Kayaking Panama to Colombia Along the Darien Gap: A Day-to-Day Journal

*Looking for my kayak guide, link here (https://www.keiferaedelmayer.com/blog/a-guide-to-kayaking-from-panama-to-colombia-aka-the-darien-gap)

*Looking for my video, link here (https://youtu.be/RUZAT1BNuZ4?si=TsddDxxcjlyiCug1)

Endless sandfly bites, fervent thunderstorms, and blistering sunlight. Below is a day to day recap of my experiences kayaking from Panama to Colombia.

Day 1, October 11

Morning of, Diego dropped me off at the Gatun boat launch. Eagar and filled with nerves, I set off in the morning Panamanian heat.

Immediately crossing into the canal, I was stopped by a police boat. "You can't be here. Show me your passport. Wait here" said the officer. Nervous, I passed it along and mentioned I was told I could be here in broken spanish. Fearing the worst I was told to wait while a tanker passed. "You can go, stay out of lane" the officer said suddenly. Relieved, I set off again. I continued onto my camping location, only to be stopped twice more that afternoon, each time wondering what would happen.

Luckily, I made it to my camping location, a bio reserve island in the center of the lake. I camped exhausted, watching nervously for crocodiles gliding along the water.

Day 2, October 12

Leaving my morning camp, paddling into the traffic of the canal, I could feel it was going to be a sticky heat day. Stopped only twice more as I made my way around the large tankers pushing through the lake. Making it to the final shore, I celebrated, shortly followed by realization of the portage ahead of me.

Carrying the kayak across the road and down the dirt trail, I approached the boat launch, eyes from local fisherman fixed on me. I set the kayak down, turned around, and trudged back to all my stuff to be stopped one last time by the police.

Finally returning, exhausted by the day, I set up camp. Planning to head into the river and out into the ocean early in the morning.

Day 3, October 13

Waking up to birds and the quite flow of the river, I packed up camp and set off. The current guiding me along the river, I was glad to be heading out of crocodile territory and to the wide open ocean.

I continued along the coast to a fancy harbour close to Colon. Asking to camp, I was turned away by the boss. But, not before a employee told me about a safe beach a little way back.

Day 4, October 14

Packing up the boat again I am greeted by local fisherman, curious about my journey. We talk for a bit, hearing about life their and sharing excitement for my days ahead.

I pass by Colon and say my goodbyes to the giant tankers waiting to cross through the canal. I continue on to my first island, setting up camp, discovering the overwhelming presence of sandflies.

Day 5, October 15

Continuing on, I reach Portobelo a small touristy town on the coast of Panama. Landing at a local diving business I set my sights on asking if I can camp for the night at their center. The dive shop boss unfortunately can't let me camp there, but points me to a island they use I can set up a short distance away. I make camp on a small beach island, watching the sunset from my own little piece of paradise.

Day 6, October 16

Checking ahead on my maps, I spot a beachside restaurant, making it my lunchtime goal.

Shoring up, I spot lunchtime beach huts spread out along the shore. Sitting down, I enjoy twice fried plantain chips with a rich octopus coconut curry.

Day 7, October 17

A full week into the journey I head towards another marina, hoping to receive permission to camp. Success this time, I set up camp, and head into the nearby local town to restock for the next week of the journey.

Day 8, October 18

Fully restocked, I head out again. After a full day of kayaking, I end up on the shores of a beach property used for a festival. I set up camp and watch the waves come in and out.

Day 9, October 19

I awake to the sound of larger waves and pop my head out of the tent. It seems with the tide, waves are much larger, rising as high as my head.

I try to find the safest break, and time my escape. No luck and danger. My boat turns sideways in an out pull and flips as a wave crashes over my head. I rush to grab everything that has been thrown out of the boat. Over the next 30 minutes I track things down, only losing my spare paddle and one water jug.

Already exhausted, I collect myself and manage to find somewhere safer to launch from a long walk down the beach. Carrying my kayak and gear there, I managed to escape the second attempt.

I reach camp exhausted and wild camp in the bush, glad to be safe again.

Day 10, October 20

My finally day before reaching the beginning of the San Blas Islands. I struggle to find shoreline or an island to camp on which isn't just mangroves jutting above the waterline. I finally find a small clearing and set up camp, to once again be assaulted by sandflies. My exposed skin is quickly covered in red welts.

Day 11, October 21

I have finally reached the San Blas Islands, home of the Kuna people and a popular place for remote tourism.

I make land at a island with a restaurant and resort to enjoy some food. Randomly, I run into friends from Panama City, who have come to the island for a little relaxation. We talk about my trip and the sheer craziness of encountering each other.

I leave the island and my friends hoping to make ground. Only to be forced onto the next island by a tropical thunderstorm.

Day 12, October 22

Leaving the island, I continue to explore the San Blas area. With hundreds of tiny islands now dotting the horizon it feels different from the coastline before.

I make it to another island, cleared, but alone, I admire the sailboats anchored across at the opposite island.

Day 13, October 23

During my morning coffee I'm greeted by a woman and her dog, coming ashore from one of the boats. She invites me for breakfast aboard and we share adventure stories before I head off again for the day.

Day 14, October 24

Continuing further I reach another island after and especially long day. All of the beaches here, are covered in plastic, washing ashore from ocean travel. It's hard to see every beach littered with plastic debris and not comprehend the impact we have.

Day 15, October 25

Another day, another 8 hours in the sun, paddling along the coast. I reach a beachside and set up camp in what looks like a clearing with a trail. 10 minutes later a local fisherman is there inviting me to his village. I accept, pack up camp, and paddle to meet him in the village.

A group of men come out to greet me and quickly without hesitation pick up all my gear and carry it into the village. The children crowd around me, fascinated with how I look and my height. I talk wit the village elders, sharing simple questions and answers about our lives.

I am offered a hammock to sleep in, protected by mesh from the insects. In the morning I say goodbye and set off again.

Day 16, October 26

I pass more villages spotting the shoreline, noises of life in the distance. Finding an island again, I enjoy the sunset.

Day 17, October 27

Feeling the strain of the journey 17 days in, I spot a wrecked sailboat. Continuing on, I try to stay in a focused frame of mind.

Day 18, October 28

No photo for today, the stress of the journey building.

Day 19, October 29

I reach another village, this one I'm not allowed to see, only stay in a house run by a man who charges for the stay. But, being exhausted I quickly fall asleep and the confinement doesn't bother me.

Day 20, October 30

Finally I reach Puerto Obaldia, the final town in Panama before Colombia. I ask the local dock supervisor if I camp, he immediately says of course. I enjoy bread and a beer for the first time since before the journey.

Day 21, October 31

Getting my exit stamp in the morning, I head over to Colombia and arrive in the town of Capurgana. So tired, I struggle to celebrate. I carry my gear off the beach and settle into a hostel and sleep for the next two days.

Conclusion

21 days straight at sea, along the Darien Gap coastline. You often hear about the dangers of the area, but rarely hear about the beauty of the land and how kind the people are.

Completely different, my time on the bicycle feels a little changed now. Being at the mercy of the water, the slow pace, and solitude.

I hope you enjoyed hearing about this little adventure on the water.