My bank account may have been fine, but I still had another worry before starting hitch-boating. I needed to find a place to sleep for an extended period of time for free. I already had been everywhere in town, with little to no luck. The only glimpse of hope came from two hostels who told me to show up the next day to meet the owner. I went for the first one and got refused. I was getting more and more nervous, but I still had one place to go before hitting a major wall. When I got to the Getsemani Hostel (http://getsemanihostel.com/), I was greeted by the owner. He said he didn’t need much help, but was willing to test me out, and see what I could do. It was a great relief, I have a bed, breakfast, and 5000COP ($1.50usd) per day, enough to eat the other meals.
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| My little working buddy |
The first few days, I was working at the bar, and helping with the cleaning, but after two-three days, I was given more responsibility; the reception. I first thought it would be easy, but rapidly realized most clients were South American, thus none Anglophones. I had almost a full year in Latin countries, but my language skill weren’t perfect and this time, it wasn’t just to have a pleasant ride, a mistake could lead to a disappointed client, and when my boss would give me instruction, I wouldn’t fully understand, having to improvise most of my task. Still, I managed to become indispensable very fast.
It took a around two weeks, but eventually found a more official schedule. I would be woken up at 5:45, work the reception till 9am, followed by cleaning all 8 bathrooms. From 10am to 7pm, I was free to do what I wanted, but still helping. Finally, from 7pm to 10pm, I needed to do the reception and the bar. With this schedule, I could enjoy my day, and hitch-boat at the pier.
I really rapidly realized how screwed I was for the Pacific as the season had just stopped. People weren’t starting their cross to New-Zealand for another 5 month. This was a pretty big problem; I needed to change my plan. I thought of leaving Colombia, and travel for a few month back through South America, but the Colombian Reciprocity Tax was too expensive for my budget. This left me with two options, keep on trying to find a boat to New-Zealand, but risk having issues with my visa, or try hitching to Panama. I kept trying but nothing seemed to work. It was September and my visa was going to expire on November, but boat weren’t leaving till February. Since boat weren’t too promising, I started expanding my search. I looked at other port in South America: nothing! Then, I looked for cargo ship: unreachable! What about cruise ship: no luck there! Let’s look for planes: still nothing!
Weeks were passing and I went all sorts of emotions. I was getting scared for my visa, stressed, depressed with all the captain telling me I wasn’t going to make it, the small daily budget didn’t allow me eat good food, which didn’t help, my family and friends were starting to be more and more present in my thoughts, reminding of home sweet home; but I knew I needed to keep on pushing.
After nearly two month of disappointment, I finally found a captain willing to help get across the Darien Gap: my job, find two clients for $300usd. I got back to the hostel with an uncontrollable smile, but remembered that nothing was concrete up until I had 2 clients.
I started walking around town, talking to every backpacker I could see, but things weren’t looking to great as the vast majority of people go from North to South and not the other way around. But finally, a week before the captain had to leave, I found a first client: Itai. He talked with a few guys on some forum, and found a couple interested to tag-along. There it was, my ticket out of Colombia, 10 days before the expiration of my passport, and two-and-a-half month of searching. On November 14th, 73 days after first entering Cartagena, I climbed in the 42 foot catamaran and started prepping the boat for the first part of this long cross.
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| My ticket out of Colombia |
Michael and I had two days to prepare the boat for our passengers. On our list, clean the inside of the boat, scrap the bottom of the hull, repair some electrical wire and do the grocery. Obviously, other than the electrical problem, everything was going fine. The day before finally leaving Cartagena, Michael looked at the weather and saw what looked like a pretty rough rain with stormy weather. We asked our clients if they wanted to leave anyway and they all agreed, so we took their passport and had an agent take care of all the immigration. When we looked at the weather forecast the next day, the storm forecasted had a hurricane warning. It seemed odd for a hurricane to form in Panama and this late in the season. Not willing to risk anything, we decided to postpone our departure. The problem was for how long. Not able to predict this extremely rare event, we simply waited for the forecast to give us a true weather prediction. For the next few days, every morning, afternoon and evening, Michael checked the weather, but nothing seemed to set. Some weather channel were saying there was nothing to worry as such a phenomenon is so rare, but others were being more precautious, leaving us with nothing more than uncertainty. Obviously, a hurricane was normal in the Caribbean Islands, and during October or early November, but not this late, far south or this close to land.
