as much practice in as we could for him. I promise to send him down a dictionary. With no visitors in two years, they don’t ask for much. Hernan had a long palaver with the area chief and the upshot is that they will allow more groups in. I guess we did O.K. Did not see Eloy this A.M. and learn that he left early this morning to do business in La Palma. I have not seen him since the dancers and I hope he was not too humiliated by the drum being ruined. Oh well.
We could leave Bob here and he’d be perfectly happy. He seems to have fallen in love with the place. We finally got our tide and headed out in our overloaded boat for Pta. Allegria. We find a tienda that sells cold cokes before we head back to the beach to launch the pirogue. This is a dugout made of a single log and is about thirty feet long. The Indian that is hitching a ride from us says it takes about a month to make one. It seems more seaworthy than the motor launch that we’ve been using. It is heavy, though, and it takes about ten of us to get it into the water. We are off across the Gulf of San Miguel and into the Tuira River with a quick stop in La Palma for beer and to drop off our rider. The rider is the son of a medicine man and knows something of the art. He names a plant for every ailment that I can name.
The Tuira is about a mile wide at this point and is a tidal estuary. The tide is against us and we guys in back get a pretty good bath from the spray. The sun is brutal and I’m glad for the long pants and long sleeve shirt. We pass a couple of schools of dolphins and one or two other boats but after awhile there is only us and the river. We pass an occasional household but see no people. This is a jungle river experience. We stop for lunch at a hut that we determine to be an abandoned lumber loading camp. Not much there but we do get out into the jungle. Neat spiders and crabs and trees and Bob gets to hear his first howler monkeys in the wild. Wild sounding things they are, sounding more like a jaguar than a monkey ought. Hernan does a great imitation. Did some target shooting with the 10mm I did not disgrace myself though I haven’t shot a pistol in a couple of decades. Had a fine lunch of green pipas, chicken and a bland root called Yucca. More Indian food.
We set out when the sun is down a bit. Hernan is worried about the effects of the tropical sun on us and rightfully so. Bob chooses to ignore the warnings. We are proceeding well and the river narrows and we see a few more pirogues about. Hernan says that the surrounding country is so inhospitable in the rainy season that not even Indians will live there. The whole area turns into an impassable swamp. I am reflecting on the fact that we were in a nearly empty land and had not seen a motorized craft in a couple of hours when we hit a submerged snag and knocked the motor off of the transom into the river. Seems the locals keep a rope tied to the motor for just such emergencies . With considerable effort it is retrieved. We then learn that our captain has no paddle and no tool kit and cannot restart the engine. We are not far from El Real but we are getting farther by the minute. Finally, using only a machete, Roberto removes the spark plugs to dry and gets us going.
The river narrows more and Hernan says that it is similar to the upper Amazon in size, color(brown), vegetation and habitation at this point. We can see the Pierre Mountains, our destination, in the distance. Here the river has a different look, more like what we think of as jungle, with philodendron like plants and bushy trees hanging over the water.
We reach El Real near dark. We pass several pirogues with black fishermen and after we pass two proud looking black women in a pirogue, Hernan declares them to be "Jungle Blacks" or Black Darienites, one of the three major ethnic groups of the Darien. Apparently they live in isolated households in the jungle.
El Real is unreal. If you were to imagine a frontier jungle town from the movies, this might be it. Old ramshackle wooden buildings on narrow streets, I find it beautiful. There is a mass going on in the Catholic Church on the Square and the music is a mix of jungle drums and tambourine, entrancing. There are no roads into town and it is mostly black with a few Indians. It was founded about 1600. We are the only Gringos in town, that makes three days since we’ve seen any, I like that. The main forms of entertainment seems to be church and a running Bingo game on the main street. Bob does some dance moves and stirs up the local ladies at the Bingo game, they call out their appreciation and declare him another member of the group Menudo. We will stay the night here and I am glad of it, though I hear Hernan negotiate horses for 0630. Bummer. We have a supper of chicken and fried plantains ( do I detect a trend here?). We stop at a general store for supplies and listen to a nearby Pentecostal prayer meeting for awhile. Then I’m off to bed, as is our guide while the three youngsters are off to check out the local action.
