Showing posts with label wildlife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wildlife. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

Underway: Sprinting through the Kalahari

 

Departure from Cape Town (at long last!)

Drifters Camp, Maun, Botswana

Terri and I are relaxing here in rather idyllic conditions, in an overlander camp right on the banks of the Boteti River, full of birdsong and flowers and peace and quiet. It's a great place to take a couple of days off from travelling and recharge physically after setting a fairly gruelling pace for the first week of our expedition, which we have christened Stanley's Travels: the CEC Expedition, where CEC stands for Cape Town-Europe-Cape Town, our intended overall route.

The call of the open road!

Camping in Brandvlei

After a few days of last-minute preparation, repairs and shopping (including having a small incipient crack in our chassis welded), we set off from our little guest house in Kuilsrivier (another suburb of Cape Town, where we had been staying since our return from Hermanus on Sept. 28) on the morning of Sunday, October 2nd. We were both anxious to get moving after spending too much time (and money) waiting in Cape Town for things to get done. It was exciting to load everything into Stanley, lock the hatches and drive off (via one last stop at Cape Gate shopping mall, where we had spent a lot of time over the previous two weeks, to exchange some cables and a hard drive which weren't the right thing). It was a long drive north through increasingly arid landscape and then up and over the steep Van Rhyn pass to get into the Karoo, the interior plateau that makes up so much of the land mass of South Africa. We drove along, past rocky outcrops and clusters of purple wildflowers and big nests built by crows atop telephone poles, through a landscape increasingly devoid of human settlement, to the tiny, dusty one-horse town of Brandvlei, where we found a small campground at the Halfpad tourist house, popped up Stanley's roof and slept in him for the first time in over four years. It felt unspeakably good finally to be underway on our trip after four years of planning and waiting, and three weeks in Cape Town. We cooked up some boerewors on a charcoal fire, and went to bed happy after our first 550 kilometres.

A purple carpet for the Karoo

The purple flowers that lined our route

Khi Solar One power plant, Upington

We woke up refreshed and ready to continue our dash north. We headed up through Kalahari landscape, with more vast emptiness punctuated by sudden splashes of colour from wildflowers. The previous day's crow's nests atop telephone poles were replaced by enormous nest complexes woven by sociable weavers which almost enveloped entire poles, occasionally toppling them over from the sheer weight of twigs. We eventually dropped into the valley of the Orange River and made our way through irrigated vineyards (a shocking contrast to the drab colours of the Kalahari) into the town of Upington, where we had spent a few days back in 2016. We marvelled again at the Death Star-like solar plant Khi Solar One on the outskirts of town. We did some last-minute shopping and I made a vain attempt to convert some Swiss francs into US dollars before giving up and driving off. We drove past a series of pans, including one used for setting land speed records, then passed a series of parallel red sand dunes before making our way into Kalahari Trails, where a meerkat sanctuary helps to rehabilitate former pets back into life in the wild. No sooner had we arrived than a wild group of meerkats, including an enormously pregnant matriarch, showed up and looked photogenic for us. We set up camp and settled in for three days in this idyllic spot.

Sociable weaver nests


Return to the Kalahari!
Meerkat family at Kalahari Trails

The first day there we walked (and jogged) around the property, climbing dunes and then dropping down into the flat land between. There are no lions or hyenas on the property, so we weren't worried about unfortunate predator encounters, but we did see springbok and gemsbok (oryx) grazing or bounding away through the veldt. In the afternoon Mareli, the resident guide and meerkat whisperer, took us to see the group of young rehab animals who were hanging out at one of the other campsites on the property. We spent a happy hour taking photos, watching the meerkats scurry around and dig for scorpions, and even picking them up (they're very habituated to people, from being former pets and from being handled by Mareli). Meerkats are incredibly charismatic creatures, perhaps partly because they seem so humanoid when they stand on their hind legs to look around. It was an unforgettable afternoon, followed by a stunning sunset over the dunes.




Typical meerkat pose

Mareli uses hands-free mode

Terri and Fleur the meerkat

You lookin' at me?

