Scott Schumaker

[Note: This is a revised version of the piece that appeared in Adventure Sports, Nov/Dec 2004. If you would like to read the original piece as it appeared in Panorama, go here -> http://www.scottschumaker.com/content/view/16/32/.]

The Trails Keep Going and Going
Exploring Panama’s Untapped Adventure
By Scott Schumaker

I was certain he was dead.
It was 1:30 AM and Jorge and I had just attempted to bunny hop up onto the curb on the edge of Panama City, Panama. The sidewalk, beyond which lay the Pacific Ocean and the beginning of the Panama Canal, marked the end of our human-powered adventure across Panama’s isthmus. I landed safely on the sidewalk, but Jorge’s sweaty hand had slipped off his handlebar, turned his front wheel perpendicular and sent him jack-knifing headfirst into the sidewalk. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. He had to be dead.

I’d come to Panama to cover the Portobelo International Triathlon, a hybrid road/off-road triathlon. An impressive event for a country relatively new to the idea of multi-sport, but it took crossing the isthmus of Panama to realize over that this country offered untapped and undeveloped adventure opportunity last seen in its neighboring Costa Rica over 20 years ago.

“Essentially, Panama is what Costa Rica purports to be,” says Boulder-based Brian Eustace, owner/operator of Adventures in Panama touring company. “It’s untamed and its tourist culture is in its infancy. It’s rare to see gringos out in the jungle, so the people are just as intrigued with you as you are with them. It’s a more genuine experience.”

My journey, hastily put together and involving trekking, night trekking, kayaking, and biking, traced El Camino Real and a portion of Camino de Cruces as closely as possible. The Spaniard s used these routes for 300 years, starting around 1530, to transfer gold through the jungle from Panama City on the Pacific to Nombre de Dios and Portobelo on the Atlantic. Then the 49ers, desperate to reach California’s gold, used the trails from 1848 until 1855, when the Panama Railroad made the footways obsolete.

No one had attempted a modern crossing along these trails since. If anyone had, my companions Jorge Heilbron, Panama’s first Ironman finisher and top adventure racer, and Irving “Rompy” Bennett, the country’s answer to Indiana Jones, would have known about it.

The Spaniard s and Argonauts took two weeks to make the roughly 60-mile crossing. We’re allowing ourselves two days with a full night’s sleep in between.

Day one: It’s six AM and we begin hiking up a dirt road outside Nombre de Dios, the original Atlantic terminus for El Camino Real. The following miles will be the easiest of today’s 12-hour trek. Around us, the guttural wake-up calls of unseen howler monkeys echo.

“Imagine what the Spaniards thought hearing those howls?” Jorge says. They must have wondered, much as I do as we veer off the dirt road and into the shallow waters of the Rio Nombre de Dios—our “trail” for the morning—what they’d encounter up ahead.

What greets us at first is farmland and cattle, but signs of the approaching rainforest abound. A black-throated trogon ruffles its blue and green feathers as we pass. Four snowy egrets take flight from the riverbed. White-faced monkeys protest our presence beneath their branches. The trees keep getting taller. The howler monkeys keep getting louder. We pass through a barb-wire fence stretched across the river and Rompy says, “Say goodbye to civilization.” Then we are in the damp jungle, humping towards the pass over Cerro Johnson.

As anyone who has raced in the jungle knows, it is dichotomous; chaotic but serene. Its beauty—waterfalls and turquoise pools, iridescent-striped lizards and poison-dart frogs, blood-red heliconia and orchids—is intoxicating, but its dangers require vigilance. We encounter a hog-nosed pit viper, spiders as big as your out-stretched hand, and the needle-sharp spikes of the black palm tree. Handholds and foot placements threaten to give way; the dense foliage is a labyrinth. Only Rompy’s spot-on guidance keeps us from wandering aimlessly.

We reach a narrow-gauge railway once used to transport manganese mined on the other side of the mountain. Abandoned almost 30 years ago, much of its rusted rail has been reclaimed by the jungle, but its remnants lead us to the pass, where Rompy says, “On a rainy day here, if a drop of rain fell on the ground you could see it hesitate as if it was thinking ‘Should I go this way to the Rio Nombre de Dios or that way to Rio Boqueron?’” We head towards Rio Boqueron and Chagres National Park.