Our hotel is hard to describe, but I’ll try. It’s a two story made of rough wood with a balcony over the street. There is no running water but the "showers" contain fifty gallon barrels with dippers to pour over yourself. There is another bucket to pour into the toilet. The walls are so termite eaten that I find one spot where the only thing left is paint with no wood behind it. The lights have no switch and you screw them on and off. Rustic is being generous. Our guide says that if we smell smoke, to dive head first out the nearest window, second story or no, as the building will burn to the ground in about two minutes.
3 /5
Breakfast at 0630 and soon our packs and equipment are strapped to the horses and we’re off. The phone office is open as we pass but there seems to be no time to stop, as it takes some time to place a call from here. Stopped at the local police station to give them our itinerary. The first bridge out of town was collapsed and we saw nothing but foot and horse traffic beyond. There are a few vehicles in El Real, brought in by boat during the rainy season. Passed some small farms near town. At one interesting junction we saw Campesinos, black Darienites and Choco Indians within a few yards, a microcosm of the local population. We passed in to secondary jungle. We passed a small group in the process of clearing a slash and burn plot, yelling and hooting as they slashed, as is the custom. Saw a few more life birds on the way, of course they are nearly all life birds here.
We moved on at a pretty good pace and I soon realized that my feet were in trouble. I had left my first aid kit in my bag that was tied to a horse that was nowhere in sight. Oh, well. My shoes had gotten wet yesterday and had not dried in this humidity. On all of my break-in hikes it had never occurred to me to wear them wet.
We passed Pierre Dos, a small collection of houses that are about half of them abandoned. We are passing through a combination of lowland jungle and grass lands and soon we pass Pierre Uno. Here we enter a buffer zone of ranch land that boarders the park. This is classic lowland jungle and pretty exotic. It is mature secondary jungle. We pass into primary jungle and it is like entering heaven. Vines hang, ferns sprout from the ground and hang from above and shafts of golden light filter down through the canopy of leaves above. The trees are as large as redwoods but much younger. Every surface is covered with growth of some kind, vines, bromeliads, ferns, trees, a riot of life.
We arrive at Pierre Station and I am grateful to get to a creek and get my feet in. I’ve done serious damage, blisterwise, to both feet. We find that a small party from ANCON is already there, a technician, his assistant and two rangers working with them. The assistant is female and has our room. No problem, we set up cots in a nearby palapa. I go down to the creek and wash up, do laundry and soak my feet. The tub is some rocks in a circle in the creek and it works quite well.
Hernan proposes a walk to the falls and though my feet are sore, I have to go. We passed by some advanced pioneer growth, filling a tree fall. The taller pioneers are hollow to allow fast growth, one seedling, barely four feet tall is already infected with epiphytes and circled by a vine. No quarter is given in the fight for this patch of sunlight.
The falls are beautiful, if not spectacular in the dry season. We are in a gorge surrounded by jungle. There is a beautiful pool at the bottom of the falls. We climb up a rock wall at the side of the falls and slide down them, great fun. Saw my first poison dart frog, bright blue and black. We hang around the top of the fall and John tries to slide down another fall above us and finds the rock at the bottom with his butt. Hernan had a fit. When he calms down he tells us that a guides worst nightmare is broken bones. John is O.K. and we take turns sliding down the lower fall. Great.
Back at camp we have a great supper of pigtails and lentils, a local delicacy prepared well by Henry. I liked it a lot. Bob didn’t care for it much. To sleep to jungle noises and the slap of the cooks playing Dominos.
3 /6
Slept well and awoke rested. The feet feel much better but I do not relish the hike back tomorrow. Bob has some dry shoes for me so I’ll make the best of it. We make a second day hike into the primary jungle with our guide doing naturalist duties. We move at a relaxed pace and it is a comfortable walk. I saw another poison dart frog, black and yellow and a leaf toad, so called for the pattern of his camouflage. I think I got a picture of the toad. Also saw a Jesus Christ lizard, named for it’s ability to run across the surface of the water. I did not get to see it run today. Henry sprayed some disinfectant on my feet and allows that they might be O.K. Still, I will not take the second hike to the falls this afternoon. Guess we’ll just have to see how I do from here on.
A couple of Indian girls came to camp to sell baskets and we have to get some more. I got a picture of my blue-painted basket weaver. Hope it turns out.
