Home on the Highway - San Francisco to Ushuaia, Argentina in an 87 4Runner (2 Viewers)

[defrag4]

So how did the story end?

Basically because my truck was so screwed up and I only had an hour to get the airport I got the neighbor lady to call me a cab. $60 ride to the airport! Ouch

On the way, I am telling the cab driver my nightmare with Bill and he tells me he is so sorry and we should never take our car to an American mechanic in a foreign country. No one likes them and they just get screwed over at every at every parts house they go to.

The cab driver told me he is good friends with a local mechanic who in charge of repairing the towns fleet vehicles, rentals, and taxis. He says he can fix anything and on the super cheap.

He took me to his shop on the way to the airport. I met the mechanic who was a younger fellow, probably around 27 or 28 with a lot full of taxis, newer rental cars, and locals old junkers. Even though I could barely understand a word he said, I trusted him. He said his friend has the exact same truck and he could test parts between the two instead of just throwing money at it.

After I picked up my Mom from the airport, I dropped the 4Runner off with him and left for a week.

Got a call 2 days later that the truck was all done!

Came and picked up the truck and she was running better than she ever has before.

The mechanic said it took him a long time to just to figure out just what the hell the last guys had done. In the end he re-adjusted the AFM back to stock, cleaned and adjusted the TPS, cleaned the injectiors, replaced the O2 sensor, dropped the fuel pump and discovered it was fairly weak and not pumping properly, replaced that. Replaced the fuel filter and a few other adjustments. The final bill was steep since the fuel pump was around ~$150 but I was just happy to have the damn truck back and purring once again!

She has been running amazing for the last few months, starts on the first crank and getting around 20MPG.

Gotta love Toyotas!


Moral of the story: Wrench on your own truck when you can, and stick with the locals when you cant! at least I know I am.

 

[bmwjnky]

Glad you got it sorted out. This has been the best story I've read out of any the car forums I'm on.

 

[TallCanDan]

W. O. W.
AWESOMELY AMAZING STORY!!!!!!
Don't just leave us here....
In the last post you're speaking ( typing?) past tense. Where are you guys at now? Back " home?" I have read EVERY word and have viewed every pic, and feel like I know you guys already!! How the hell are ya, holy sh!t! Have you filmed any talk shows yet? Once again, holy sh!t!!
I hope you guys are okay!!!!
Danny

 

[Rigger]

Yeesh! What a circus! I am glad you got it squared away!

 

[defrag4]

Costa Rica is a beautiful country, jammed full of amazing wildlife and breathtaking scenery. It is a safe, well-developed country, with fine infrastructure. It has become the #1 tourism destination in Central America for good reason. That being said, We were getting tired of running the "gringo circuit" and having every place we show up be overrun with tourists, price gouging tour operators, eco-tour this, eco-tour that. Where was the REAL Costa Rica? Someplace that hasn't yet been bombarded by ex-pats looking to make a buck off of milk-faced tourists coming down on holiday. We were hunting for someplace where the smooth pavement ends and the true Costa Rican jungle takes back over.

When we last met up with our Costa Rican friend Erick, we were planning a 4x4 trip out to the "Osa Peninsula". Dubbed Costa Rica's last wilderness frontier, The Osa is rich in wildlife, sparsely populated and, until recently, very difficult to access. Much of this densely forested area is conserved in national parks and private reserves. Here, towering rainforests line undeveloped beaches and untouched coves, making this region one of the most beautiful anywhere on Earth.

Osa as seen from space

We loaded up the 4Runner and Erick loaded up his Nissan and we headed out from San Jose towards the jungle.

We are humming along when all of the sudden a huge thunderstorm hits us. It is coming down in sheets, we can barely see the road in front of us. I am losing sight of Erick who I am following out to the Osa, when all of the sudden the 4Runner bucks and then completely dies. Try to turn it back over and it just cranks and cranks but never turns over. Great.... broke down in a thunderstorm.

Luckily Erick's truck is equipped with a HAM radio setup and he had given me a Walkie, So I radio up to him that I am having some issues and he circles back.

We jump out in the rainstorm and pop the hood trying to figure out what the hell is going out. Getting soaked to the bone in the process...

After some fiddling I realize that while driving down the bumpy and rutted roads the MAF sensor plug has wiggled itself free. Plug it back in and hit with a few zipties and we are back in action! I think 90% of our truck is held together by zipties at this point...

We cruise along the Osa peninsula with no real destination in mind. We eventually decide to head out to "Bahia Drake".

We arrived in Drake and find a small fishing village with a beautiful rainforest lined sandy cove.

We drive right out onto the beach and setup camp for the night.

We share some beers and celebrate our arrival on the peninsula. We are honored with a beautiful sunset over the bay.

The Osa peninsula is one of the wettest places on earth, getting hit with an average of 360 inches of rain per year. It doesn't take long till she starts dumping once again and cuts our celebration short. We both retreat into our individual homes for the night.

Next morning we are up early eager to explore more of the Osa. Erick talks to a local fellow who gives him the scoop on a beautiful beach that we need to go check out. He says the road out there is pretty rough with lots of river crossings. Excellent!!

We make it to our secret beach. A beautiful palm lined beach with not a soul to be seen.

More pics and the rest of the story on the blog at http://homeonthehighway.com/headed-to-the-osa-peninusula/

 

[defrag4]

I am limited to the amount of pics I can post on the forum, so you need to go check out the blog to do this post any justice! Backpacking Corcovado National Park | Home on the Highway

It had been far to long since we did some backpacking and Lauren and I were getting very excited to visit Costa Rica's Corcovado National park. Corcavado is located on the isolated and undeveloped Osa peninsula. It is considered the crown jewel of the Costa Rican park system. Corcovado contains the largest primary rainforest on the entire Pacific coastline and the largest lowland tropical rainforest in the world. National Geographic called it "the most biologically intense place on EARTH". We were stoked.

We signed up for a 2-day permit at the park office located in Puerto Jimenez and picked up a trail-map. The cost was $10 per person/per day plus $3 per day for camping. There are also meals available at the Sirena Ranger station. However, meals must be scheduled far in advance and are very costly due to the necessity of all supplies to be packed/flown/boated into the remote ranger station.

The next morning we loaded up our backpacks with food and gear, parked our truck at a crotchety old ex-pats tienda near the trailhead and started off down the beach.

The ranger informed us when we signed up for the hike that it was around 20KM (12.5 miles) or so total to the Sirena ranger station where we would be camping. The hike is a mix of beach hiking and rain forest trail. Trudging along through the wet sand, Lauren and I were immediately reminded of our backpacking trip on California's Lost Coast


The scenery was breath-taking. Tropical rainforest butted right up to the pristine beach. Similar to the Lost Coast, we had to be wary of the tides. There are 2 stretches of beach that could only be crossed during low-tide. Get stuck in the middle when the ocean comes up and you are shark food.

Within 2-minutes of hitting the trail we started to see our first wildlife.

