In the beginning
In the 1970s, life was full of love and peace and Volkswagen vans covered in psychedelic art. Fraser and I sold our belongings, bought a van and joined the movement with our eighteen-month-old daughter Tanya. We left Toronto in September heading west with no real plan other than if the money lasted maybe we’d go to South America.
We travelled across Canada, down the west coast of the United States through Mexico and Central America to Panama where the road ends and the Darien Gap, a 160-kilometre swath of swampland, separates Panama from Columbia. There was a boat that left for Bogota every 10 days or so but the cost was $600, more than we could afford. So, we set up camp behind a sports arena in Colon while we decided what we’d do.
There was a rag-tag group of other travellers intending to go on to South America but, like us, no one wanted to spend the $600. Some thought about turning back and staying in Mexico, others wondered about selling their vehicle and spending the money to fly to Bogotá. We had no clue what to do next, but meanwhile, it seemed to us that Colon, a seaport beside the Caribbean Sea and close to the Atlantic entrance to the Panama Canal, was a good place to hang out.
One evening as we sat around our imaginary campfire, someone had the idea that we should try to hitch a ride on a cargo boat. After several days of pounding the Colon docks, we found a boat with a captain willing to take us to Montevideo, Uruguay.
So here we were — five vans, one jeep, two motorbikes, three cars, 23 adults, one toddler and a dog. $100 per vehicle or $50 per person, we could sleep in our vans, cars or tents and cook for ourselves in the ship’s galley. On December 5, a group handshake sealed the deal.
1971
December 6
“Manana,” said El Capitan with a flip of his luxurious gray hair. “Manana, come here to the docks and we load the vehicles on Concordia.”
December 7
Captain now says he can’t get the crane to lift the vehicles for 10 more days.
December 8
It’s bloody hot. We’re getting to know this crowd we’ll be travelling with.
There’s Griff and Paul both with hair to their waists. They carry short wigs to wear when going through the borders. Nice guys, Tanya loves them. They smoke a lot of dope. Two Japanese guys are travelling on motorbikes. There’s Hugo from Germany, who says he was shot in the head in Vietnam and still has shrapnel in his brain. He’s travelling in a van with his girlfriend Jerri, who looks about half his age, and his dog Ticket.
Inez thinks Hugo is crazy. Maybe she’s right. Inez is travelling in a beat-up car with her boyfriend Bob. They’re Canadian. I think Bob and I may come to blows before the end of this trip. He’s a bit of a prick. Martin and Lyndy are Australians. Lyndy is a nurse and it’s kinda comforting to have her with us. Carl and Kurt are from Hawaii.
Three American guys are travelling in a jeep. They say they’re a band and they do have drums and other musical instruments. But, I think that’s a cover. Apparently, they’re on a drug run.
James and Roger are hitchhiking. James is originally from Uruguay and going to visit his grandmother. They’re pretty flamboyant in their matching, flowing white linen shirts.
There are a couple of Canadian girls travelling for free. We’re wondering how they will be paying. There’s gossip of course.
And then there is us; the crazy Kiwis travelling with an eighteen-month-old.
December 9
We sold our tent to the Japanese guys. Money for us and more space in the van. Lyndy and I are working on a food shopping list. We’re finding out who wants to be a part of a group cook in the galley. Seems like most people. It’ll depend on who shows up with cash when we go shopping tomorrow.
December 15
Apparently, Manana is really going to be tomorrow. Captain says he has a crane and we need to be on the docks by 10 in the morning. Yipee.
December 16
We’re on board. Not going anywhere though. Now the captain says we have to be inspected by customs.
We’re strapped down to the deck. Hope these ropes are strong enough. Lyndy and I have strung a clothesline up between our vehicles. Tanya’s diapers are now flapping in the sea breeze.
December 17
Holy this thing rolls around even tied to the docks. Wonder what it will be like out on the ocean?
December 22
Manana. Manana. Still tied to the docks. Tanya loves it here. She’s made friends with the prostitutes who live in the little huts along the edge of the wharf. She’s fascinated by their long red fingernails.
December 23
Captain finally levelled with us. His crew has taken him to court and the judge has been in hospital and can’t hear the case. What’s next? We’ve already started to eat into our food supply that’s meant to last the 10 days we’ll be at sea.
December 24
Fraser and some of the others went with the captain to the judge’s office this morning. It was all in Spanish so hard to follow the conversation but Fraser thinks there was some sort of ‘payoff’ offered.