Needless to say the clients were getting more and more impatient, they had other things to do then to wait for a hurricane, but since they had checked-out of the country, they couldn’t do anything. In fact, we were all illegal within Colombia. After a few days asking around, we finally got a confirmation by our immigration agent that it was indeed possible the check back in the country, even after a few days illegal. Our three clients decided to check back in to leave with a plane, leaving Michael and I alone. This felt nice for both of us, as we had one less stress to worry about, but for Michael, this was also bad as he lost the money he would have got from the charter.
After nearly a week hanging out at the port of Cartagena, the odd weather finally decided whether or not it was a hurricane, and it was. Having formed just above Portobelo, and covering the San Blas, there was no way we could leave, but at least, the hurricane was finally moving, and it was heading away.
Another two days later, we finally got the window we were looking for, and it was time to lift the anchor and head for the seas… well, if Cartagena wanted. As we tried lifting the anchor, we realised it was stuck, we tried and tried, but nothing was moving. We called a diver for him to check on our chain, and after a little over an hour of running around to get all the material and the diving, we were finally told our anchor was stuck on the cleat of a sunken boat below us. Thankfully, he managed to get us out. This time, it’s a go!!!
The afternoon was just like I got used to a year ago when I hitched Tomas’ boat. But when the light lowered down, it things took two turns for the worst. As previously mentioned, one of my task on board was to take care of the cooking. For those who don't know, the difference between hanging out inside the boat and outside is like day and night. As much as I love getting waltz by the wave on deck, as much as once inside, the wave calls for sea sickness. I started to feel a little off, but having managed my entire cross with Tomas without getting seasick at any point, I thought of myself unbreakable. Needless to say I was wrong, and soon enough, I found myself on the boat’s “fence” getting rid of my lunch. Therefore, I knew what had been my mistake, and being now empty, I got back in the kitchen and finish cooking; not before washing my hands, obviously. From that point on, I was good, and managed the rest of the trip without any more problems, even when reading.
But as I said before, that little event wasn’t the only bad turn of event of the night. This one though wasn’t as bad for me as it was for the captain. As I was resting, getting energy for my night watch starting at 3am, a thunderstorm surrounded the poor Shayler who was now trying to find its way between the thunderbolts. Michael was still up trying to find a way out of this hell as we were now the quickest link between the overcharged clouds and the sea, and one strike would kill all our electronic, again. This storm was for me a chance of experiencing a storm at sea, but on the same note, I most certainly didn’t want to be in Michael’s way while he was screaming in pain for his boat, every time a lightning would get too close. I offered my help, but needless to say there was nothing I could do, other than resting for my turn on watch.
By the time it was my time on the watch, the storm had calmed. The clouds were still flashing their torments, but only in the far distance.
The rest of the day was mostly calm, but later in the afternoon, as I was looking around for any boat that could be on our course, I spotted a small flashy orange dot between the waves. I took the monocular to take a closer look at this odd dot floating in the endless sea. It was hard to keep the monocular aligned with such a small object in the distance, but its shape look even odder. The object seemed triangular and very bright orange. It wasn’t the shape of a boat, not the size of regular floating trash, and definitely not wildlife; what was it? My imagination started to go wild in trying to figure out what I was it the distance, and couldn’t help thinking it was a life raft wondering around, but this can’t be it, it would be way to odd. I kept an eye on it and the closer we were getting to it, the more I it looked like a life raft. I woke up Michael telling him to take a look, thinking I must sound like an idiot “Hey Mike, there’s a life raft at sea”, but on the other hand, I couldn’t just let it pass by, especially after the hurricane, showing logic to my imagination. He took his turn at the monocular, but stayed skeptic about my claim; then again, the hurricane popped into his head, telling him as well to double check.