The weather station engineer is having a fit because no one will send a horse for him from El Real. He argued with the local rangers and then got on the radio and tried to pull rank on the local supervisor, seeing as how the engineer comes from H.Q. Hernan says that he heard the local guy say over the radio that no desk jockey is going to come to the Darien and order him around and told the engineer to get his own sorry ass down the mountain. The engineer was stunned and is still here, probably not sure how to get back but unwilling to walk. He walked.
While the guys were at the falls, I took a walk down to the creek and back through the jungle. At the creek I got a couple of photo shots of poison dart frogs and another leaf toad shot. Sat for a bit by the creek and started back through the jungle, stepping like an old woman, looking for snakes. Saw none. I was sitting by the creek next to camp, meditating, when Hernan gave me a call. It seems that at the top of the falls a Fer de Lance was coiled and about to strike just as Bob was about to grab the branch above it. John saw the snake and yelled and Bob leaped to safety. The Fer de Lance is the most feared snake in the Darien. There was an ANCON ranger from H.Q. with them and he forbade them to kill it. As soon as he left with the engineer for El Real, the local boys hot footed it back to the falls to kill the snake with machetes and gasoline. I agree heartily with Hernan that a Fer de Lance along the trail should not be molested, but one hanging around the swimming hole is another thing completely. Thank God I still have a son. I wish the hunting party luck so that the next people through might be spared so intense a nature experience.
The crew just came back with the snake. It was, indeed, a Fer de Lance and it was waiting for them at the same spot, a good hand-hold at the top of the falls.
3/ 7
Slept well. We continue to sleep outside so we are right in there with all of the jungle noises. We had a good breakfast of oatmeal and fried plantains and head down the hill. My feet are some better today but our guide is keeping a furious pace. I pretty much bring up the rear except for Henry. He is the rear guard wherever we go. When the boys went into El Real, he went with and had his gun. I didn’t worry about Bob that night. Still, I manage to keep up O.K.. The end of the hike was a sort of hell. We were walking through the park buffer zone in the heat of day. Since this is not jungle but farm and ranch land (slash & burn) there is little shade. I count the landmarks into town and am just starting to get nauseous when we spotted the telephone antenna and the thought of cold Pepsi spurs me on. We pass the phone office and Bob checks but there is no international service from El Real. Oh, well. I am soon seated in the shade, cold Pepsi in hand and all is well with the world. Bob and John head for the Cantina but I just sit. I’ve found that the old feet are just fine as long as I keep moving. Once I stop it is hard to get moving again.
We had a very nice lunch of chicken, macaroni, rice and, of course, plantain. These plantains were roasted and taste sort of like sweet potatoes. Hernan is ticked off because the plantains are not fried. I prefer them roasted.
Everyone wants to talk about the Fer de Lance, the story is all over town.
Everything is ready for the pirogue trip up to Boca de Cupe so we pick up the cantina crew and move on. This pirogue is smaller than the last. It draws about eight inches and has about three to five inches of freeboard, depending on which way we lean. The craft does not inspire confidence. We later learn that our captain, Chicho Bristan, is a legend in the Darien, an early explorer and a long time pirogue captain. I wish I had known this when we were on the water. We pass a large logging camp with a large transport craft and many huge logs on the shore. I think they have to wait for the rains to move the logs, too shallow now. The river is very low and the eight inches we draw is enough for us to bottom out frequently. A boy stands at the front of the craft with a pole. Chicho studied each section of the river at a standing idle for a moment and then proceeds. The boys job is to steer us away from danger with the pole. If he stands with pole up out of the water, we proceed at full bore. If he starts to pole the water it indicates shallows, the side away from where he is polling being the deeper water. Together they got us through, though we shipped water once when we hit a sand bank. Nerve wracking travel.
The rivers are the roads of the Darien. The trucks are large pirogues with whole families and loaded down with yams or plantains. The busses are like ours, filled with people off to some place. The personal cars have a family or individuals either floating easily down river or polling painfully up. The smaller pirogues are all self propelled. All we pass seem astonished to see us and wave and yell. The children swim out toward the boat, laughing and waving. We are still the only Gringos we’ve seen since we left Panama City. We pass several huts of black and Indian families and several villages of same. There seem to be no Campisinos here. We passed one hut where there were several small pirogues in various stages of construction. The river gets shallower still and finally we pull to the shore with no town in sight. The boy jumps out and we are told that he will lead us overland while the pirogue negotiates the shallows. We tramp through a mixture of jungle and small plots of crops and suddenly we arrive at the shore, directly across the river from Boca de Cupe.