Chagres National Park is an example of Panama doing what it can to protect its natural environment. Roughly 25 percent, or 5 million acres, of the country have been designated protected park areas that are ripe for exploring. However, limited finances and manpower mean these areas are protected in name only, for the most part. Ranchers, squatters and timber companies continue to push further into the jungle as they try to survive by the best means they know how, slashing and burning as they go. Adventure tourism could help slow the advance, but again, Panama’s tourism board is underfunded compared to neighboring Costa Rica, who, in turn, draws more “customers.”

Jorge, though, is quick to point out the upside of Costa Rica outdrawing Panama for tourist. “I believe that places like Costa Rica were discovered long ago because of its political stability and so on,” he says. “In the long run this has become a good thing for us in Panama as we still remain unspoiled and undiscovered. Here you can be the first doing many things and it's obvious by the look in the faces of the locals.”

And in the deepest jungle there are no signs of man, except us, of course. Tromping down the Boqueron, we’re walled in by jungle for hours before emerging at Santa Librada, marked only by a school and a stone church. Pointing to the school, Jorge and Rompy tell me about incredible riding possibilities. Rompy says, “Here in the country each school is at most an eight-hour hike apart. That way no student has to walk more than four hours one way to school.” Jorge adds, “And almost all those trails in between are singletrack and just waiting to be ridden, and they just keep going and going.”

As the sun sets, we celebrate the trek’s end with a 30-foot leap into a pool at Boqueron Falls, and then set up camp. Rompy tells us that 750 Englishmen under Sir Francis Drake’s command, intent on sacking Panama City, were turned back by the Spaniard s near here in 1596. I doubt any of those men were thinking a whitewater kayak would be the ideal toy to have to run this section of the river, but I was.

Day 2: Our support crew, Lemond and Grace, arrive, and we quickly launch the sit-on-top kayaks they’ve brought towards Lake Alajuela. It’s already 9 AM, and Jorge is worried there won’t be enough daylight to reach the Pacific. His worries prove prophetic.

A kayak’s rudder problem eats time. A wrong turn leading to a dead end eats time. Portaging across Madden Dam, Lake Alajuela’s creator, and down into the Chagres River eats time.

Nevertheless, our paddle is entrancing. I expect motorboats and yachts, but the enormous lake is empty except for two piraguas — long, dug-out water taxis — and some fishermen in smaller cayucos. The spring green of Panama rolls out across the hills. Children wave from shore. And along the Chagres, the aroma of gardenias, hidden in the dense rainforest, envelops us. We are now less than an hour’s drive to Panama City, but “remote” is still the best word to describe the surrounding landscape.

Jorge gives me the lowdown on some other adventure possibilities in the area. “It’d be so easy to ride trails out of Panama City, drop down into some caves and do some spelunking, or go rock climbing and then ride back,” he says. “And we haven’t touched the real intense kayaking areas.” I’m having a hard time comprehending how much adventure is available within only a few hours drive of Panama City, not to mention the rest of the country, and regret that I’ll leaving so much of it untouched when I fly out tomorrow.

We slide by the Gamboa Rainforest Resort, which, along with Canopy Tower nearby, offer less arduous ways to experience Panama’s vast flora and fauna. They’re more convenient too — less than a 32-kilometer drive from Panama City.

Our nine-hour kayak ends at Gamboa’s boat ramp under an orange-red sunset, and knowing darkness was imminent, Jorge has already called in reinforcements: Lieutenant Jorge “Otto” Gobea, the Panama military’s top jungle man. He knows Camino de Cruces better than anyone, even Rompy, and he brings three more troops eager for night trekking experience. By the time we reach the beginning of Camino de Cruces, marked by the ruins of Venta de Cruces, it’s pitch dark. Sinister, red alligator eyes glow in the light of our headlamps.