We were getting closer and closer, and one thing was getting clearer and clearer, it was a life raft. This was exiting, maybe we’ll be the heroes of a group a sailors lost at sea, but on the other hand, it was a bit nerve-racking; what if they are drug dealers, and decide to take over our ship? Mixed with both feeling, yet more exited, we changed our course to get closer. Still looking through the monocular, I was trying to spot movement from within the raft, but it still seemed lifeless. As we got within a few feet from the raft, Michael honked at the raft, trying to wake up any survivor from a shipwreck. I watch with much enthusiasm waiting to be a hero, but soon it was clear that the raft was empty; Oh well!
The next day was event-less. I kept watch, but saw nothing of interest. The same can be said from the following morning, but at least the afternoon had more going on. As we got closer to some erratic fishermen going left and right leaving nets all over the place for use to play hide and seek with, a group of dolphin decided to join us. Still a few miles from the fishermen, I took the time to enjoy the dolphins, but eventually play time with the dolphins was put aside to start maneuvering around the nets. It may not look that bad, but trying to spot a tiny white styrophone ball holding the net between the waves isn’t that easy. And a mistake could get our propeller stuck, and even worst, force the captain to buy a new net for the fishermen. No mistakes were made but we still needed an hour to bypass all the nets.
The current was strong against us but we were closing in Porto Lindo. Michael kept on pushing Shyler, but she was having a hard time fighting. Yet, by three in the afternoon, we started the navigation into the bay. It seemed that it was the end of the adventure, but the sea had one last surprise. As we were rolling back the fishing line, to put the rods away, a small shark bit the hook of Michael’s rod. A few second earlier and we wouldn’t have caught this shark; well at least we know what’s on the menu for tonight.
There it was, Porto Lindo, my first step back on my continent, officially closing my South American trip. Michael and I stayed in Porto Lindo for the day, but ended up setting off to Portobelo by afternoon bringing me back to my first attempt at hitchboating. It was as dirty as I remembered it, but at least, I wasn’t there for very long. I had a month before the boats would start crossing the canal. There was nothing for me to do, so I decided the best way to pass time was to get my gear back on my back and once more, explore Central America.
But before officially getting my thumb back up, after 3 month, I needed to head back to the small hostel I used to work at a year ago. A walked along the main street and rang the bell. To my surprise, the both owners instantly recognized me, despite my now short hair and beardless chin. They invited me to stay for a night, which helped me plan my next step. But the next day, I had no choice, my body was calling the road, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore; Central America, here I come… again!
Needless to say the clients were getting more and more impatient, they had other things to do then to wait for a hurricane, but since they had checked-out of the country, they couldn’t do anything. In fact, we were all illegal within Colombia. After a few days asking around, we finally got a confirmation by our immigration agent that it was indeed possible the check back in the country, even after a few days illegal. Our three clients decided to check back in to leave with a plane, leaving Michael and I alone. This felt nice for both of us, as we had one less stress to worry about, but for Michael, this was also bad as he lost the money he would have got from the charter.
After nearly a week hanging out at the port of Cartagena, the odd weather finally decided whether or not it was a hurricane, and it was. Having formed just above Portobelo, and covering the San Blas, there was no way we could leave, but at least, the hurricane was finally moving, and it was heading away.
Another two days later, we finally got the window we were looking for, and it was time to lift the anchor and head for the seas… well, if Cartagena wanted. As we tried lifting the anchor, we realised it was stuck, we tried and tried, but nothing was moving. We called a diver for him to check on our chain, and after a little over an hour of running around to get all the material and the diving, we were finally told our anchor was stuck on the cleat of a sunken boat below us. Thankfully, he managed to get us out. This time, it’s a go!!!
