Burnhams on Tour

7th - 8th August

Mi padre and I had quite an epic journey planned and in true Burnham style were trying to cram in as much as possible in the eight days we had together.

Dad had rented a 4x4 so in order to make the most of our time together I parked the bike at Hotel Mango and we set off in the nice, rain proof car and headed South toward Jaco. Surf central, Jaco is a well developed beach town with numerous hotels, condos, restaurants and surf shops... the waves were whack with a strong onshore knocking any shape out of the swell so we stopped and took lunch at the Green Room. Wow, did we score! The food was incredible, we had a big plate of home made, exceptional nachos and guacamole followed by an awesome Ceviche (Peruvian dish with raw fish served in lime juice) served on top of a half avocado. By far the best meal I'd had since leaving home and to top it off the style, ambience and service were brilliant. I would strongly recommend the Green Room to anyone going to Jaco.

After lunch we headed further south to a small town called Quepos where we found a really crappy and very cheap hotel and took a walk around the new development and harbour. Whilst the old town is fairly small and run down there is a lot of construction going on around the new marina, in a couple of years this place is going to be a major resort, there were already a considerable collection of flash yachts. We stopped here for two reasons:  The Manuel Antonio national park is only 15mins away and due to it's easy accessibility and size is a major tourist draw for those wanting to see monkeys, sloths, iguanas and many types of birds. It is much cheaper to stay in Quepos than one off the hundreds of high end hotels, lodges and resorts that fill the road to the park. The second was a left point break that peels off the harbour wall and on a good day runs for 100m - 200m!

In the morning we got up at 6am and I made my way across the river and out to the break. It was only small, maybe waist to chest high but it was perfectly formed and you could see the potential. I had some long rides but it was hard work on my 6'0 and I ended up taking a few of the quicker, more punchy rights into the river mouth.

After a bite to eat dad and I drove out of town in heavy, heavy rain to Manuel Antonio NP. The prospect of a 2hr walk in the pouring rain didn't really inspire either of us but on the basis that it was the rainy season and we couldn't not do stuff coz it was raining we donned ponchos and organised a guide. As expected we didn't see much animal action on the hour long walk out to the two spectacular beaches at the end of the main trail but we did see a lot of drenched Human Beings! On the way back we spotted a troop of white faced monkeys eating mangos by the beach and stopped to watch them play. I have no doubt that this would be a stunning place in the sunshine and whilst it was cool to see there are definitely better, less crowded and less commercialised places in Costa Rica to see wild stuff in its element.

From the national park we decided to try and make the journey all the way down to the Osa Pennisula for some proper remote jungle action. On route we stopped at Domincal to check the surf and grab some lunch. At the nothern end of the beach is a river which chucks out everything from upstream into the ocean including mud, silt, branches and big chunks of trees and with the heavy rain of the morning and a southerly rip the ocean was like chocolate soup with tons of jungely debris being churned over by a solid 4-5ft swell... we had lunch!

Despite the funk and risk of getting a log to the head the wave looked too good to pass up so I paddled out while dad got the camera out. Solid barrelling waves were breaking up and down the beach but there was no clear bank so I struggled to get a wave for the first half hour... by this time dad had got bored and wandered off snapping merrily away at clouds and other, evidently more interesting things! Eventually I tagged a couple of really quick head and a half high, hollow rights which were super fun. I came out of the surf covered in bits of leaves and tree, jumped in the car and we hit the road just as the darkness descended. 

The drive to Puerto Jimenez took a little over 3hrs and we rolled into the small town on the Osa Pennisula at 9:30pm. I had found a place called the Jungle Hostel for us to stay that night and called ahead to book a room. A super friendly guy called Kenneth, one of the owners of the hostel, arranged to meet us in Jimenez and take us out of town on the dirt road up to the hostel. Knackered after a long day we cooked up some tuna pasta while Kenneth enthusiastically regaled us with numerous stories of his encounters with the abundant and varied local wildlife. Dad was spent and trying but failing to keeps his eyes open and struggling with new travellers paranoia (a syndrome that affects most people when they arrive in shady, dark unknown places where they think everyone is going to steal your stuff or rip you off!). I think the flight had finally caught up with him.

Our bed for the night was in the form of two separate bunks in a cabin on stilts perched high in the jungle. All around us things buzzed, sqwaked and grunted and we fell asleep with a mixture of excitement and anxiety, unaware of the full extent of our surroundings!

