I awoke at midnight to very loud bangs from very nearby. Upon further investigation, I found the sky alight with fireworks and crackers going off in the street. Evidently, Christmas Eve is the most important time of the year for Panamanians with families gathering together for gift exchanges, feasting and Midnight Mass, prior to a pyrotechnic free-for-all which can be seen all over town. Children were letting off crackers with scant regard for finger maintenance, whilst more sophisticated chrysanthemums bloomed across the night sky. I found the source of my rapid rousing to be mere meters away from my dorm room; adding to the Christmas cacophony. Eventually, the night settled and bed again beckoned.
Vive Panamá!
As I had been on the road a week by this stage, it was time to do a bit of washing. I prefer to do my own so sourced a bucket to give everything a good sluice and soak. Then it was time to find somewhere for brunch. A Jewish bakery down the road fit the bill with tasty food and good coffee. Christmas Day for local Panamanians is usually spent recovering from the late night fervour of the previous evening so the town was fairly quiet. As the weather was a bit iffy, I didn’t want to wander too far from my washing so had a fairly relaxing afternoon back at my lodgings.
Christmas in Boquete.
Later in the afternoon, my dorm roomies returned from their respective days’ out and we also welcomed some new inmates. A few of us decided to wander down to the main square to check out the Christmas light display. As did half of Boquete! The previous 24 hours of quiet were well and truly over. Families gathered in the main square and wandered around the festive exhibits. The whole ambiance being one of festival frivolity and a lovely way to finish an extremely quiet Christmas.
I decided to head to the more touristy town of Boquete to spend Christmas. There I would find other travellers in the same situation as myself – away from family and friends. I have found this is the best option for me as I still find it somewhat difficult even though I don’t really celebrate Christmas and am away travelling most the time. That, and the 13 hour time difference making it difficult to connect with back home. Being with a ‘tribe’ of likeminded folks helps alleviate any disconcerting feelings.
Cultivated fields on the edge of the Nature Reserve
After checking out of my little hospedatje, I found the bus that would take me deeper into the mountains. The road up into the Cerro Punta valley winds through a narrow canyon with small streams cascading down the almost sheer walls in places. All being shrouded in lush vegetation. After a while, the canyon opens up into a wider valley patch-worked with tiny fields of crops. On the fringes of these little farmlets lies the Parque Internacional La Amistad, a 4000 sq km UNESCO World Heritage Site which stretches over both Costa Rica and Panama; its dark interior contrasting with the bright cultivation spread before it.
Indigenous housing. Guadalupe.
I hopped off the bus at the tiny hamlet of Guadalupe which is as far as the road goes in that direction. Modest little houses and plant nurseries line one of the two streets that form the village centre, with a small selection of shops lining the other. Sun-baked farmers tend their crops while a group of indigenous women in traditional dress peddle eggs from a makeshift stall. A cluster of hombres gather on the street junction and convivially engage in conversation. A car slowly makes its way along the road with the driver gently guiding a horse trotting alongside it.
How to move a horse – Panama style
The bus took an alternate route through farmland back to the main road, then back down to Volcán. I decided to stop in Volcán for a coffee and toilet break so I wasn’t ‘caught short’ on the lengthy trip down to David for the next leg of my journey. As luck would have it, my bladder decided to mix things up a bit and was most insistent upon our approach to David. With nowhere to stop and just having to wait until we got to the bus terminal, I told the bus assistant I would be exiting as soon as we arrived and would have to come back for my pack which was at that stage tied onto the roof of the bus. It was then that a desperate Aussie banshee was unleashed on the unsuspecting folk at the David Bus Terminal, escrying ‘baño’, ‘baño’! Eventually, I was pointed in the right direction and the very helpful señora in charge opened the disabled cubicle for me. Reckoned she thought it easier to clean that than any resultant puddle that might arise with any further delay. Crisis averted, I then returned for my pack where the bus assistant was duly waiting for me.
Vegetable stand. Cerró Punta
From there it was a pleasant hour long bus ride back up the mountains to Boquete. I located my hostel, dumped my pack, and found a lovely little restaurant to have my Christmas Eve dinner.
After the chaos of the previous day, it was time to decompress. And a nice wander in the countryside works wonders in that department. I had found mention of an archeological site in the guidebook which sounded interesting so decided on that. The site was only 7kms away on a road which wound through a valley leading out of town.
Everyone obeys the stop signs in this part of town.