A Coati(sort of like a tropical raccoon) is feeding on the beach.

Continuing along the beach we crossed a few small rivers and streams leading out of the jungle into the ocean.

We continued hiking through the sand and made it to our first beach pass. Tide coming up on us already? We are going to have to boogie if we want to get through the second pass before the tide is too high.

Making it through our first stretch of beach hiking we cut up into the rain forest. Immediately the temperature drops 15F and the intense sounds of jungle replace the sound of waves crashing the shore.

The forest is full of thousands of "Halloween Crabs" who make their burrows in the soft soils of the rainforest. They scatter as we approach filling the forest with the noise of claws scratching on the trees, branches, and deadfall of the woods.

We are deep in gigantic old growth rainforest.

We are peacefully walking along taking in the sights and smells of the woods when suddenly Lauren screams and stops dead in her tracks.

I run up to see what the hell is going on, She stops me and whispers. "I think I just saw a jaguar" Nonsense, I think. Jaguars are extremely rare and a nocturnal creature.

She points through the trees. Sure enough I see a black cat with long tail and piercing eyes staring back at us. DAMN! It is a jaguar!

The cat stares back at us nonchalantly then takes a few steps into a clearing. I see now that it is certainly not big enough to be a jaguar but definitely some sort of large black feline. Lauren steps back to safety behind a tree. I on the other hand grab the camera and inch closer as she whispers "What the hell are you doing!?"

The cat is just sitting there staring back at us... in perfect view for a picture. I ready the camera, aim, focus, fire. *BEEP BEEP BEEP*. The serine silence of the forest is broken by a mysterious foreign sound. The cat bolts into the jungle. I look down at the camera which reads MEMORY CARD FULL. The forested mountainside echos with the sounds of me cursing at the top of my lungs.

We later learn that what we encountered was not a jaguar but actually a "Jaguarundi". Someone with a larger memory card than us snapped this photo of one.

We have encountered small bobcats before in the wild but certainly nothing as strange, exotic, and possibly man-eating as this. Our senses are on high-alert now. I grab a stick for protection, Lauren huddles behind me, and we press further into the jungle. The fact that we are the strangers in a strange land fully sinks in. This part of the world is still extremely wild and we are the intruders. We suddenly get the feeling we are being watched as we traipse through the woods.

*CRASH* The sound of breaking limbs, branches fall from the sky, and the forest fills with screeches and screams. We jump 5ft backwards then stare into the tree-tops. We find an entire troop of 15 white-faced capuchin monkeys swinging and playing around. We spot one lazily munching on bananas. My mind was blown as we stared at the stereotypical "monkey eating a banana" scene play out in front of us. I thought this stuff only happened in cartoons!

Read the rest of the story and see tons more pics on the blog at Backpacking Corcovado National Park | Home on the Highway

 

[TallCanDan]

Thanks for the update, glad you guys are a-ok!

-Danny

 

[defrag4]

All is well, 4Runner is running liek a champ

 

[Rockets2000]

This trip just keeps getting better and better! Very inspiring, and I'm happy to hear you didn't get eaten.

 

[defrag4]

We booked it south from the Osa and were soon at the border of Costa Rica-Panama.

Within an hour or so we had gotten all our paperwork squared away, changed some Costa Rican colones into U.S. dollars (the official currency of Panama) and drove on in. Country #9. Our friends at fromatob.org have a nice writeup on"How to cross the Costa Rica-Panama border with a truck".

BIENVENIDOS!

A few friends of ours had crossed the border a few days earlier and told us of a town called Boquete nestled high up in the mountains. After spending the last few weeks in sweltering jungle temps we were looking forward to a few days of cool weather. We bee-lined it for Boquete.

Boquete is a small town in the highlands of Panama. It's cool weather makes it very popular with Panama tourists and ex-pats alike. The dormant and normally cloud-covered Volcan Baru dominates the skyline above Boquete. It is the highest point in all of Panama.

Our guidebook mentioned that most of Volcan Baru was protected national park land. It also mentioned a 4x4 road to the Volcano peak, elusive Quetzal bird sightings, and camping possibilities. We were sold. I guided the truck through the town and started snaking up through some small fincas and houses towards the volcano.

We arrived at the ranger shack around 5PM, jumped out and told the guard we were going to drive the 4x4 to the top. He started laughing. I pointed out the window to the 4runner and he said "Oh. We'll you can try" and wrote us up some permits. I wondered just how bad this road was going to be...

We drove up the gravel road which quickly turned to dirt then to straight up rocks and boulders. Maybe the ranger wasn't so crazy after all. We were less than 1/4 mile past the guard station when I first had to engage 4x4.

Example of the road-bed

The scenery was beautiful though. Mountainous cloud forest surrounded us. We inched along up the road navigated around and over gigantic boulders. At one point we took a shortcut through a farmers land to avoid a treacherous looking section of the trail.

After about an hour of driving the sun started to set. We had only driven about 1 mile and had not found any campsites. However, we also had not seen another soul and by the conditions of the road I doubted any joyriders would be making their way up the mountain. We pulled over and setup camp on the side of the trail.

View from our campsite. We are deep in pristine cloud forest, perfect Resplendent Quetzal country.

Made a nice meal and went to sleep in downright chilly weather. It was 45F according to our thermometer. Coldest weather we have been in for quite some time. Had to brush the dust off the sleeping bags and thermal underwear!

I woke in the morning with one thing in mind. QUETZALS.

Those of you following the blog know that we have been trying to see this damn elusive bird for months now. We have traveled through 6 countries that claim to have Quetzals but have yet to see one. We did catch a glimpse of a female back in Costa Rica but the male is what everyone is after. Volcan Baru was our last chance. The rest of Panama was lowlands and they do not exist in South America. It was basically now or NEVER.

I am sitting on the tailgate sippin come coffee when all of the sudden I hear a familar bird call way off in the trees. Could it be!? Back in Costa Rica we were on a quetzal hunting tour with a guide who was making the call himself. I sneakily recorded it on my phone for later use. I jumped in the front seat and played the recording. AN EXACT MATCH! Solid proof that Quetzals do exist out here.

I sat back on the tailgate listening, hearing nothing for a while. Disheartened I started playing the call on my own phone, hoping to lure in some horny males searching for a morning piece. After 10 minutes of messing with my phone and getting no where an idea strikes me.

I get back in the truck, turn on the radio and hook the AUX cable up to my phone. Now I am cranking the call out with 750Watts of goodness. The forest fills with the sound of my female call.

Female Quetzal Call Recording
Quetzal Call

I play it about 5 times and wait. All of the sudden, I hear a strange call I have never heard before. I scan the trees. I hear the call again, this time directly above me. I look up. A iridescent green bird with a blood-red breast, yellow beak and gorgeous 3ft long tail looks curiously down at me. <strong>I crap my pants.</strong>

I whisper/yell for Lauren to get out of the truck. She looks up and can't believe her eyes. It is a damn male Quetzal hanging out directly above our home.