The Way To San Jose

I have never slept in a more beautiful place, the view when I woke up at 5am was less colourful but just as pretty. I did however pay the price for setting up in the dark! My hammock was out of line with the tarp and when the rain started at about 2am I got wet! Fortunately the rain was not heavy that night and I only woke up twice in a pool of water. At 5am the wind picked up and ripped the tent pegs out of the sand causing the tarp to whip the side of the hammok... a rather rude awakening. I got up and fastened everything down with straps and bungees sure that a big storm was about to roll through. Weirdly after an hour or so the wind just stopped and I got up and went for swim :)

Unfortunately because of the time lost in Changuinola I had to leave town and make the 4hr trek to San Jose... I could have happily spent a week in PV but my Padre was due to land in San Jose for our father son adventure and I had to get a wriggle on. On my way out of town I sat and watched a couple of sets roll over the reef at Salsa Brava and understood why this wave was infamous, the shape is perfect and you get a right or left option!! Despite the temptation I decided not to surf as the 2 wave sets were about 10mins apart with nothing in between and there were already 8 guys on it, so instead I rolled off up the coast to Cahuita in the hope of catching a quick wave on route to San Jose.

In Cahuita a small gravel track runs the length of Playa Negra with a jungle barrier between the road and the waves. Overgrown, swampy paths that look ominously wild provide potential access to the huge and totally empty beach. As I rode the track looking for waves I came across two lazy sloths hanging from a tree!

The waves were about 3-4ft and heavy looking and I had no idea whether there were rocks or not but I needed to get a wave. I came across a wildlife rescue center called 'The Tree of Life' and parked the bike to go check the surf. A couple of workers were stood just inside the gates so I asked them for permission to leave the bike there while I surfed... they had no problem but warned about the rips and the possibility of the bike getting knicked. Then one of the guys started asking about the bike and my trip... he said he had seen one other guy who was doing a similar trip who had stopped by a few years ago, I asked was the bike red? Yes. Was the guy from Canada? Yes. Was his name B.A? Yes! Small world.

BA is a guy from Vancouver who had a red Kawasaki KLR, built a board rack and road all the way to Panama and back to Vancouver... His blog was invaluable in prepping for the trip and provided a huge amount of inspiration to keep me going during the build up. He has even very kindly replied to numerous emails about border crossings and surf spots etc... the guy is a legend. It was a really nice feeling to meet someone who met the man behind the blog.

Sooo... after a funny chat I legged it through the swampy jungle and onto the beach. Everything about this place was intimidating but having spent four days in a concrete cell I was definitely going in. I jumped in a rip and paddled out a considerable way to where the sets were breaking and almost immediately picked up a super fast right hander... I pumped down the line, got my speed up and made a real nice cut back just before the wave shut down. As I popped back up I got hit by the rest of the set and got slammed back toward the shore... I was happy with what I'd caught and knew I needed to get on the road so I called it a day and got out.

The ride to San Jose was supposed to take 4hrs, it was now 12:30pm and I would need to make good time to avoid the darkness which decends at 6:00ish in Costa Rica. Cahuita to Puerto Limon was a nice ride along the Caribbean coastline and only took an hr or so... from Limon the roads turned in land and rolled along the plains for a couple of hours before climbing into the mountains of the central valleys. The ride was really nice and it only started to rain as I climbed the mountains on the Northern edge of San Jose. Here the road switched between two and three lane stretches which allowed traffic to get passed crawling lorries, there were however no priority signs so people would be overtaking on the left and the right and occasionally the odd person would be overtaking coming down the hill! The mountain ride was super fun and I had to stop and get the GoPro out to try and get some video footage... I will upload an instructional video on how to get to San Jose when I get back to reality. (Guess the theme toone!)

Despite only stopping briefly for some lunch at 4pm the ride had taken longer than expected and as I dropped down the other side of the mountains into San Jose the light started to fade. My GPS had stopped working in the mountains and all I knew was that the hotel where my dad had made a reservation was near the airport! The main road took me straight into the middle of SJ at about six in the evening and the traffic was heavy, I knew I had to make a right somewhere and get to the West side of the city but there were no signs for the airport and I was literally in the city center! I picked a junction and went right and came across a policeman who said next left, next right and then keep going straight!! Unbelievably this worked and I picked up signs to the airport! A further 20km's out of town and I had found the airport... I stopped and asked a guard for directions to hotel Mango, he knew exactly where it was and after some sketchy motorway junction shenanigans I had found the hotel! It was 7:30pm and I needed a beer!