We cross the river to a hostile reception. There are several police and soldiers standing around with M-16’s and glaring at us. One pulls Hernan to one side and several non-coms and an officer study Hernan’s papers for about half an hour. We learn that they are a cautious because Colombian guerrillas overran the village last November and five bandits had been tracked and captured nearby last month. They have reinforced the towns garrison and are still a bit jumpy. They refuse us permission to camp in the countryside and insist that we proceed directly to Cruz de Mono(Cross of the Monkey) Station. We will, and considering all we’ve heard, I’m not too disappointed.
We spend a quiet night in the goldfish bowl with the local kids crowding around to see gringos. There’s really nothing else for them to do. We looked. There was an interesting Pentecostal meeting going on with lots of yelling and crying but that was the only other show in town. The "hotel" makes us long for the comfort of El Real. You can see the ground through the floor and the bugs come right on in and make themselves at home. The shower is a barrel of river water and a dipper and I had to scoop a gecko out of it before I could begin my much needed bath. The toilet hole is in the shower room out back and is foul.
We got a further update on the guerrillas. About thirty of them took the town for the sole purpose of kidnapping a local customs official that they had a score to settle with. They usually only use the Darien for rest when the Colombian Army action gets too hot. They don’t usually cause trouble because it would mess up their hidey-hole. The agent hasn’t been seen since and no ransom was asked for. Also heard that the Colombian Army is a tough bunch. Around Christmas they destroyed an entire Colombian town, not far from here, from the air. They killed men, women and children with no survivors because the town was a known refuge for guerrillas and bandits. At least that’s the local story.
One young lad asks me how many we are and where we are going. I change the subject.
3 /8
Up early and I’m feeling better, always do in the morning. We have a light breakfast and head out fairly early, having contracted new pack horses last night. We pass a lot of farm plots, plantains, mostly. Any hope of dry feet is quickly squelched by a river crossing that happens at the edge of town. Oh, well. The river meanders and we go straight so we cross the Cupe River about six times during the day. We stop at the Choco-Embarre village of Lepe. Hernan is Sad to see that it has been largely abandoned with about half the residents gone. There does not seem to be much energy in this village but the kids are still sweet. I broke out a bag of candy and they liked that a lot. They also liked the jaw harp. I saw a kind of neat necklace on one of the little girls so I traded mom for one of the shell necklaces that I’d brought along. Mom immediately produced another, much finer necklace, so I traded the other shell necklace. The Indian necklaces were of peccary teeth, very primitive. They seemed quite pleased with the shells, there’s not many of those in the forest. A good trade was had by all.
We waited for awhile to get news of the Harpy eagle nest but are told that it is empty. The side trip to see one of the rarest birds in the world would have added some miles to our trip so I wasn’t too disappointed.
The way is now up, sometimes very up. The high humidity is a real curse and I am pretty tired. Still the forest becomes increasingly beautiful as we pass into secondary and then primary rain forest. We are following the bed of a narrow gage railroad the used to carry ore from the gold mine at Cana to the river. You can still see the rusted rail in spots. Unfortunately they made their bridges of wood so they are long gone and we cross each ravine by climbing. We hit a set of pretty good hills and my body finally says "enough" and starts an attack of hives. The benedryl is in my big bag so Henry and I sit by the trail and wait until it comes along. The packers take down the bag and after about fifteen minutes I feel well enough to continue. We reach the station of Cruz de Mono soon after and I take a welcome soak in the creek, though my feet protest bitterly at the water. We have a fine supper of lentils and pig tails and after a good talk and hot chocolate we turn in for a good nights rest.
These Arrierros or packers are expert, being descended from the packers that worked for the mine. They’re able to pack and unpack a horse in minutes. They do not coddle the horses and they give a good whack with the flat of their machete if one misbehaves. The also yell at them a lot if they stray. The saying is "A good Arrierro has no brake on his tongue." Hernan’s father interviewed one of the arrierros from the mine in 1960. He was an old man, the mine having closed in 1912. The old man said, sadly, that the route to Cana once had ranches and farms and towns on the way but that all had returned to the jungle. He said "This land has a curse on it, nothing good ever lasts." I hope that he is wrong because the Darien National park is good. Modern Mining methods might make the mine profitable and logging these huge hardwoods that surround us certainly would be. I hope this good thing lasts.
