I'm sitting in a small wood frame house on top of a mountain in Panama, watching television with a lonely park ranger. We enjoy Spanish Family Feud followed by a program where people wore flame-retardant pants and sit on burning charcoal grills as eggs and various meats are cooked next to them. Then a woman wearing a painted-on bra (literally) gets her breasts measured with a tailor's ruler. Also people stuff large constricting snakes into their shirts and underwear. All the while we breathe the exhaust from the generator running the television. And I'm wearing his longjohns.

I'd crossed the border from Costa Rica and made it all the way to David, the third largest and a rather unremarkable city in Panama. After an equally unremarkable night I headed out for the mountains near the Costa Rican border. There's a mountain town there called Cerro Punta that's rather nice and there's a trail that runs over a mountain range to a town some kilometers away.

Blue Skies over Parque Volcan Baru

"He was carrying a Nalgene bottle."
I met a guy who initially appeared to be maybe Argentinian or maybe Chilean. He said hi in Spanish and I said hi back in Spanish thinking that with me being a six-and-a-half foot tall blond guy he'd go with English if he spoke it. After several minutes of halting Spanish from both of us and my noticing he was carrying a Nalgene bottle, I asked where he was from. California. He used to manage environmental impact for Birkenstock. Very interesting. That part I found out in English.

We both headed out the next morning to hike the trail to Boquete, the town over the mountain that you can only walk to unless you want to go like 50 miles out of your way. I was feeling quite sick. Yes, it appears I have another cold. What the hell. But anyway, I decided to give it a shot.

Alexi the Ranger and My Home for the Night

"The horrid, windy, driving rain"
The intense rain and wind began shortly thereafter. So much so that Bodhie the Californian turned back. Being the complete idiot I am I kept on. Fortunately just as the maelstrom reached hurricane strength, I reached the ranger station at the entrance... an awful climb up from the town. I hung out for a while, meeting the Panamanian ranger who lives there alone for five days at a time with few people to talk to. Not wanting to venture back out into the horrid, windy, driving rain... I accepted his offer to stay the night in a bunk for five dollars. (They use dollars here, by the way.)

That night he saw that since my only pair of pants was wet, I was wearing my running shorts. He offered me a pair of longjohns that were far, far too short but kept me warm nonetheless. I went to bed early and the tempest outside continued to blow.

Rain Returns to the Rain Forest

"I returned his longjohns neatly folded."
Morning dawned somewhat better. Damp and cloudy but without much rain. Even though I still felt sick I decided to head toward Boquete. This is where the problems with distance begin. The ranger told me it was about 12 kilometers, about eight miles, to the other side. Fine, I thought and started walking after he made breakfast and I returned his longjohns neatly folded.

The intense rain returned a few hours into the hike. I donned the Gore-Tex and pack cover and pressed on. My jacket being in the dirty shape it's in, it immediately wetted out and stopped breathing so I was drowning in my own sweat. I also later discovered that my camera, despite being in a plastic bag, got wet and doesn't work. I'm hoping a new battery bought tomorrow in Panama City will fix that.

"Lots of ropes and a metal stretcher."
No one has a clue how far it is to Boquete. As soon as I left the signs said nine kilometers, about six miles. Then they said nine miles. The three and then five and then three again... each separated by more than a mile. After several miles and several hours I reached what appeared to be the other side, a paved road. I walked that for about an hour in serious pain. Then a guy who lives there tells me it's about six miles into town. I sit down and prepare to lay there until either helicopters rescue me or the end arrives. (I had, in fact, had a dream about being rescued from the mountaintop by one of those big helicopters with two rotors, using lots of ropes and a metal stretcher.)

Then the bus came by. I get in and we drive back the way I'd been walking. After initial panic that I'd been walking the wrong way I discover that it's a circuit that goes to Boquete either way. I'd been walking the easier way but had miles to go.

So This Is What So Much Rain Brings

"His deaf friend who reads lips in Spanish and English."
I finally got there in pretty sad physical shape, went into a restaurant and collapsed in front of what appeared to be a chicken hamburger. I talked with the employee from Bombay/Mumbai, India and his deaf friend who reads lips in Spanish and English.

The hike was gorgeous. I just wish the weather and I had been in better shape for me to enjoy it. Actually I guess it's a rain forest, so what can I expect. But I wish I'd been in better health.

"For those scoring at home..."
I'm off now back to David to catch an overnight bus to Panama City where I plan to check into a reasonably nice hotel in the morning and lay around trying to get over whatever's ailing me. For those scoring at home, here are my symptoms this time around.

• Sore but not scratchy throat... like it's been bruised right at the top.
• Occasional cough.
• Body aches that may be subsiding.
• Overall lack of energy and periodic lightheadedness.

Happy birthday Matt!!!