I fumble for the camera and pop off a few shots for proof. I knew none of our overlanding friends were going to believe us if we didn't have solid proof. After all they have been on their own quests to see the bird for months. By this point most of them had decided that the bird is a myth and does not really exist.

Unfortunately our camera has a crappy zoom and it was pretty dark under the forest canopy. Its not winning any NatGeo photo contest but there is no doubt, MALE QUETZAL, IN YO FACE.

Excited as 2 kids in a candy shop we watched the male Quetzal as he made desperate calls trying to find this She-Beast of a giant female quetzal. After all what other birds voice is backed by a 750Watt amp?

Eventually he grew bored and flew off in search of a good time somewhere else.

We started up the calls again, this time even louder. You had to be able to hear the call for at least 1/2 mile in the mountain.

We waited, soon enough we saw another, then another, then another. At one point we had 3 male Quetzals above our heads BATTLING each other to claim this sexy silver Toyota Quetzal/4Runner.

Truly amazing, after searching for months and months we finally had more male quetzals than we knew what to do with. We sat there for 2 hours just messing with the poor males as they flew in from miles around to see what was up with the new lady in the neighborhood.

Eventually they wised up and word spread quick that it was just 2 jack-ass gringos messing around in the forest and they stopped showing up. We decided to try to drive up to the top of the Volcano.

We drove about 1/4 mile further when the road degraded to straight up 4x4 rock crawling expedition. Being out in the middle of nowhere, alone, and with no ability to get ourselves back out if we were to break the truck we decided to stop and hoof it on foot. If we had a partner we would have gone further, I think the 4Runner coulda made it.

I prefer driving, but walkings OK. I guess....

The cloud forest was full of life and we saw tons of other birds, even a few more male quetzals.

Later that night we are lying in the truck watching some scary movie. A big lightning storm is raging outside. Thunder shaking the truck like a tin-can. I start to get concerned about a damn tree falling on the truck...

Back to watching the movie when *BAM* something crashes into the truck so damn loud and strong Lauren and I jump and hit our heads on the roof. It scared the crap outta us. I roll down the rear-window in the rain and shine around with my flashlight. Sure enough, a big chunk of branch had broken off the tree above and came crashing into the roof of the 4Runner.

Not having anywhere to go or much we could to about it, We hoped for the best and went to sleep, the storm stopped soon after.

A pic of the branch in the morning.

New speed dents in the cab over the driverside

We spent 3 nights up in the forest parked right on the side of the road. We saw no other people and only 1 truck, a gigantic old school Ford with 40 inch tires and chains slowly crawling up with a bunch of forest workers in the back. They gave us a thumbs-up for making it this far up and kept on crawling.

If male quetzals are what you seek. Take the recording I posted on this blog and get your butt out to Volcan Baru. They are there waiting for you!

We packed up and hit the road. Destination: Panama City.

We are meeting some new friends and preparing to ship the truck across the "Darien Gap" via container ship from Panama to Colombia.

 

[elripster]

I bet Owen Wilson plays Defrag4 in the movie.

750 watt bird caller, best use of 4runner I've heard of in a long long time.

This story is just plain awesome.

Frank

 

[defrag4]

The Pan-American Highway, a series of roads linking the great white North of Prudhoe Bay, Alaska all the way down to the southern-most reaches of Ushuaia, Argentina. At a total length of just under 30,000 miles, Guinness Book of World Records marks it the "World Longest Motor-able" road. Yes-siree, 30,000 miles of awesomeness all navigable with nothing but 4 wheels, a tank of gas, and a sense of adventure.

Except... Except.... Except 54 damn miles of impenetrable jungle full of beasts, FARC rebels, impassable mountain terrain, and native tribes who are rumored to still dabble in cannibalism. I am of course talking about the "Darien Gap". The little stretch of jungle that separates Panama from Colombia. The little stretch of jungle that has created much headache for all overlanders headed south.

Panama City is where overlanders must arrange shipping around this swath of rainforest. I would say it tops the list of all overland PanAm travelers fears (the ones that have gotten over the whole kidnapping/beheading nonsense at least). Imagine loading your baby into a dark box, hoisting her high into the air, placing her among thousands of strangers, and setting her off to sea... Not to mention travelers have been stuck without their vehicles for months, forced to pay exorbitant fees, and there have been some whose trucks never showed up at all! Lauren and I approached the city with trepidation knowing what lies in store.

As we came upon the sprawling metropolis full of gigantic skyscrapers, super highways, and malls I was instantly reminded of my home city of Miami, Florida. Mix in everybody speaking Spanish and driving like crap and I really felt like I was back home!

We had a few goals for the big city of Panama. #1 See the Panama Canal. #2 Arrange shipping from Panama to Colombia.

We made some friends off the internet who had been traveling south as well. <a href="http://www.adventuretheamericas.com/[/img]Adventure the Americas</a> is a group of 3 friends who set off in a 4runner from Colorado and are now in Panama City. Pretty cool.. even cooler when you think only 3 weeks ago they were still in Colorado. Yes you read that right. In 3 weeks they managed to drive all the way from Colorado to Panama. A process that took Lauren and I over 7 months to complete! We told them they were crazy. They told us their plan is to circumnavigate the entire continent of South America and return home to Colorado in only 6 months! Then we told them they were just F'n nuts.

Aside from being crazy they turned out to be pretty cool dudes and we instantly hit it off. We spent the night sharing beers, swapping stories, and scheming our plan to ship around the gap together. It is cheaper to double-up and place 2 trucks inside 1 container. They had already laid some of the ground work for the process, found a shipping company, and begin the initial paperwork. These guys were fast.

Team Adventure the Americas and yours truly.

Since it was the weekend and we could not move forward with any of the process we decided to do some sightseeing.

First off we headed out to the walled-city of Casco Viejo. Panama City's historic district. It was built in 1673 after the old Panama City was completely destroyed by the dastardly pirate Henry Morgan (Yes of Captain Morgan rum fame) and his crew. Casco Viejo was declared a World Heritage Site in 1997. The area itself was getting quite run-down for a while and is now undergoing massive remodeling and restoration. It was crammed to the gills with beautiful colonial architectural, ornate churches, palaces, and now hip bars/restaurants. There is also a seedy side to the place which I can only imagine will get shoved out as real-estate values increase. Ahh progress.

After scoping out the city we headed up to a large forested area called Ancon Hill. Ancon Hill was under U.S. jurisdiction as part of the Panama Canal project and thus avoided urban development. It is an odd island of green surrounded by the urban sprawl of the city below.

We had read that the hill is home to monkeys, sloths, deers, and all kinds of wildlife cut off from any other jungle. Our friends from Adventure the Americas had seen a sloth up there just the other day, we hoped we would be so lucky.

As we climbed the hill we were greeted with sweeping views of the city between the jungle brush.
Panama City

Casco Viejo

CAUTION: GIANT BUTTS CROSSING

We made it to the top of the hill which had a gigantic Panamanian flag flying, viewable from all over the city.

