Looking at the boat in the water, it didn't seem like there was any more room in the boat. As our luggage was tossed into the space near the outboard motor, I'm told to go sit in the front of the boat next to the captain. Climbing into the boat, I look at the twenty-five people sitting straight faced in their red life jackets. Looking down on my seat I see a toddler's life jacket is designated to me. The man next to me sees my predicament and hands me the last adult one. As I place it around my neck, I realize that there are no straps on it. At this point it solely acts as a scarf.
A few minutes later the captain hops in the boat. He's a short man dressed in Nikes, baggy shorts and shirt, Ray Ban sunglasses and a flat brimmed baseball hat. Starting the engine, we leave the dock and the captain immediately sits in his chair like he's driving a low rider. Leaning back in his seat his right arm sits nonchalantly on the throttle as his left hand is uncomfortably stretched across the top of the steering wheel. Hanging from his rearview mirror is a stuffed animal that swings back and forth with the boats motion.
Soon the boat is rocketing through the mangroves and bouncing across the wind chop. Sitting in the front seat I feel like a skipping stone as we blast by indigenous people paddling their dugout canoes. The captain still relaxed opens up the throttle a little more. I look at the tach and see we're approaching 5,200 RPMs - we are flying at this point. Pulling out his phone, the captain begins texting while keeping an eye on the water.
Twenty five minutes later we are standing on the dock shuffling into the taxi truck that we've found. The taxi driver's friend throws our bags into the back along with our surfboards on top.
The taxi driver's friend is yelling at us, "faster! Faster! We are going to get a ticket sitting here!"
Hopping into the taxi, I barely have time to shut the door before we start driving. Looking at the door panel, I realize there isn't a door panel, it's bare metal. Looking up at the dash of the car, a stereo has been poorly mounted next to the steering wheel. As we are barreling through the streets and crossing the center line to miss pedestrians, I can't help but notice that the stereo is acquiring more attention than the road.
Chet turns to me and says with a concerned face, "our driver can't be more than fifteen."
I silently agree, because I'm not sure what to think while he's racing the taxi through Almirante. Turning around to look out the back window, our surfboards are on the verge of flipping out of the car. They aren't tied in, nothing's weighing them down. The boards are at the mercy of the taxi driver at this point. Chet and I just give each other a look.
Finally making it to the bus depot, we are a little overwhelmed and stressed. We buy our bus tickets to the city of David and thirty minutes later we are climbing onto the next adventure of the day.
Staring out the window, I'm looking at our surfboards that are strapped on like airplane wings. Taking out my iphone, I put my headphones in and put on Melissa by the Allman Brothers. All my stress is gone as the world goes by in a blur as I stare out the window.
Flying down mountain roads
As our bus climbs up and down hills, I begin to smell what I believe is our brakes. I try to subdue the thought of our brakes dying from my head.
Two hours into the ride we begin climbing up a vertical mountain side. The engine wines in what I believe is second gear. The mountain and road disappears into the clouds. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster. The bus is shaking from all of the pot holes and the bus is at a crawling pace as if it's building up suspense for the ride down.
As we slip into the clouds, the dense jungle disappears and gives way to shrubs. Someone in front slides open a window and the cold, crisp air blows in. I give a sigh of relief to see we are out of the humidity.
Soon I spot sunshine in the distance. As we round one last corner the clouds hit a barrier of blue sky. The landscape drastically changes as if divided by an invisible wall. I immediately feel like I'm in California. Rolling hills, pine trees, and grasslands cover the mountain side. It's a good change of scenery from the jungle.
Making our way into the David bus terminal, we plan our next bus change. Grabbing our stuff, we shuffle onto an old American school bus. Climbing in, we squeeze into the tiny seats and are soon putting up a hillside into the town of Boquete.
Stepping out of the bus, I'm relieved to finally be standing. The town of Boquete is nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains draped with clouds. The cool mist blows in my face as we walk down the street in search of a hostel. It's the first time I've had to wear a jacket in months and I smile at the thought of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment