Home on the Highway - San Francisco to Ushuaia, Argetina in an 87 4Runner
Jul 30, 2012 | 09:08 AM
#302
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Registered User
Joined: Oct 2010
Posts: 211
Likes: 1
From: Orinda, CA
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!
Once that was done we headed back into the office, paid some port fees and were finally ready to enter the actual port with our trucks. A final paperwork inspection and we were lead through the gates.
We wound around through the mile-high stacks of containers and eventually reached a large building. We drove up the ramp and parked our trucks inside.
Happy to finally be at the last step!
We searched around for the bossman, told him we were here to load. They gave us some BS about just leaving them the keys and they would do it for us. We pushed back and they agreed to let us drive the trucks into the containers ourselves.
Tight fit!
Adv the Americas loaded up their 4Runner and the port boys lashed em down. We were a bit nervous about the whole process.
Eventually we had to say "Adios". Our babies were in the hands of the port now. See ya on the other side!
Conveniently located right next the port was the Panama City Railway. We hopped a train back to Panama City. It was my real first train ride ever. Cross it off the bucket list!
Many $2 beers were drank in celebration. Part 1 of the shipping process was complete!
Next day we got our butts on a plane and flew to Cartagena, Colombia. Of course the process wouldn't be complete without another hiccup. I accidentally booked our flights on the wrong damn day. The lady took pity on us and squeezed us onto the right plane at the last minute. Thanks Avianca!
Stay tuned for Part 2. Getting our trucks backs!
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!
Once that was done we headed back into the office, paid some port fees and were finally ready to enter the actual port with our trucks. A final paperwork inspection and we were lead through the gates.
We wound around through the mile-high stacks of containers and eventually reached a large building. We drove up the ramp and parked our trucks inside.
Happy to finally be at the last step!
We searched around for the bossman, told him we were here to load. They gave us some BS about just leaving them the keys and they would do it for us. We pushed back and they agreed to let us drive the trucks into the containers ourselves.
Tight fit!
Adv the Americas loaded up their 4Runner and the port boys lashed em down. We were a bit nervous about the whole process.
Eventually we had to say "Adios". Our babies were in the hands of the port now. See ya on the other side!
Conveniently located right next the port was the Panama City Railway. We hopped a train back to Panama City. It was my real first train ride ever. Cross it off the bucket list!
Many $2 beers were drank in celebration. Part 1 of the shipping process was complete!
Next day we got our butts on a plane and flew to Cartagena, Colombia. Of course the process wouldn't be complete without another hiccup. I accidentally booked our flights on the wrong damn day. The lady took pity on us and squeezed us onto the right plane at the last minute. Thanks Avianca!
Stay tuned for Part 2. Getting our trucks backs!
Aug 5, 2012 | 07:02 PM
#308
Contributing Member
Joined: Mar 2003
Posts: 11,334
Likes: 0
From: COTKU,Ontario,Canada
Great stories on Costa Rican adventures... sorry to hear about the mech. nightmare...
running across mui loco gringo expats like those two almost makes you want to pack heat... just in case... <headshake>
here's hoping you get your baby back in one piece... they would'nt let you book passage on the ship with her?
running across mui loco gringo expats like those two almost makes you want to pack heat... just in case... <headshake>
here's hoping you get your baby back in one piece... they would'nt let you book passage on the ship with her?
Aug 8, 2012 | 11:43 AM
#309
Thread Starter
Registered User
Joined: Oct 2010
Posts: 211
Likes: 1
From: Orinda, CA
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!
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!
Aug 8, 2012 | 11:45 AM
#310
Thread Starter
Registered User
Joined: Oct 2010
Posts: 211
Likes: 1
From: Orinda, CA
Hey man I just want to say thank you. I have honestly spent some of the most enjoyable hours of my life reading your trip. I am jealous, but you have inspired me to do a trip like this of my own. I look forward to future updates. You are truly living the life my friend.
Aug 8, 2012 | 06:22 PM
#311
Registered User
Joined: Dec 2009
Posts: 157
Likes: 0
From: Raleigh NC
This is just like a movie but it's real!!! Truly amazing. I can't pull something like this off for awhile because I have two little ones now. The oldest is three so I have a ways to go, but you have inspired me to do a mini expedition trip with him. He loves to go off road and he loves camping. Plus he is down for anything. So it won't be anything on a grand scale like yourself, but one day I an adventure like yours! This beer is for you!
Aug 8, 2012 | 09:02 PM
#313
HOLY DAGNABBIT... I had accidentally unsubcribededed, mang! 
BUT, got to sit here and catch up and WOW, wow, ....WOWOWOW! So much interesting stuff, man.... "DANIELLLLLLLLLLLLL????????" HAHAHA. "Clipboard"... classic
and so much more.
thanks again for sharing! Your wifey looked VERY happy to be boarding that train and done with that portion, eh? hahaha.
BUT, got to sit here and catch up and WOW, wow, ....WOWOWOW! So much interesting stuff, man.... "DANIELLLLLLLLLLLLL????????" HAHAHA. "Clipboard"... classic and so much more. thanks again for sharing! Your wifey looked VERY happy to be boarding that train and done with that portion, eh? hahaha.
Aug 23, 2012 | 10:52 AM
#316
Thread Starter
Registered User
Joined: Oct 2010
Posts: 211
Likes: 1
From: Orinda, CA
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!
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!