December 25
It’s Christmas Day. Merry Christmas. Fraser, James and Paul have made a Christmas tree out of string and hung it between two clotheslines. Some of the ‘boat folks’ put little gifts under the tree for Tanya – two string and bead bracelets, one for her wrist and one for her ankle. They make her look like a mini hippy. She got a little wooden box filled with crayons, a chocolate Santa, an alphabet book with the words in Spanish. Her prostitute friends gave her a doll in a flamingo outfit.
Those of us cooking together opened two cans of ham and a can of pineapple which we served with potato salad. Dessert was vanilla pudding laced with whisky from the captain’s stash, and heavenly hash brownies courtesy of Griff.
December 26
What a day. Tanya fell 30 feet from the bridge into the water. I wasn’t there, thank goodness. Fraser was watching her. He’s convinced she didn’t fall but decided to jump in because she was fascinated with the petrol-blue colour of the water. And, anyway, to her what was the difference to jumping into the deep end of the Sunnyside swimming pool? Thank God I started her swimming lessons last summer. Fraser and Griff ran down two levels and dived in. Griff teaches swimming apparently. They didn’t want to jump in from the bridge because from that height they thought they might not be able to hit the water without missing Tanya and/or the side of the boat. She was floating on her back quite happily and didn’t cry until she was on the wharf and people were crowding around. The excitement was too much for her. I was in the shower when Fraser brought her to me. “Sha, sha,” she said struggling to join me under the water. Fraser was as white as a sheet.
December 27
We’ve moved, we’re in the harbour just outside of the three-mile limit. We’re leaving today for sure. The captain has a girlfriend for the journey. She’s dripping in emeralds.
December 28
Well, last night was sure interesting! At midnight a tug boat arrived and left with the new crew, their bags and all. The tug returned about an hour later. Cartons of whisky, 24 was the count, were thrown down from the Concordia to the tug. At 2 am the tug returned with another crew and the captain. The tug left with all the life jackets.
December 29
Apparently, the life jackets were only on board to pass the safety check when the judge came to visit. The whisky was the payoff that Fraser and others suspected was happening all along. This crew is a bunch of locals the captain picked up from the town.
December 30
At 8 am the engines started to vibrate. It’s 11 am now and almost everyone is sick. Not me or Tanya though. We’ve learnt that most of the crew have never been to sea. The new engineer used to be a jeweller. The cook has been to sea but has never cooked for a crowd. We’re travelling slower than expected; this trip could take 45 days. I’m trying not to panic.
December 31
People are getting their sea legs. The autopilot thingy is not working. The captain is teaching someone how to steer.
Dinner tonight, including all the whisky we could drink, was compliments of the captain. I guess he didn’t give all the whisky to the judge. People got sloshed. Bob demanded to be taken to Venezuela. One of the guys in the drug smuggling van poured a drink on the captain’s head. Hugo started making out with the captain’s girlfriend.
Midnight – Happy New Year. I’m in the van with Tanya. She woke up with all the shouting and very drunken singing. I wonder what this year will bring. I tell Tanya, not that she understands, that she will never have another Christmas or New Year quite like this one.
The New Year 1972
January 3
The water is beginning to taste weird and oily.
January 5
We can’t use the water at all – this means no rice, no boiled potatoes. Nothing! The captain has changed course to Port of Spain, it’s meant to take two days.
January 7
Trinidadian customs came to check us out but we’re not allowed off the boat. Apparently, we’re listed as cargo and cargo can’t just go ashore when it feels like it.
January 8
A few of the crew tried to lower the lifeboats to jump ship. Hugo, we call him Captain Hugo, radioed the police and within a very short time police and immigration arrived.
January 9 – 10
There has been much back and forth and loads of excitement. Customs did a drug search through all the vehicles, two of the guys jumped ship and flagged a private yacht to take them to shore.
January 11
Passengers can go ashore. We’ve packed a few essentials (mostly diapers and camera equipment) said a sad goodbye to the van promising we’d meet up again in Montevideo, and left the Concordia with several other traveller friends.
We have a cheap place to stay while we figure out our next move.
January 15
We’ve pooled resources with the two Americans, James and Roger. We’re flying to Belem and then we’ll hitchhike to Montevideo (Uruguay) where we’ll stay with James’ grandma. James’ mother’s family is originally from there.
But that’s another story …