Lauren looking off towards the Panama Canal off the distance.

We headed back down the hill still searching for wildlife. We head some screeches up in the trees and saw a small pack of Geoffrey's Tamarin monkeys roaming about.

A little further down the hill I am scanning the trees and spot a clump of fur. Looking closer... SLOTH!

Satisfied with our adventure tour we headed back into the city and grabbed some Dim Sum at <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g294480-d1309023-Reviews-Lung_Fung-Panama_City_Panama_Province.html[/img]Palacio Lung Fung</a>. Best Asian food we have had since leaving the states! That's not really saying much but this was as good as the stuff I could get in San Francisco. Highly recommended. I ate about 1000 trays.

Next morning we headed off to see Panama City's #1 attraction. The Panama Canal.

The Miraflores locks are located just outside of Panama City. They are one of 3 sets of locks used to traverse 51-miles between the Pacific and Atlantic. Looking at the locks in person and seeing them operate is mind-boggling. Add in the fact they are almost 100-years old is even crazier. A true engineering marvel. The history of the Panama Canal is very interesting as well. Did you know the French were actually the first to attempt digging the canal?

Tomorrow begins the shipping nightmare!

 

[defrag4]

We rose early on Monday morning and met the guys from Adventure the Americas downstairs in the hotel lobby for our gratis gourmet breakfast of a cup of coffee and piece of bread. We confirmed everything was a GO with Seaboard Marine, our chosen shipping company, and mapped out a plan for the day.

Today mission was to get the initial inspection of our trucks to confirm the VINs matched our import permits and to confirm we had no outstanding warrants/traffic tickets. With this clearance we would be able to move onto the next step of the process.

Keith from Adv the Americas had already loaded up the GPS with the coords of the inspection yard. We jumped in the trucks and hit the crazy streets of Panama City.

After battling our way a few miles through heavy morning rush hour traffic we pulled into a dirt lot in the middle of one of the roughest neighborhoods we have had the pleasure of entering thus-far. I would have thought we were lost if our buddies Brad and Sheena from DriveNachoDrive and 10 other trucks weren't already queued up waiting in the lot for inspections of their own.

View from the inspection lot.

Nacho sighting

Talking to Brad we learned that he has spent 3 days at this lot now. Apparently the inspection offices were closed the past 2 days for "meetings" of some sort. Of course in standard Central America practice no one bothered to inform the large number of people/cars waiting around outside...

When we arrived we met a long line of trucks hoping to finally make some progress. Lots of fellow overlanders from all over the world. Canadians, Swiss, Germans, Mexicans, and a few American gringos like ourselves. A regular United Nations of automobile travelers.

We were all waiting around in this sketchy parking lot confused and stressed, wondering if the inspector would actually show today.

Eventually a man in a white shirt with a clipboard came out of the inspection office. We all ran to our trucks, gathered our paperwork, and stood tall and straight trying our hardest to impress. After all, clipboard dude was the critical first step of the shipping process and if we managed to screw this up who knows how long it would be before we got another shot.

He went from truck to truck, inspecting paperwork, making notes and giving the royal thumbs up or thumbs down to the owners.

Brad passed his inspection, Adventure the Americas passed. I was up next. I was nervous as hell as "Clipboard" came my way. I locked eyes with the inspector who all of the sudden did a 180 and started marching back to the inspection office. WAIT! What about me!?

I ran around asking random people questions, Is he done for the day!? Is it lunch time!? Did I piss him off somehow!? How do I look?? No one had any answers.

30 stressful minutes passed waiting around in the parking lot, shady characters prowling the fence eyeballing our trucks like hyenas. I was just about to give up in defeat when the office door swings open and out trots Clipboard once again... 10AM coffee break I guess?

He comes over chatting on his cellphone and seems bothered by my presence. Maybe he thought I would disappear if he went away for a bit? He takes a quick cursory glance at my paperwork, makes a few grunts, and says everything looks good. We passed!

On to the next step. We need to wait for Clipboard to process the paperwork and send it across the street to the "Secretaria General" office. This complicated process of walking the papers across the street is estimated to take all morning/afternoon and we are all told to come back around 3PM.

We head back to the hotel to kill some time. Around 2:30 we head back to the inspection lot, park the trucks and then play a high-speed game of frogger across the 6-lane highway.

We receive little badges that say "Secretaria General" and enter a large office full of people waiting around. We ask the bubble-gum snappin'-cellphone chattin'-front desk girl where can find the Secretaria General. She instructs us to take a seat, so we do.

30 minutes pass, No one has moved. We start to get restless. We ask the lady what is going on. She just smiles and tells us to wait.

An hour passes. OK what the hell is going on! Its 4PM now. We assume the office closes at 5. There are 8 of us in here waiting for the same paperwork and we have made no progress past this initial waiting room.

We ask the gatekeeper again, What is going on? She laughs and tells us to wait with no further explanation. Seemingly perturbed that we were interrupting her game of "Angry Birds"

A fellow overlander emerges from behind the gatekeepers magic door. He explains that he was just with the Secretaria General, there is no one in there and he just walked by the front desk lady without saying anything to her about an hour ago.

Damnit! That's what we get for asking for permission...

We hatch a plan, Brad and Keith are going to cause a distraction and I am going to army-crawl past the desk, through the magic door, and into the office of the Secretaria General. We are just about to put the plan into action when our eyes catch the Camo-clad security officer fingering his pistol and licking his lips. He can sense the gringos are up to something. We put the plan on pause.

Finally the gatekeeper takes a break from texting her loverboy and says 2 of us can enter. Instantly, all 8 of us rise up and rush the door. She starts yelling at us. Only 2! Only 2!

"DON'T LOOK BACK!" I yell to Keith and Brad.

We all keep pushing past the door. We soon find ourselves running blindly through the hallways of the government building desperately seeking refuge. We find the door marked "Sec. Gen." We fall in and slam the door behind us fully expecting some crazed rifle-wielding Military dude to come kick our asses at any second.

We find the Secretary General pleasantly sitting all alone at her desk. She sweetly asks "Why were you guys waiting outside?...

Brad's paperwork is processed without a hitch. Everything matches up and he is given his clearance paper. His shipping partner was not so lucky and had to make a last minute mad-dash out of the building for copies.

Keith's turn came up. The SecGen got 90% through the process when she hit a snag. His import permit listed the truck as an "ALL-TERRAIN VEHICLE" but "Clipboard" had marked it down as a "CAMIONETA". This inconsistency was all that was needed to flunk the entire inspection process. Keith would be unable to get his clearance until we had the import permit changed at the customs office across town. FAIL.

My shot. I get up with my paperwork, 90% through. Snag. My VIN number was fine but where it asked for Motor VIN the import permit listed N/A. This would not do. DOUBLE FAIL.

We slunked out of the SecGen office defeated.



