From Anchorage to Ushuaia by Bike

We’ve been staying with Mauricio (from warmshowers) for the past five days, in Quito, the capital of Equator.

We’ve seen both the old part of the town and the Mariscal, the newer area.

We also found maps of Equator at the Institute of Military Geography with precise altitude and distances, good news for bikers.

And on that note, the bikes were fine – no damage to report. It’s been nice to rest for a few days and get acclimatized since Quito is more than 2800 m above sea level.

Tomorrow, we hit the road for our first day in the Southern Hemisphere!

Sara
30/04 18h34

Since Mexico, and in all of Central America, plastic bags and plastic bottles are everywhere. Literally ubiquitous. People roam the streets with bottles and bags in hand. The garbage bins are full of them, as are the ditches by the side of the road and all the stream and river beds. 

In the bakeries, each pastry comes wrapped in plastic, and then they are all bagged together. In the grocery store, it doesn’t matter whether we buy a package of cookies or groceries for a week, we always end up with an impressive number of plastic bags. If we go to the deli counter for cheese or meat, each slice is wrapped individually, then wrapped with the other slices, then finally bagged together with our other orders. When we go to check out, absolutely everything is bagged. A 5 litre water bottle is double, or even triple bagged, in case the first one tears from the weight. And for the most part, the bags aren’t full. The customer never bags the groceries, only the employees, and in Panama, the generally rule was to double bag, even for a package of cookies. Obviously, we try our best to keep all these “free” bags to a minimum. 

When we try not to take the bags, we are invariably misunderstood. Sometimes we try to explain, but it never goes well. The day we arrived in Panama, I said I didn’t need a bag for a 2 litre bottle of juice and a can of tuna. The two cashiers stared uncomprehendingly at me and asked three times whether I was absolutely sure that I didn’t want the plastic bag. “No, no, I don’t want it. I don’t need it!” I tried to explain that all these plastic bags generate a lot of pollution and were bad for the environment. But to no avail. I’m sure that they thought I was from another planet – at least that’s how they looked at me!

This morning, we knew we would have problems registering our bikes for the flight from Panama to Quito. All the bikers who had done this before had had trouble with the one airline company that runs direct flights between those cities. To make things easier, we had found cardboard boxes for the bikes and had packed up our bikes in them. We had carefully sealed the boxes using (plastic) packing tape, but as soon as we got into the terminal, the porters (unavoidable since there aren’t any carts freely available) descended upon us and practically forced us to get our boxes re-wrapped in plastic sheets. All for the modest sum of US $36, per bike! “No!” we protested.  But they explained that we didn’t have a choice, that it was mandatory, and that the airline would refuse to take the boxes unless they had been shrink-wrapped. “No, No!” Our porter led us away from the check-in counters, and told us we should trust him: he could take us somewhere where it would cost much less to wrap our boxes. “But we don’t want to wrap them!” 

On the way, an airline employee confirmed that we should follow him – no further explanation. We went back outside the terminal and arrived in a little room with its own check-in counter, and a few travelers standing around watching the employees wrap up their luggage: suitcases, backpacks, etc. There was tightness in our throats as we watched, disgusted by the sight of all that plastic, distressed that we might have to give in, and generally annoyed by the porter who kept repeating that we just had to ask the agent and she would confirm that we absolutely had to wrap our luggage. As we waited our turn in line, the porters stepped up their game and lowered their price: 30, 20, then just US $15 per bike. We stood firm: “No, no, no. No!”

Finally, we approached the counter. The agent explained that we were at the special baggage counter because of the bikes. Behind us, our porter continued to insist that we had to plastify our luggage. We tried (calmly) to explain to the agent that we didn’t want to wrap our boxes in plastic, and that we refused to participate in this wanton destruction of the environment. The agent listened attentively to our arguments and told us that we didn’t have to use the plastic, but that if we didn’t we would have to sign a waiver discharging the airline of  any responsibility for damaged luggage. We took the risk. Our porter finally understood that we wouldn’t be paying, and in the middle of the room he loudly announced that he was claiming $5 for his services. Still somewhat nauseated by the whole process, we didn’t really feel like giving him anything, but he had spent a lot of time with us and had transported our luggage to the counter. We offered him $3, but he kept loudly insisting on $5, which we ended up giving to him. It seems being a porter/plastic wrapper in Panama City airport is quite a lucrative business. 

We were feeling pretty beat up already when the agent told us that our luggage was overweight and that we would have to pay extra. Lovely. Well, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, and we were prepared to pay, but the question was, how much. The official limit was 32 kg. Sara had 35 kg, and I had 40. “And so how much will the surcharge be?” Given our rather fragile state, the agent tried to explain delicately that we would have to pay $75 each for the bikes, and $50 for the overweight luggage (since it’s the same price whether you’re 1 kg or 20 kg over), for a total of $250 together!

We told her that this was not the first time that we had flown with our bikes, that this was more than twice as much as we would have to normally pay, and that we wouldn’t pay it. She was pretty understanding and reduced the fee to $75 each - $150 total. Given everything that we had read in the blogs, this was the minimum that we could reasonably expect to pay, and so we agreed.

Both on departure and arrival we could see that the bikes were not exactly handled with care. But we did land in the right city, with all our luggage, although we were physically and mentally exhausted. We were graciously welcomed by Mauricio who we are staying with for a couple of days. We’ll see tomorrow whether the bikes arrived safe and sound. And just think, if anything is broken, we’re sure to find some plastic tape to fix it up!

Sébastien

We got in touch with Bob from the couchsurfing network to see if we could stay with him while we organized the flight to Quito. He wrote back right away to say that he lives and works in Dallas, but that he had an apartment in Panama City that we could use. We couldn’t believe our luck! All we had to do was confirm with him and then pick up the key from a friend’s place. So we had an amazing apartment, with security at the entrance and access to the pool. The apartment was on the 27th floor, with two rooms, each with an ensuite, a fully-equipped kitchen, AC in all the rooms, internet, a flat screen with cable… and hot water! We could barely believe our eyes. It seemed like the lap of luxury – although not all together sustainable, and certainly more than we were used to or really needed.

The city center in Panama was a stark reminder of the deep divide between extreme comfort desperate poverty. Grand apartment complexes sidled up to dilapidated buildings and little lean-tos. The areas around the complexes all really dirty and unkempt, and we went through areas of the city even more impoverished.

So here we are in the Ciudad of Panama, after having followed the Panama Canal for a quite a bit. Because of our chosen method of locomotion, we weren’t able to take the most direct route on the “Puente de Las Americas”. We had to go North, and cross the “Puente Centenario.” The canal was actually built twice. The French started work on the canal in 1881, but they underestimated the project. 22,000 workers died of yellow fever or malaria in less than ten years, and the whole enterprise went bankrupt. The US pressured the French to give up the concession, and work started up again five years later, and lasted another ten years, and !!include!!d many more deaths from tropical diseases. The first ship crossed the canal in 1914. The US held a lot of influence over the canal and Panama politics generally, under 1999 when the revenues of the canal were entirely given over to the country.
The canal is highly profitable, and has allowed Panama to improve its infrastructures, and fund health and education programs, among other things. The canal is 80 km long and connects the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. Currently, about 15,000 boats pass through each year, and it is overcrowded and too narrow for the big ocean liners. In 2006, there was a referendum approving a project to widen the canal. 

We had some trouble getting our bearings in the Ciudad de Panama. There are no street names or numbers. The only way to orient yourself is based on the shopping centres, the apartment complexes, and the bank towers. It was pretty disorienting for us Europeans. We frequently had to ask people on the street for directions. And we discovered that although lots of people would know where a certain landmark was, they just couldn’t explain how to get there!

We’re getting ready to fly tomorrow (Sunday) to Quito, Equator. When we left, we hadn’t planned on going through Colombia. As we travelled however, we began to reconsider. We read the blogs of recent bikers who had gone through Colombia and they wrote positively about their experience, and so we thought about changing our plan. In the end, however, we don’t have to time. It will have to be for another trip.

For the flight, we found two boxes for the bikes, although unfortunately a lot smaller than the ones we had to go to Anchorage, which meant that we had to take the bikes apart. We also got a couple of big, cheap, travel bags to put our biking paniers in. So our stuff will be well protected from the not always very careful luggage handlers.

This will mark the end of our journey through Central America and the Northern Hemisphere. It is also the half-way point of the trip: 12,500 km down, and about that many left to go!

We hope – although likely in vain – that it will also be the end of the high UV indices. In France during the summer, on sunny days the UV index can reach 8 or sometimes 9, but here the index goes up to 12. And when the number goes above 10, they advise to you stay inside and avoid all sun exposure. And yet, we bike all day! It certainly explains our extreme tan and the 5-8 litres of water that we drink each day…!

Sara & Sébastien

It’s a common phrase for us, especially at the end of the day: “Can I see the room, please?” Who in France, or any developed country, would ever ask such a question? It wouldn’t have even crossed our minds to visit the room before paying. And yet, since Mexico, we are wary of every hotel and carefully check everything: that the door closes and locks, that there is water, that the bathroom is clean, that the sheets are clean, that there is toilet paper, that the garbage is emptied (here, like in Mexico, toilet paper is never flushed down the toilet but put in the bin beside the toilet), that if we are paying for hot water we actually get it, that the floor is clean, that the key works, that the TV works (if there is one), that there are clean towels (yes, we have our own, but we generally like to use the services that we are paying for!), etc. It’s hard to check everything, though, and so in Salvador we ended up in a room without window panes, in Guatemala we were without towels, we had no toilet paper in Honduras, and no hot water in the mountains of Mexico. 

And the last incident was in Panama. We had asked at the gas station where we could find a cheap place to stay. It had been a long day, and the day before has also been especially hard, and we were really feeling it. The attendant announced happily that we need not look further: there were rooms to rent only 50 feet away. It was a nice place in a little spot of forest, and although the owners were trying to organize a political rally (for the Panama elections on April 26), they took two minutes to show us the room. It was a little expensive, but conveniently located and it looked good to us. Sébastien went to check out the room, came back and paid, we went to settle in. I took a look around: there was no toilet paper or little soaps, but that wasn’t a big deal: it was nice just to have arrived.

