NEWS

• You know how they say Colombia is very dangerous? It's true. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.
• I'm in Medellin, Colombia. Constantly threatened by the urge to scrap all and move here.

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Cartagena

(DAY101-103 : San Blas Islands - Cartagena : over 48 hours sailing) (see previous chapter)
(DAY104-115 : Cartagena)

Waking up in Cartagena was truly welcome. Not only because we were exhausted of hardcore sailing under the rough weather conditions, but also because Cartagena looks so different and mysterious at first sight. Maybe because you don't yet know what to expect, or because it has an out of place European flavor even from a far. Or perhaps, only because you're in the forbidden land of Colombia. I couldn't wait to start exploring, but I was still on our anchored boat.



We did get off the boat, and had ourselves "checked in" to Colombia at the yacht club as Guido arranged. Then, took anchor and proceeded to unload the three sleepy bikes. After a fresh-water rinse and a few use of the brakes to clear the minor rust on rotors, they were as sharp as before.



Leaving customs to next day, we headed directly to Holiday Hostel in the old town. Holiday is a dinky place on the rundown street of Media Luna, but it can accommodate motorcycles, and it's dirt cheap at $7 for a private room with bathroom. Cheap accommodation is a good starting point in Cartagena, as I promise that your stay will be at least twice as long as you planned. This appeared to me even before seeing what's inside the historic city walls, and that is where the real treasure lives. Extremely well preserved, full of character, and breathtakingly romantic are some of the first descriptions that come to my mind, yet they sound so weak. If you don't fall in love here, may be it's too late for you. I did. With the city itself. And as for Colombian women... Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?? Come on! (Look at me in the eye!)

"What have I been doing here for so long?" is the question many of us at the hostel have been asking ourselves each day. Not once did I hear a meaningful answer. We're staying in the crappier part of town, next to hookers and hustlers, yet we all fool around with big smiles, and dread the idea of leaving. We are mesmerized. We love this place. We love these people. We are home.


Our hostel, in the middle of our street.

Below: Inside the walls













Playa Blanca is only a couple of hours away from Cartagena. An excellent beach only spoiled by an overwhelming number of very pushy sales people.

San Blas Islands

(DAY095 : Puerto Lindo - San Blas Islands : 12 hours sailing)
(DAY096-100 : San Blas Islands)


Monday at noon we had 3 bikes to load. Katirga got on last.







We left Puerto Lindo in a hurry, but still not before dark. The exit was tricky, and rough weather was already on to us. We motored all night through 3-4 meter (9-12 ft.) waves. Lucky that I don't get seasick. Almost everyone else did.



Then, we woke up in paradise...




After a brief stop at El Porvenir to complete our exit from Panama on paper, we sailed on to Chichime to spend the next two nights anchored on tranquil, turquoise waters. Both nights we dined and partied on the beach, with fish and cold beer served from the Kuna huts. When we left Chichime, Seeadler was four persons lighter, and woman-free. We flew the skull and bones flag and continued to Hollandaise island for the next night with a total crew of six, five of them bikers. (Guido has a Terminator, Leo is taking a short break from his trip on an African Twin, Nat rides a custom built '82 BMW boxer twin, and his son Levi is on a KLR.)

Wondering around in the San Blas archipelago, we are surrounded by islands of all sizes, ranging from small to infinitely-small, and the caricature size which basically is a palm tree on a mound of sand. When we approach an island and slowly pass between the anchored sailboats to find our anchor spot, Seeadler gets welcomed by other sailors with offensive words yelled through big smiles, or the regular "Hey Guiidoo! Todo bien?".



San Blas Islands belong to Panama, but are an autonomous territory of Kuna indians.




Goods come in carve-out canoes. To your order, if you know the vendor's cell number!


Smiliest German biker to ever walk this earth. He'll cook when we can't even stand up.


San Blas breakfast aboard Seeadler.













After the night in Hollandaise we were all good to go, but there was a problem: it was Friday. As fresh seamen, the bad luck of leaving on a Friday was one of the first things we'd learned, so we'd have to wait it out. A stop over at the shabby yet kute Kuna capital island of Babylon was already on our schedule to load up on bread, so we headed there to spend the night. In the strangest town I've ever visited, among Kuna houses, dirt streets, women in colorful traditional clothing, and their "G'ed out" kids, I took only mental pictures. (Hello Serdar, who are you?)


Babylon, the capital of Kuna.


Prettiest Kuna house in Babylon.

On Saturday morning we set sail towards Cartagena, well rested, and ready. But before long, the radio went off: "chzchchh tszeeadler tschch-adler schtahlplatte bztt". It was Ludwig, the German sailship Stahlratte's captain. After a radio chat in Bavarian, Guido came back with a question: Stahlratte is inviting us to one of the islands for a barbeque night at the beach. Any takers? "Hurraaayy! Parteeeeeyyyy!!" I think what I visualized was a scene from Asterix, the classic final frame after defeating the bloody Romans, with a whole pig on rotisserie in the middle. So, we changed course towards the barbeque island, and happily ate both our lunch and dinner allowance of spaghetti at noon.

Barbeque island was at least as beautiful as the other ones, and we did quite a bit of snorkeling while waiting for our host. At sunset, Seeadler was tied alongside the much bigger Stahlratte, and we got a tour of the truly antique vessel. But after that, it was all downhill. Let me just say that the barbeque never happened, and the night almost ended in a naval battle. Alcohol, sailors, and jerks don't mix, and I assure you the jerk wasn't one of us. For a few moments, the two steel boats appeared as old wooden galleys, and the heated yelling in German sounded something like "draw yer swords ye swines!". Well, to me at least ;)

And thus ended our days and nights at the pirate digs of the Caribbean.

So, we set sail again early the next morning, tired, pissed off, and with a hangover. Our trip to Cartagena would take about 48 hours, with a very rough last night barely doing 2.5 knots against the tall waves. When I left my watch shift of the night I was already beat, yet Guido, Leo, and Nat kept going like machines. When I opened my eyes early in the morning, we were handsomely anchored in Cartagena with our courtesy flag already changed to that of Colombia.

I had missed being on a boat, and this was a spectacular way to end the Central America leg of the journey. Ultimately we visited 6 of the countless islands we saw, spending 5 nights anchored in incredible locations. Boat life may not be about comfort, but it compensates handsomely for any inconvenience it may pose. Even those of us who suffered serious sea sickness were happy to have done the trip. It was a great experience, with a wunderbar group of people.

Motorcycle friendly vessels between Panama and Colombia :

As of this writing, I know of 4 captains that provide passage between Panama and Colombia and can accommodate motorcycles:

Guido, vessel "Seeadler", hostel.wunderbar [at] yahoo.com
Mark, vessel "Melody", freshaircharters [at] yahoo.com
Ludwig, vessel "Stahlratte", info.Steelrat [at] Les-Raisting.de

Dennis - BEWARE of this guy, I've heard too many unpleasant things about his operation.