Gemsbok

On October 5th we got up at an ungodly hour, pulled down Stanley's roof and set off for a day of game spotting in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park. We pulled up at the park gate at 6 am to find that the gate only opened at 7, so we sat and read until the staff drove up, processed us and let us into the park. We set off immediately up the dry Nossob River in search of the lions and cheetahs we had seen before back in 2017. We weren't so lucky this day, but at least we spotted lots of wildebeest, springbok, ostrich and gemsbok. After a brunch stop beside the road, and then a nap back at Twee Rivieren gate, we set off again in the late afternoon.We were rewarded for persistence when we saw meerkats in the wild for the first time; Terri spotted two separate groups and we sat and watched their amusing antics until it was time to drive back to Kalahari Trails, tired but happy after a day watching some of Nature's most interesting creatures.

Colour in the desert

Eurasian hobby

Pale chanting goshawk

Wildebeest

Secretarybird bestriding the grasslands


Springbok

Two lappet-faced and three white-backed vultures

October 6th saw us crossing the first border of the trip, between South Africa and Botswana at Bokspits. We made a classic rookie error by not checking the border customs requirements of Botswana, which forbids the import of raw meat and some fruits and vegetables. Luckily the customs officers let us lightly cook our sausage and bacon in our frying pan so that it no longer qualified as raw, before letting us go. We drove off shaking our heads at making such an elementary error. The road on the Botswana side was perfectly smooth and utterly empty as we paralleled the border all the way to the town of Tsabong, where we found a place to camp at the Tsabong Camel Park after two abortive attempts to get to a different campground that ended up being closed and derelict.

Tire pressure lowered to increase tire footprint in soft sand

Our resident leopard tortoise

The following morning we went out for a long walk around the property to stretch our legs after long hours of driving. Then we set off towards the Botswanan side of the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, the Mabuasehube sector. It was a grim slog, with the track in much worse shape than we remembered it from 2016. We deflated our tires for better buoyancy in the sand, changed into low-range four-wheel-drive and Terri drove on, grinding grimly along through soft sand drifts for hours until we finally emerged at the Mabuasehube gate of the KTP. We didn't have reservations, but were hoping to strike it lucky. When we entered the park gate complex, we found nobody at the desk, but eventually a disheveled-looking ranger emerged to let us know that we could camp at Lesholoago Pan for one night and then at Manamodi Pan for a second night. He also warned us that wildfires were raging in the bush. We drove off towards Lesholoago and soon saw what he meant; around us most of the bush was charred black, with some stumps still smouldering. It was an apocalyptic landscape, and one almost entirely bereft of game, except for a few hardy steenbok who were pawing at the blackened grass. We got to Lesholoago and set up camp. It was a lovely spot overlooking the pan, but all around us had been burnt, and it felt ominous. 

Lesholoago sunset

We had company in the camp: two cheeky ground squirrels, a gaggle of spurfowl, a leopard tortoise sheltering in the latrine building, and a black-backed jackal with sore legs, possibly the result of burning his feet on the hot coals of the ashy veldt. The campsite had a desolate air of decay and neglect, a strong contrast to what we had seen in 2016. We had a wonderful steak dinner grilled over charcoal (our own, not the remnants of the park vegetation!) and sat out watching the sunset and the stars.


Forlorn footsore jackal

Hyena

October 8th was a long, hard day. We got up very early, pulled down Stanley's roof, packed up rapidly and were driving by 5:45 in search of game. For several hours we drove along park tracks (thankfully hard-packed enough that Terri could drive them in two-wheel-drive) through a post-apocalyptic grayscale of burnt grass and shrubs. There was almost no game, other than a few hardy steenbok. Eventually we made our way to Mpayathutlwa Pan, the only pan in the area that had so far escaped the fire, and found plenty of game out on the pan, including a magnificent male lion that we saw from a great distance through binoculars. We took some photos, then pushed on to Manamodi Pan, where we had a campsite booked for our second night. There was a spotted hyena at the waterhole, but the campsite was strange, lacking a toilet and looking utterly neglected. The winds were howling, covering us with ash and soot as we stopped to cook up a late breakfast. It was an utterly unappealing spot to spend the night, especially as it seemed likely that the fires were going to return. We made the decision to cut our losses and head out of the park to Jack's Pan, a place we had failed to reach back in 2016 thanks to some poor navigating by me.