Next morning we were up early, headed to customs and got the proper changes to our paperwork. Drove back to SecGen office, bum rushed past the frontdesk airhead and went straight to the SecGen. Everything matched up perfectly this time. We received our clearance forms!

With our clearance forms in hand we headed to Panama City customs office to cancel our Vehicle Import permits so we could fly out of Panama without our cars.

Unfortunately no one at the Panama City customs office had any clue what in the hell we were trying to accomplish. They just couldn't understand why we would want to cancel our vehicle import permit.

We spent about 3 hours going from office to office explaining in vain what we were trying to do. We finally thought we were making some progress when they brought us to the main jefe (boss man) of the entire customs office. However, it turned out he was pissed off to be interrupted by a bunch of gringos and still did not understand what we wanted.

Oh well. Looks like we will have to cancel the permit in the port town of Colon where the customs office did this stuff daily. That's what we get for trying to be efficient!

Next morning we woke early. We took a few essentials out of the truck and packed our backpacks with some clothes. If everything went according to plan, by the end of the day, we would be loading the trucks into a container bound for Colombia.

We hit the road towards Colon, Panama. In Colon our mission was to cancel our import permit, find Seaboard Marine office, and load our trucks into the container.

Keith had loaded the GPS with the Port of Colons coords. We soon arrived in the gritty city and made our way to the port. Once we arrived there we found the customs office at the port entrance and explained what we were trying to do. They, of course, had no idea how to help us...

This in turn lead us on a wild goose chase all over the entire port of Colon. For about 2 hours we went from office to office explaining our situation to anyone who would listen. Everyone wanted to help but no one really knew what to do. We were sent off in a million different directions. At one point we went on a 30-minute joy-ride inside of one of the ports official vans which was actually pretty cool although completely unnecessary.

We eventually found ourselves at a building which everyone told us was Seaboard Marine office, but we could not find Seaboard Marine. We asked around for 30 minutes and finally someone told us the damn office is on the 2nd floor of the building we are in! DOH!

We walked upstairs and found Seaboard representatives smiling friendly from behind their counters...

We explained our situation to them. They in turn gave us directions to the REAL customs office who COULD actually cancel our import permits.

We jumped back in the trucks, drove all the way back across the city of Colon to find the Aduana agency we had been searching for all along.

Once inside we found the lovely Maria. She knew exactly what we were trying to do! We instantly gave her a huge hug. She told us she was really surprised to see a bunch of white people in her office, explaining that most folks hire a guide to help them through this process. Ahhh Guias? We don't need no stinkin' guias!

Maria is flyin' through the process almost done when *ZAP* all the computers go out. System is offline. No idea when it is coming back up again. Of course, Maria needs the system online to give us a print out of our newly canceled import permit.

Oh well, When in Rome... We went outside and joined the rest of the crew eating some questionable meat outta the streetside food carts. 2 hours later, systems came back online and we finally had the canceled permits we have been chasing for the past 2 days!

With permits in hand we knew we were closing in on the prize. We jetted back to Seaboard Marine, showed them the canceled permits, they gave us some more paperwork and sent us downstairs to the port office. Port office processed even more paperwork and sent us outside to "look for the guys in orange jackets" for inspection.

We got outside and realized everyone had a damn orange jacket on. Eventually I spot 2 guys hiding out in a little shack. I had to beg and plead for them to come out of the shack and do our inspection. They didn't want to get wet!

Read the rest of the story on the blog at The PanAm Shipping Process Part 1 – Panama | Home on the Highway

 

[defrag4]

The urban sprawl of Panama City soon fades as we rise higher and higher into the clouds. Miles of housing developments, sky-scrapers, and asphalt soon give way to lush virgin jungle. We were flying over the Darien Gap. From the looks of it I think the 4Runner coulda made it... Of course its easy to talk crap from 30,000Ft.

After a quick flight our plane descends into the chilly mountain city of Bogota. A welcome change from the sweltering temps of Panama City. We were shivering as we climbed the steps onto the tarmac to head for our connecting flight to Cartagena.

Everything is running smoothly, We grab our packs, rush through customs and head to the connecting gate.

Our luck ran out when the "Shipping process Gods" realized it had been over an hour since our last grand disaster. We suddenly realize there is a sheep missing from our overlanding flock. 3 Americans and only 1 Australian stand at the flight gate.

"Where the hell is Daniel?"

2 of us run back to the customs, No sign. We check the bathrooms. No sign.

I speak with the customs agent, wondering if Daniel had been captured, his long run as a secret Australian drug runner finally catching up to him in Colombia. WAS HIS NAME EVEN DANIEL!?? I wonder.

Nope, replies the custom guy. No white guys today.

We finally find him, outside of the damn airport wandering confusedly around the Taxis. He mistakenly walked out the front glass sliding doors of the airport instead of swinging a right to the connecting flights gate. An easy mistake to make but unfortunately security would not let him re-enter the building. We discuss his options as the automatic sliding glass door continuously opens and shuts in our faces. Well, we sure as hell weren't coming out there! He would have to make his way all the way around the entire airport, go back through security and meet us on the other side at the connecting flight. He had 30 minutes before the plane left.

We wished him good luck and jumped on the bus which then took us 3/4 of a mile across the airport to our connecting flight which was located in an entirely different section of the airport in a brand-new concourse under construction.

Daniel was equipped with his only ticket and a spanish-phrase book. Chances of him finding the new concourse, clearing security, and then finding the gate in only 30 mins looked dim.

We all anxiously paced around the gate as they announced boarding. No sign of Daniel.

We had no phone or internet to communicate with him. I gave Lauren my bag and waited at security. Kevin gave me all his electronics and headed out of security in a last ditch effort to track him down. After 10 minutes of searching, we heard them announcing final boarding.

With no sign of Daniel, Kevin gave up and came back through security as we headed towards the plane.

Our buddy was lost somewhere in Colombia but we got planes to catch. Good luck Daniel!

As we board the plane and hand over our tickets we hear someone yell "WELL WHAT ARE YA WAITING FOR, WE GOT PLACES TO BE!"

We swing around to see Daniel, cheery as a chipmunk, walking up with ticket in hand.

Apparently he had been sitting at the wrong damn terminal the entire time thinking smugly he had beat us to the plane. Only realizing at the last minute that the "helpful" airport employee had mis-read the ticket and sent him to the wrong gate.

We were all relieved to see him, called him a damn bastard, and got on the plane.

We soon landed in Cartagena, found a taxi, and after a quick head count, made our way to a hotel.

Welcome to Colombia!

 

[defrag4]

Growing up in Miami, arguably one of the hottest/muggiest places in all of the United States, I thought I was familiar with stifling tropical heat. Cartagena, Colombia made the hottest summer in Miami seem like a visit to the North Pole. This place was downright hell on earth. The temperature in the shade would hover around 95F at 90% humidity. I think Sheena figured out the heat index came out to around 130F degrees. We spent most of our time huddled up in our air conditioned hotel room waiting for the cargo ship to arrive with the 4Runner.