From above, our group must look like a luminescent serpent weaving through the rainforest. If it was daylight we might see monkeys, sloths, iguanas, and some of the 525 species of birds in the area. Instead, the jungle materializes quickly, passes through our tunnel of light, and disappears. Ravines cut by the Spaniards’ donkey-pulled gold trains rise over our heads; the occasional patch of cobblestones, which once lined the trail, pass under our tired feet.
We turn right on the abandoned Plantation Road, and our four-hour trek ends below Canopy Tower in the headlights of Lemond’s pickup. It’s 12:40 AM. The bikes that will take Jorge, Rompy, and I to the Pacific are ready to ride. Otto and his comrades are engulfed by the night as we pedal away.

In an instant, we leave a jungle that could have conquered us, and begin paralleling the ultimate symbol of humans conquering the jungle—the Panama Canal. We fly through the deserted night streets of the Canal Zone, the ghosts of its 122-year history pushing us along.

Forty-five minutes later we hit the causeway. Forty-six minutes later Jorge hits the cement. Time stops. The past 43 hours cease to exist or be of any importance. I’m at Jorge’s side and there is nothing. Then, a slow movement and a groan and, woosh, he is suddenly back on his feet, dazed and off-kilter. Somehow he managed to only grazed his cheek and deeply bruise his shoulder.

There is a collective gush of relief and we are reminded of an important lesson: “civilization” can be as dangerous, if not more, than the jungle.

Trailhead
The beauty of Panama is that its adventure travel and eco-tourism are still just beginning to find their legs. Innumerable adventures still wait to be thought of and tried. Some might say the downside of this is there are few accommodations that match American standards, knowledgeable guides, or experienced outfitters, but you would say that’s part of the adventure.

Getting there
Fly directly to Panama City’s Tocumen International Airport on the following airlines: American Airlines from Miami, Delta Airlines from Atlanta, Continental Airlines from Houston, Newark, Miami, Los Angeles, and Panama’s Copa Airlines from Los Angles, Miami, Houston, and Orlando.

Where to stay in and around Panama City
Gamboa Rainforest Resort – Large, luxury eco-resort with spa. From $120. <a href="http://www.gamboaresort.com" target="_blank">www.gamboaresort.com</a>
Canopy Tower – Six-room hotel in the rainforest’s canopy. From $100. <a href="http://www.canopytower.com" target="_blank">www.canopytower.com</a>
Hotel Caesar Park – Close to Panama Vieja and the original south end of Camino Real. From $75. <a href="http://www.caesarparkpanama.com" target="_blank">www.caesarparkpanama.com</a>

Adventure-oriented tour companies
Adventures in Panama – <a href="http://www.adventuresinpanama.com" target="_blank">www.adventuresinpanama.com</a>
Panama Adventure Bikes -<a href="mailto:julioarjona@hotmail.com"> julioarjona@hotmail.com</a>, 507-676-4023
Panama Jones – <a href="http://www.panamacanal.com%20" target="_blank">www.panamacanal.com </a>
Panama Star Tours – <a href="http://www.panamastar.com" target="_blank">www.panamastar.com</a> (can arrange for Rompy to be your guide).

Weather
Laying between 7 to 10 degrees north of the equator, Panama’s climate is tropical and humid. Mid-December to mid-April is the dry season, and the more conducive time for land-based adventure considering the remaining rainy season brings Panama’s yearly rainfall average to about 3,000 millimeters – or almost 10 feet – a whitewater fanatic’s dream.

Races
Portobelo International Triathlon. March 13. A 1.8K swim, 35K bike, 10K event, the bike is half paved, half bumpy dirt road and the run takes you up through a mountainside jungle, over the top and down the other side. Portobelo itself is a sleepy seaside town on Panama’s Atlantic side, a two hour drive from Panama City and strewn with the ruins of multiple forts built to protect the gold and silver the Spaniards once shipped from the port. <a href="../www.triathlon.org.pa/eventos2005/triathlon_2005.htm" target="_blank">www.triathlon.org.pa/eventos2005/triathlon_2005.htm</a>.

Ocean to Ocean Cayuco Race. March 18-20. A cayuco is the dug out canoe of Panama’s indigenous Indians. The 3-day, 50-year-old race with 7-mile, 21-mile, and 15-mile stages takes teams of four through the Panama Canal from, as its name suggests, ocean to ocean. Prize: commemorative patch for all finishers. <a href="http://www.cayucorace.org" target="_blank">www.cayucorace.org</a>.