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Photo: Courtesy of Cinelli |
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No-Frill Thrills
A howler monkey here. A harpy eagle there. Before my trip to Panama, my idea of seeing a rain forest meant sitting in an air-conditioned bus, cruising along the jungle's outer edges or dark interior, while a tour guide pointed out the forest's awesome creatures. I never expected to be slogging through the forest in a driving rain, ill shod in my sneakers, as a bolo-swinging Panamanian guide chopped a path through the vines and palm fronds. But here I am, following my wife and our guide, neither of whom seem troubled by the rain, the clay-slick footing, the soggy flora, or the muddy creek beds. It is the fading days of summer, Panama's rainy season. We had shied away from Costa Rica because my wife, ever the explorer, had pointed out, "everyone goes there." As we pondered locations, we thought of the Panama Canal and said, "How about Panama?" Done. We were never disappointed.
Our hotel, the Costa del Sol, is in a mixed commerce and residential area, the kind of lodging where the locals stay. While it lacks the luxuries of the Miramar Inter-Continental, with its stunning view of the Pacific Ocean, we picked it because we wanted to be as free of tourists as possible. My wife also likes to eat where the locals do, at least for the first two meals. When dinner rolls around, we look for elegance. Dining is an art form in Panama City, a capital with many gourmet restaurants. One of them, Las Bovedas in the Plaza Francia, was once a Spanish dungeon. As I sit surrounded by the prison's original stone walls, I can only imagine what went on there over hundreds of years. But whatever the history, it doesn't dampen our appetite for the Argentinean beef or the local corvina fish. Beyond the city, the rain forest calls to the inner spirit the way sirens once lured sailors. We respond. Well, she responds. I'll settle for a helicopter ride over the top of the forest, but my wife longs for the secret heart of the jungle. We hire a guide-the owner of an extreme-adventures company specializing in bungee jumping and other forms of attempted suicide-who leads us into Chagres National Forest. For those who truly seek and enjoy the challenges of the unknown, this is it! The rain is endless, the humidity off the chart. One can drown in rainwater or sweat with equal horror, fall out of a dugout canoe into Madden Lake, or get fried by lightning bolts during a thunderstorm. The jungle trek includes lunch with Emberá Indians under a thatched-roof platform. An even more primitive feel is found at the Burbayar Lodge in Nusagandi, a virgin rain forest set aside as a nature reserve by the indigenous Kuna tribe. About two hours northeast of Panama City, Nusagandi can be reached only by a four-wheel-drive vehicle, and then only when the road is passable. It is a paradise. Stretched out in a hammock, listening to the rain tapping at the jungle growth, I fall easily into a state of serenity not attainable in a large city.
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