The short excursions we did make out of the hotel showed us a beautiful city full of life and action. If I could get permission to strut around town in nothing but a thong and sandals this would be my kind of city. Ahhh ya, you got that vision in your head now and its NEVER coming out.

Our hotel had a rooftop area where we could hang out, drink beers, and watch the baseball games that took place all day in the street below. These guys were serious about baseball. We watched many fights and arguments break out over calls, score, turns, you name it, they loved to argue about it. I think they spent more time arguing about baseball than they actually did playing. Either way it was great entertainment as we sipped beers watching the sun go down.

Keith and I enjoying yet another heated argument in ladies street baseball.

We had a great view of the spanish fortress across the bay from our hotel. The "Castillo San Felipe de Barajas" was beautifully lit up at night.

Alongside our shipping partners Adventure the Americas, we were hanging out with our friends Drive Nacho Drive who found the hotel in Cartagena. Many nights were spent sweating it out on the roofdeck enjoying the view and talking about adventures we have had and many more to come.

Eventually our ship arrived at the port and it was time to do the dirty. Team Adventure the Americas and I studied up the best we could to get a general idea of the process and headed out.


NOTE: Unfortunately our camera battery died and the charger was locked up in the truck. We have no pics of this process. I apologize for the WALL OF TEXT

Our first step was to head to the Seaboard Marine office to receive our official "Bill of Lading", basically a sheet confirming all of our payment and container information. We grabbed a cab who took us right to the port about 15 minutes from the hotel. After asking a million questions to random people at the port we finally found a little window tucked behind some trees where they had our paperwork waiting and confirmed the container had arrived. YAY! Our trucks were in Colombia... Somewhere.

With our Bill of Lading in hand we hopped another cab back to the DIAN (Colombian customs) building where we needed to register for a mandatory container inspection. We would need this inspection of our container/vehicles before we could legally leave the port. At the customs office we were directed to an uninterested lady who took our paperwork, stamped a few things, and told us the inspection was scheduled for 8AM tomorrow. Alrighty then.

We decided to go back to the port that day and attempt to physically locate our container in order to be best prepared for inspection the following morning.

Back at the port we spent 2 hours hassling anyone and everyone that would listen. We knew the container was at the port, we even had a general idea of where, but no one would actually let us in to see the damn thing. Eventually these gaggle of gringos pissed off enough people that the head of Port Security was brought out to talk to us. Bossman said that we could not access our container today since we did not have proper footwear and we needed hardhats to enter the actual container area. When we balked and argued he promised that tomorrow he would personally escort us in his truck to the container to meet the inspector. Score!

With not much left to do for the day we headed back home.

Next morning we were up early, I squeezed into Lauren's baby-sized sneakers (I had only brought sandals and you need closed toe shoes to enter the port) and we headed back to the port.

Upon arrival, we asked around for our supposed escort from the Head of Port Security and were directed to his office.

We knocked on the office door, no one home. We asked around some more and were directed to another office where a lady got on a radio, relayed some unintelligible information, and told us to wait.

10 minutes... 20 minutes... 30 minutes... By now it was 8:15 and we were worried we were going to miss the inspector. We asked the lady what was going on and in typical Latin American process she told us to wait some more...

We were just about to get up and walk out when a giant Colombian in a hardhat came into the building and told us to come with him. We followed him through the port entrance, snaked around a bunch of guys ripping apart tons of pallets and bins whom I assume were searching for drugs, and eventually arrived at a parking lot with a bunch of containers.

Our giant directed us towards the end of the row where we recognized our container number. We ran over to it and found that the doors had already been opened (We had thought we needed to be present for this process) and the port guys were already removing all the lashings that held the trucks in place. Keith and I both jumped into the container and inspected the trucks. Everything seemed to be perfectly fine, nothing out of the ordinary, no damage, and nothing missing. By the time we turned around our giant friend had disappeared and we were standing in the middle of the port with our container, our trucks, and no idea what to do.

Soon the port guys started yelling at us to pull our trucks out of the container. Uhhh I think we need to wait for inspection?

NO! GET THEM OUT OF THERE!

OK OK, We pulled our trucks out of the container and parked them in the road. Now what?

We asked around if anyone had seen the inspector. Not surprisingly most people didn't know what the hell we were talking about and were yelling at us to get out of the way. The few that did understand believed that the inspector had already left for the day.

We sent Kevin off to run around and see if he could track someone down with more info while we waited by the truck. Eventually he came back and confirmed our fears that the inspector had indeed left for the day. Great! We missed him sitting around waiting for this damn head of security guy.

Eventually we make our way back to the Seaboard Marine office to try to get some answers. They too confirmed the inspector had left for the day. They told us we could park our trucks in front of their office, they would be safe there. But told us we would need to go back to DIAN and register for yet another inspection.

Sunnuvab... Well nobody said this was going to be easy.

Back in the taxi, Back to DIAN, Back to the uninterested lady. We were registering for a new inspection when an english bloke overheard us talking. He came over and started chatting with us, we relayed him the whole story of the day and how we missed our inspection. Apparently the bloke imports cars into Colombia for a living and knows the entire process, all the inspectors, and every loop hole in the book. He took us over to the very inspector we were supposed to meet this morning. He explains the situation to the inspector who barely even glances up at him before dismissing us and returning to his paperwork. Apparently the bloke is used this guy piss-poor attitude and keeps pestering him to help us out and just sign off our paperwork without seeing the cars. Unfortunately, Inspector guy will not budge and brushes us off yet again.

Bloke takes us off to the side and gives us some inside info. He explains that all the inspector cares about is seeing a picture of the car, the license plate, and a few pictures of the VIN. According to bloke, he goes to the port himself, takes the pics, and brings his camera to the inspector. He said if we brought pictures of the trucks to the inspector today then we might have a chance of moving on with the process. Only problem he said is the inspector leaves for the day at 1. We looked at the clock. 12:15.

We thanked the bloke for his info as we dashed out the front door of the DIAN. We start running down the street trying to hail a cab as we make our way back to the port. Cab scoops us up and we tell him to hightail it to the port. That cab driver driver seemed up for the challenge as we hauled balls through the crazy streets of Cartagena making it to the port in record time.

We blew through security, ran to our cars, and started snapping millions of pictures of the VIN, the plates, all sides of the car, whatever this guy could possible want. GO GO GO! Clocks ticking!

Once we were satisfied with our pictures we ran back to the street, hailed another cab and made it back to DIAN by 12:45. IMPRESSIVE!

Camera in hand we run to the inspectors desk. He's not there. Our hearts sink to the floor. Did we miss him??

We decide to take up residence at his desk hoping he would soon return. We noted that only in Latin America could a group of guys waltz into a government office and start hanging out at random desks.