Volcan is not a large town so it didn’t take long to leave its bustle behind and embrace the relative quiet of the countryside. The road out to Sitio Barriles meanders through a verdant valley, resplendent with dairy cows and the occasional horse tranquilly grazing. At approximately 1400m above sea level, Volcan is firmly positioned in the Cloud Forest zone. Soft green mosses and lichen layer themselves upon every wooden surface, while vibrant bromeliads and other epiphytes jostle for position to nestle in the embrace of a tree. The air mists and dense clouds cloak the surrounding peaks. Tiny hummingbirds flutter in the bushes while the ubiquitous black vultures peruse all from above.
No room at the inn on this tree.
Walking on rural Central American back roads is not for the faint-hearted. The narrow lanes are marked almost to the edge of the tarmac leaving 15-20 cms max for the ‘shoulder’. From there, it’s usually a steepish drop down to a drain which may or may not be heavily vegetated. Fortunately, you can hear oncoming traffic early enough to find somewhere to place yourself just out of harm’s way. The locals are used to encountering the occasional pedestrian on the road so all-in-all it’s a relatively safe practice so long as you have your wits about you.
Peek-a-boo!
Sitio Barriles is one of only a few important archeologist sites in Panama. Unlike its northern Central American neighbours, Panama has relatively little to show from its early inhabitation. While the Aztecs and Mayan used stone to build their monoliths, the pre-Colombian indigenous chose the more ephemeral option of wood and other vegetative matter which did not stand the test of time; especially when exposed to the advancing jungle. That, and the fact that anything of any major significance was quickly whisked out of the country by the foreign entities who ‘discovered’ it, led to a dearth of remaining artefacts. Such was also the case with Sitio Barriles, however a few significant artefacts now grace the property and the excavation block from the last investigation in 2001 has been left open for the public to view.
Large statue excavated from site.
Though there was little to see from an archaeological perspective, the property had been transformed into a lush botanical garden with a riot of colourful vegetation. Little paths meandered through the jungle on both sides of a stream bank and I managed to spend a very pleasant hour exploring the grounds. Unfortunately, I had come on a day when there was not a guide available to interpret the site and open the tiny museum, however, I still relished the experience. And the discounted entry fee for having to ‘self guide’.
Part of botanical gardens.
Upon arrival back in town, I decided to check out a local ‘hole-in-the-wall’ kitchen recommended in the guidebook. ‘El Tamalito’ did not disappoint and I paid only USD7 for a very filling and exceptionally tasty plate of traditional fare consisting of pork, rice, beans, plantains and salad. That, and the half price mojitos at USD2.50 rounded off a highly enjoyable day.
You know that moment when you have that slow, horrible realisation that you have f***ed up in a major way? Well, that was me this morning. As I walked back up to the border to catch a bus to start my Panamanian adventure, I thought to myself, “Did I actually officially leave Costa Rica yesterday??” The answer to that question was unfortunately a terrifying NO. As I had entered the country the previous day, it wasn’t just a matter of sneaking over the remarkably leaky border, officially exiting Costa Rica and continuing on my way. I had to do things properly.
Quirky display in garden of lodgings.
Back at Panama Immigration, I tried to explain the situation and the fact that I needed to officially exit Panama to be able to officially exit Costa Rica, then re-enter Panama again. I was told that the exiting side of Panama was shut and that I would need to take a taxi to the ‘other office’ five kilometres down the Costa Rican road. I explained I didn’t have enough money for that and that the Panamanian ATMs were at present emptier than a politician’s promise. I was then taken down a souk-like maze of ‘free-zone’ shops to an ATM which run out of green stuff just as it was my turn. Fortunately, another few twists and turns led us to another ATM which had better manners and I quickly cashed up as much as foreigners are allowed – USD250. At least it was more than my previous reserves of USD11.
Just breath and smell the flowers.
I was then ushered into a taxi and told it would set me back USD20 for the driver to take me there, wait, then bring me back. I had no choice though so reluctantly agreed. Once at the ‘other office’, I tried explaining again but was having difficulties having anyone understand my predicament. Eventually, I got my point across (After a Costa Rican Health official tried to whisk me away for a random malaria test…) and the security guard took me up to a Honduran Immigration official to whom I could explain the situation. After taking my passport and deliberating with her supervisor, my Panamanian entry stamp had a big red ‘cancelled’ stamp superimposed on it. For not properly exisiting Costa Rica.
This is what a border immigration building looks like, Costa Rica!
