Bocas del Toro
(DAY078 : Almirante - Isla Colon, Bocas del Toro : 1.5 hour ferry ride)
(DAY079-83 : Isla Colon, Bocas del Toro)
The trucks line up for the ferry as early as 5 am, but with only a motorcycle, getting to the dock one hour early was overkill. You buy your ticket ($10) on the ferry, and they let you board last anyway. One and a half hours later, you're in the Bocas del Toro town of Isla Colon, which is one of the Bocas del Toro islands. Confusing enough?
If you leave your bike in Almirante, there's a quicker way to reach Bocas.
Bocas, main street.
After the inevitable chore of room hunting and checking out quite a few places ranging from very expensive to very depressing, I found a bright and cute room for $30 at Hotel Casa Max which also provided secure off-street parking and wireless internet. You get off the ferry, go to the end of the main street and follow it to the left, and you'll find Shirley & Arie's brightly colored Casa Max on your left. It's in walking distance to everything, but away from the crowd of main street. Tell 'em I said hi.
Hotel Casa Max has quite a few regulars from around the world so it may be a good idea to reserve ahead. Phone: (+507) 757 9120
My first night was a Saturday, so my blood in blood ratio went down rapidly. It had been a long time since I last had to take a boat to get to a club, and visiting Aqua Lounge was nice if only for that. At one point it started pouring, but here in the tropics, what's the difference? The Barco had a roof, merengue, and that old man selling chorizos outside at its door, so it was all good.
Next day I went exploring in hopes of finding that elusive St. Martin beach, and at the very end of Bocas del Drago I got really, really close. The half hour ride all the way across the island was good fun through the jungle, especially because Katirga was unloaded and even enjoyed the bad surface. But getting carried away can be costly as I remembered when a collectivo van almost took us out apexing on our side of the road. As for the beach, a 15 minute walk from where the road ends gets you to where the water is clearest and most tranquil, with sand stars and fish all around you. Unfortunately it comes at a price if you're not prepared: sand fly bites. Chitras are almost invisible, but attack fiercely and hurt when they bite, not to mention the itch and bleeding that follows.
When I returned with a camera the following day, I made sure I sprayed myself with DEET first ("Off" is available everywhere you need it). BUT, I didn't take the can with me! What do you guess happens when you go in the water? As I was playing with my camera, they covered my entire body with their nasty bites. Later, I counted over 100, and once they started bleeding I looked like infected with a terrible skin disease.
I've been on the road for quite a while now, and believe me when I say I don't have any expectations of fast service when I go to a restaurant. But here in Bocas, slow is defined at a different level. Or such has been my luck. I learned to go to eat an hour or two before I expect to get hungry.
So it was on my way back from the pizza in an hour and a half place that I was escorted to the police station. The guys in the police truck looked truly serious. Two blocks later, at the station, I was ordered off the bike and told to sit down on a bench as they talked with the other cops, apparently about the gravity of the situation. Had they not taken it over the top I would have started to get worried. Turns out the funny cop games I remember from since when I was thirteen are not only played in Istanbul. OK, let's play along and look remorseful and scared then. Oh crap, I'm smiling.
Well, it's alright, within 5 minutes we were all laughing and it was nice to meet the chief of police.
So, why? Officially because I didn't have my helmet on. Actually, they were bored and curious, and curiosity is part of their job. (On that tiny island getting bored too I bet)
Third day, I took a snorkeling tour from the lancha dock with Mikkel and his girlfriend who also are traveling on two wheels. We did visit many beautiful locations, but unless other tours are significantly better, I'd say stay away and save your day. Our tour cost $20 a person, dragged us around meaninglessly, then dumped us on Frog beach, taking up 7 hours of our day, for 15 minutes of snorkeling under current without fins. Who starts a snorkeling tour with an empty gas tank and no snorkels? Ultimately, the day served our captain and his girlfriend, while we paid for their pleasure. You're much better off renting a boat for $80 a day and calling the shots. Choose a newer boat, and make sure it has a 4-stroke engine (The exhaust from a 2-stroke is quite dense and dirty). It helps if the boat has a decent ladder as well. Alternatively consider a 2-tank dive for $50, or just go to the beach and enjoy yourself rather than paying to be taken hostage. Can you tell I wasn't crazy about the snorkel tour?