Some how, against quite strong odds I managed to meet dad as he walked out  through the arrivals door and into San Jose... Boom! The start of a new adventure!

What a Difference 100m Makes

Costa Rica - Day 1 - Puerto Viejo - Wow

5th Aug

Ohhh man you can't believe how good it felt to finally arrive in Costa Rica!

I rolled across the bridge in slow motion and pulled up in the gravel outside immigration where an organised que of people waited to get their passports stamped, I don't think I saw a proper que in Panama once! After getting my stamp I went over to the customs counter which was in the same office literally 5m from immigration!!! Progress comes in simple forms.

A fella in his mid thirties came to the window and asked for my papers and copies... fully prepped I gave him what he wanted and he explained I just needed to pop down to the pharmacy, 20m down the road and get my insurance and he will complete my papers. My insurance cost $26 and I returned to the desk... 20mins later I was done. Soooo easy!!!

I set my GPS to Puerto Viejo and took off on what should have been an hour ride to the coast. I had expected to ride to a place called Brimbi on the main road and then cut back toward the coast, however as any good sat nav should I was directed off the main road after only ten minutes and onto a single track gravel road that took me away from the main road and off into the jungle!! The road wiggled up and down taking me over sketchy bridges and even through a couple of shallow rivers! The scenery was awesome, with lush vegetation, huge trees and little thatched huts along the side of the road. Blindly trusting the sat nav I carried on and after 15mins popped out on the coast, a most excellent shortcut!

Puerto Viejo (PV) is a special place, the little town is full of life with people bimbling around from coffee shops to market stalls and boutiquey little places... there is a strong Caribbean vibe and everything is about Pura Vida! Within 20seconds of parking my bike by the beach I was offered some grass.

Along this palmed lined stretch of coast are a string of beautiful white sandy beaches that form the boundary between the jungle and the sea. From Puerto Viejo heading East back towards Panama there were a load of beaches recommended in the lonely planet so I buzzed off up the road to check em all out before selecting a place to stay. The setup here is totally different to Panama and the road was lined with cool (and clean!) looking 'Eco Lodges' and nice likkle cafes & restaurants. From what I'd read they were mostly going to be way over my budget but I imagine they would be perfect for a two week holiday sometime in the future.

Anywho... coming out the bank in PV I met a real nice American guy called Thomas who was checking out my bike... we got chatting and he said to meet him in a cafe up the road for coffee so he could hear about my trip. CariBeans is owned and run by a chocolatier called Paul who had moved from the States to PV and setup a coffee shop... after a bit of time he got interested in making chocolatey creations using locally sourced, organic ingredients and has spent the past ten years experimenting and building a very cool chocolate business. Thomas knew the guy so we all sat round had a coffee and chatted for an hour or so... Thomas was good and totally innocently carressed the ego of the master into bringing out one of his latest creations... Sea salt and caramel chocolate with 81% Cacao! Nyom, nyom, nyom! Anyways check out the shop online - www.caribeanscr.com - he will fly it to your door for a small fee (obviously a lot more than a mars bar from tut shop) and it's real good chocolate!!

Thomas had done a similar trip to me, starting on the West coast of the states he had bought a truck, stuck a bed in the back and hit the road south. After 9 months he arrived at Puerto Viejo with the intention of carrying on South but he liked it soo much he just stopped and has been there for four years! I could see why. I asked where he would recommend slinging my hammock for the night and he suggested Punta Uva which was about 8km's East of PV. I thanked them both, slipped into my boardies and went off for a surf...

PV became popular as a surf destination because of a heavy reef break called 'Salsa Brava' or hot sauce! As was my luck with the caribbean swells it was too small to surf the day I arrived but there was a fun and pretty heavy beach break around the corner at Playa Cocles which provided the salty antidote to my enforced wave drought. It was sooo good to get wet!

I stayed in the water for too long that afternoon and as I rushed to get changed, wash off the salt and re-pack my bike I knew I was going to end up putting the hammock up in the dark... I raced off up the road to Punta Uva and found a perfect spot with a couple of palm trees just 5m from the beach and miles away from anyone. As I setup my bed for the night the sun was just dissapearing below the horizon and I was treated to the most incredible sunset... I have never slept in such a beautiful place.