At last I could now do the righty Costa Rican side. By now, my taxi had been dispatched by security with a stern warning about ripping tourists off so I waited on the side of the road for a taxi to take me back to the border for the more appropriate fare of USD3. It was little wonder I had overlooked the Costa Rican Immigration Office as it was a ‘blink and you miss it’ type of affair over the road from its ostentatious Panamanian counterpart. Passport appropriately stamped, it was then time to re-cross the border. Officially.
Welcome to Panama! Just don’t plan on staying.
Surprisingly, having an entry stamp cancelled raises eyebrows when trying to re-enter a country. I had to explain what had happened and waited for the immigration official to check the records to verify my story. Then came the next sticking point. Supposedly, you need to have an outward ticket via something to somewhere to be able to enter the country. The immigration official I saw yesterday made no such inquiries and I thought that was that. Alas, no. This official decided to do his job properly and wouldn’t even entertain my ticket from Costa Rica back home as a valid option. I had decided I would fly from Panama City back to San Jose but hadn’t booked my ticket as yet. As it was a no ticket-no entry type of deal, I decided to find somewhere to sit, have something to eat and organise the flight in question.
La Concepción
Back in line at the Immigration office and I ended up with the official from the previous day. I had to explain everything again but was processed relatively quickly. And you guessed it, he didn’t ask for evidence of an outgoing journey!
My humble abode for the night.
Then, it was just a case of jumping on a bus and leaving the craziness behind. I jumped off at La Concepcion, got incredibly dodgy directions for where to catch the next bus, but after a magical, mystical tour and asking other people, eventually got there. I reached my intended destination, Volcan, upon dusk and got directions to a cheap hospedaje which turned out neat and clean with a super friendly owner. And that, my friends, was how my first day in Panama panned out.
Ah, San José… Beneath that veneer of ‘developed’ hopefulness lies an undercurrent of ‘developing’ reality. Which pays to remember as one marches from the backpackers to the bus station after 37 hours travelling and only a few hours sleep; sidestepping the disheveled state of the sidewalk more akin to a war zone in places. Safely ensconced in my steel chariot, I made my way towards the border with Panama; trying to stay awake but mostly failing dismally.
Panama Immigration
Late afternoon, the bus pulls up at the border and I am directed to a large, multi-hued edifice in front of me. I make my way there and am enthusiastically directed to a tiny window where a nonplussed immigration official asked a couple of questions, took my photo and fingerprints before stamping my passport.
Welcome to Panama!
Formalities over, I was in desperate need of a baño before heading further afield. I found one at the bus terminal adjacent to the immigration centre but they wanted USD and I only had Costa Rican colones. And the Panamanian ATMs had run out of dinero! A helpful señor took me to a local shyster who happily relieved me of my colones for extremely overpriced USD. That gave me USD33 which I hoped would at least get me to the next cashed up ATM.
Golden Dreams Lodging
My helpful señor also let me use his baño and we got chatting. Turns out he is a veterinarian who works for the Panamanian Department of Health and was on duty to clear any cats or dogs wanting to cross the border – no other animals being allowed. He also goes overseas to Asia on a regular basis to clear shipments of tuna for export to Panama so was quite well travelled. He offered to give me a lift to La Concepcion, however, I couldn’t find any accommodation on-line. We did find a neat little motel on the edge of Paso Canoas though which had vacancy. I gratefully accepted a room, although they didn’t do eftpos and I had to hand over most of my meagre USD; leaving only USD11 until I could find an ATM. Undeterred, I wandered down to a nearby service station and bought my first Panamanian cerveza and a some snacks to celebrate my first night in Panama!
Back in San Jose and back at Costa Rica Backpackers, I enjoyed my morning coffee on the terrace chatting to another traveller. I had one more thing on my list to do before taking an Uber to the airport. As I travel light, I leave any souvenir shopping to the last day before I leave. I wanted to go the historic City Markets to find a couple of things to take home.
Mercado Central, San Jose
I arrived shortly after the markets opened and I found what I wanted. I also had time to have a poke around this traditional market that has been in operation since 1880. There was a myriad of items one could purchase from fresh produce to flowers to little birds in cages. Tourist stalls primarily ringed the outer edge, but the inner workings were as traditional as it gets.
Mercado Central, San Jose
Then it was back to the hostel for a quick shower before checking out and heading to the airport for the long flight home. It had been a magical six weeks and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Even though I had my challenges, Costa Rica prevailed and will always remain in my memories. Pura Vida, Costa Rica and thanks for hosting this wild woman during her wanders through your beautiful country. Adios!
