Panama Climbing Trek Report

Here is a good report from "Wild Bill" on his January Trek To Panama. Hope you enjoy it.

Author: Wild Bill
Subject: HOME FROM PANAMA!!!
Date: January 22, 2005

We're baaack!

That's right, fellow limb hangers, the 2005 expedition to the rainforests of the Republic of Panama is over and at least some of us are now back in North America, with tales to tell that are sure to earn us more than a few free drinks while sitting around the treeclimbers' campfires throughout the coming year.

Several "full reports" of our second annual trek to the Golfo de los Mosquitos (the Mosquito Gulf) are sure to be written in the next few weeks by expedition members. And photographs of the more exciting moments are likely to be posted on the internet.

The members of this year's expedition were me of couse, Joe "Joe of the Jungle" Maher, Abe Winters, Dr. Noel Rowe and his wife Dr. Abbie Barber. We also need to include Dr. Pete Lahanas, our host at the Institute for Tropical Ecology and Conservation (ITEC).

Those treeclimbers who are not acquainted with the good doctors Rowe and Barber should know that he is an internationally recognized primate researcher whose life mission is to photograph endangered monkeys and other primates around the world, and she is both a geologist and chemist with a passion for furthering her husband's work.

They had learned to climb from Joe and then joined our expedition to improve their single-rope skills and meet primates high up in their natural habitats. They live in Rhode Island but operate a large private primate preserve near the city of Colon, on the Carribean end of the Panama Canal.

Abe quickly discovered that he and Noel had a common love for a spot in Ohio. Abe conducts an annual climbing event at the Cincinnati Nature Center, and Noel's grandfather started that nature center.

Our expedition had begun on Jan. 10. Abe arrived by commuter aircraft that morning from Panama City, and we picked up Noel and Abbie at the tiny Bocas del Toro International Airport in mid-afternoon. After a stop for liquid refreshment (and shrimp dinners of course) at the Pirate restaurant in town, we headed west about 20 kilometers along Isla Colon's only paved road. (Those who participated in the 2004 expedition might remember this road; it's a lot worse now.)

We were soon back at ITEC's small compound in the tiny beachfront community of Boca del Drago, which overlooks the Almirante Channel were Christopher Columbus anchored his fleet in November of 1504, during his fourth voyage to the New World.

The next morning, Juany and Willie Serracin were patiently (or maybe only Juany was patient) waiting for us at their sand-floor restaurant about a 100 yards up the beach from ITEC. Their kitchen has doubled in size since last year's expedition, and they had an extra-large supply of our favorite treeclimbing beverages on hand.

When the various reports of the expedition are added to this and other websites, you'll hear details about our initial climbs in the nearby primary and swamp rainforests on the island, where Joe had already discovered several new huge trees that included a giant Almandre tree. It had an almost unbelievable 360-degree view of the entire western end of Isla Colon and the surrounding seas.

You will hear details of our annual trek across the wild and wooly Soropta Peninsula. This is a place where even the native Panamanians rarely go. It is filled with deadly eyelash vipers and the equally deadly fer de lance snake. You will hear how Abe discovered one in the big tree (species unknown) that he was climbing. You will hear how Abe definitely does not like snakes.

We macheted our way past Joe's famous "Tree of Pain" on the Soropta and found a grove of exceptional trees (and another eyelash viper, of course) near the shoreline on the opposite side of the peninsula. The view from the top of a gigantic virola tree was incredible: about 20 miles of completely uninhabited white sandy beaches near the Panama-Costa Rica border, huge green volcanic mountains in the background, and the beautiful blue Carribean at our feet.

Dozens of other huge trees were nearby, but they will have to wait for future climbing expeditions.

You will hear details of how Noel and Joe met at least one troop of the local howler monkeys up close -- a lot closer than most people would want to get to a very agressive Alpha male howler they nicknamed "Billy Clyde." You will hear how the next evening a juvenile male howler actually climbed up Noel's climbing rope to check out the toe of Joe's rubber boots.

You will hear how we joined favorite native guide Enrique Dixon for a trip in his homemade dugout canoe into the mangrove swamps (and within a few feet of a wary 5-foot-long crocodile), where we climbed directly out of the canoe into the red mangroves and white mangroves. Although it was an area were few people ever go, there was an old pair of pants hanging from a mangrove root about a half-mile down a narrow channel. "Maybe the croc got him," Enrique said with a wide smile.