Steenbok

We drove back to the park gate, finding it utterly deserted this time, adding to our conviction that morale and professionalism in the park staff was at a low ebb. We ground our way along the park boundary along a mildly better sand track, then turned onto a cut line headed towards Jack's Pan. Terri made good time (in two-wheel-drive) until we were within sight of the turnoff to Jack's Pan, when we suddenly encountered a fast-moving wall of flame that had Terri turning around in a hurry. We gave up on Jack's Pan and drove back along the track, then another 100 km of tough sand driving to reach pavement near Hukuntsi. There we refilled our tires using our portable compressor and I took over at the wheel from a rather tired Terri, who had been driving for nearly 10 hours. We were relieved to get to Kang and comfortable roadside campsite. The Botswanan side of the Kgalagadi had been disappointing and exhausting! 

The following day Terri was content to play passenger for most of the day as I drove us 580 km north along perfect tarmac to Maun, and then another 30 alarming kilometres in the dark to reach Drifters, an oasis and a balm to the soul after the scorched hellscape of the previous few days. We spent the first evening catching up with Heike and Oskar, a German couple we had met in Cape Town, and then spent yesterday and today editing photos and videos, doing workouts, eating well and watching the prodigious birdlife flitting amongst the trees. We had one of the best sunsets either of us had ever seen last night, and we are hoping for a repeat performance tonight.

After covering 2700 kilometres in eight days, we are planning to adopt a much more leisurely pace over the coming month or so, starting with a visit to the emptiness of the Makgadigadi Pans over the next few days (wildfires permitting). Travelling is great, but it's usually the time spent not driving that is the most memorable!





Thursday, September 24, 2020

Christmas in Panama (Retrospective: December 2019)

Click here for a Google Map of our Panama trip

Guillestre, September 22

Life here in Guillestre has settled into a comfortable routine of cycling, hiking, eating well and reading.  We are in a bit of a holding pattern as we wait to see whether my New Zealand visa will come through, or whether we will be able to head to Africa to resume Stanley's Travels.  In the meantime, my thoughts are drifting back to those long-ago days when international travel was simple and we all took it for granted.  I realize that I never wrote up my Christmas 2019 trip to Panama with Terri to meet up with my mother, and with my sister Saakje and her partner Henkka, so here is an attempt to remedy that situation.

The Plan 

My mother turned 80 this summer, and we 4 kids decided that we should make an effort to get everyone together for a big celebration.  The plan was to rent a cottage on a Canadian lake in late July, and once we had decided that, we also thought that we should plan a Christmas get-together as well.  The original idea was to fly to the Cape Verde islands, and initially flights looked pretty reasonable, but prices soon rocketed up and it looked like a long, miserable connection for my mom coming from Canada.  We quickly pivoted and decided to fly to Panama instead, since it's an easy connection from Canada, not too expensive from Europe, has great nature, and none of us had been there.  Not everyone in the family could make it; my sister Audie and my brother Evan both had bail out, but we still had my mother, Saakje, Henkka, Terri and I.  My mom insisted on renting a comfortable beach house, and we settled on a house on Bastimentos Island, in Bocas del Toro province, for a week.  Terri and I would fly in first for five days of exploring on our own before we rendezvoused with the others.  Once we'd bought tickets and guidebooks, we were more or less set.

Panama City and Santa Fe

Ruined Dominican church, Casco Viejo
Terri and I took a very roundabout route to get from Tbilisi to Panama, flying Qatar Airways to Doha and on to Miami before hopping across to Panama.  It took a long time (two nights) but it saved us a few hundred dollars.  It also allowed Terri to buy a new mobile phone in Doha airport before we grabbed a few hours of interrupted sleep on our air mattresses in the terminal, and then to catch up with my friend Rob for dinner in Miami before a few more hours of catnapping in Miami airport.  We were pretty bleary-eyed by the time we got to Panama mid-morning on Sunday, December 15th.  We caught a bus into town and, sleepy as we were, we hopped onto the wrong bus, one of the brightly-painted Diablo Rojos local buses that took the scenic route into town.  We alighted in the centre and walked half an hour into the Casco Viejo neighbourhood where our AirBnB was located.  The contrast between the crowded, slightly dingy area around the bus terminal and the charming upmarket gentrification of the old colonial Casco Viejo neighbourhood was striking.  Our room was just what we needed, and we passed out for a few hours of much-needed sleep.  