I had bought a rockmelon from a roadside vendor the previous afternoon, so we had fresh fruit for breakfast looking out over the beautiful gardens of the property. It was so peaceful, with the birds chirping and the river cascading down alongside the garden. But we had plans for the day. After bidding farewell to our new French friend, we trekked back down the hill and walked towards the town.
Centro Ecológico Montaña Verde, San Gerardo de Rivas
I had noticed a building with some really cool metal sculptures on the sides so stopped to take a photo. There was an hombre there who I started chatting to who ended up giving us a tour of his private museum. Every room in his sprawling casa was filled with items he had collected over the years, neatly displayed. Pedro was most enthusiastic about his collection and insisted on us seeing it all; the piece de resistance being a motorised Santa sleigh he hauls out every Christmas for an annual parade. We eventually managed to extradite ourselves and continued on our way.
Pedro’s ‘Museum’, San Gerardo de Rivas
We found a bus that went further up the mountain to a tiny village that was within striking distance of Cloudbridge Nature Reserve. Fortunately, we didn’t need to wait long and were soon on our way. The roads in this part of Costa Rica are narrow and wind tightly around the hills. At times, it seemed almost impossible for the bus to manoeuvre around a bend, but these drivers do it day in day out with aplomb and the bus glided without incident around each and every one.
Casa, Chirripo
We checked the return times with the driver at the end point and set out on foot (with luggage) to walk the final 2.6kms. One of the locals had told us the route was ‘muy tranquil’ and should only take us about 20 minutes. 30 tops. Encouraged with this information, we anticipated we had plenty of time to get there, spend a couple of hours in the park, and comfortably return for the 1pm bus.
Rio Chirripo Pacífico, Chirripo
At first, the road was sensibly only slightly undulating, but then we turned off onto a side road which had a steep decline, crossed a pretty, cascading river, turned a corner and went straight up the side of the mountain. And by up, I mean up. The road was in poor condition, which made the traverse even more difficult, and extremely narrow. Any vehicle that went past, meant moving off the road completely. Fortunately, there were few vehicles, although a pack of half a dozen horses were being driven down while we were walking up.
Chirripo
Even though the route was tortuous, it did allow for frequent stops to admire the spectacular view. And spectacular it was. Mountains cloaked with misty shrouds overlooked dense, verdant valleys with little casas dotted here and there. We were up in the cloud forest and the lush vegetation was everywhere. I reflected on our ‘helpful’ hombre’s description of ‘muy tranquil’ and his ridiculous time estimation. By now we had been walking for about an hour.
Jardín de Colibris, Chirripo
Just when I thought this road would never stop its steep descent, it began to flatten out. At this point, at a bend, we noticed a little building that looked like it could have been a cafe or something so went to investigate. It happened to be a hombre’s house which he allowed visitors to come and birdwatch. There were a couple of guys from the UK doing exactly that and who were also staying at Cloudbridge so we got more reliable information about the remainder of the journey there. It seemed we had done most of the hard work and the final 700m was relatively easy going. We left our packs with the hombre there and continued on our way.
Cloudbridge Nature Reserve, Chirripo
We finally reached Cloudbridge at 11.30am. I estimated I would need to leave by 12pm to have any hope at all of making the 1pm bus so effectively only had about half an hour in the park. That was enough time to see the main trails and cascades close to the entrance so decided that was all I would be able to do. I needed to be back in San Jose that night and was already pushing it. I was pretty fatigued by this stage and what should have been a breeze to get around, took forever. Still, the park was beautiful and the cascades stunning.
Cloudbridge Nature Reserve, Chirripo
Janie decided she would continue on to the lookout before trying to catch me up. We said our farewells in case we missed each other. I all but ran down the main path to the entrance before deciding there was no way I was going to make the 1pm bus by walking. I asked a couple if they would give me a lift back down the mountain to the bus and they were more than happy to do so. Relieved, I arrived with time to spare. Shortly before the bus left, Janie arrived back to. She had also got a lift down so we jumped on board the bus back to San Gerardo de Rivas. There we did say our final farewells as Janie wanted to go see a coffee finca, whereas I was keen to get going to San Jose.
Parque Central, San Isidro de El General
The bus continued on to San Isidro de El General where I bought my ticket to San Jose. Unfortunately, I had a two hour wait for the next bus which meant I wouldn’t be able to see the countryside after the first couple of hours but at least I would be in San Jose at a reasonable time. My hostel was only a short walk from the San Jose bus terminal and I was relieved to finally arrive, shower and hit my bed. It had been a big day.
