A Story to Tell – Ken Beedle drives to Panama. Part I

This is the first of two installments of the Panama trip. It has some very important points for visitors and would be expats.

We recently returned to live permanently in Costa Rica. In researching our return move, I discovered several changes plus incorrect information on various Web sites.

We shipped our car from the USA to Costa Rica and made a serious error that caused the car to be impounded. So let me tell you what we have learned so others do not make the same mistake.

1. It is NOT true that expats now only need to leave the country for one day or simply cross a border as one Web site claims. We must leave for three days to renew our visas.
2. When traveling in a foreign registered car it is absolutely IMPERATIVE that you carry original documents of import and visa. The police seized our car because I had a copy of one document rather than the original. I spent four days getting our car out of aduana (customs) jail in Paso Canoas.
3. It is not true that your car can leave the country after 90 days (one time) to renew its visa. They changed the law. Once you take your car out it MUST remain out for 90 days before it can return and a new visa is issued.

In our situation, we paid the import taxes to release the car from customs because we have our permanent home in Costa Rica….

We are in bed. We have our clothes on. My toes feel like small ice cubes. Silvia has the covers up to her ears. I am taking bets on when my toes will finally get warm. Even under a quilt my wool hiking socks are not helping. Outside, the sound of an angry river, rain and wind is amazing.

Hard rain is hammering our red tin roof like thousands of tiny sticks. The wind sweeps the rain from the roof as quickly as it falls. The sound of the river…, is like standing next to a never-ending freight train. The constant roar is so invasive. The ground actually trembles; awe is the only word that comes to mind. It is instant death.

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Cartago, Costa Rica. Early Friday.

It is cold. Not U.S. freeze your butt cold but cold by Costa Rica standards. The thermostat in the Xterra said it was 57F. A light mist and fog made my clean car dirty in the first mile after leaving the house. The weather map said that it was supposed to be partly cloudy in the south. We were on our way to Panama. It was 250 miles and 7 hours south. I had packed rain ponchos, umbrella, two flashlights, jackets and emergency stuff because crossing Cerro de Muerte (10,400 ft) could be challenging.

The area is known for major landslides, cold (30-40F) and fog. Sometimes it took 1 ½ hours. Once it took me 4 hours because the fog was so thick I could not see the bumper of the car in front. I needed to be out of the country by Sunday or I was in violation of my visa provisions. We were taking the Xterra because, depending on what I read on the official website or what Silvia read in a document, we either had 90 days from the time I entered the country or from when the car entered five weeks later (we later learned they were BOTH wrong).

We were taking no chances. I tried to insure the car before we left but failed. Insurance costs were astronomical. INS the government insurance monopoly said it was $192 to insure the car for its value for 5 weeks. So, I reevaluated its value and waited for an answer. It never came before we needed to leave. So, we were driving a major asset up the Mountain of Death (cerro de muerte) with what the insurance Costa Rica insists you have when the vehicle enters (I could not purchase more) $500.

I had not been on the mountain road in five years. There were a few more homes and a couple of more restaurants trying to exist on tourist traffic but it had not changed. Mountains rarely do. Chunks of the mountain had eroded and destroyed parts of the highway but it was still as I remembered it. I have been into its depths and at its highest point. It was formidable, cold, covered in fog and dangerous.

They had done much to improve the surface but the weather destroys chunks of it as quickly as man repairs it. At the top it was 43 degrees. The police checkpoint only showed an empty truck. The cop was inside the station and did not come out. When a cop screws up in San Jose the outpost at Chespiritos is where they send him. It is Costa Rica’s version of Siberia.

Once we crossed and began our descent to San Isidro de General the gradually changed. There were areas when the clouds parted that were breathtaking but I could not stop. It was like being in the helicopter descending into Jurassic Park. There were no dinosaurs grazing in the valley below nor floating mammoths in the clouds but… There was no room to park the car without falling off. Even if there were the mile of cars and trucks behind me may never let me return to the road safely.