3 /9
A rest day at Cruz de Mono. A very pretty spot in the middle of the jungle. Spent most of the day sitting and giving the feet a rest for the big push to Cana tomorrow. Bob lost and regained part of his sunburn. He’s having a wonderful time with the sun after a Leadville winter.
A little before lunch the camp cooks had some fun chasing a chicken. Then they went down to the station garden and brought back some Yucca. In a bit we had some chicken and yucca soup that was just great. They added some lentils and rice from last night and we had a feast for lunch.
My water pump came in handy. They had expected good water here but the river, being low and slow, was deemed unsafe. My little filter is now supplying water for us all, saving the laborious task of boiling our water a pot at a time.
Got a fine look at a Chestnut Billed Toucan. My first good look at a toucan in the wild. There were other birds but that was the best. Stayed pretty much out of the water as the local fish are very aggressive and give pretty good nips. Our guide says that it is not wise for a man to swim in this water without a suit. A grand day.
3 /10
Slept fitfully and awoke early, probably due to some fearful anticipation of the day ahead. After the hive attack on top of the foot problems, I fear that my confidence is shaken a bit. I feel pretty good this morning though and am packed up and ready to go in plenty of time to give my feet a good washing and plenty of antibiotic salve. We have a good breakfast of fry bread and peanut butter and jelly and I carbo up, suspecting that my poor appetite on the morning of the eighth may have contributed to my problems. We head out at our usual pace and I have no problem keeping up today.
The rail bed is barely recognizable here for it is overgrown and the way is not always clear. Though we are spread out along the trail, we can always see some member of the group and vigilant Henry is always there at the rear. We spend a lot of time together.
The arrierros have an interesting technique. For the most part the horse goes first and drags its rope along. There is only one path through the jungle and the horse knows the way. The arrierro only has to keep up and, occasionally, remind the horse of it’s duty. This may not sound like much but after a couple of days of trying to keep up with these horses, I’m impressed. Chinche (Bug), our head wrangler, usually makes this trip in one day. Every step I take increases my respect for this wiry little man. Hernan has total respect for him. He says you could drop Chinche into the jungle naked with nothing but a machete and he would do just fine.
We pass an army ant swarm and watch the birds feeding on the insects that are trying to escape it. The prettiest bird is the Oscillated Ant Bird, a lovely creature with a brilliant blue patch on his face. The feel of the jungle changes from moment to moment with shifts in vegetation and light and humidity. All is beautiful.
We pass an arboreal ant nest but Hernan just points it out an presses relentlessly on. I think it would have been fun to study a bit. There is a troupe of White Faced Monkeys and Bob gets a pretty good look. We can hear spider monkeys howling.
My feet are wet again. There is no shortage of rivers to cross. Bob’s High Techs are starting to loosen at the heel. They finally lose it completely in a bog and I’m forced back into my boots. They do not seem too bad.
We stop at a beautiful waterfall for lunch and I go for the fry-bread again as the morning has gone so well. We have crossed several challenging grades and I’m still keeping up just fine. We pass several fine vistas of the river below but my favorite spot of the day is Butterfly Lane. It is a shady grade, narrow and overgrown, beneath a high canopy of trees. Everywhere you look are beautiful butterflies flitting along in the sun dappled shade. Another peak experience.
Finally the horses break into a trot and I know that they smell the barn. The trail is wide and groomed here. We finally round a bend into Cana and it is a beautiful spot. The forest is cleared here for the mine and it is a perfect environment for many birds as it is planted with flowers and fruit trees. Still, I am too tired to do much more than make it to supper, do mine feet and journal a bit. We will rest here today and tomorrow and then head up to the cloud forest. When we have done this we will have been the first group to visit all of the major ecosystems of the Darien, from the coastal mangroves to the cloud forest in one trip overland. Off to sleep.
3/ 11
A quiet day spent around camp. Cana is a luxurious place compared to what we’ve had until now. It is a major birding destination with the birders coming in by small plane from Panama City.