The afternoon was just like I got used to a year ago when I hitched Tomas’ boat. But when the light lowered down, it things took two turns for the worst. As previously mentioned, one of my task on board was to take care of the cooking. For those who don't know, the difference between hanging out inside the boat and outside is like day and night. As much as I love getting waltz by the wave on deck, as much as once inside, the wave calls for sea sickness. I started to feel a little off, but having managed my entire cross with Tomas without getting seasick at any point, I thought of myself unbreakable. Needless to say I was wrong, and soon enough, I found myself on the boat’s “fence” getting rid of my lunch. Therefore, I knew what had been my mistake, and being now empty, I got back in the kitchen and finish cooking; not before washing my hands, obviously. From that point on, I was good, and managed the rest of the trip without any more problems, even when reading.
But as I said before, that little event wasn’t the only bad turn of event of the night. This one though wasn’t as bad for me as it was for the captain. As I was resting, getting energy for my night watch starting at 3am, a thunderstorm surrounded the poor Shayler who was now trying to find its way between the thunderbolts. Michael was still up trying to find a way out of this hell as we were now the quickest link between the overcharged clouds and the sea, and one strike would kill all our electronic, again. This storm was for me a chance of experiencing a storm at sea, but on the same note, I most certainly didn’t want to be in Michael’s way while he was screaming in pain for his boat, every time a lightning would get too close. I offered my help, but needless to say there was nothing I could do, other than resting for my turn on watch.
By the time it was my time on the watch, the storm had calmed. The clouds were still flashing their torments, but only in the far distance.
The rest of the day was mostly calm, but later in the afternoon, as I was looking around for any boat that could be on our course, I spotted a small flashy orange dot between the waves. I took the monocular to take a closer look at this odd dot floating in the endless sea. It was hard to keep the monocular aligned with such a small object in the distance, but its shape look even odder. The object seemed triangular and very bright orange. It wasn’t the shape of a boat, not the size of regular floating trash, and definitely not wildlife; what was it? My imagination started to go wild in trying to figure out what I was it the distance, and couldn’t help thinking it was a life raft wondering around, but this can’t be it, it would be way to odd. I kept an eye on it and the closer we were getting to it, the more I it looked like a life raft. I woke up Michael telling him to take a look, thinking I must sound like an idiot “Hey Mike, there’s a life raft at sea”, but on the other hand, I couldn’t just let it pass by, especially after the hurricane, showing logic to my imagination. He took his turn at the monocular, but stayed skeptic about my claim; then again, the hurricane popped into his head, telling him as well to double check.
We were getting closer and closer, and one thing was getting clearer and clearer, it was a life raft. This was exiting, maybe we’ll be the heroes of a group a sailors lost at sea, but on the other hand, it was a bit nerve-racking; what if they are drug dealers, and decide to take over our ship? Mixed with both feeling, yet more exited, we changed our course to get closer. Still looking through the monocular, I was trying to spot movement from within the raft, but it still seemed lifeless. As we got within a few feet from the raft, Michael honked at the raft, trying to wake up any survivor from a shipwreck. I watch with much enthusiasm waiting to be a hero, but soon it was clear that the raft was empty; Oh well!
The next day was event-less. I kept watch, but saw nothing of interest. The same can be said from the following morning, but at least the afternoon had more going on. As we got closer to some erratic fishermen going left and right leaving nets all over the place for use to play hide and seek with, a group of dolphin decided to join us. Still a few miles from the fishermen, I took the time to enjoy the dolphins, but eventually play time with the dolphins was put aside to start maneuvering around the nets. It may not look that bad, but trying to spot a tiny white styrophone ball holding the net between the waves isn’t that easy. And a mistake could get our propeller stuck, and even worst, force the captain to buy a new net for the fishermen. No mistakes were made but we still needed an hour to bypass all the nets.
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| I may not have been lucky last time I was on a boat, but this time, I got them |
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| It sure wasn't his day |
But before officially getting my thumb back up, after 3 month, I needed to head back to the small hostel I used to work at a year ago. A walked along the main street and rang the bell. To my surprise, the both owners instantly recognized me, despite my now short hair and beardless chin. They invited me to stay for a night, which helped me plan my next step. But the next day, I had no choice, my body was calling the road, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore; Central America, here I come… again!
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