The contrast of my frustrations in Panama and the freedom and beauty of my experience in Puerto Viejo was immense and the emotional, travelling roller coaster was definitely on the way back up! Days like this are why I love to travel!

Imprisoned in Panama (not literally!!)

Fri 1st Aug - Tues 5th Aug

What goes up must come down!

You may have noticed that my blog has suddenly filled up and the normally short updates have turned into long prententious essay's detailing interior design features and other frilly niceties... don't worry I haven't gone soft, hung up my board and turned into a blogaholic... I have just been bored out of my tiny skull!

I was always concerned about the border crossings, they had potential to be difficult and without a full understanding of the language I was always going to be vulnerable...

In the pouring rain I got on the first water taxi out of Bocas and was back on the mainland by 9am. I collected my bike and loaded up in full aqua man gear. I wanted to get to the border early in case there were any problems.

From Almirante I rode for an hour through Changuinola to the border town of Gaubito. Of the 3 potential border crossings from Panama to Costa Rica I had read that this was the quietest and most relaxed and was therefore hopeful for an easy crossing.

Everything started well, I parked up at the bridge, went to immigration and had my passport stamped. I then hopped across to the customs hut and presented my papers. Despite having a full set of copies they wanted two so I got everything copied again at the copy hut which also happened to be the doughnut hut!

I then went to see two lovely ladies in the stamp hut and paid $10 bucks for a certificate to say what colour the bike was and $3 for a postage stamp to decorate my passport. All was going well, people were smiling and I thought I was about to cross the border within an hour of my arrival!

With all my papers in order I handed them to the rubber stamp man who checked them once, then again, then with a proper rhythmical motion smashed two stamps into the ink and again on each document... gadouche, gadouche! Then a puzzled look descended over stamp mans face and he started asking his colleague a question... apparently I was missing a Transmite Aduanas de Re-Exportation (the bike I had bought was originally from Canada and had been imported into the country by a previous owner, this was all fine, I had the papers to prove that all the duties were paid but for some reason panamanian law requires me to get another piece of paper to say that the bike can leave the country????) I was aware of this and had been told in Panama city by the officials that I would be able to get one at the border for $20. No problem I thought, point me in the direction of the re-exportation hut and I'll go get it!

So the guy gives me a scrap of paper with two telephone numbers and two names and says I need to call Juan Carlos and that I had to go to the officina de Aduanas back in Changuinola, 20mins back toward Almirante. It was now 11:30am and my early start had allowed for some shenanigans so I asked for an address and went on my way.

Typically my GPS was unable to connect to something with intelligence so when I got back to Changuinola I asked a taxi driver how to get to Finca 8, Barria Chexen... confidently he said (in Spanish) keep going straight into town, take a left at the national bank and take a right near the airport about a kilometre out of town (at least that's what I thought he said! ) This turned out to be a banana processing plant and the guys, whilst amused at my setup just directed me back into town to ask someone else... I got directions from the chinese shop owner, then a large guy sat out front of a restaurant, then another taxi driver and eventually after an hour of fruitless (excuse the pun) searching I was getting a little frustrated. I called the office again and twice a woman on the end of the line hung up on me saying Juan Carlos was not in Changuinola.

I needed a new plan so I went to the police station! The officer behind the desk called the number and got nowhere, so I told him the address I'd failed to find and he sent me back to the banana factory!! Back at the police station, when they realised I wasn't going away they offered to drive me there... I jumped in the squad car and a different officer took me to a small bungalow that said Immigracion (I'd asked for Aduanas (customs) but wasn't confident the police knew where I needed to go)... I opened the door to the office where two officials were sat texting on their phones. After some frustrated misunderstandings they pulled out one of the only two people I met in Changuinola that spoke English (the second was a super camp kitchen porter from the hotel, who on my last night asked me if I wanted him to come to my room that night... Why does it always happen to me??! I said no and gave him the wrong room number). In a beautiful rasta lilt this enlightened civil servant told me I was still in the wrong place and that I needed to go straight, then left at the sport shoe's shop and to the yellow building on the left (she repeated this five times as if she were speaking to a deaf person, I was desperately trying not to laugh!)