Colonial architecture, Casco Viejo


We woke up in time for a dinner date.  One of Terri's former teaching colleagues in Switzerland had subsequently joined the US State Department and was working at the American embassy.  We met up with him, his Colombian wife and their two children at a seafood restaurant, Finca del Mar, right on the waterfront three blocks from our accommodation.  We had a good evening of stories and reminiscences and ideas before our eyelids grew heavy and we had to wander back for our first sound night's sleep in three days.


Swimming hole, Santa Fe

We didn't have to be in Bocas del Toro for until Friday, so Terri and decided to head west to the town of Santa Fe in the interim, as it sounded like an interesting town in the highlands.  A couple of buses got us to Santa Fe by mid-afternoon, where we took a room in an almost-empty hotel just downhill of town (the Hotel Santa Fe).  We had time for a walk before it got dark, so we wandered along to a swimming hole just east of town.  It felt good to stretch our legs after too many days spent crammed inside airplanes and buses, and there were plenty of wildflowers and butterflies and birds to attract our attention along the way.  It felt good to swim, although the air was surprisingly cool and we were almost chilly.

Cerro Tute

Terri atop Cerro Tute
The next day we set off on a hike up to the summit of Cerro Tute.  It was a long way up under a pretty fierce sun, but the views from the top were worth the effort of getting there.  The landscape sloped away to the south towards the distant Pacific Ocean; it was a bit disconcerting to realize how much of the native forest had been cleared for farming and ranching.  The villages we walked through had tidy-looking homes surrounded by fruit orchards (the oranges were in season, and we scrounged a couple of fallen oranges from the ground before being invited to pick some from the tree by the owner.    We had a picnic lunch on top of the granite boulders at the top before trudging back down, a bit footsore, to have another swim at a different swimming hole (this time we were warm enough to appreciate the cooling waters.)




Alto de Piedra
Our hike the next day was another long, sweaty affair, this time up to the waterfalls of Alto de Piedra.  Sadly our trail was mostly along a paved road, but the views were fine and the waterfalls were really quite pretty.  We swam in a couple of them, trying out Terri's new GoPro.  The trudge back to town was a bit unappealing, so we ended up flagging down a passing pickup truck to shorten the walk and save our knees.




Alto de Piedra

Alto de Piedra
We spent much of Thursday on the bus to Bocas del Toro.  Crossing the central spine of Panama from the well-populated Pacific slope to the much wilder Caribbean slope take quite some time.  We had to retreat from Santa Fe south to the Panamerican Highway at Santiago, trundle along the Panamerican to the town of David, and then catch a third bus up and over the watershed to Bocas.  It ended up taking most of the day as we dozed in our seats listening to podcasts and nodding off.  The road across the mountains was chilly and foggy and quite dramatic, before we dropped into the lowlands.  It was noticeably less affluent on this side of the country, and the villages we passed through looked much scruffier.  We arrived in the banana port of Almirante (dominated by a Chiquita banana processing plant) just too late for the last commercial ferry across to the island of Bocas del Toro, but we managed to catch a lift with a small water taxi that was taking a few other stragglers back to the island.  It was slightly disconcerting to make the crossing largely in the dark, but we arrived without incident in the main town of Bocas del Toro, found a small, inexpensive hostel for the night, had a delicious seafood dinner and fell into bed tired out.

