The journey from Boquete to Bocas (via David) certainly wasn't dull, even ignoring the mountain views. Political protests are a regular feature of Panamanian life, and they had a general strike / riots a few months ago that brought the country to a standstill. Groups often block the road in protest about various things. There two such roadblocks on the main (and only) road between David and Bocas, but a series of wee buses merrily took us between roadblocks so that we didn't miss the last ferry.
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| Down with that sort of thing. |
Most people going to Bocas head to the islands from Almirante. To get to the port, we "needed" to take a shortcut through a series of puddles/ponds, which meant I was rapidly running out of dry footwear. When we got there, the boat from the mainland was more like a white knuckle ride than a ferry, but once you're out there, a series of guys on boats will take you whichever island takes your fancy.
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| Our "hostel" on the first night. An absolute utopia compared to some of the shit-holes I'd stayed in! |
After Day 1's convivial hostel, we decided to trek through the jungle to some "hidden" beach on the other side of the island. We had barely set off and I was already wading through the undergrowth trying to avoid the ankle high mud and associated trench foot (Remember I was on my last pair of shoes). And about half an hour in to what I thought would be a 10 minute saunter, Colette spotted a snake and ran for the hills - and we come to the realisation that we might be a tad lost and ill-prepared.
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| It was quite the achievement to get lost so many times over such a short distance |
Thankfully, we came across some local's house who sold us some sustenance, guided us to the beach AND just happened to own a boat so we didn't need to trek back through the quagmire. He took us to another island (Red Frog) island, where we (well, Colette, I'm useless at looking for stuff) found one of the eponymous amphibians).
We went out for dinner on the 2nd night and while I can't remember the name, some new and horrific beasties were also dining out on my legs. The fact that they can't fly didn't seem to put them off, and you have to admire their tenacity through adversity. Sadly, our accommodation wasn't a patch on the first night. We were back on the main "party" island, and there was some sort of shindig going on directly outside our room that was barely larger than the bed.
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Not shown. The insidious wee bastards chomping away at my legs.
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| Every restaurant in Bocas seems to have a resident cat or dog |
Still, we had a grand time, but the next day, it was time to part company and make my way to Puerto Viejo in Costa Rica via a boat, colectivo, several walks and a couple of buses.
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