Finally I had found the officina de Aduanas! It was 2:30pm and hot as hell and I had yet to eat lunch... these guys took me through into their office, checked through my papers and acknowledged that I needed a Transmite Aduanas de Re-Exportation! Sweet, but... they couldn't do it in their office I needed to go to their other office 0.5km away! How many offices can their be in this shitty town?!  At least this guy was cool and he called ahead to give the office warning of my arrival and even drew me a map!

Finally at 3pm I arrived where I needed to be only to be confronted by the most heinous incarnation of all that is wrong with self serving civil servants... perfectly manacured, with tons of make up, bling jewellery, an extremely well decorated office and a brand new pearly white Toyota Rav 4... Ana was clearly making a little more than the average office manager! She took a look at my papers and asked me a load of questions in machine gun Spanish... I didn't have a clue what she was asking and asked if she could repeat the question, this seemed to piss her off and she started bitching to her assistant then laughing loudly... in an attempt to explain she adopted a loud patronising tone for a couple of words then resumed normal speed and finished by pouting and laughing loudly in my face! Not sure what to make of this freaky creature I repeated what I needed and she responded by saying the office closed at 3pm... it was now 3:20pm and I would need to come back on Monday. She even, very kindly explained that Lunes meant Moonndaaayy in English. Douchebag.

I offered to pay and lied that my dad was landing in Costa Rica on Sunday and I needed to be there to meet him and she just shrugged it off and shuffled me out the door, jumped in her car and disappeared off to what ever beauty appointment she probably had lined up. An ass reduction wouldn't have gone a miss!

In hindsight anyone arriving at 3pm on a Friday afternoon asking for a complicated document would not be greeted favourably, she didn't need to be such a bitch but I learnt that it was definitely not a good idea to attempt border crossings on Fridays.

So... I thought about options and contemplated going back to Bocas but it was late, I hadn't eaten and there was no new swell so what was the point? I thought about riding back over the mountains to the pacific coast for a couple of days surf and then go for the hectic, InterAmericana crossing, but I would need to ride 6hrs back the way I had come and then I would need to find the officina de Aduanas which could take another day and I just couldn't see that it would be better so I decided to wait out the wknd in Changuinola.

Changuinola is the 3rd biggest city in Panama and is essentially one long highstreet with the tallest building being a MacDonalds! It's classic Panama, dirty looking, half assed concrete buildings with rusty tin roofs that form the central housing area and slightly larger versions of the same making up the scruffy shops on the main street. Stinky sewer water runs along the side of the road and rubbish is everwhere. The suburbs are a bit nicer and the surrounding land is made up of huge banana plantations. Surprisingly there are five hotels here... I checked em all out and chose the classy looking Ken Hong Hotel toward the end of the high street. $25/night for a concrete cell with double bed, cable TV, non existent hot water and WiFi.

The weekend was slow, really slow. Much time was spent blogging with breaks permitted during my quest to find a good restaurant. (The only one on trip advisor with good reviews was gone!!).

When Monday finally came around, I was super excited... there was an amazing sunrise through the window, the random and only picture in my room, which just happened to be of the Golden Gate Bridge, stood out in the light and I felt my time had come! I got to the office at 8:30am and met the two women with a smile...

However... despite them telling me on Friday that all my papers were in order and that they could do the certificate first thing Monday morning they had managed to find a problem. The two women started having a debate about whether or not the re-export cert would be enough and then tried telling me I would need to put the bike in a container or lorry to get across the border... after much arguing I convinced them that that was f*@*ing stupid and like a shifting wind the tack suddenly changed and they asked if I was going to pay the import taxes in Costa Rica... it was as if they hadn't realised I would be importing the bike into Costa Rica and would be paying the duties there... WTF???

With that cleared up they agreed that I would be ok with just the re-exportation cert and that they would have it done by lunch... at 12 the boss lady went off for lunch leaving her assistant / slave to do the forms... the computer system was playing up and I think said slave managed to do some typing for a whole half hour before suggesting I go for lunch and she'd have it ready at 2pm.

At 2pm she said there was a problem and I needed something else which she was working on but it wouldn't be ready till 4pm and that she had to go out to the bank and do some other things for an hour or two! I ranted at her, told her it was urgent and that I was more than a little pissed off already and said I would wait next to her desk until it was ready. At 2:30pm she kicked me out, locked up the office and said to meet her back at 4pm. Arghhhhhhh...