San Isidro had measurably grown. It was my favorite city in Costa Rica. It was clean. They had added about one mile of new development south of the city (as opposed to town or pueblo) and expanded the road to four lanes since I had been there. We quickly moved through the Valley of the General. I had forgotten how beautiful this area of Costa Rica was.

Further south, the meandering river valley north of Palmer Norte and towering green mountains to the east made me want to return for more exploration. I had made the trip across the range to San Vito in another lifetime but lost the richness of that experience.

When we reached Paso Canos I found where all the excess San Jose traffic had gone.., it had come to an abrupt stop at this border town separating Costa Rica from Panama. We had come from sublime beauty of majestic hills and massive coco palms to shear madness in about one click (kilometer). It was like someone threw me from a relaxing hot tub to a ribbed metal tank of ice water.

The rattle of idling diesel trucks, the beeps of 500 impatient drivers, three-way traffic on a two lane garbage and compacted rock road with people scurrying around like a colony of ants was overwhelming. I was out of my element, felt confused and lost.

Thank God for Silvia. She quickly took over when my sensory system went into overload. What she/we quickly learned was that the import document for the car was a copy and not an original document. Someone in the port of entry had attached a copy rather than given me the original and the Xterra could not leave the country.

Also, we learned that the information on the government website was no longer correct. Rather than 90 days the car was only allowed to remain in the country for 30 days from the date of entry. Its and my time was up on the same day. To make matters worse we were told that if we did not pay the taxes in eight days we would need to EXPORT the car and bring it in again.

I was flabbergasted and angry. They had changed the law but never corrected the information on the website. I was the guilty party. As Silvia later said, never, NEVER believe what you read, get the information straight from the Ministry. Of course, she is right but I have found even when asking an “authority” they are not fully informed. Lesson: Expect the unexpected. Murphy’s Law is the rule not the exception.

Now we had no car, I was ready to return to Cartago, put the car in the garage then leave on Sunday by bus to either Nicaragua or Panama. When I called the hotel in Boquete, Panama to cancel they said they would credit us the next time we come but our two days was bought and paid for. When I told Silvia she said “we will take the bus”.

Of course, she was right, everyone but us gringos know that you can travel anywhere by bus. It was 4pm and the sun was losing its power. I grabbed the carry-on, the back pack with the camera equipment and emergency kit but not the rain and cold weather gear, BAD mistake. For the guy who plans for everything I was not thinking.

So here I lay with my laptop keeping my legs warm. My feet are still cold. Silvia has reawakened and is watching satellite television but the signal is badly deteriorating as the result of the heavy rain. No it is raining sideways even through the lush tropical forest we are in. I am into my third pair of socks because stepping outside to retrieve dry towels I was instantly wet even with a borrowed umbrella.

I talked with Jason, the owner, while helpers were stacking sandbags along the river’s edge; he told me there two rivers converged in Boquete and they had already closed one of the two bridges. If they closed the second bridge or it collapsed we were not leaving for some time. With no car and nowhere to go we had to wait for what developed. I turned the laptop off and put it under my feet in hope of restoring warmth to my toes. I am smiling. The adventure continues…

Later: The last car

I napped in Silvia’s arms and woke when Silvia got up to look out at the river. She said it was time to leave. I am thinking maybe she wants some coffee but when I joined her at the window I saw immediately the change in the river. It was over the banks. It had to rise ten more feet to reach us but the workers were running back and forth with more sand bags. I went to the river to talk with the owner. It was raining harder and the wind was making the trees look like palm trees in a hurricane.

One large tree on the opposite bank was getting ready to topple into the torrent of water. A large boulder was now exposed which meant that the river actually cutting deeper into its bed. That was good because it would most likely keep it from the cabins but also meant that it was undermining the bridges.

Jason and wife Susan had only been here for six months. They had never seen anything like this. He was a Brit and she was a Canadian. We had to shout to be heard above the roar of the river. He said we needed to be ready to leave in five minutes. I did not bother to photograph what I was seeing. I was worried for the workers. One misstep and they were gone. A photo would never tell the story.