Bastimentos Daze

In the harbour
We spent the next seven days on the island of Bastimentos, in a big beach house called Casa Shorebreak.  Terri and I stocked up on groceries in town before meeting up with the property manager and catching a boat across to Bastimentos.  While Bocas del Toro was sizeable, full of restaurants and shops and people, Bastimentos was small and far less populated.  We lugged our grocery bags and backpacks into the house, met the caretaker (a rotund local man who stayed in a small room underneath the house as a nightwatchman), got settled in, then went back to the main island to wait for Saakje and my mother to arrive at the tiny airport.  We ordered lots of Indian food from a restaurant run by a Canadian expat (Bocas is full of expatriate Americans, Canadians and assorted Europeans, then walked over to the airport to meet my mom (whom I hadn't seen in over a year) and Saakje.  We ambled across, picked up our food and caught a water taxi back to Bastimentos to settle in for food, rum and catching up. 


Sundowners during a rare sunny patch
Bocas del Toro feels very distinct from the rest of Panama.  As in Costa Rica and Honduras, the Caribbean coast of Panama has a definite English Caribbean feel.  More people speak an English-based pidgin than speak Spanish, and the sound is pure Jamaican.  Many of the people are either black or indigenous, rather than the mestizos who prevail numerically on the Pacific slope of the country.  It really feels like a different country, and for me and Terri it was our first-ever taste of the Caribbean.  



Terri paddling into the mangroves

Saakje, my mother, myself and Henkka

Sadly, it was an exceedingly wet taste.  December is part of the rainy season on the Caribbean coast of Panama, and this week was exceptionally rainy.  We were glad to have a solid roof over our heads, and also glad that the house was built up off the ground on concrete pilings, as the yard turned into a flooded swimming pool around us.  Luckily it didn't rain all day every day, and we did manage to get out and see the local sights, but it was generally very soggy.  

Our days passed with lots of good food cooked by whoever was seized by inspiration at the moment.  We ate well, and drank lots of pina coladas.  Henkka arrived from France the day after Saakje and my mother and the five of us played cards, told stories, read books and generally relaxed entirely.  It was precisely the sort of vacation gathering that my mother had had in mind.

Trying to do stand-up paddleboarding
We did manage to get out to explore, although our first expedition, hiking with my mother to Red Frog Beach, had to be abandoned as the path turned into a treacherous mudhole that eventually defeated my mother.  A more successful expedition was taking a water taxi out to Sloth Island to take photos of the iconic animals.  Our first trip gave us 2 sloths to photograph, but a later trip yielded 7 or 8 individuals.  We also took a water taxi out to Starfish Beach one day to snorkel; there wasn't much to see, other than the multitudinous starfish, but it was great to have calm water for swimming.  Casa Shorebreak had some pretty sizeable waves pounding in from the open Caribbean and was not a place for a peaceful paddle.

My mother adopting the island lifestyle
The owners of the house were surfers, and there were surfboards and a standup paddleboard stored in the rafters.  We took the paddleboards out a couple of times on the calmer inland side of the island and rented kayaks to go along with them.  We explored some of the mangrove swamps leading inland, and saw lots of interesting birds.  We also tried surfing the waves one day, but it was not enormously successful, as we were on quite short boards suitable for experts, which we were not.  It was fun but frustrating.


One day we dolled ourselves up and wandered along the beach to the Firefly restaurant, a Bastimentos institution run by a couple of Americans.  The food was great (if a bit pricey) but the highlight was a live musician who played a mix of calypso and reggae, including a few of his own original songs, while bantering good-naturedly with us.  

Sloth island inhabitant
And then, suddenly and all too soon, our week was up and it was time to take the water taxi back across to Bocas del Toro town, walk my mother to the airport and say goodbye.  It had been a fun week, and we were already looking forward to the summer's full-scale reprise.  We had a couple of hours before our bus to Boquete left, so Henkka, Saakje, Terri and I rented bicycles and explored the main island in a rare patch of sunshine.  We realized that beyond the somewhat seedy main town, there were dozens of beautiful beach houses looking out onto surf beaches that we hadn't seen at all during our brief visits to the main town.  Maybe, if we ever come back to Panama, we can explore that part of the archipelago.

