These photos were all shot on a Olympus Stylus Epic using a mix of TMAX 400 and FUJI Superia 400 film.
Manuel Velez, Austin Horse, Me, and Lucas Brunelle
Panama City
Panama City
Panama City - Lucas being Lucas
Panama City - preparing for the trip to Yaviza
The Road to Yaviza
Kids on the road to Yaviza
Border Patrol station (the first of many) on the road to Yaviza.
Road to Yaviza
Border guard dinner on the road to Yaviza.
The Road to Yaviza
Explaining our way through yet another border checkpoint. I brought 50 small airplane bottles of whiskey to bribe border guards.. they were all gone by the end of the trip.
Yaviza town line late at the night
Morning in Yaviza.
Finding our boat to travel up river towards the Darien Gap.
Buying machetes and getting them sharpened before we set out.
Lucas
Austin - note the machete strapped to the top tube for easy access.
Manuel
Chas
Riding out of Yaviza
The bridge leading into the Darien gap
This Bridge is literally the end of the road…
There was an attempt to continue the road at some point.
The dense jungle pressed closer and closer the deeper we road.
Eventually we found where the dream of the road died
Sometimes nature defies the machines of man
When the road ends you can stop…or you can push on into the jungle.
Emerging from the jungle we came upon a burning field and a sleeping child.
The river was our compass, we had only to go up river till the water stopped, after a sweltering day riding in the jungle the river was also our first bath in days.
Much of our travel upriver was done in river boats, the fastest way to move through the jungle when riding was not possible.
Even as we pushed further up river, further from civilization the water ways were still crowded with commerce and locals.
Moving between our supplies and bikes while not tipping the narrow canoe was a skill quickly learned.
We hired out “captain” in Yaviza, and were told he was the most trust worthy river pilot in town.
Eventually the river becomes monotonous and a quick chess game can break the boredom.
The only constant on the river was border checkpoints, we had a stack of paperwork that had to be reviewed and examined at every stop. The whiskey bottles and gifted cigarettes helped speed the process.
Plantains being transported down river to Yaviza to be sold.
The main engine to our boat died, so we pulled into a small village and swapped it out for smaller (but functioning) motor. The caption carried the 100hp motor up the hill single handily.
The Captain and crew
Smaller motor going upriver means that we all had to take turns polling the canoe up river, sometimes even getting out to push through shallow sections.
Last town before the Dairen Gap.
The village was there primarily to support the border patrol station.
We took a day here to rest and repair our gear before attempting the Darien Crossing. We also had to find a guide willing to take us through the passage.
The kitchen area of the one room border patrol station.
Routing planning and discussion with our guides took up most of the day.
For the local kids our arrival and short stay was a huge event.
It was never even asked that we would help with chores, it was just a given.
The final sunset before entering the Darien Gap, up until this point it had all been a grand adventure, here it became serious.
Trail markers grew unsettling the deeper we trekked into the jungle.
in 1961 a pair of Chevrolet Corvairs attempted to cross the Darien as a publicity stunt.. they did not make it.
We had not seen anything bigger than single track trail for days and somehow this car was sitting out in the middle of the jungle.
The border between Panama and Colombia, no checkpoints out here.
Local guide.. notice the knee high rubber boots to protect from snakes.
Lunch stop.
We stumbled into this village well after the sun had set, our guides insisted we were not lost.. but they were surprised when we saw the lights from this settlement, and didn’t know it’s name.
Our first thoughts after crawling out of our hammocks in the morning was food. Plenty of it, rice, more rice and an eggs for protein.
Kitchen
Living room
We slept in the community thatched hut in the center of town, at first we thought it was a sign of honor, later we realized it was for our safety.
We were the first westerners the local children had ever seen, a constant crowd followed us everywhere we went, watching our everymove.
We had done our research and we knew we were traveling in FARC territory and that kidnapping and ransom was a real threat.
Our second day in the village a FARC patrol came through and we had to leave in a rush, not only for our safety but also to keep reprisals from affecting the villagers.
We left the village in their only river boat, using their only motor. Our destination the mouth of the small river where they lived, to a town called Punta Americanas, the planned terminus of the road that never crossed the Darien.
After a day spent pushing our overladen canoe down river through swamps we emerged to “civilization” for the first time in over a week.
The warm beer, crackers and tins of sausages were like a feast to us, after days of nothing but rice, eggs, and plantains.
Because of it’s location at the intersection of multiple rivers flooding was a real issue and the whole town was built onto stilts.
Here the local children were less than impressed with us, a hand pump went missing during our stay, a locals tax.
Our journey continued as we made our way to Rio Sucio a small city were we could ditch our canoe and river boats for a 4x4 rig to continue south overland.
Riosucio means “dirty river” the town was rough and tumble as only a frontier town can be.
Local Butcher
The one road through town, the man on the top of the truck is there to move low hanging power lines out the of the way so the truck can proceed.
We secured a 4x4 rig to carry our gear then we mounted out bikes again and started riding South.
Our plan was to ride some and drive some, but rough roads and constant flats eventually put us into the 4x4 full time.
2 days of driving, from dirt tracks to small roads eventually highways got us into Medellin. We had business with the border authorities, our crossing into Colombia was illegal and we had to sort things out before we continued on to Bogota.
After weeks in the jungle the hustle and bustle of a big city was almost overwhelming.
We found the local velodrome
Somethings are present in every city around the world.
In our exploring we found a local frame builder and toured his small shop.
Two more days of driving was needed to get us to Bogota.
Long days in the cramped 4x4 led to some interesting road side stops.
The deeper we wound up into the mountains the more epic the vistas became.
While Medellin had the feeling of a new city on the rise, Bogota felt old and full of a rich and sometimes troubling history.
Our end goal of this trip was to race a huge alleycat in Bogota, the BogoCat. Once we arrived and sorted out a lost passport it was back on the bikes to prepare for the race.
Street meat is my own special type of heaven.
Bogota
Bogota
Bogota
Winners fo the Bogocat! Coming from trekking through the jungle racing around Bogota with 300 other racers was a wild exeprience!
Lucas always get people to eat raw eggs with him, this race was no exception. Post egg consumption flex.
Wear your Helmet!!!
I road a Cinelli Hobo MTB.. my first MTB and to be honest it did great, even in the alleycat. The funny thing is I really didn’t ride it very much. We had planned this as a bike adventure, from river boatsand hiking to 4x4’s and buses we spent most of our time off the bike. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.
