It had only been a few hours but already it was feeling pretty weird to be here and not have the bikes close at hand. It was time to go and get them.

Reception had already called a taxi for us by the time we’d reached the front desk. Outside the day was already hot and humidity was growing by the second. “God I hope this doesn’t take too long”, Lisa mentioned off hand. I’d been thinking the same thing. We were in full bike kit. There was no way we were going to risk riding back through a new city in jeans and a T-shirt.

The airport was off to the right; we were heading to the old airport which had now been re-designated as the Cargo area. The small winding road was taking us all around the outer fenced off perimeter. We’d already been in the taxi for 40 minutes. In through the gates and past the security some 15 minutes later and after asking half a dozen people we’d said adios to our driver paid him the $30 (!) and had found the small ‘unmarked’ Girag cargo office. No wonder we’d not be able to find the dam place, it was around the back of the ‘unnamed’ warehouse, in through an unmarked door and up a flight of stairs that seemingly led to nowhere until you turn left and finally get given a clue by the small Girag plaque on the door.

The arms of our jackets were wet from sweat and chaffing the skin on our shoulders. I could feel the perspiration run down my thighs onto my shins and into my heavy MX boots. Something was telling us this wasn’t going to be a short process.

With photocopies and our air-ticket bills handed through the small window to the Girag girl, we’d got the ball rolling. We needed some more paperwork and a few more stamps. OK, that didn’t sound so bad…ha! We needed to get the quarantine stamp and an inspection prior to organizing the relevant stamp and inspection from the Aduana (customs). We listened to the directions to the quarantine office…twice. “Cuanto distancia y tiempo para caminar?” (How long to walk), I asked nervously, 20 minutes wasn’t what we wanted to hear. Shit! The idea of walking 20 minutes in 40 deg temps and humidity in the 90’s with bike kit and old MX boots that were taking the skin of our heels and toes sounded bad. It didn’t matter, we had no choice. She continued that once we acquired the stamp we needed to bring it back to her, she’d then stamp further documentation, which we’d then take across to the aduana (back at the entrance to the compound) who’d counter stamp it, when we’d then return to Girag to get a departure document which would be stamped prior to us connecting the batteries, sitting on the bikes and passing out from heat and dehydration.

…And so it began. We walked the 15 minutes to the quarantine office and with a little pleading talked them out of an inspection. 1 stamp down 2 to go. There was no point in Lisa trudging all the way back to the Girag office or for that matter out to the Aduana and so she stayed put at the quarantine office. I’d managed to grab a lift back to Girag and then all the way back out to the compound entrance and the Aduana. I was leaking and so bloody thirsty.

The Aduana staff had taken pity on me and invited me into the air conn’ed office. Ah, relief. I was doing my best to explain what I needed. Only after 40 minutes did they get the idea that I wasn’t flying the bikes to anywhere else and that I needed a temporary import document to leave the airport and ride out of Panama on the roads and into Costa Rica. They’d been friendly enough, but it had been hard work.

The walk back to Lisa had taken 35 minutes. Again the Aduana had stamped my paperwork without an inspection and for that I was extremely grateful.

Back at the Girag office we were handing over our newly acquired bits of yellow and pink paperwork and smeared stamps.

We’d picked up a departure notice doc that we’d hand to the cargo manager in the warehouse before we left. That was still some time off. The bikes still hadn’t been un-strapped or even taken off the large metal palette. We eventually found an ‘in-charge’ guy and asked for the webbing to be removed from the bikes. He looked at us with a confused expression and asked “why”???...Here we go again.

The bikes had been moved outside and were now sitting on the tarmac of one of the smaller runways. With the bikes at last un-strapped we could now begin reattaching…stuff. Seat off and covers removed we could reconnect the batteries. Sods law my bike battery was dead. So off came the cover again so we could jump start the 1100 from Lisa’s bike. We were both getting impatient with one another; the heat and humidity were finally getting to us.

The deafening noise of 4 huge propellers groaning behind us had stopped us shouting at one another and had caught our full attention. The beefy looking red and white search and rescue plane of the US Coast Guard had just landed and was making its weekly visit to refuel and pick up its cargo. A dozen or so drug traffickers that had been caught out at sea, convicted, and were being transported to the US to serve jail time. Martin, the flight engineer, had come over for a chat during refueling and given us the details as we chatted about our journey. Lisa managed to get one photo in before her nerve ran out due to the gun loaded, machete hung military presence that had been guarding the aircraft and who we knew would not allow photos...so we didn’t ask…just snuck some in!

We were almost done. The bikes had barked to life…it was a great sound. Bags loaded and strapped we could make a move. Back in the warehouse we’d handed over the departure notice to the warehouse manager and got our final stamp. One last set of papers to deliver.

Back at the Aduana and with the bikes we needed to hand over a copy of the vehicle ownership papers (from the UK), a copy of our passports, a copy of the temporary import document they’d completed earlier with the stamp and a copy of the Girag air-way bill and departure notice that we’d just collected. At last we were done. It had taken 5 ½ hours and we were desperately thirsty.

Hotel Costa Inn here we come.