With nowhere to go I sat on the side of the road in the boiling heat and listened to spanish lessons... the boss lady got back at 4:15pm and said she had been out sorting my papers but needed one more stamp (an ink stamp) but the office where the illusive stamp resided closed at 3:30pm so I would have to come back tomorrow... I went flocking mental and after quite a but of swearing I suggested that had she not dissapered for the entire afternoon she could have got it done... it changed nothing. I was sentenced to one more night in Ken Hongs. Argghhh!

Sooo after one of the most frustrating days of my life I rode my bike back to my now familiar concrete cell for another night watching incomprehensible tv and blogging.

What I came to realise is that by far the hardest part of this not so fun experience was simply not understanding the system or exactly what I was being told. My brain was looping round and round convinced that I was being setup and they were either going to rip me off, stitch me up at the border with bogus documents or simply steal my bike... the negative power of a synical, paranoid mind is a dangerous thing especially with no distractions.

Tuesday morning 8:30am I was at the office & ready for a fight... After a quick hello, Vicky (the assistant) left to go get my stamp, 15mins later she returned and started typing away. I asked her was that it, am I good to go??? She said yes, as though she wasn't aware I was keen to get on with my life and then casually told me that it would cost me $100 for the stamped document... Oh man did I flip out! In a Spanglish rage I swore and waved my arms and even tried to rip the papers out of her hands! I don't think I've ever been so angry. I ended up grabbing all my other documents and storming out of the office into the street... unsure what to do I sped off to the other Aduanas office to tell them I was being ripped off and that they had better do something about it... to my surprise they said this service was normally $150 and that this was perectly normal for a corridor de Aduanas.

As a last resort I called David (the guy who sold me the bike) he agreed I was being setup and offered to go his local office and check with the head of customs but he was in a meeting and it wouldn't be possible till the afternoon. Then purely by chance it came up in conversation that the women who produced the transmite were from the corridor de Aduanas and just like that a huge penny dropped... Ana & Vicky were a private outfit offering a specialist service in conjungtion with official Aduanas. Because it was such a small border crossing the main office had limited resources and as such they worked with select offices to out source certain services. Corridor meant they were independent and as such, unlike the official customs offices they charged for their services. 

Ana had apparently done me a good deal, charging me $100 rather than the standard $150 and in return I had flipped out, sworn at her and her staff and tried to run off with the papers!!!

I had no choice but to pay the hundred bucks to finally get on my way. I apologised for the tantrum and suggested that next time they have an illiterate gringo come to them for help that they should explain in advance how the process works and what the charges will be... I'm sure she took my advice to heart?!!!

At 1:30pm, Tuesday 5th of August I finally crossed the bridge into Costa Rica. As I reached the other side a huge sense of relief washed over me and the trouble of the last 4 days was instantly forgotten. Bye bye Ken Hong!!!

Bocas Del Toro

29th July - 1st August

I had mixed emotions about this place and was curious to see what it was really like. I had heard a lot about it from other travellers and read in guide books that this Caribbean island was a crazy, drug fuelled party with some of the heaviest waves on the planet comparable to the North Shore in Hawaii... an exciting & intimidating prospect at the same time. It would also be my first experience of the Caribbean and I was looking forward to crystal clear water, coral reefs and some laid back reggea vibes!

July is considered to be a weird mini season on the Caribbean coast and the waves had been pumping all through the month. Unfortunately when I arrived the swell was fading and I didn't see it at its best. There were still waves to be had but a lot of the reefs were simply too small and shallow to surf, 3ft barrelling waves jacked up from nowhere to land in half a foot of water on the razor sharp reef... not even tempting!

I had found a hostel a few miles out of town that was located on a cliff just a few meters above the ocean next to Playa Bluff. Tesoro Escondido was an idylic collection of concrete and timber buildings nestled into the side of a low lying cliff with cool jungle plants and palms sprouting all around. Brightly coloured hammocks hung between every pillar with large balconies and walkways providing excellent views over the crashing waves below. Monique the Swiss owner and creator of Tesoro Escondido had built the place from scratch sometime in the late 90's. One day she explained how she had cut, by hand, all of the glass bottles that formed big sections of the concrete walls creating a really cool coloured lighting effect on the inside of the rooms. At $35 a night this place was triple my budget but for what you got it was well worth it!

