The Darien Gap – i.e. the bit connecting North and South America – is not on the tourist trail. By definition it’s not on any trail. No highway, no roads, nada. It’s thick swampy jungle, much of which is controlled by the revolutionary FARC militia. The last account I saw of someone attempting to hike across was on an episode of travel horror reality TV show Banged Up Abroad. Spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.
The far more civilised option is to sail from Panama across the Caribbean into Colombia, stopping off at a few idyllic deserted islands along the way, meeting some of the lovely local Kuna people and waking up to views like this.
And we’re nothing if not civilised.
But this weren’t no luxury trip. We were roughing it to the extreme. Choppy boat transfers, sleeping in open-air hammocks, cold bucket showers, rustic drop toilets. Unlimited fresh lobster for dinner 2 out of 3 nights.
It’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it.
Each day we’d pile in our small boat and zip to a tiny deserted island for a few hours of snorkelling, swimming and lazing.
Let’s not forget the lazing.
Come evening we would settle in with our new amigos de viaje for Coco Locos – rum we’d brought along mixed with a freshly retrieved and opened coconut. Once that novelty wore off (approximately one Coco Loco later) the resourceful Kunas were on hand selling icy cold beers and Coke mixer. The food was plentiful and delicious. The scenery spectacular. The company, extremely enjoyable.
A while later we’d shuffle off to our hamocas to sleep the deep sleep of the mildly intoxicated and highly content.
The other key reason we chose this particular tour company was the opportunity to experience the culture of the fascinating Kuna people. Chased out of Colombia by the Spanish, the Kuna eventually sought refuge in the hundreds of tiny San Blas islands just off the coast of Panama. Today these islands are technically part of Panama but the Kuna have full autonomy in their own affairs and retain their fascinating traditions. Take their hammocks. The local chiefs govern whilst in their hammocks – the congress building we saw literally had 4 or 5 hammocks strung up in the middle. They are married in their hammocks. And when they die, they sleep one last night in it before they are buried in their hammock.
But the best part was hanging out with the local kids. Despite increasing tourism in the area, our group was a strange and hilarious novelty. The kids followed us around town, pointing and giggling at this odd group of people.
At one point a kid of about 8 years stepped forward. “¿Como te llamas?” – What’s your name? – he asked with a cheeky grin. (Spanish is a second language for them, but they speak it better than us.) “Mike. Y tú? Como te llamas?” His eyes lit up. “Me llamo Mel Gibson.” Him and his gang dissolved in fits of laughter. We saw him a few more times and we’d shout “Hola, Mel Gibson!” to more raucous laughter. We didn’t have the heart to tell him that name has slipped somewhat in global esteem.
Eventually, all good things must end and after 3 nights our wonderful tour guides Jessica and Grace deposited us just over the Colombian border in a super cool little town called Capurganá. Friends we’d made on the trip would form a great travel posse in the coming days, weeks and with any luck, months.
South America, we are IN you.
A few more pics here. The better ones gratefully stolen from San Blas Adventures, Tijs Wonders, David Beattie and Binh Nguyen (there’s no Kuna copyright laws anyways).
Also check out our San Blas amigos’ brill travel blogs:
- Tijs Traveling: San Blastic Fantastic (in Dutch, but what a title!)
- Simon & Katy’s Adventures: San Blas paradise (all British precision)
- Rolling Potatoes on facebook: Binh’s soon-to-commence account of cycling from Paris to Hanoi
Cool Runnings 