We started to unpack, and since we don’t have much with us, it doesn’t take long. We took out the shampoo, all ready for a nice shower….except that there was no water! We trekked across the property to find the owners and they assured us that there would be water within 10 minutes. Sébastien took the news in stride, but I was a little agitated – all I could think about was a hot shower. We waited more than an hour and then I went to see if the neighbours had any water. They didn’t have any water either: but it had been promised to them “within 10 minutes” more than half an hour ago. Sébastien and the fellow went to see the owners again, and the truth came out. There was a problem with the pump, and there wouldn’t be any water tonight or tomorrow. The bills came back out of the owner’s wallet, and we headed out again. It was already almost 7, and the sun was going down. We got on our bikes and started out towards the “hospedaje” that they recommended, only 3 km away, in the dark, without any road signs to help us out!

PS: In Panama, there are never any signs along the road. Over the course of 4 days and 270 km, we only saw two signs: one for the next town Changuinola, but then there was nothing after that and we had to stop at the intersection and ask which way to two. The other sign was on a mountain road that joined up with the Pacific Panamerican: there was a road sign in the middle of nowhere, telling us to continue straight ahead. Happily, there was no alternative.

Sara

Poverty and Malnutrition

On our way through Costa Rica we went along the Atlantic Coast and through the department of Limon, the poorest in the country. The houses are huts mounted on stilts: the floor is made up of rough boards supported by four posts, and the walls are made of the same boards, so poorly constructed that they don’t join together and we can see inside. We don’t know how the houses stay standing, especially during the rainy season. At least the climate here is quite temperate. The region Bocas del Toro, in Panama, is the poorest of that country and had the same kind of houses.

We also see children, dirty and barefoot, bathing in the same streams where all the garbage is dumped. They frequently come up to us and ask for money. It makes us a little uncomfortable, especially since the children aren’t always wearing clothes (the youngest often are wearing only shorts or a shirt – because of the heat or because of poverty, we don’t know). And sometimes they have distended bellies, no doubt because of malnutrition and the sanitary conditions of their villages.

But, in spite of it all, they smile at us and watch us, mouths hanging open. They’re surprised by us. They call us “gringo” or “gringa,” and are totally caught off guard when we respond with “holà” or “buenas”! They really aren’t expecting that!

Cocoa

Panama grows cocoa. We went with Francis, a Canadian member of the warmshowers network, to harvest cocoa beans. He moved to Almirante with his wife and three year old son, Oscar (who we unfortunately didn’t get to meet). He volunteers with a cocoa cooperative (fair trade) and she is working on her thesis, on the link between carbon emissions and deforestation. Francis showed us around the property of the house that they’re renting, while carrying a machete, a long stick with a knife on the end, and a basket on his back. He explained as we went along, and we learned all about harvesting cocoa beans.

In two hours, between the three of us, we collected more than three big baskets of cocoa beans. When we got back, we cracked open the pods to get the beans. The beans are covered in a white pulp, thick and a little sweet. We harvested around 3 kg of good beans. The beans ferment in a bag or bucket for 8 days and then are dried in the sun (three days of full sun). Then the beans are ready to be exported and processed.

The cocoa is not processed in Panama – at least not right now, but there are local processing plant plans in the works. The beans have to be exported to Europe where the big companies turn them into chocolate. The producers are paid $1.60 per kg to bring their beans to the cooperative, and once the beans are sold they get a little more money, depending on the price of the beans. For them, cocoa harvesting is their only income – we’ll let you do the calculation, but it doesn’t amount too much!

Banana production

Bananas grow on both sides of the border along the Caribbean coast, and they are the main source of income in the region. As we crossed through enormous plantations, we noticed that the bunches of bananas were wrapped in large blue plastic bags. We learned that bags keep in the pesticides, insecticides and fertilizers used promote growth. The chemicals are really bad for the workers though, and generally the employees of banana plantations are unskilled and under paid. And, of course, the bags mostly end up in the water run-offs around the fields and spread the toxins everywhere…

We stopped in front of a banana processing machine to watch. The workers were proud to show off what they did, but the overseer was not so welcoming and asked us to stop taking pictures. After the bananas had been sorted according to size, the green ones were washed several times in a chemical solution and then stickered and wrapped up still damp in cartons lined with plastic. We recognized the mark of a very common brand in France.

A new record

On Wednesday, we crossed the Panama Cordillera to meet up with the Pan-American along the Pacific coast. It turned out to be the hardest day since Anchorage in terms of time and distance travelled: 6:06 h on the bikes, 71 km and 1865 m in altitude! And consider that after 40 km, we were already 1600 m high. We were all too happy to arrive in Gualaca, the village we planned to stay the night at, and find a place to sleep!

PS: Where the land isn’t cultivated, the jungle flourishes. We saw a sloth (napping) and a couple of toucans. There also were snakes crossing in front our wheels, and even squished on the road.

Sara & Sébastien