Bicycle expedition on the main island

Boquete Hiking and Mariato Surfing



On the Sendero de los Quetzales

With my mother on her way back to Ottawa, the rest of us decided to head away from the rain into the central highlands, to the town of Boquete, well-known for coffee plantations and retirement communities for gringos.  It was a longish afternoon on a somewhat overpriced tourist bus to get back over the central cordillera to David and then onto a smaller road leading north again into the highlands.  We had rented a small house on AirBnB that proved perfect for our needs, with a couple of bedrooms and a well-equipped kitchen that we put to good use.  


Our two full days in Boquete, a town with a very cool hippy traveller vibe, were devoted to hiking.  The first morning we caught a taxi up to the end of the road above town to access the Sendero de  los Quetzales (the Quetzal Trail), a famous hike.  Many gringo tourists get talked into taking a guide (at considerable expense) to walk the trail, but we figured that it was pretty well marked and couldn't be that fearsome, so we went by ourselves.  It was a lovely day of walking, leaving behind the coffee plantations cleared from the native bush and entering some fairly undisturbed cloudforest.  We never spotted any of the resplendant quetzals for which the trail is named, but we did hear several of them calling, leading to long minutes squinting through the dark canopy for birds that had no interest in being seen.  The walk was pleasant but by no means challenging, and we returned to town happy with a relaxed day in nature.


Saakje and Henkka were keen to climb Volcan Baru, the highest peak in Panama, the next day, which meant leaving at midnight to catch clear skies at the summit at sunrise.  Terri and I were less interested, so we waved them goodbye and went to bed.  Instead we slept late and welcomed back the conquering summitteers that morning before heading out for a much easier walk, up to the Lost Waterfalls.  It was a fun but very muddy hike leading to a series of spectacular cascades fountaining down out of the mountains.  As we got back to town, we arranged to meet up with Saakje and Henkka at the Boquete Brewing Company, a fabulous  brewpub, for a farewell to the town.

One of the Lost Waterfalls

A Lost Waterfall
Although we had enjoyed our time in Boquete, Saakje and Henkka were keen both to see more of the Pacific coast and to try their hands again at surfing, so we decided to make our next stop somewhere on the Pacific coast on the way back to Panama City.  It was approaching New Year, and so we were competing with all of middle-class Panama for accommodation.  We were almost despairing of finding a place when we finally located a hotel with rooms available in the little town of Moriato.  It was a long series of buses (to David, then along the Panamerican to Santiago, and finally a crowded local line to Moriato), but we got there in the end and decided that we had made the right decision.  Our little hotel (curiously empty given the season) was just inland of a beautiful natural beach with waves breaking all along it, and with an estuary full of seabirds at the far end.

Another Lost Waterfall



Playa Reina


Brown pelican

Our three days on the beach passed in a bit of a blur.  We rented much longer boards than we had had on Bastimentos with much better flotation, and it made all the difference.  We were much more able to paddle fast enough to catch waves and started to stand up on them.  Saakje proved herself to be the fastest learner, while Henkka wasn't far behind.  I was the least gifted of the three of us; Terri elected to watch from the beach.  We surfed as much as waves and tide allowed, and the rest of the time we wandered the beach and the estuary in search of bird life, or walked into the town centre of Moriato in search of pizza and fruit juice.  It was a relaxing time, punctuated by chats with the other guest in the hotel (an American guy on a motorcyle trip around Panama), card games in the evening and yoga sessions to loosen up muscles that were tight after the unusual activity of paddling a surfboard.

Cool toad from our hotel restaurant

Ibis and cormorants

Panama City, Pipeline Road and the Canal


Crimson-backed tanager

Crimson-crowned woodpecker
Our days in Panama were rapidly running out, and so regretfully we bade farewell to the coast and caught a bus into the city.  Terri and I booked a room in the same place as before in Casco Viejo while Saakje and Henkka stayed in a sister property a couple of blocks away.  Terri and I raced off to the Parque Metropolitano, the magnificent patch of rainforest in the middle of the city, and had a fun speed hike around the park before it closed, spotting lots of turtles and various birds (including a dramatically coloured crimson-crowned woodpecker, Campephilus melanoleucos), but none of the giant anteaters that Henkka had seen a couple of weeks before on his way through the city. An agouti (a large and rather endearing rodent) had to serve as a consolation prize.  We dined together with Henkka and Saakje in Finca del Mar, then arranged to rendezvous early the next morning for a day of birdwatching in the Canal Zone.

