Today in Expedition Land

Saturday, Dec. 13, 2025

The Darien Gap

Second-growth rainforest. Where it is definitely not snowing.

Word is, it’s kinda snowing in Northern Virginia. Isn’t that satisfying? If I’m going to fly for five hours south to the very top of South America, then I don’t want idyllic weather behind me. I want raging storms and snarling traffic and all the things one would WANT to leave behind.

Here in the Darien, the day has been overcast and quite pleasantly cool. Without the sun in full evidence, we never got to sweating through our clothes—yay! Twig has taught me to travel with a hand towel for mopping, but it wasn’t much needed today.

We began with a Zodiak cruise up a mangrove swamp river that required the tide to come in—which it did, with alacrity. Until we were sure, though, boatswains were driving slowly and naturalists were poking with boat poles to see how deep it was. THAT was entertaining.

On the walk through the nature preserve, various people spotted birds and I smiled and nodded. I did see plenty of pretty flowers (ooh! Pretty!) and also the long trails made in the earth by six bazillion leaf cutter ants who were busily traveling their highways like rush hour and they were trying to get home. I began to be quite protective of them, and was annoyed when careless hiking shoes smashed down onto a trail Sure, it’s possible that they were killing the leaf-cutter ant Charles Manson—but it was just as likely that they were slaughtering Albert Shweizer. Perhaps antkind would never progress as it should because Sandy from Ohio was too busy looking for a white-crested puffbird.

As it happens, I did get a photo of a white-crested puffbird. Trust me, that bird shape in the middle-ish realy is the bird in question.

Yep. That's a bird, all right. In a tree.

Here are some flowers.

I am not kidding: Jose the naturalist insists this flower is from the clitorius family. Yeah, I sniggered too.

A bird of paradise, growing unheralded and unremarked by the side of the trail. It's waiting for a New York City florist to happen along and put it in a hotel lobby somewhere.

The extremely rare and precious Red and Yellow Flower Plant. No, I have no idea what these flowers are called.

A bromeliad. Grows entirely off another plant; never touches the ground. Not a flower and so not technically suitable for entry in the collection of rainforest flowers, but what are you going to do about it, huh?

Most of the trail was absolutely flat, as advertised, but the shlep to the top of the hill for the porch with rocking chairs was a WORK-OUT. All the sweet little old ladies who’d been told they’d have a pleasant and easy stroll…really, they had no cause to be surprised. This is very Lindbladian. They think that hike up the hill in the very dense, moist air really WAS the easy trip. Proud to have made it up in good time, but also grateful to sit at the top and admire the view!

Used to be a cattle ranch. Forty or fifty years later, rainforest!

Back down at the beach, the woman in charge of the lounge (whose name, charmingly, is Treasure) was handing out raspberry lemonade. These people really do love to put sugar in EVERYTHING. I took her portrait.

I'm going to send this to Lindblad. Doesn't this look brochure-worthy?

Every morning at 5:30, Treasure starts the coffee in the lounge, where Lexie is waiting to pounce on the caffeine. Lexie and Treasure are two of a kind. Every morning they giggle and laugh together endlessly. I caught them at it this morning before stretch class.

Early mornings with Treasure. And caffeine.

After lunch, we had a choice: Go to a remote beach and be beachy. (No, thank you; I cannot abide sitting on a beach getting hot.) Or do a Zodiak tour followed by beach time. (This was Twig’s preferred option.) Or take a nap now (my interpretation, not Lindblad’s; I’m sure they thought I’d use the time to plot my next adventure or something) and THEN take a Zodiak tour; no beach involved. Yes, please!

Lexie got bored before I did and eventually I had to take her down to the mud room to annoy Troy (our charming assistant expedition leader) and Kelly (the marine naturalist), until in self-defense Troy called for the Zodiak riders to come get their life jackets and line up to go. Troy is a total puppy; we’re having dinner with him tonight, and with Kelly, who is a pure delight.

This is Troy. And some lady who would NOT get out of the way.

We were the first ones in the Zodiak (in self-defense, Troy wanted to get Lexie OFF THE SHIP, you’re driving us crazy!) (this is my interpretation; they would never say such a thing). Our guide was Richard, who is a hoot, and our driver was “bosun.” I’m sure the guy has a name, but he’s known by his title. He’s the guy who manages all the Zodiaks and drivers and I’ve since learned that he makes sure he gets the Zodiaks that are most finicky so he can fix failing motors on the fly.

This was the winward side. Not so many birds to be seen.

The island we toured was, I suspect, almost impossible to land on. Endless high tides had worn the rocks at the base to a concave curve all the way around, so it sat like a big rock mushroom on the ocean. It was gorgeous…and around the back, away from the persistent winds, were tall trees clinging to crevices in the stone. And in those trees…what’s that brown and white lump up there? And there? And hey—there!

Damn. That's a great-looking bird. Very Jurassic Park.

Pelicans! Dozens of them roosting, their necks and beaks making creamy commas against the cliffs. So cool!

If you knew where to look, you could see white pelican heads in the trees...but some of the white is guano, so take your pick.

There were cormorants and boobies (the brown and the blue-footed variety) and magnificent frigatebirds (who have a magnificent name). All of them perched on absolutely vertical rock faces. How the hell did they stay up there?? The easiest way to find them was to look for the guano and see who was standing at the top. (I saw not one but two birds add to that marker, in—I assume—contempt for the interlopers staring at them from the sea.)

Surely that can't be a comfortable place to hang out??

We were drifting along, enjoying the afternoon, when the engine crapped out. The bosun began doing his thing, but his thing didn’t take. The engine wouldn’t start. For some reason, he had Richard perform CPR on the gas tank (literally pulsing his shoulders into his hands on the tank), to—I suppose—force gas from the can into the engine, which had no effect at all. As things got a lot more exciting, a surprisingly big wave forced us onto the rocks. (I had JUST switched my phone from the marine side pocket of my leggings to the “dry” side when the wave crashed over us from behind; thanks for that. All was well.)

Richard and one of the guests grabbed the paddles, pushed us off the rocks, and oared us to a safer distance. Bosun called one of the other Zodiaks, who turned up in time to hook us to a line and drag us farther from the island. By coincidence, Twig was in that boat. Lexie and I waved happily—we’re having an expedition!—and the bosun finally got our engine started. Hurray! (One woman noted in acid tones that this was the third time that “jaguar’s” engine had died and we ought not to have been put on that boat in the first place. Lexie and I raised an eyebrow but stayed politely quiet. I kinda enjoyed the whole thing…

Sheer accident that someone was pointing as I was trying to get the ship framed in the "crocodile's mouth" rock formation. This is the hand of God, like in the Sistine Chapel. With this finger, I give life to the Quest!

On our way back to the boat, we came across… Twig’s boat! Having saved us, it had promptly died. The bosun announced that he’d take us back to the ship and return. Twig said they did a mid-ocean transfer to get her home. Adventures all around!

All of my shoes are sodden. I'm going to have to buy new sneakers in Panama tomorrow--or head home in the snow in sandals.

We have to have our bags outside the door by 6:45 tomorrow morning; we disembark at 8 in Panama City. Lindblad will give us a lift back to our hotel, where the four of us will spend another night to get a 9am flight out on Monday morning. We’re going to go to the Biomuseo tomorrow, about which I know very little (except that it’s a tremendously ugly building designed by Frank Gehry, who we all revere. Right?) This is our last night on the Quest. I’m glad; I’m ready for dry air and a better bed—but I’ve really liked the crew and the adventures. And spending time with my family!

Pretty sunset tonight.