I had booked a boat back to Sierpe leaving at 7am so had an early start to the day. Once all the luggage was put in the front hold, we waded through the water to climb onto the boat. Then, it was off back up the coast. Our captain had told us we had to pick up more passengers at the main settlement, but we were unprepared for how packed the boat ended up being. It would seem that the early morning boat is the popular choice for people leaving the area as there were many more boats departing apart from ours.
Boat transfer, Bahia Drake
The ocean was more choppy than when I arrived and the swell where the waves were breaking was greater as well. I was expecting a bumpy ride, but our captain expertly coasted through with barely a blimp. Then, we were back in the river, zipping through at a good rate of knots. A crocodile was basking on a mudflat as we sped by and a multitude of birds flittered, soared or waded as we passed.
Bahia Drake
All too soon we were back in Sierpe, disembarking and awaiting our luggage. I walked the couple of blocks to where the bus was waiting and caught up with Janie who had been transferred to another boat. We travelled the short distance to Palmar Norte and then jumped on a bus to San Isidro. The road closely followed the river and we had spectacular views of its cascading stream. Then it continued on its way northwards. We were now back in the mountains and able to enjoy all the vistas that that entailed; from sweeping views across broad mountain valleys to perilous drops down into seemingly never-ending chasms.
Sam Isidro
In San Isidro, we went to grab a coffee before deciding our next move. I found a cheap hostel just out of San Gerardo de Rivas from where we could try to get to the Cloudbridge Nature Reserve. Decision made, we then organised an Uber to get us there.
Centro Ecológico Montaña Verde, San Gerardo de Rivas
Centro Ecológico Montaña Verde was up a steep, dirt track which passed several rural properties along the way. We ended up walking as we hadn’t realised it was so far up. When we arrived, the only person there was a French traveller who advised that the hombre who ran the hostel wasn’t there and he wasn’t sure when he would be back. I had booked us both in so we decided to just chance it and leave our packs and wander into the little town.
Parroquia Inmaculada Concepción, San Gerardo de Rivas
San Gerardo de Rivas is a pretty little town with an ubiquitous quaint church in its centre, framed by the surrounding mountains. We found a little restaurant with views over the countryside to have an early dinner before heading back to the hostel.
Centro Ecológico Montaña Verde, San Gerardo de Rivas
When we returned to the hostel, the hombre running it was there so we were able to check in as well as learn a little more about the place. Centro Ecológico Montaña Verde is primarily an educational facility focusing on delivering ecological and sustainability messages. The hostel is just a side venture. There was only the three of us staying the night and we had a pleasant time swapping stories and chatting.
Corcovada Jungle Lodge is part of a larger accommodation and adventure tour centre. Set amidst manicured gardens just above a rocky headland and adjacent to a sheltered little sandy bay, the property boasts tent accommodation on the lower level, cabins with magnificent sea views on the level above, and a hostel at the top of the hill nestled in the jungle. It was a bit of a slog getting up to the hostel itself, but its position in the jungle made it all worthwhile.
Stream inlet, Bahia Drake
I was sharing the dorm with a French-Canadian girl who was keen to check out a local waterfall along the Rio Claro south of the lodge. As I was planning on walking the jungle trails that followed the coastline, we set off together. The trail wound its way through the jungle and in and out of little sandy beaches. At one point we climbed up to another property where cabins were situated high on the hillside overlooking the sea. We asked to have a look in one and were impressed with the simple but spacious room and the decent sized deck overlooking that magnificent view. At USD190 per night, it was a bit of a splurge though.
View from lookout, Bahía Drake
We continued on until reaching the Rio Claro. A beautiful, cool lagoon lay just beyond the beach where the river slowly discharged its flow. We forded at the shallowest part and discreetly left our packs on the shore. Then it was a matter a swimming about a 100m upstream to where a small cascade joined the main river. Janie climbed up and reported the way on was quite difficult. As we only brought a pair of thongs with us, I decided not to continue in that direction, instead swimming further upstream. I managed to reach a section of river partially blocked by a large boulder and some white water I wasn’t able to pass through about 400m upstream. Turning around, I floated with the current back to the packs to await Janie.
Rio Claro, Bahía Drake
Janie returned after a bit and reported the trail to the waterfall was sketchy to say the least, especially in a pair of thongs. We swapped stories then packed our things ready to leave. Unfortunately, the tide had started to come in by this stage so our knee-high river crossing was now up to our thighs. Packs held high, we managed to get across without incident.