Black-striped woodcreeper (by Henkka)

Chestnut-mandibled toucan (by Henkka)
An Uber drove us inland from the capital along the main road through the Canal Zone, and we were soon deposited just past the town of Gamboa, at the start of a dirt road with the rather prosaic name of Pipeline Road.  This is known as the best birdwatching spot in Panama and one of the best in the world, so it seemed like a good place for Terri and I to spend our last full day in the country.  As soon as we stepped out of the car, we were already surrounded by wading birds in a marsh beside the road.  After spending a while photographing them and trying to identify them (our favourite was the rufescent tiger heron, Tigrisoma lineatum), we ventured into the embrace of the forest.  There were birds galore to be seen, including Central American specialties like antbirds, motmots, antwrens and caciques.  Since this is such a famous birding spot, there were a number of parties of serious twitchers, some with local guides, and we shamelessly parasited off their knowledge and their tips.  

Hideous facial deformity on baby howler monkey

Perhaps the most memorable encounter of the day was also the loudest.  We passed underneath a party of black howler monkeys and while we were watching them and trying to get a decent photograph, they began their howling.  For ten minutes, the forest was filled with their deafening calls until they ran out of interest and returned to eating leaves.  We managed to get a few monkeys to pose in small patches of sunshine, including a mother with a youngster on her back.  It wasn't until a couple of weeks later, looking at the photo more closely, that Saakje realized that the baby had hideous facial deformities, probably due to papillomaviruses.  I hadn't noticed them at the time through my binoculars or my telephoto lens, but once I'd seen them, I couldn't forget their nightmarish appearance.
Female slaty-backed trogon (by Henkka)

Juvenile rufescent tiger-heron

Terri looking pleased with herself at Miraflores Locks

In addition to birds, there were leafcutter ants wearing paths through the undergrowth, spectacular butterflies and big dragonflies to admire, and sooner than we would have liked it was 1:30 pm and we were hungry, thirsty and tired.  We trudged out back to town and raided a convenience store for overpriced snacks and cold drinks which we ate in a nearby city park that was itself full of bird species.  Henkka and Saakje were staying in Panama after we left, so they had booked a room in Gamboa so that they could return to Pipeline Road the next day.  (They had spectacular birding luck the next day, leaving us quite envious and keen to return one day.)  Terri and I headed back to Panama City, but with a stopoff at the Miraflores Locks of the Panama Canal.  Terri was keener than me to see them, but I ended up glad that we had stopped in and paid the 15 US dollar admission price.  We spent a good couple of hours sitting in the bleachers watching huge freighters make their way through the locks (and even bigger super-Panamax container ships passing through the expanded second set of parallel locks), and wandering contentedly through the excellent museum.  Terri's father had been fascinated by the Panama Canal and had taken a round-the-world cruise largely to experience the Canal, and he had passed this fascination onto his daughter.  We both really enjoyed the experience and were wowed by the engineering feat of building the Canal.

Sloth crossing Pipeline Road (by Henkka)

And then it was all over.  We returned to the city, had a delicious final meal at a Chinese restaurant, and the next morning caught a flight to Miami and on to Doha, where we splurged on a hotel room and found time to explore the Museum of Islamic Art just before closing time, and had a memorable Indian meal.  Six hours of sleep, and we were back at the airport, checking in for our Tbilisi flight, our Christmas holidays enjoyably spent. 

Little did we imagine that within two months, the world of international travel would be completely changed by covid-19, and that this would be our last trip in the world of the BC era (Before Coronavirus).  We have yet to do a real trip in the AD era (After the Disease), but Panama was a good spot to do our last trip for a while.  If I were to go back, I think I would want to have a vehicle (or a bicycle) to explore a bit further off the beaten track, and I would spend more time in the rainforests and cloudforests looking for birds and other wild creatures, as that's what I found most spectacular about the country.
 
Museum of Islamic Art, Doha