After about 10 minutes he comes back, yells at us for sitting at his desk, and shuffles around some paperwork. We show him we have the pictures. He uninterestingly glances at only a single picture and decides its good enough. He starts filling out both of our inspection permits! We quietly sit there not wanting to piss the guy off anymore. Eventually he hands us some papers to sign and we are done. SUCCESS!!

With our official inspection clearance in hand we head back yet again to the port.

For those at home who are keeping track, this is our third visit of the day and our fifth cab ride of the day. Port security is starting to think we are insane as we check in yet again.

We line up in the main office, wait around for a while, show our clearance forms, pay our port fees, and receive an exit form that we have paid and are officially allowed to the leave the port. Or so we thought...

We excitedly jump in the trucks, head to the gate to leave, and are stopped. The gate-man is yelling something at me in Spanish. I can see sweet sweet freedom only a few feet away. I highly contemplate just running the gate and escaping this god-forsaken place. He tells me that I need one more inspection and to back up and wait.

Today's word of the day is: WAIT

We back up the trucks and sit... and sit... eventually a young kid comes up with some paperwork that we sign and he runs off.

We wait... and wait... 45 minutes later we are having a serious conversation about just bum-rushing the gates and leaving. We even hatch a plan and send Kevin to retrieve our passports from security in case anything goes wrong.

We get cold-feet at the last minute and abort mission. Opting to just go to lunch instead of ending up in a Colombian prison.

When we return we find the kid waiting around our vehicles wondering where the hell we have been. HA! HOWS IT FEEL!?

He hands us our final inspection documents and with nothing more than a wave goodbye, we drive our vehicles out onto the roads of Colombia. We honk our horns in a battle cry of victory up and down the boulevard in front of the port.

WE HAVE DONE IT! OUR TRUCKS ARE FREE AND CLEAR IN SOUTH AMERICA!

 

[defrag4]

Growing up in Miami, arguably one of the hottest/muggiest places in all of the United States, I thought I was familiar with stifling tropical heat. Cartagena, Colombia made the hottest summer in Miami seem like a visit to the North Pole. This place was downright hell on earth. The temperature in the shade would hover around 95F at 90% humidity. I think Sheena figured out the heat index came out to around 130F degrees. We spent most of our time huddled up in our air conditioned hotel room waiting for the cargo ship to arrive with the 4Runner.

The short excursions we did make out of the hotel showed us a beautiful city full of life and action. If I could get permission to strut around town in nothing but a thong and sandals this would be my kind of city. Ahhh ya, you got that vision in your head now and its NEVER coming out.

Our hotel had a rooftop area where we could hang out, drink beers, and watch the baseball games that took place all day in the street below. These guys were serious about baseball. We watched many fights and arguments break out over calls, score, turns, you name it, they loved to argue about it. I think they spent more time arguing about baseball than they actually did playing. Either way it was great entertainment as we sipped beers watching the sun go down.

Keith and I enjoying yet another heated argument in ladies street baseball.

We had a great view of the spanish fortress across the bay from our hotel. The "Castillo San Felipe de Barajas" was beautifully lit up at night.

Alongside our shipping partners Adventure the Americas, we were hanging out with our friends Drive Nacho Drive who found the hotel in Cartagena. Many nights were spent sweating it out on the roofdeck enjoying the view and talking about adventures we have had and many more to come.

Eventually our ship arrived at the port and it was time to do the dirty. Team Adventure the Americas and I studied up the best we could to get a general idea of the process and headed out.


NOTE: Unfortunately our camera battery died and the charger was locked up in the truck. We have no pics of this process. I apologize for the WALL OF TEXT

Our first step was to head to the Seaboard Marine office to receive our official "Bill of Lading", basically a sheet confirming all of our payment and container information. We grabbed a cab who took us right to the port about 15 minutes from the hotel. After asking a million questions to random people at the port we finally found a little window tucked behind some trees where they had our paperwork waiting and confirmed the container had arrived. YAY! Our trucks were in Colombia... Somewhere.

With our Bill of Lading in hand we hopped another cab back to the DIAN (Colombian customs) building where we needed to register for a mandatory container inspection. We would need this inspection of our container/vehicles before we could legally leave the port. At the customs office we were directed to an uninterested lady who took our paperwork, stamped a few things, and told us the inspection was scheduled for 8AM tomorrow. Alrighty then.

We decided to go back to the port that day and attempt to physically locate our container in order to be best prepared for inspection the following morning.

Back at the port we spent 2 hours hassling anyone and everyone that would listen. We knew the container was at the port, we even had a general idea of where, but no one would actually let us in to see the damn thing. Eventually these gaggle of gringos pissed off enough people that the head of Port Security was brought out to talk to us. Bossman said that we could not access our container today since we did not have proper footwear and we needed hardhats to enter the actual container area. When we balked and argued he promised that tomorrow he would personally escort us in his truck to the container to meet the inspector. Score!

With not much left to do for the day we headed back home.

Next morning we were up early, I squeezed into Lauren's baby-sized sneakers (I had only brought sandals and you need closed toe shoes to enter the port) and we headed back to the port.

Upon arrival, we asked around for our supposed escort from the Head of Port Security and were directed to his office.

We knocked on the office door, no one home. We asked around some more and were directed to another office where a lady got on a radio, relayed some unintelligible information, and told us to wait.

10 minutes... 20 minutes... 30 minutes... By now it was 8:15 and we were worried we were going to miss the inspector. We asked the lady what was going on and in typical Latin American process she told us to wait some more...

We were just about to get up and walk out when a giant Colombian in a hardhat came into the building and told us to come with him. We followed him through the port entrance, snaked around a bunch of guys ripping apart tons of pallets and bins whom I assume were searching for drugs, and eventually arrived at a parking lot with a bunch of containers.

Our giant directed us towards the end of the row where we recognized our container number. We ran over to it and found that the doors had already been opened (We had thought we needed to be present for this process) and the port guys were already removing all the lashings that held the trucks in place. Keith and I both jumped into the container and inspected the trucks. Everything seemed to be perfectly fine, nothing out of the ordinary, no damage, and nothing missing. By the time we turned around our giant friend had disappeared and we were standing in the middle of the port with our container, our trucks, and no idea what to do.

Soon the port guys started yelling at us to pull our trucks out of the container. Uhhh I think we need to wait for inspection?

NO! GET THEM OUT OF THERE!

OK OK, We pulled our trucks out of the container and parked them in the road. Now what?

We asked around if anyone had seen the inspector. Not surprisingly most people didn't know what the hell we were talking about and were yelling at us to get out of the way. The few that did understand believed that the inspector had already left for the day.

We sent Kevin off to run around and see if he could track someone down with more info while we waited by the truck. Eventually he came back and confirmed our fears that the inspector had indeed left for the day. Great! We missed him sitting around waiting for this damn head of security guy.

Eventually we make our way back to the Seaboard Marine office to try to get some answers. They too confirmed the inspector had left for the day. They told us we could park our trucks in front of their office, they would be safe there. But told us we would need to go back to DIAN and register for yet another inspection.