Oh yeah, missing the turn for the ‘Paige highway’ and using the normal traffic congested road back did slow us up a little. My mistake I just didn’t see the sign for the turning, despite Lisa’s honking and hollering.
However, the riding was a pleasant relief with at least a little air moving over us cooling us down and the road manners of the Panamanians was a vast improvement over the aggressive madness we’d experienced on the Colombian roads and more especially in Bogota.

OK, we can’t go crazy but today we are going to shop. We’d made a small list of bits and pieces we needed…some were essential and some were purely for us, just because we could.

At reception we asked “what’s the biggest Mall in Panama”? The Albrook Mall was new and arguably the biggest in town. A short 10 minutes ride from the hotel saw us standing in front of ‘wonderland’.

We’d been struggling to swap and move files around on our hard drives over the last six months. We were simply running out of space on the computer. I’d already become fed up with the message, ‘you are running out of physical drive memory’ or ‘cannot complete operation. You are low on virtual memory’. It was time for more hard drive space, the 120Gb Transcend hard drive in the glitzy showroom window looked about right. For a £120 we’d get a long term solution to our problem….remind me I said that in a few months when I’m whining about running out of drive space again!!!

For $39 US a 1Gb SD card for Lisa’s music player was a bargain. With a Gb of extra memory Lisa won’t have to listen to the same 11 tracks over and over as we ride. Oh this is fun!

Our watches had seen better days and with so much sentimental value we didn’t want to trash them, we’ll get them serviced in the states. The cheap and cheerful G-Force Casio on ‘sale’ was a good bet and the smaller little timepiece for Lisa put a big smile on her face.

We needed one more item…it was a big one. Ever since we’d picked up the new Nikon I’d found myself in countless situations shooting something or other and wishing I’d had a longer zoom lens. Something that would get me right in amongst the pelicans or that skittish herd of Lamas or a little closer to the person enabling me to get that portrait that I could see in my head but couldn’t get near enough to capture.

We’d made a few enquiries and had been pointed in the same direction each time, ‘Moda Digital’ on the other side of Panama City. Suresh welcomed us eagerly and after a few minutes of searching, apologized for coming up short, he didn’t have the lens I’d been hankering after. “Please wait a moment”, he asked politely. “I think I know someone who has one”. A few moments later and Suresh had leant us his shiny new Toyota Hilux and his driver and we were whizzing past traffic heading to his friend Pepo. Pepo was a professional photographer and right now was opening up a digital print shop, his photography was taking a back seat and he’d mentioned to Suresh an interest in selling a few of his lenses. Suresh had admitted he had no idea how much Pepo would be asking to let his lens go. I wasn’t getting my hopes up. Pepo was already waiting for us, he been called by Suresh, he was clasping the lens in his hands. My first thought was “shit…that’s bigger than I expected”. 20 minutes later and we’d taken a few test shots, had a good look at the lens which was 5 months old and even printed up a few of the shots on Pepo’s new high tech print machine, the results were…fantastic. With a little haggling done and a tad of polite begging we left Pepo’s having parted with £320. To be honest, house sale or no, this for us was a really big deal and not a decision we made lightly…£300 is £300. OK, I’m now feeling better. I’ve just looked online for the UK price of the lens, bloody hell it’s listed online as £1,249.00. We may have got a better deal than we’d first thought…’ya think’???? ?

We needed one last purchase. Lisa has been cursing the fact that she’d not bought a copy of ‘Lonely Planet Central America’ back in Ecuador. We’d been looking ever since and come up short. After visiting 5 book stores we’d become more than a little demoralized. Sod’s law dictates you find what you’re looking for in the last place you look, true enough the last book shop we found in Panama City had one copy. At least now we can plan our route etc up to Mexico with more than just a wing and a prayer.

Down at the small concrete peninsula we did our best to capture the views. I’d already locked the new lens into place and was doing my best with the weight as I spun to capture the young dark pelicans that were flying over-head. Within 20 minutes I knew I was in love with my new Nikon toy.

We were now down near the front of old town, the small stalls and homes now behind us. Smoke and fire damage had gutted the concrete foundations of what had once been embassies, homes and businesses, their lifeless facades, scarred and ugly, now propped up with wood and metal braces to save further deterioration. Concrete steps down to the beach had been closed, cordoned off with rusty rails and wire. It’s easy to forget as you walk under Panama’s warm sky and easy pace that only 17 years ago it was being invaded by the United States of America. Operation ‘Just Cause’ had been approved by President Bush Senior and on 20th December 1989, 27,684 U.S troops and over 300 aircraft had been sent in, guns blazing, to depose the military leader Manuel Noriega.

We were now seeing just a small portion of the aftermath. The Panamanians didn’t fair well with 450 military dead and an estimated 2,000 – 4,000 civilians dead. Even typing this now it sends a shiver down my back…1989 isn’t that long ago and here we are now strolling down the same streets that a few years back were having the crap bombed out of them and we’re looking into shop windows choosing whether to buy the strawberry or baileys flavour ice-cream. Time’s a funny thing?

Well, as for the rest of the afternoon…we spent it just walking the old town photographing what we could and just taking in the feeling of our new continent.