At noon of the fourth day, I packed up my stuff and dragged everything down in order to load and get ready to depart aboard the 4 pm ferry. Then, I could check my email and contact the boat to Cartagena that Arie found for me.
One of the pannier padlocks wouldn't open, so I had to go and buy some machine oil and lubricate the lock. Then I realized that my auxiliary gas tank holder had gotten chewed up by the chain guard, and had to be dealt with. As I was getting ready to put that back on I saw the loose rack main bolt. Why does that keep loosening up despite all that Locktite anyway? I took the Givi case base plate off, and sure enough the top bolts attaching the rear rack to the frame were sticking out. Once I tightened them back up, I could start putting it all back together. Now only if the darn bolts would bolt back on.
They won't, because they're broken. Apparently they've loosened, then snapped, and that's why the main bolt has been coming loose so frequently.
With my luggage, parts, and tools now littering the entire patio floor, and broken tips of the bolts still threaded in the frame, I'm drawing blanks as to what I'll do now. Then, Arie drops whatever he was doing and runs to my rescue with his set of power tools. We try to unscrew the broken bits, but that proves impossible without an extractor, so we drill them out. We brain storm but there's no easy solution, and every time we need something Arie gets on the quad and takes a trip to his off-site work shop. We can't tap to size up the threads, we can't drill through to lock from below, and we can't weld new nuts, because each solution poses another problem. Err, Shirley, is my room still vacant? Too late, all taken.
In the end, Arie disappears to his bodega for one last time to return with a one piece steel insert sporting 2 oem size threads to replace the welded nuts that we had drilled out. Not only perfect, but with 15 minutes left to catch the ferry. Now, how can I possibly thank this guy?
Maybe, if I could put it all together and load fast enough, I could have caught the ferry. But I felt like staying to celebrate, even though I had no place to stay. Or then so I thought, because they helped me with that as well, not in a way you'd help a guest, but in a way you'd help family.
Next day I did leave, and hated every bit of it.
I stayed in Almirante again for an early start the next morning.
(DAY079-83 : Isla Colon, Bocas del Toro)
The trucks line up for the ferry as early as 5 am, but with only a motorcycle, getting to the dock one hour early was overkill. You buy your ticket ($10) on the ferry, and they let you board last anyway. One and a half hours later, you're in the Bocas del Toro town of Isla Colon, which is one of the Bocas del Toro islands. Confusing enough?
If you leave your bike in Almirante, there's a quicker way to reach Bocas.
Bocas, main street.
After the inevitable chore of room hunting and checking out quite a few places ranging from very expensive to very depressing, I found a bright and cute room for $30 at Hotel Casa Max which also provided secure off-street parking and wireless internet. You get off the ferry, go to the end of the main street and follow it to the left, and you'll find Shirley & Arie's brightly colored Casa Max on your left. It's in walking distance to everything, but away from the crowd of main street. Tell 'em I said hi.
Hotel Casa Max has quite a few regulars from around the world so it may be a good idea to reserve ahead. Phone: (+507) 757 9120
My first night was a Saturday, so my blood in blood ratio went down rapidly. It had been a long time since I last had to take a boat to get to a club, and visiting Aqua Lounge was nice if only for that. At one point it started pouring, but here in the tropics, what's the difference? The Barco had a roof, merengue, and that old man selling chorizos outside at its door, so it was all good.
Next day I went exploring in hopes of finding that elusive St. Martin beach, and at the very end of Bocas del Drago I got really, really close. The half hour ride all the way across the island was good fun through the jungle, especially because Katirga was unloaded and even enjoyed the bad surface. But getting carried away can be costly as I remembered when a collectivo van almost took us out apexing on our side of the road. As for the beach, a 15 minute walk from where the road ends gets you to where the water is clearest and most tranquil, with sand stars and fish all around you. Unfortunately it comes at a price if you're not prepared: sand fly bites. Chitras are almost invisible, but attack fiercely and hurt when they bite, not to mention the itch and bleeding that follows.