A really nice Aussie couple, Alisha and Nick were volanteering at the hostel for a month and everyday served up a tasty selection of meals to revitalise the hungry surfer.

Everyday I would get up at 6am, waddle off to one of the nearby breaks, catch a few waves and head back for some lunch and a swing in my hammock. On the first day I walked down to a reef called Playa Paunch, clambered tentatively across the reef and joined a group of 5 guys who were tearing up a solid 4ft left. After a bit of jostling I picked off a really steep left and nailed the drop which although it didn't run for long served to settle my nerves! The waves on this type of reef are quite different to anything I was used to at home, the Caribbean swells have a shorter period, 8 - 9 seconds and were quite mixed in their direction due to the frequent storms... the result was a horizon scattered with peaks and waves that would shift over a 100m wide section of reef making it very hard to predict where the wave was going to break and whether it would close out or not. When they did come through they would stand up super quickly and you needed to take them really late to get on it. It took some figuring out but once you got one they were awesome! Loads of power and nice glassy walls to put in some turns. With a bigger swell the reefs produce gaping barrels, unfortunately for me I only saw two legitimate barrels and I was nowhere near them :(

After the waves started to fade I got out across the reef... despite looking like a kook my reef boots definitely saved me from cutting my feet to shreds.

That day I needed to go to town for cash and supplies... the walk took 2hrs from Playa Paunch and was the only downside of staying at Tesoro. The taxi back cost me $20!! It was painful to have to pay soo much for a  four mile trip but the road was a state and only passable by 4x4... I really wanted my bike!

Both evenings at Tesoro were really cool, dinner was served at 7pm, just after it got dark and most people sat around the big table next to the bar and chatted for a couple of hours... after I would go to my hammock and read with some good tunes which was bliss. The first evening the stars were out and lying in my hammock I could gaze into the night sky and watch the distant lightening. After a couple of hours a huge storm rolled in and from the comfort of my hammock I chilled while the chaos played out.

The next morning @ 6:30am Frank (a slightly loco dutch guy) and I went to surf Playa Bluff in the pouring rain. This 4km long, sandy beach is one of the breaks that made Bocas a famous surf destination, without fail every wave that rolled in pitched into a solid, hollow tube, dredging up the sand and shooting foam spears into the air. Notorious for breaking boards this wave was for experts only!

The swell was still junky from the overnight storm and it was hard to find a bank with a surfable wave and whilst it was only small, when the sets barrelled through they were overhead and thick lipped. After an hour of walking we just decided to give it a go... Frank had spent 6 weeks here and having snapped 5 boards he knew it well so I figured I would follow him in. We jumped in a rip and were out back in just a few paddles... I really didn't get on well with it, there was no real shoulder and the bottoms just dropped away making the take off super critical. After 15mins and a few small ones a set came right to me so I turned and committed to a heavy looking right... as the water disappeared from under me I popped and stuck my hand in the face to help me balance, for maybe a whole second I was on my feet and feeling good and then.... BOOM! Sand, sky, Sand, sky, foam... a bit more sand and then finally a big lung full of air! Kooked it!!

After paddling back out I felt a crack in my rail and decided I would rather live with the shame of walking away and keep my board in one piece. Had it been working well I may have come to a different conclusion. Of all the beaches I've surfed in the whole world (clearly not enough!) this is the only place that offers guaranteed barrels. I sat and watched Frank pull into a few closeout barrels and left him to it. He came back later missing 3" from the nose of his board!

After two nights at Tesoro I was hitting a blue patch, it had rained for all but 8hrs in the last two days which even in the Caribbean can get you down and in addittion the swell was fading, I was miles away from the fun of the town and I missed my bike (And my Bennun of course)!

I would have happily stayed at Tesoro but couldn't afford to so decided to move to Bocas town. I checked into hostel Heike which was one of the bigger backpacker joints in the middle of town, the staff were friendly and I met some Germans who invited me to join them for food and a drink. After 2hrs they were still waiting for a friend so I went out solo and found a real nice indian restaurant and ate an amazing fish curry! Knackered and not feeling sociable I went to bed and decided to leave the island in the morning and make for the border. Maybe Costa Rica would lift my spirits?!

From the Mountains to the Sea

A little hungover I made my way out of the jungle to collect my bike... the cloud was low and the rain inevitable so I suited up. The road wound higher into the mountains and the rain set in.