A short story made shorter!!! What a waste of a day.

The alarm had gone and we’d prepped ourselves for a busy day. By 5:30pm it had all gone pear shaped.

We’d planned to get ourselves over to the other side of town to buy a mono-pod to support this monster lens I’ve bought and a UV filter to protect it. By 11:00 we’d farted around for over an hour in the long hot street outside the hotel trying to get a taxi. Nine had stopped and each one looked at the address we needed, frowned, pondered and then retorted…”No, no es impossible…muy trunke”. With that they’d closed the door and driven off. Only later did we discover the reason. 15 OAP’s had decided they need a few more dollars from the government, had taken their fabric chairs and simply plumped themselves down in a line across the busiest road in Panama. Yep…15 people…No, not 15,000 protestors. Just 15 oldies who were demanding more bucks had bought Panama city to a stand still and even the traffic hardened taxi’s were giving up and going home. Hell, this is the kind of stuff so bizarre that you just couldn’t make it up.

We were dumbfounded. Try as they might not a single taxi company could get a cab to the hotel. By mid afternoon the reception girls at the hotel had to admit defeat.

Vicky and Blandon from the USA had been waiting at reception for 10 minutes. Vicky had already been shoulder barged from her spot by an overly enthusiastic Spanish tourist wanting something from reception. “Excuse me I waaaas standing there” Vicky stated emphatically, regaining her spot and her composure. ‘Good for you’, I thought. “First time in Central America”, I asked? “Yeah, first time here”, Blandon answered. “Do you know what’s happening here” he continued. “Yeah, you’re just being ignored”, I answered matter of factley. A broad smile smeared across Blandon’s face. They were going to need to be more forceful.

20 mins later and they’d finally got checked in. We’d been speaking. Like us they were keen to go and explore the Panama Canal. A taxi was out of the question. With a fee agreed we’d come to an arrangement with the driver of the transport van from the hotel who was leaving with four guests en-route to another hotel. For $5 each he’d get us to the Canal. It was now 3:50pm…the Canal was closed to the public after 5:00pm. Even with the traffic it wasn’t going to take us an hour to do 12 KM. 45 minutes later and we’d moved 4 blocks. This wasn’t going to happen and the consensus was unanimous…give up and go back to the hotel.

Lisa spent the evening prepping for our onward travel; I was on my way to the roof. With a full moon rising over the city it was too good an opportunity to not photograph. Time to try that new lens.

Yesterdays plans hadn’t worked out…today would be better.

With coffee and breakfast downed, we’d met Vicky and Blandon in reception to confirm our ride to the Miraflores locks and the Panama Canal, the unofficial 8th wonder of the World. I’d already poked my head outside and even the traffic looked better, maybe we’d make it today?

By 10:00am we were all enjoying the cool air-con of the new white Costa Inn mini van. 20 minutes later and we’d covered the short 12km journey and were entering the canal compound. There was already a queue of oddly dressed tourists doing their best to buy tickets. We’d not seen so many bad taste Hawaiian shirts since the last episode of Magnum PI was shown back in the late 80’s.

On the other side of the welcome centre we were enjoying our first real view of this amazing feat of engineering. Even after the books, the pictures and the facts have been digested this place still makes an impact.

Two vast tankers were making their way through the locks, with only feet to spare on either side. Lisa face was showing the wonder we were both feeling, and the question that was going through everyone’s head…’how the hell did they build this monster’???

75,000 workers from all over the world had come to this place to build the world’s most significant waterway. Powerful words are carved into various rock faces around the complex…’courage’, perseverance’, tenacity’, determination. Yeah…OK, a little theatrical we thought initially. We were so wrong…this was the real thing; these words echoed what had been achieved in the face of seemingly impossible odds. Of the 75,000 workers that had traveled from their homes, incredibly and sadly 25,000 died during construction. Yes….you read that wright! Malaria and Yellow fever killed thousands during the build.

The Canal stretches 80 Km (50 Miles) from the Pacific ocean in the South to the Atlantic Ocean in the North. And crossing has its price. Commercial vessels pay in cash and cash only. A super tanker can easily be charged $300,000 US…that’s a lot of cash to carry around…think about it!

We were busy taking in the numbers as the guide announced the facts over the tannoy system. The two vast gates nearest had closed and the large grey vessel was finally in place. The ports had been opened and faster than you can run a bath at home 52,000,000 gallons of water had been poured and pumped into the gate. The grey giant in front of our eyes had risen some 20-30 metres. We watched in awe as two heavy looking electrical trucks on rails pulled the vessel through the channel. The question came around again…’how the hell had they built this thing…where did they begin’?

These days all ship yards have the exact specs of the canal on system and most sea going commercial vessels are built with them in mind. So exact are the figures and so precise the engineering that in recent years at least four ships have been commissioned and built that they steer the Panama Canal with only 24” (Inches) to spare each side. It’s hard to leave here and not feel more than a little impressed.

With our sight-seeing done we’ve made our way back to the Costa Inn, and here I am…sat in the restaurant bringing the diary up to date.

Shit! I’ve just realized…I’m 37 tomorrow. Time flies when you’re riding your motorbike.