We packed then watched helplessly as they closed the offices and turned off the electricity. We piled into the owners SUV and started for town. We crossed a small bridge not far from the Boquete Gardens where we were staying. I tried to take a photo but misfired in my haste. The water was within two feet of the base.

When we got to the bridge into Boquete we were stopped by traffic turning around and a man saying we could not pass. A police truck with orange suited emergency workers swung around us and crossed the bridge. Jason looked at me and said we were going for it. When we crossed the police were jumping out of their vehicle and closed the road. We were the last car.

Our hosts dropped us at Amigo’s Bar and Restaurant. A guy with a kayak paddle entered. One guy shouted that he was the only one who came prepared while another asked him if parked his kayak next to the bus station. I took a photo of the group. We ate and made the decision to leave for David an hour away.

Sunday – The day from hell.

We made it back to Paso Canos without a hitch. I should have suspected something. We retrieved the Xterra from parking and Silvia successfully argued our way past the border guard. She would make a great salesman. We were cruising along talking about where we were going to eat when we were confronted by another police checkpoint. Under the assumption (stupid) that if we made it through one checkpoint we could make it through the next I approach the barrier. We were waved over immediately.

State of Washington plates were a dead giveaway that we were tourists. The cop took one look at our documents and asked where was the original from customs in Limon? Silvia told him our story and produced a document from the customs office in Paso Canos showing that we were entitled to drive the car for 8 more days. This young cop was smart. He said one moment and returned with the regulation that said that our document needed to be an original not a copy and could not drive the car without it. We were in serious trouble.

Silvia argued for 30 minutes while I sat helplessly in the car muttering to myself. She talked with his boss and the boss’s boss without changing their minds. At this point I am thinking a major ticket ($100 or more). Silvia returned and said they were impounding i.e. taking the Xterra. We would have to return to Cartago by bus. The car was being taken back to the border where there was a customs office.

At this point I am thinking that some paper pusher had accidentaly attached a copy of the original and filed the document we desperately needed. There was nothing we could do. Fortunately, they were stopping all traffic including buses. A tour bus filled with Ticos who had gone to the border for Christmas shopping (nearly everything is 15-20% cheaper in Panama) had two seats and offered to take us to San Isidro where my brother-in-law would meet us.

The trip across Cerro de Muerte at night in a driving rainstorm, fog, landslides and tree branches in the road was scary… I mean really scary. I will never do it again.

This story is not finished.

I am returning to Paso Canos with the original document. It was not in the hands of some agent in Limon but in our file in the office. If Silvia had a gun I would have been meeting my Maker or limping for the rest of my life from a bad shot. When I put the papers together I was told that I needed the original insurance document but did not know I needed the original customs document as well. I treated that as I did the title of the car I saved it and took the copy. DUMB! Lesson learned.

More to come…

PS. Boquete Garden Inn was not damaged in the flood. Susan and Jason told me that the village of Boquete was never touched by the flooding and the bridges are intact. The Boquete Garden Inn Bed and Breakfast is a lovely place and quite reasonable in comparison to other hotels in the area. The staff was more than accommodating. They were great. And, for a breakfast eater like me, the food was excellent.

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Written by Ken Beedle who is a landscape photographer and retired Television Sales/Marketing Executive. Ken first visited Costa Rica in 1998 and later lived here for a few years, married a Tica and returned to the USA to take advantage of a business opportunity however, he promised to come back to Costa Rica and now he and his wife live in Cartago.

Andrew Makarik

to@welovecostarica.com

Andrew Makarik is the main editor of WeLoveCostaRica, a fan of this sunny country. He is also a loving husband and a has a lovely daughter. By being a devoted family man and the biggest Costa Rica fan, he wants to make more people feel at home there. WeLoveCostaRica unites people and helps them find new home or a new travel destination. This website is a friendly community where everyone can find not only information, but also new friends and travel pals. Andrew is also passionate about IT and programming, so he himself maintains a friendly atmosphere in this cozy environment of WeLoveCostaRica.com.