Sunnuvab... Well nobody said this was going to be easy.

Back in the taxi, Back to DIAN, Back to the uninterested lady. We were registering for a new inspection when an english bloke overheard us talking. He came over and started chatting with us, we relayed him the whole story of the day and how we missed our inspection. Apparently the bloke imports cars into Colombia for a living and knows the entire process, all the inspectors, and every loop hole in the book. He took us over to the very inspector we were supposed to meet this morning. He explains the situation to the inspector who barely even glances up at him before dismissing us and returning to his paperwork. Apparently the bloke is used this guy piss-poor attitude and keeps pestering him to help us out and just sign off our paperwork without seeing the cars. Unfortunately, Inspector guy will not budge and brushes us off yet again.

Bloke takes us off to the side and gives us some inside info. He explains that all the inspector cares about is seeing a picture of the car, the license plate, and a few pictures of the VIN. According to bloke, he goes to the port himself, takes the pics, and brings his camera to the inspector. He said if we brought pictures of the trucks to the inspector today then we might have a chance of moving on with the process. Only problem he said is the inspector leaves for the day at 1. We looked at the clock. 12:15.

We thanked the bloke for his info as we dashed out the front door of the DIAN. We start running down the street trying to hail a cab as we make our way back to the port. Cab scoops us up and we tell him to hightail it to the port. That cab driver driver seemed up for the challenge as we hauled balls through the crazy streets of Cartagena making it to the port in record time.

We blew through security, ran to our cars, and started snapping millions of pictures of the VIN, the plates, all sides of the car, whatever this guy could possible want. GO GO GO! Clocks ticking!

Once we were satisfied with our pictures we ran back to the street, hailed another cab and made it back to DIAN by 12:45. IMPRESSIVE!

Camera in hand we run to the inspectors desk. He's not there. Our hearts sink to the floor. Did we miss him??

We decide to take up residence at his desk hoping he would soon return. We noted that only in Latin America could a group of guys waltz into a government office and start hanging out at random desks.

After about 10 minutes he comes back, yells at us for sitting at his desk, and shuffles around some paperwork. We show him we have the pictures. He uninterestingly glances at only a single picture and decides its good enough. He starts filling out both of our inspection permits! We quietly sit there not wanting to piss the guy off anymore. Eventually he hands us some papers to sign and we are done. SUCCESS!!

With our official inspection clearance in hand we head back yet again to the port.

For those at home who are keeping track, this is our third visit of the day and our fifth cab ride of the day. Port security is starting to think we are insane as we check in yet again.

We line up in the main office, wait around for a while, show our clearance forms, pay our port fees, and receive an exit form that we have paid and are officially allowed to the leave the port. Or so we thought...

We excitedly jump in the trucks, head to the gate to leave, and are stopped. The gate-man is yelling something at me in Spanish. I can see sweet sweet freedom only a few feet away. I highly contemplate just running the gate and escaping this god-forsaken place. He tells me that I need one more inspection and to back up and wait.

Today's word of the day is: WAIT

We back up the trucks and sit... and sit... eventually a young kid comes up with some paperwork that we sign and he runs off.

We wait... and wait... 45 minutes later we are having a serious conversation about just bum-rushing the gates and leaving. We even hatch a plan and send Kevin to retrieve our passports from security in case anything goes wrong.

We get cold-feet at the last minute and abort mission. Opting to just go to lunch instead of ending up in a Colombian prison.

When we return we find the kid waiting around our vehicles wondering where the hell we have been. HA! HOWS IT FEEL!?

He hands us our final inspection documents and with nothing more than a wave goodbye, we drive our vehicles out onto the roads of Colombia. We honk our horns in a battle cry of victory up and down the boulevard in front of the port.

WE HAVE DONE IT! OUR TRUCKS ARE FREE AND CLEAR IN SOUTH AMERICA!

 

[Rockets2000]

Awesome James! Congrats and safe travels!

 

[defrag4]

Spending the week sweating our butts off in Cartagena we were excited to finally have the truck back and we hit the road the next morning. Camping was #1 on our priority list. We considered cruising along the Colombian coastline but fearing the mercury would stick near 100F we decided to head for the hills instead.

We busted out the maps and started searching for the absolute highest point we could drive and camp in northern Colombia. Lucky for us Colombia contains the first section of the longest continental mountain range in the world, the legendary Andes. The Andes are massive, with over 50 peaks over 20,000 ft high. The average height along the 4,500 mile range is over 13,000Ft. Consider that the highest mountain peaks in the continental U.S. are just over 14K and you have an idea of what we are working with.

We battled traffic out of Cartagena and eventually popped out into the flatlands of Colombia that divide the coast from the mountains. It was still incredibly hot here but at least it was beautiful and free from the insane traffic of the city.

The road snaked along through farms and fields until finally climbing up into the mountains. The temperature and humidity faded away and was soon replaced by cool breezes working their way up the forested canyons. Ahhhh it's good to be back in the mountains, my friends.

We decided to take the scenic route and ended up in Cucuta, a frontier city on the border of Venezuela. Our guidebook warned us this was a sketchy place and we didn't bother to hang around much. We did however take advantage of the contraband gas that is illegally brought over from Venezuela and sold up and down the city streets.

$1/gallon! I considered having them just strap a few barrels to the roof.

Fueled up we were soon climbing once again higher and higher into the Andes. We were way out here now and did not see much traffic, just the occasional hacienda nestled in hills.

Eventually the pavement itself ran out as we found ourselves bouncing along abandoned dirt roads of the AltoPlano (High plains).

We bounced along for hours without seeing a soul. Eventually we decided to just pull over and setup camp for the night.

Not a bad spot.

Preppin' camp that night was a challenge, even getting out to take a pee was a chore as our lungs and bodies acclimated. We felt like 2 fat kids in dodgeball huffin' and puffin' doing the most basic tasks. We were sitting at 13,000FT. A new altitude record for both us and the truck! Our poor altimeter was freakin' out and stopped working around 12K. The temperatures dropped below freezing that night. Wild to think that just a 2 days ago we were dying of heat exhaustion and now I need to tuck my water bottle into my undies to keep it from freezing up.

I had hoped it would roll over!

We got up the next morning and continued bumping down the trail, eventually dropping into a beautiful little hamlet.

Read the rest of the story on the blog at http://homeonthehighway.com/from-95f-to-25f-our-first-taste-of-the-andes-mountains/

 

[elripster]

I am ridiculously jealous of you two. Outstanding stories and pictures.

Frank

 

[Eric Hohlfelder]

Keep it comming. This was a blast to read. That old 4Runner rocks. Mine sits on the side line to the 80 when it comes to family adventure travel, but kicks butt on trail runs. I want to show this to my daughter but fear she will convince us to sell the house and follow your foot steps/tracks to S. America. She has wanted to see a rainforest in person. We'll keep it up and good luck with your travels. I too loved the bird calling 4Runner decoy!