*Be warned, there is just little bit of bad language in this one.*

Oli's first glimpse of the good ship Victoria

'Well, at least it has a crane,' says Olivier, sighing a slight amount of relief as we get our first glimpse of 'La Victoria,' the boat of largely rotten planks painted green and white that will take us one step closer to Colombia, as far as the town of Jaque.  Sat deep amidst the jungles of Darien, Jaque is still in Panama but close enough to smell the drug smuggling FARC of Colombia.

'I'll be happier when the bikes are on, we're on and we're on our way.'  I reply, anxiously viewing the huge mound of cargo still sitting on the dock waiting to be loaded.
'They can't be putting all that on,' says Oli, ever the optimist, 'it must be for another boat.' Though I can sense even Olivier's doubt.
'Maybe,' I say, calculating space, as a man adds steel rods to the mound and to my equation of; bricks, cement, fridges, washing machines, wood, galvanise, rice, beer, fizzy drinks, steel girders and the ubiquitous can't-go-anywhere-without-one....chicken...alive.

And let's not forget the two motorbikes.

"One dollar."