Barr-Throated Tiger Heron, Bahia Drake
Back at our lodge, we decided to chill for a bit before continuing along the trail in the other direction. A German guy Janie had met the previous day invited us to check out a friend’s accommodation property, so we went with him and another French-Canadian guy. This part of the trail was very different from the other side in that it was up higher and crossed several little bridges en-route. As it was getting late by this stage, we were walking in the cooler dusk which made for a much more pleasant traverse. But then we had to climb up the side of a hill to get to the property. Janie and I had our phones with us which we needed to get back in the darkness that by then had prevailed.
As I was coming close to the end of my trip, I had to make some hard decisions. With only days left, where was I going to spend them? After consulting the guidebook, I decided to head to Bahia Drake, deep in Costa Rica’s south. I worked out what time the bus I needed came through Uvita and was packed up with ample time to cash up and catch it. Or so I thought…
Luminosa Uvita Hostel, Uvita
I found a more direct route to the main road which took me half the amount of time the previous day’s had. First things first, I would cash up at the ATM to get that out of the way and then I could chill somewhere until the bus arrived. I dutifully waited in line for my turn at the ATM to find it repeatedly coming up with an error message. Thinking it might be that particular ATM, I waited for the other one to be free. Same problem. I asked other people waiting and was told that the ATMs here were a little temperamental. Some people were getting cash and others weren’t. I tried both machines multiple times without success before biting the bullet and walking the kilometre back over the river to find another bank’s ATM where it worked first time.
Swimming hole Rio Uvita, Uvita
Somewhat peeved, but relieved I had managed to get cash as I was going into a remote area, I walked back to the bus station. Once there, I tried to find information to confirm the bus schedule I had found online as I still didn’t really trust the information was correct. A bus driver from the same company confirmed the route, but said the bus would probably arrive in Uvita closer to 1.00pm than the scheduled 12.30pm. So it was just a matter of sitting around and waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Until the bus finally arrived at 1.40pm. And then had a 20 minute stopover before finally pulling out at 2pm. The boat I needed to take from Sierpe left at 4pm so I hoped there were no further delays.
Rio Uvita, Uvita
The road continued hugging the coastline more or less for a time before veering off inland. Then we were passing farmland and patches of rainforest prior to turning off and heading south towards Sierpe. There, we passed palm plantations interrupted by little farmlets nestled on their outskirts.
Boat terminal, Sierpe
The tiny village of Sierpe is ringed on two sides by the Rio Sierpe which is its mainstay. The bus pulled up at a boat dock where half a dozen brightly coloured boats quietly bobbed in the river. As the bus disgorged its remaining passengers, those continuing on to Bahia Drake lined up to give their details to an hombre organising passengers onto the various boats. When it was my turn and I told him where I was staying, he frowned and called over another hombre. This would be my captain. I had about half an hour before departure, so grabbed a cerveza at the adjoining dockside restaurant to wait.
Rio Sierpe
Five minutes before departure time, my boat captain summoned me and I jumped on board with the other passengers going my way. It turned out this was a private group of six French tourists and their French speaking Costa Rican guide. I was just a blow-in and no one seemed in the least interested in taking my money. At exactly the allotted time, we took off downstream towards the river mouth.
Mangrove forest, Rio Sierpe
After speeding down the river for a while, our captain pulled back on the throttle and we slowly cruised down a side canal where the group’s guide proceeded to give a commentary about the mangrove forest in French. I was able to pick up a few words here and there, however, that is about the extent of my French. I just enjoyed the ambiance of drifting through this beautiful part of the river.
Rio Sierpe
Then, it was time to continue our journey. The river twisted past jungle-clad banks, eventually spitting us out into the ocean. At this point there must be a reef as the waves were crashing off-shore. Our captain had to manoeuvre the little boat through the swell, timing the breaks which he did impeccably. Then, we were zooming past the coastline towards our destination.
Corcovado Jungle Lodge, Bahía Drake
We passed the main settlement in this part of the area and continued on until reaching the little bay where our accommodation was situated. The boat reversed up to the shoreline and us passengers disembarked. Then, the luggage was pulled out from the front hold and passed out to us. It was a short walk across the sand to a tiny stream which you crossed before entering the property. Once checked in, sand washed from feet and pack dumped in the dorm, it was time for a pre-dinner cocktail at the lodge’s on-site restaurant. A perfect end to a fabulous day.
Wild Woman Wandering 