Adventures in Navigation

The refinery is along the coast and has little gates and guards who give you passes. It's sort of like passing through a European border point. Long yellow bar across the road, passport checks, names on clipboards, and laminated passes for the dashboard. But it's a pleasant drive - only large silver pipes lining the grass and a beautiful view of the bay.

As it got dark, we found ourselves on another rutted dirt road that paralleled the beach. We decided to see how far we could go so that when we began our midnight 30 kilometer trek across the sands, we'd be closer to our goal.

Stopping at one of the (very) few homes, we ask a family. Once again, our requests are greeted with much hilarity and they point down a windy hill in the forest(full of what I'd call potholes, but are really mini-ditches)and tell us to keep going to the end.

It's getting dark and the road is twisting and turning and cow eyes in the headlights are bright yellow. It's a beautiful night as we bounce along the rutted path and hope these are the "best $@#%-ing monkeys we ever see!"

The road dead ends at the sea and we part just off to the side under the sand. It's FABULOUS being on the West Coast - our windows are open, there's a lovely breeze, the ocean sounds are soft and.... NOT A BUG IN SIGHT!! Woo Hoo!

We break out our supplies, have a glass of wine (OK, maybe more than that!), and put the seats back to grab a few hours sleep.

The plan.... As always... Is to nap while the tide goes out and then get up and make the rest of the 25K drive to Mono Feliz along the beach. The tide will be going out, so Munro figures "no worries."

Midnight on the beach. No moon, slightly overcast, and a few stars poking out in the sky. Munro is on my right as nag-a-vator and I'm ready to rock and roll.

The first several kilometers go smoothly and quickly. The beach is wide, the tide is going out at a pretty good rate, and the headlights are nice and bright.

BIG NOTE: After a few kilometers the rocks start showing up. Depending upon how much surf there is, the rocks are either nicely silted up with sand or they look like deep, long, jagged ditches that go from the sand banks on the right all the way down to the tide line. Our ride back followed several days of calm water, so it was far less of an adventure...

This being us, the jagged ditches are right there. It's 1 AM and I'm worried that we'll puncture a tire, so Munro goes out to check the "road." Slipping and sliding, he finds a path to smooth sand again. Off we go, down the beach and skirting ever-increasing numbers of rocks. At one point, we pass a fisherman, who looks a bit startled to see a huge white SUV coming his way. Sometimes we think we can't make it any further and we turn around. But we keep heading back and find signposts like the piece of driftwood that looks like a coyote howling at the moon.

At one of these turnarounds we spot a man on a bicycle. Yup, Panamanian bicycle man at 2 AM. He is so toasted that I can smell the rum from where I'm sitting in the car, but he's very friendly and Munro's Spanish holds up enough so that the man offers to lead us to Bella Vista, the last town before the final 15K to Mono Feliz.

Off he pedals, and we're astounded and amazed - he's steady and heading around the rocks with great ease. Every once in a while, he hops off his bike and walks it across the rocks (I wish we'd taken a photo of these things at night - it was land of the dinosaur rocks!), and then waves us through with wild hand signals. He's very proud of us every time we navigate a tough spot and cheers us on with great rum-soaked glee.

We arrive at his home, a concrete shack on the beach, and several of his mates are up and about as well. Robert wants to offer him the small bottle of rum, but I think he's had enough and is probably highly flammable as is. We settle on giving him a dollar, which he originally doesn't want. The Panamanian believe in their "propia" or tips, but only on formal occasions. They are very generous with their help. Our little man is so thrilled with the dollar he offers to take us all the way to Mono Feliz - a 30K round trip for him. We decline and head off, figuring that all should be well from here.

Ha! We encounter more and bigger and more challenging rocks and terrain, a small town (featuring a man with a flashlight and backpack at the "entrance" to the town - said entrance just a sand ramp with rocks for erosion protection up the beach). He says Mono Feliz is not far, but wants us to head back the way we came and give him a ride. After much to-ing and fro-ing, we get him to guide us to the beach entrance to Mono Feliz.

Up we go - on a dirt track through the jungle. Cows to the left, beach sounds and insect sounds all around and every once in a while, a wooden sign with "Mono Feliz" printed on it. Allegra and John must have a sixth sense about putting up signs - they're placed just as you despair of hope!
We finally reach the wooden fence that marks off the Mono Feliz sanctuary. Hooray! We find what looks like a campsite and hear dogs barking. It's now 3 AM and we're pretty tired, so we make our bed in the car seats again and go to sleep. I can't wait to see what the morning brings. Are we in the right place? Will we be safe? Are the monkeys really happy?