I've alluded to the difficulty I experienced in Central America. First by riding from Cincinnati, Ohio to San Jose, Costa Rica solo with only 11 days of travel. Second, by reaching San Jose only to have my motorcycle "asplode" and need to have the entire engine rebuilt in a random Costa Rican's garage who didn't speak English. I could write a book about those two experiences alone, but I won't subject you all to that...

If Cincinnati to Costa Rica was a trial, then my time in Panama has been a reward. I hadn't planned on spending any time in Panama, but have been gifted over a week of glorious roads, rain-forest covered mountains, and unspoiled beaches. Here's a brief glimpse to catch you up on all that's happened since I left San Jose with a newly rebuilt motorcycle.

Upon leaving San Jose, I spent my first night in Panama in the town of Volcan. I use the term "town" loosely, as there's not much there to speak of except for beautiful rain forest and a few stores. I litereally drove through down "town" 5 times looking for it. This isn't a complaint mind you, as the roads were beautiful... Rather than wasting a lot of words, I'll save us a few thousand and just throw in some pics to get the idea across.


The next day took me to Boquete, Panama, where I was headed primarily for the purpose of meeting with a hostel owner to try and line up a boat that could provide passage for both me and my bike to Colombia.

I ended up spending 3 nights in Boquete, which was a beautiful town. Cheap food- (you could eat well for around $4 at the local cafeteria) beautiful roads, and good company. The fellow travelers there were great people, and I made fast friends with people from all over the place. In my dorm room alone there were people from the UK, Colombia, Switzerland and the US. And there were only 4 beds in the room...

Without going into too much detail, the days were spent relaxing, riding, eating, and researching boat schedules and customs information. Somewhere in between all of the above I even managed to take a tour of a small coffee farm- the owner of which built all of his machinery by hand-with parts scalped from his old Volkswagen.

But the most important part of my trip to Boquete was what happened just as I was packing up to leave. A little back story for those of you who I haven't kept up with over the last few weeks:

Recap:
About 3 weeks into the trip, my motorcycle had major, major, engine failure. After leaving San Jose, the beautiful example of European engineering started to sound like you'd jammed a metal fork in the garbage disposal... As it turns out it needed a complete engine rebuild- a job that a random Costa Rican mechanic and I completed in his parent's driveway... Long story short, by the end of the process, I was about 3 weeks behind schedule. Based on the information I had, and the people I had talked with, this put my goal of reaching the southern tip of Argentina out of reach. Instead I planned on cutting into Brazil and just avoiding Patagonia all together. The reason being is that it would be just too cold and too dangerous to try and pass Patagonia that close to the winter freeze... (Ushuaia is only 700 kilometers north of Antarctica, so when I say cold, I mean cold.)

Back to the story: As I strapped and secured my last piece of luggage I was greeted by a man who introduced himself as Henning. Henning was a German guy- who also rides motorcycles- and reminded me a little of an older, Austrian, Robert Redford. In true motorcyclist fashion, we shared stories about where we were headed and where we'd been, and he mentioned that he had made the trip to Ushuaia- (the southernmost city in the world and my ultimate goal) only two years prior. Jumping at the opportunity to have firsthand experience of the route, I asked him if I could buy him a cup of coffee and get his thoughts on my potential route down towards Brazil. He readily agreed, but insisted that first I must follow him on a motorcycle tour of some of the beautiful roads surrounding Boquete. (some pictures of our tour)



As stunning as the views were, by far the best part of the tour- and one of the best parts of the trip so far- happened while we sat down for delicious Panamanian coffee. I explained to him my situation and disappointment in having to cut my trip short for fear of the weather. As we discussed, looked over calendars, and plotted potential routes, he was of the opinion that with a little luck, it would be possible to make it to Ushuaia before things completely freeze up for the winter. These were literally the first encouraing words I'd heard about my destination since leaving Mexico. Since leaving the US I've had countless people (most recently the border crossing guard into Panama) tell me that I'm crazy for attempting a trip like this. Most people don't even have a framework for a trip of this scope- so they write it off as impossible. But what I've come to realize is that I was putting way too much stock in the opinions of people who know nothing about me, and next to nothing about what I'm hoping to do.

It's amazing what one person's encouragement can do to lift your spirits and to refocus you on your goal and purpose. As I pulled out of the little coffee shop in the foothills of Volcan Baru, I was literally yelling in my helmet because I was so excited. The lesson for me in all of this is as follows:

"Never let someone decide for you what you are, or are not able to accomplish. Wise council and nay-saying may sound similar at first, but they come from completely different kinds of people. One flows from genuine concern and firsthand experience of the risks involved, while the other flows from the exact opposite- a simple and uncontrollable fear of the unknown."

So, Longer story even shorter- End of the world, Here I come!