You will hear how, after six days on the island and peninsula, we headed out in the small water taxi through tall whitecaps across the big rainswept bay to the dirty banana port of Almirante. You will hear how the Almirante area got an estimated 30 inches of rain (about 12 inches a month is normal) in just two days, triggering huge mudslides that blocked the local highways.

You will hear how we turned left out of Almirante in a hired crewcab pickup truck, waited for the Panamanian highway department to clear the latest mudslide, then headed down the fantastic Carribean coast for about 60 kilometers. The road was actually an excellent two-lane highway that hugs the base of the huge mountains that seem to soar right out of the sea.

We turned right at Chiriqui Junction onto another excellent paved highway, and within two kilometers had started up into the huge volcanic range that forms the spine of Central America. It is part of the same range that includes the Brooks in Alaska, the Rockies, the Andes and the Continental Divide all the way down to the tip of South America.

Our driver eventually got us over the mountains and we stopped at a small native restaurant for more of our favorite liquid refreshments and the very excellent "greasy balls." The ingredients of the "greasy balls" will remain a secret to be discovered on future treeclimbing expeditions, but trust me when I say they are excellent when freshly fried. (In fact, we stopped for more on our way back to ITEC three days later!)

Soon we were riding through the dry forests on the Pacific side of Panama and we made another right turn onto another excellent paved highway that eventually took us back up into the mountains to the wonderful resort city of Boquete.

The town, which has a large number of expatriate Americans, Canadians and Germans, sits at about 5,000 feet near the entrance to the Volcan Baru National Park. The volcano towers to about 12,300 feet and is the highest point in Panama. Boquete is internationally famous for its wide variety of flowers and its excellent mountain-grown coffee.

You will hear from other members of the expedition how we climbed up above the coffee plantations on nearby Palo Alto (roughly translated, it means High Forest) and into the very wet cloud forests that start at about 7,000 feet. Joe and Pete had previously found a large grove of gigantic native oak trees, along with a lot of 125-foot eucalyptus trees among the oaks.

You will hear the story of the native indian on horseback who came around a curve in the steep, rocky trail and spotted us and our ropes and harnesses. You will hear how he stared incredulously at us from his saddle, atop what had to be the ugliest horse in Panama. You will hear about the amazed look on his face when we started up into the canopy.

We dubbed him the Palo Alto Drifter -- a takeoff of the old Clint Eastwood movie "High Plains Drifter."

After a pleasant dinner and breakfast in Boquete, where we got excellent hotel rooms with hot showers that were within easy walking distance of the whole town, we headed to what will forever more be known in treeclimbing circles as "Pete's Puddle."

This is an isolated place back down the mountainside in the dry forest where a series of hot springs boil up alongside an icy mountain river. The trees along the river and the quarter-mile trail from the road to the springs were excellent and we scouted out several for future climbs.

We soon were sitting in the hot springs, sipping as usual on our favorite liquid refreshments. It was so pleasant that even our driver -- Junior was the only name we ever learned for him -- and his wife or girlfriend or whatever she was, were also immersed in the deliciously hot water. We stayed until long after the skin on our fingers and toes had wrinkled.

Too soon, it was time to head back across the mountains in Junior's big taxi to Almirante. The weather on the Carribean side of the mountains was still rough. We waited once again for the highway department to clear a mudslide, then we made it to the docks just in time for the last water taxi ride to Isla Colon and ITEC. This time they had brought in a big 40-foot boat with a 500-hp inboard motor that took us through the heavy seas in record time.

The rain mostly stopped overnight at ITEC and our final day on the island was pleasant, despite the huge number of cocoanuts, bread fruits, limes and water apples that were scattered almost knee deep across the compound.

We flew off the island in mid-afternoon in the 19-seater commuter airplane to Panama City. Our driver there, Jose from our travel agency, dropped us off at the front door of the Hotel Covadonga in the heart of the historic district.

The last story you likely will hear will be how Abe and I -- we both were wearing muddy jungle shirts, filthy shorts and sockless tennis shoes that smelled like last week's dead cabbage -- walked straight into the bar at the hotel, past the starring lawyers and bankers in their business suits, and bellied our way up to the bar for a final round of our favorite liquid refreshments.

The 2005 Rainforest Expedition to the Republic of Panama was over.