On the morning of 1st December I felt like I had a cold coming on and so had a long lie in. Eventually I headed out to see the Gold Museum for an interesting hour, then I went back to rendezvous with Sam, and check out of Tika Linda.

A couple of local buses got us as far as the outer suburb of Alajuela and then to the village of San Pedro. But reaching Poasito, the last village before the volcano, required us to hitch a ride on a pickup truck. Final essentials for our night on the volcano, in the form of a bottle of wine, were procured in Poasito, and from there we managed to hitch another ride to the Poas National Park entrance. Then someone offered to take us some of the way up the winding park road towards the crater. Apparently, for hitching rides in Costa Rica, it helps enormously to have a tall, blonde, colourfully dressed, extravert, female companion! A couple of km of walking got us to the crater rim at 2500 m (8300 ft), just as the late afternoon sun was dipping towards the horizon.

The crater was spectacular – cloud formations drifted around, some apparently caused by the steam vents from the crater. These seemed to cause very localised rain showers inside the crater, on which the setting sun projected rainbows every so often. The biggest treat was a Brocken Spectre – our own shadows projected on the swirling mist below the crater rim, with a halo around the shadow’s head.

It got dark quickly and the temperature dropped, and we headed downhill to find somewhere suitable to spend the night – we both had sleeping bags and I had my thick plastic bivouac bag to provide a bit of insulation. We soon came across an empty semi-open shed (which looked like it was sometimes used as a garage for park vehicles) which would protect us from any rain. My bright orange bivouac bag provided a groundsheet wide enough to accommodate both sleeping bags. It wasn’t the most luxurious night’s sleep I’ve ever had, but the bottle of wine definitely helped with the fact that the ground was rather hard, and the air a little thin.

We woke before dawn, hoping to see a view as the sun came up, but it was obvious that the mountain was shrouded in thick mist. We stayed in our warm sleeping bags, had a bite to eat, and eventually got up and went for a a hike along a mysterious forest trail that went in a big loop round the upper part of the mountain, below the crater rim. Sam is keen on rainforest birds and has a passion for toucans.

A 2 km walk got us back down to a car park. From there a nice family in a VW Combi gave us a ride all the way to San Pedro where we had a large brunch – we were starving by this stage. Finally buses got us back to San Jose and Tika Linda where Sam checked back in. I had already bought a ticket to head out on the night bus for Panama, so after wangling a shower and picking up the few extra things that I had left for safe keeping at Tika Linda, I went out for a “farewell hamburger” with Sam, and then headed for the bus terminal.

The bus left a little before midnight to start its 900 km 16 hour journey to Panama City. On board I got chatting to a Swiss traveller called Eva. She isn’t quite a “backpacker” (no actual backpack, travelling for a shorter period and with perhaps a higher budget) but is travelling solo, and is fluent in several languages including Spanish.

The seats didn’t recline and the only way I could eventually get to sleep was using my pullover to tie my head to the back of the seat, using the long sleeves – a solution that actually worked rather well, regardless of how silly I looked.

Around 6 am the bus arrived at the Panamanian border, which hadn’t yet opened for the day. While we all waited, I had what seems to be the universal Central American meal of rice and beans for breakfast from a roadside stall. The border officials duly turned up and opened the barrier, but there were several more delays before bus and passengers were free to proceed into Panama. The conditions were getting rather sweaty since the highway now ran along at sea level – the pleasant highlands of Costa Rica had been left behind.

The trip through the humid lowlands of northern Panama dragged on and on, despite chatting to Eva a lot of the time. One (literal) high point was at 4:30 pm, near the end of the journey, when we drove across the enormous bridge over the Panama Canal.

Heavy rain was coming down when at last we all gratefully spilled out of the bus in central Panama City. I was aware that prices are higher in Panama City, and chances of finding a budget hotel slim, especially in the pouring rain. Eva enquired in a nearby hotel and announced that they had air conditioned doubles with bath for $20. Since my daily travel budget for “room and board” is $10, this initially seemed an outrageous price for a hotel room. But since Eva was happy to split a room with me, I decided that $10 wasn’t too bad for such comfort after the long sweaty trip, and accepted.

I took advantage of the facilities to wash some clothes so as not to arrive in South America the next day with a backpack full of dirty laundry. Later we headed out for a bite to eat but there was very little nearby that looked remotely attractive, and we ended up in a KFC which was suitably disappointing.

The room had a TV which we took advantage of – I hadn’t had access to a TV for what seemed like many months (and very likely was, since I hadn’t watched TV while preparing for the trip, or even in Houston).

In the morning (4th December) I got up early to go to the Poste Restante desk at the main post office. To my utter delight, amazement and relief, there were actual letters waiting for me – over half a dozen proper handwritten letters from friends and family. The system works! I can now look forward to getting mail at the next cities on my list…

Back at the hotel I got a little distracted by reading all my letters because I suddenly realised I was running out of time to get to the airport. I left in a rush having said farewell to Eva – she is staying in Panama for 3 more days.

Saying goodbye was a little bit sad – and I can’t help thinking that in other circumstances (if I weren’t still enmeshed in a “breakup recovery”) things might have turned out a little differently in Panama… perhaps I’d even have ended up changing my ticket to stay a little longer… Presumably the time will eventually come when I’ll again feel able to contemplate a new romantic experience of some sort. But, as the last couple of weeks have made clear, that time is still a long way off. And the same itchy feet that kept me moving fast through Mexico, to keep my mind off what I have left behind, are demanding that I now continue to South America without delay.

But things are slowly improving: I’ve certainly had a variety of affable and kind-hearted travel companions since leaving Mexico – and have thus avoided any more brushes with law enforcement caused by having a miserable expression!