This being a major birding destination, means we have amenities that we have not seen for some time. There are showers and flush toilets. We eat with regular silverware off of real plates. In the jungle camps it was often fried plantains and some sort of mystery meat dish that was just edible but consumed with great relish by our guides and the local staff. I’m afraid that I really don’t care for fried plantains all that much and yucca is just that and edible only in a soup or sauce. The only dish on the trail that I really enjoyed was pigtails in lentils on rice. Breakfast here was wonderful with scrambled eggs, cheese, raisin bran, melon, juice and coffee and not a plantain in sight.
Panned for gold in the creek with John and he was ecstatic when I was able to pick out three specks of gold from the pan for him. You need a magnifying glass to see them but he doesn’t mind at all.
Saw Macaws and parrots up close today. There were many other birds for my life list.
We walked up to the mine. The jungle is taking it over and it is a little eerie. They just walked away and left everything sitting. It’s slowly melting back into the mountain.
Heard peccaries right outside last night and was glad to be sleeping indoors. These are White Lipped Peccaries and very aggressive. Have been pulling ticks off all day, they get along well with the chiggers that have been with us since Pierre Station. I guess there’s a price to pay for this paradise. Tomorrow it’s up early for the final push to the cloud forest. This is supposed to be a very slow, if steep, climb and I’m looking forward to it.
3/12
Well, I was half right. The climb was steep. I think, though, that I have found Hernan’s weakness because the higher we went, the slower he went with many stops. Finally, near the summit, I passed him. He came wandering into camp a half hour behind us with some story about having to stop to go to the bathroom. Uh huh.
We were stopped on the trail by a large heard of White Lipped Peccaries that crossed in front of us. Henry was in front with his gun drawn. Apparently if they charge, they all charge at once but gunfire will scare them off. The tensest moment was when I went to take a photo and forgot that my flash was on. A large boar stopped and studied us for a full thirty seconds before deciding to move on. There were probably about sixty in the band but since we were in deep forest they could not charge as a group. Still, it was scary enough.
The cloud forest camp is a beautiful place, deep in the jungle. We were greeted upon arrival by a large band of howlers roaring in the jungle with the rest of the band chattering nearby. We saw much sign of jaguar on the way up, scat and scratching logs. Hernan says that on their last trip a jaguar walked right through the middle of camp in the night. I took the tent next to Henry as he has the gun. Just kidding (sort of). There are more ticks than ever but it seems a small price to pay for such a spot. I think I like the jungle a lot.
Took a walk up the trail to the top of the ridge and met John on the way. I’m taking lots of pictures of plants and fungi for Rose. We see a group of Spider Monkeys and watch them but are careful not to let them get directly overhead. They have a rep for doing nasty things to intruders from above.
Bob has been taking a nap so I wake him for a good supper. We take another walk to see the monkeys but they’re gone. We do get to examine a jaguar scratching post. Very impressive, the grooves are an inch or more deep. That’s a lot of power. We return to camp to find a band of Howlers right above camp. Dad leads the way and mom follows with a baby on her back. They give us a couple of whoops in greeting. I join the guys for a celebratory cigar marking the end of the journey. Now all that’s left is to get down the mountain in one piece. A great day.
3/13
Woke this morning to the sound of Howler Monkeys. This was apparently last nights group moving off. Bob says he prefers it to roosters. We heard roosters in every village and station camp from Mogue to Cruz de Mono. Cana was the first place we were spared them. Chicken is both a food and entertainment staple in the Darien. We did not see a cock fight on our trip though it could have been arranged easily. I sure didn’t push for it.
We had a hearty breakfast of steak and eggs confirming the superiority of Cana food. We decide to head right out in order to have time for a shower before the 1100 plane. Sure enough the trip back is easier and faster, being down hill. I dog it a bit, though, being stubborn about getting some plant shots. We are surrounded by rare and beautiful plants and I want to record some. We pass a small group of spider monkeys so Bob gets to observe the aggressive behavior and run for cover when the mono tries to position himself overhead.
