Somehow life on the road just keeps on getting better. In our last update we said that we were craving a little adventure. Well, since then we've certainly been having adventure! Panama began for us with endless discussions of entering the Darien or not. The Darien is a pretty impenetrable jungle steeped in legend, myth and ruled by Columbian guerillas in the border area. Guerilla activity varies almost on a week by week basis but they are always around. We never intended to cross the Darien all the way into Columbia with our bike, she's far too big and heavy for dragging over jungle trails and putting in dugout canoes but we could settle for trying to ride to the end of the road at Yaviza. As soon as we crossed into the Darien region there were military checkpoints every few miles. 18 in all. At each our details were taken, we were asked where we were going, for how long and, what we were doing and why the hell would we want to do it. At each; we in turn asked about current guerilla activity, no go areas and so on and so forth. We were expecting to be turned back long before we reached Meteti, the last point of relative civilization in the area, but while we were advised to be very careful we were never told to turn back. They made it clear that if they thought the risks were too high for us they would bring us out like a shot.

Meteti is 51 kilometers (30 miles) from Yaviza, only a stones throw on a paved road but there is no paved road here, just mud and more mud. We found a place to stay in Meteti and the next morning decided the road was just too bad for Liz to be able to ride on the back of the bike any further; so I set out on my own to get as far as I could. The potential was there that I would only get as far as the next checkpoint and be turned back but they let me through, surprisingly. The road continued for the first 10 kilometers in a pretty ridable condition. Some mud and water sections, plenty of potholes but nothing too difficult.

After the first 10 kilometers there was a dramatic change. The jungle closed in, the road narrowed and the mud became one long slog of slipping and sliding. Even without any weight on the bike it was almost uncontrollable, the front wheel would veer off in a muddy rut while the back end slid in a different direction. I was determined to make it to Yaviza though, just 51 kilometers in all. After riding (or sliding) the first 30 kilometers I was getting close but didn't feel confident. I was having to get off the bike more and more often to drag it out of the mud before riding a little further. At 35 kilometers it was impossible to ride the bike and I began to push the bike as far as I could using the engine to keep it going forward. With 9 lousy kilometers to go I gave up. I met a local man on a horse coming from Yaviza and he told me it just got worse. I was exhausted already and knew that for every kilometer I got further towards Yaviza, I would have to do all over again on the way back. I couldn't do it. I sat in the mud and drank some water while just taking in where I was. It had been a dream of mine most of my life to come to the Darien and here I was upto my neck in mud with a bike far too heavy for where I was and I was loving it. As I sat there a troop of howler monkeys berated me from above while a sloth looked on unconcerned from the trees across the road. Jungle literally steamed and teamed with life all around and I was the only person there (as far as I knew). Life doesn't get much better.

I reluctantly turned the bike round and repeated the exercise of pushing and pulling until I could start riding, slipping and sliding back to Meteti. I didn't make it to the end of the road but I got close. I'll settle for that. I reached the checkpoint again and had a laugh with the soldiers at the state of me before returning to Liz safe and sound. From there we explored some of the other outlying villages that we could ride to together and just enjoyed being in the Darien, chatting to locals and soldiers as we went. For a region that can be so dangerous closer to the Darien Gap the people are surprisingly friendly, even the military. There's no question the area has its dangers and only a fool would enter without asking about current safety every step of the way but certainly as far a Yaviza the risks are worth it. Beyond Yaviza you'd be on your own if the FARC caught up with you.

We returned to Panama City a few days later before riding on to Puertobello and putting ourselves and the bike on a sailing boat to Colombia. The Melody is a 43 foot (13 metres) sail boat and the bike took up most of the front deck. Getting the bike on board was a heart in mouth experience in itself. With the aid of 6 hired locals we lifted it into a 12 foot skiff and chugged out to the boat anchored off shore before hoisting the bike onto the Melody using the main mast as a winch.

It all went well though and within the hour we were sailing for Colombia via the San Blas Islands. 6 days on a 43 foot boat with the captain (Mark) and 5 other backpackers. It was cramped but not too cramped. The first few days were spent sailing from idyllic island to idyllic island, catching tuna, barracuda and snapper as we went. The islands here look like an advert in holiday brochures, small pieces of land with a few palm trees and golden sand surrounded by turquoise and green waters As soon as we anchored off an island we would be in the water cooling off and snorkeling on the reefs. It was a little hard to cool off in the 86 degree crystal clear waters though. Oh, the hardship!!

After 4 days we began the final push for Columbia across open seas and here thing got interesting. The swell was huge, rocking the boat in every direction and throwing us around like peas in a can. On the morning of the 5th day we found ourselves going from a heavy swell to sailing in hurricane force wings. Horizontal rain and 70 mph winds had us holding on with everything we had as Mark tried to keep the boat facing into the wind as waves crashed over us. The boat rolled from side to side at over 45 degrees or more and the skies were black. Luckily the squall didn't last long and before long we were back in a heavy swell counting our bruises. It tested Marks skills but he proved to be an extremely capable captain so we were never worried but certainly exhilarated.

We reached Cartagena, Colombia, a few days ago and are now holed up with the bike; hiding until we can complete the paperwork so she's here legally. In the meantime we explore the beautiful city. Of any city we've visited on our travels this is without a doubt the most beautiful. Its no hardship to be killing time here before we ride south again. Visiting Volcan de Lodo El Totumo and having a mud massage before having my shorts ripped off by a 50 year old woman and a rinse off has helped pass the time though. The volcano is the tallest mud volcano in South America and has to be one of the strangest things we've ever done. Floating in mud the consistency of melted chocolate while a man rubs you up and down is not something that happens every day. Liz seemed to enjoy the rub down more than I did though.