When I returned with a camera the following day, I made sure I sprayed myself with DEET first ("Off" is available everywhere you need it). BUT, I didn't take the can with me! What do you guess happens when you go in the water? As I was playing with my camera, they covered my entire body with their nasty bites. Later, I counted over 100, and once they started bleeding I looked like infected with a terrible skin disease.
I've been on the road for quite a while now, and believe me when I say I don't have any expectations of fast service when I go to a restaurant. But here in Bocas, slow is defined at a different level. Or such has been my luck. I learned to go to eat an hour or two before I expect to get hungry.
So it was on my way back from the pizza in an hour and a half place that I was escorted to the police station. The guys in the police truck looked truly serious. Two blocks later, at the station, I was ordered off the bike and told to sit down on a bench as they talked with the other cops, apparently about the gravity of the situation. Had they not taken it over the top I would have started to get worried. Turns out the funny cop games I remember from since when I was thirteen are not only played in Istanbul. OK, let's play along and look remorseful and scared then. Oh crap, I'm smiling.
Well, it's alright, within 5 minutes we were all laughing and it was nice to meet the chief of police.
So, why? Officially because I didn't have my helmet on. Actually, they were bored and curious, and curiosity is part of their job. (On that tiny island getting bored too I bet)
Third day, I took a snorkeling tour from the lancha dock with Mikkel and his girlfriend who also are traveling on two wheels. We did visit many beautiful locations, but unless other tours are significantly better, I'd say stay away and save your day. Our tour cost $20 a person, dragged us around meaninglessly, then dumped us on Frog beach, taking up 7 hours of our day, for 15 minutes of snorkeling under current without fins. Who starts a snorkeling tour with an empty gas tank and no snorkels? Ultimately, the day served our captain and his girlfriend, while we paid for their pleasure. You're much better off renting a boat for $80 a day and calling the shots. Choose a newer boat, and make sure it has a 4-stroke engine (The exhaust from a 2-stroke is quite dense and dirty). It helps if the boat has a decent ladder as well. Alternatively consider a 2-tank dive for $50, or just go to the beach and enjoy yourself rather than paying to be taken hostage. Can you tell I wasn't crazy about the snorkel tour?
At noon of the fourth day, I packed up my stuff and dragged everything down in order to load and get ready to depart aboard the 4 pm ferry. Then, I could check my email and contact the boat to Cartagena that Arie found for me.
One of the pannier padlocks wouldn't open, so I had to go and buy some machine oil and lubricate the lock. Then I realized that my auxiliary gas tank holder had gotten chewed up by the chain guard, and had to be dealt with. As I was getting ready to put that back on I saw the loose rack main bolt. Why does that keep loosening up despite all that Locktite anyway? I took the Givi case base plate off, and sure enough the top bolts attaching the rear rack to the frame were sticking out. Once I tightened them back up, I could start putting it all back together. Now only if the darn bolts would bolt back on.
They won't, because they're broken. Apparently they've loosened, then snapped, and that's why the main bolt has been coming loose so frequently.
With my luggage, parts, and tools now littering the entire patio floor, and broken tips of the bolts still threaded in the frame, I'm drawing blanks as to what I'll do now. Then, Arie drops whatever he was doing and runs to my rescue with his set of power tools. We try to unscrew the broken bits, but that proves impossible without an extractor, so we drill them out. We brain storm but there's no easy solution, and every time we need something Arie gets on the quad and takes a trip to his off-site work shop. We can't tap to size up the threads, we can't drill through to lock from below, and we can't weld new nuts, because each solution poses another problem. Err, Shirley, is my room still vacant? Too late, all taken.
In the end, Arie disappears to his bodega for one last time to return with a one piece steel insert sporting 2 oem size threads to replace the welded nuts that we had drilled out. Not only perfect, but with 15 minutes left to catch the ferry. Now, how can I possibly thank this guy?
Maybe, if I could put it all together and load fast enough, I could have caught the ferry. But I felt like staying to celebrate, even though I had no place to stay. Or then so I thought, because they helped me with that as well, not in a way you'd help a guest, but in a way you'd help family.
Next day I did leave, and hated every bit of it.
I stayed in Almirante again for an early start the next morning.
posted by Serdar at
6:19 AM
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