I get my shower and finish packing. The plane comes in and it is decided to ferry us in two groups to El Real since this is a grass strip and we are pushing the load limit of the plane anyway. The pilot is something of a hot dog so we get an exciting trip to El Real with a couple of dramatic banks added that didn’t seem to be necessary. Hernan is not sure That the plane can get us all and our equipment back to Panama City safely. I think his confidence was shaken when his seat broke as he got into the plane. In any case, he makes the spot decision to leave Henry behind for the commercial flight tomorrow. This means goodbye to Henry and it’s tough. Though only two weeks together, we’ve grown fond of him and his good nature. As I was always the slowest we got a lot of chance to talk. Today, on the way back to Cana, I quizzed him on the social strata of Panama. He says at the top there is "The Circle" of prominent Hispanic families. These have lots of money and a proper name. Below these come the rich without the name and a sort of a second, Jewish, circle that is as closed as The Circle. The only way for those rich on the second tier to enter The Circle is through marriage. Then you are a part of, but not really. Your children are in. The second tier is made up of all races and is determined by wealth. After that comes the middle class, which is growing. Then come the poor. Racially status is generally Hispanic, black, Indian, though the jungle blacks are lumped at the bottom with the Indians. For the average worker to be comfortably in the middle class requires two jobs. As a paramedic he makes $450 or about what a lieutenant in the national police makes. He pegs "comfortable" at about $1000 a month.
Hernan grumbles about our plane, saying that his whole life is spent going from hole to hole in one shitty plane after another. I think he’s tired. He’s also peeved because he has to meet a Nature Conservancy of Connecticut tour early tomorrow morning. "Little old lady bird watchers" as he calls them. I would truly like to see his manner with them. He’s been the raunchy jungle man with us and I’m sure he must undergo a complete transformation. We make Panama O.K. and find we’ve been flying on King Crab Air. I kid you not.
Panama City is a bit of a culture shock. We get cleaned up with some Necco Blue soap which is supposed to kill ticks and chiggers. I got a 50% kill rate on the two ticks I spot on me as I wash.
We go out for seafood and meet Louisa, Hernan’s little girl. She is about six and a charmer. We also meet another guide who will show us around Panama tomorrow. Bob, John and our new guide are off to start their tour tonight. I understand that it’s ladies night at one of the local clubs. I’m off to bed.
3/14
Took a walk around town this A.M. while Bob slept. He came in at about dawn. Panama seems to be a city rebuilding itself. Old buildings are being torn down and new built up all over. I read awhile and then it’s time for our city tour.
We pick up yet another guide, a pleasant young man. As we are heading into town I mention that we are passing through a pretty rough looking part of town. This quiet, well groomed, sharply dressed young man assures me that it’s very rare to have problems in the daytime and besides, and he pats himself near the armpit, he never goes anywhere without his gun. Some country.
Saw parts of town and the locks and did some shopping. When we got back to the office I find that the tour is included but was not done yesterday because of the flight mix-up. Or maybe they’re just being nice, I don’t know.
Our guide says that there have been two building booms. Both to launder money. The first was in condos but they over built and the market folded. Now it’s office buildings and that’s going strong. Panama is building itself as a financial center, off shore banking.
His opinion is that Noriega was our man from the get go and that we always knew what he was up to. He pegs the death toll of Operation Just Cause at about 2000 with about half of those from the rioting and looting after the operation. He says we pretty much destroyed the internal organization if the country and left it in a state of anarchy. It was an interesting discussion.
Called Rose in the P.M. and that was nice. Bob called Isabelle. John called and said that his pictures were back from the overnight place and we should go see them. The meeting place was a bar and I was a bit uncomfortable so I flip through the photos, drink my coke and scat, leaving Bob and John on their own. Another late night for Bob, I’ll wager. I finally locate an English speaking AA meeting and make it there though it costs me more than it ought for the taxi. The meeting was just what I needed and I feel great now. Funny how that works. The town is rocking this Friday night but I am content to go to bed. A good day.
3/15
A casual restful day. Bob got in at dawn again. I read a bit and had a slow breakfast and went to the gym to use up my free pass. Had a pretty good workout. Went over to Mac Donald’s for lunch with Bob. He’s looking pretty beat but seems intent on making the most of his stay in Panama in his own way. He’s looking forward to a concert tonight. I went back to the A. Colonia to take some pictures of the local busses. They are masterpieces of folk art. Had a good time. Hired a cab to go back down town to take a few shots of the other side of Panama. That used to be the part of town I’d stay in. I no longer feel comfortable in that environment. My clothes and camera mark me as a target. I really feel no loss. Spent a quiet afternoon reading next to the pool. Time to pack.
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