As I neared the mountain pass a series of signs warned of a dangerous corner and I could see the rain turning horizontal... I leant the bike over to take the corner and felt the wind smash into my side and push me back upright and halfway across the road! For the first time the board felt like a bad idea. I battled against the wind to get round the first bend with the rain whipping into my helmet and then the next bend and the next until eventually I got out of the pass and a few hundred meters down the other side... very sketchy! Got rid of my hang over though!

After the wobbly start the weather improved and as I weaved my way down the mountain I was treated to some fantastic views out over misty cloud forest. Small villages and scattered timber framed shacks with palm weaved thatched roofs raised off the ground on stilts lined the road... it was like a nature doco!

In one of the valleys there was a small school so unlike anything at home I had to stop and take some photos.

At one point there was a little dude stood outside his family home on the edge of the forest trying to flag down passing traffic to sell them a bundle of weeds! I gave him a dollar! 

After an hour or so the sun came out and the roads dried up. I got my head down and made the port of Almirante in time for lunch.

I had hoped to take the car ferry over to the main Island of Bocas Del Toro but I had misunderstood the guide which said the ferry runs from 8am - 4pm... in actual fact the ferry leaves Almirante at 8am and returns at 4pm so my plan sucked! I had already made a reservation for the evening on the main island and the town was not a nice looking place and I wanted to surf bad and I hoped to do the border crossing straight from Bocas at the end of the week and getting into Almirante at 4pm would mean I would not get to the border in time... I chatted to a couple of locals who said I could park my bike in secure parking (someone's garden with a fence around it) and get a water water taxi out to the island for $6 so that is what I did!

The Lost & Found - Jungle Heaven

28th July

If you've ever wanted to lose yourself in the Jungle then you have to visit the Lost and Found Hostel in the Valle de La Mina, both the concept and the reality is brilliant and offers a unique jungle experience for those with tight purse strings!

I saw this place recommended in the lonely planet and thought I'd give it a go on my way to Bocas. A beautiful, 2hr winding road through the mountains took me to Valle de La mina where I was told I would find a sign on the side of the road and a small cabin / house where I could park my bike for the night. The hostel was not accessible by road and guests are required to trek 15mins up from the road into the wild mountain jungle to find the series of simple yellow buildings built into the side of the mountain. I was lucky and arrived on a beautiful sunny day with the light piercing through the trees and stunning views off over the mountains toward Volcan Baru. What an incredible place!!!

I was met by Gabby a local panamanian lady who along with a few volunteer's was running the hostel with the two Canadians who had built the business from scratch. My bed was in a surprisingly large dorm with 4 storey bunk beds and an amazing panoramic view through the trees. Again I was fortunate as normally the hostel is full of backpackers which would have changed the vibe somewhat... as it was I met a real group of peeps, a couple of Aussies, Reece and Dylan, a Yank, Venessa, a Canadian called Ali and two English girl's who's names I could not pronounce!

Reece, who was volanteering at the hostel  took us off for a trek through the jungle. We walked for about an hour to 'Tree Beard' a huge tree with three large seperated trunk sections that was probably 5m wide at its base. Further into the jungle we got to a beautiful river with huge boulders scattered around creating pools and rapids to play in... everybody had a swim and splash around and I almost got swept down river when I foolishly jumped into a fast flowing section, luckily after bouncing off several big rocks I managed to grab a bit of something and pull myself out of the current! Idiot!

On the way back I took a side trail and climbed a path to 'The Mirrador', a 20min trek up to the top of the mountain offered awesome 270° views over the surrounding jungled covered mountains.

In the evening as the sun went down behind Volcan Baru I sat and ate dinner with one of the prettiest views I've ever seen in my life... brightly coloured hummingbirds hovered within touching distance, drinking sugar water from the feeders while a semi-tame parrot hopped around in the surrounding trees... with such a view even dry egg noodles tasted good!

To finish the night we all had a fairly intense drinkng session in the on site bar which, complete with disco lights, a projector and table football was quite surreal considering our location. Fun none the less!

The Lost and Found is a really great experience, with a serene vibe and a sensitive layout which makes the most of the incredible location. It would be very easy to get lost in this place... volunteer's can survive on as little as $3 a day and with a little ingenuity you could easily carve out a very fulfilling 'jungle book' life style in these hills!