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HELL ON EARTH

COMBAT VETERANS CROSS THE DARIEN GAP, THE WORLD’S MOST DANGEROUS JUNGLE.

- TEXT BY CHRIS COLLARD IMAGES BY JAKE HAMBY

Between the frozen shores of the Arctic Ocean and windblown Straights of Magellan lay a thin ribbon of tarmac that threads a path through a dozen countries in an attempt to connect the Americas. From the south it terminates in Turbo, Colombia, and from the north its curtain call is in the Panamanian village of Yaviza. Between the two is a span of merely 66 miles as the crow flies, yet for centuries the government­s of the two continents have endeavored to connect the dots. This is the Darien Gap, and its reputation as an inhospitab­le abyss dates back to the 1500s and Vasco Nunez de Balboa.

It is an environmen­t that defines the term “survival of the fittest,” a place where everything wants to harm, if not kill, you. A prick from the fangs of a Feu-de-lance will summon the Grim Reaper, get bit by a fire ant and the following days will be an inferno of pain. Temperatur­es push the mercury to triple digits, humidity hovers at 100 percent, and the dry season is simply less wet. The canopy above obscures nearly all light and the rivers below are rich in pathogens eager to wreak havoc on your intestinal system. It is a no-man’s land rife with paramilita­ry groups, drug runners, and human trafficker­s. Life has little value, and the collateral damage caused by the pursuit of profit decays into the detritus. The Darien is, by definition, hell on earth.

While many have traversed the length of the Pan-American Highway, the list of souls who have forged a path through the Darien is comprised of an elite few. After spending a decade with the idea of a moto crossing through the Gap on the back burner, U.S. Army combat veteran Wayne Mitchell recruited three like-minded vets, Richard Doering, Mike Eastham, and Simon Edwards, threw a leg over his Kawasaki KLR 650 and turned the key. We caught up with Wayne after his team slogged their way through Darien to find out how they did it. This is their story.

What was the catalyst for the expedition and how did it evolve from there?

During college I met Tim Stigens. My wife is Colombian, and we got on the subject of the Darien Jeep expedition he had participat­ed in during the ‘70s. I’d never given much thought to the region, but kept track of the political happenings and read about the Darien whenever I could. In 2005, Mike Eastham and I talked about doing a motorcycle trip from Alaska to Argentina; it seemed logical to try to

take bikes through the jungle.

Did you make reconnaiss­ance trips into the region?

I did a trip to Colombia in December of 2015 and establishe­d some logistics support. In 2016, we did a team recon to Panama, visiting Yaviza and Paya. The goal was to meet our guide Isaac, establish a base plan, and determine the level of logistics support we would need. We also took members of our camera crew so they could test equipment and get some footage.

What were some of your planning strategies?

We didn’t really have a strategy and ultimately went to Panama with no clear permission. We had met with the Darien National Park admin-

After 9,000 miles on the road, was your enthusiasm at the same high as when you began in Alaska?

The anticipati­on of the Darien had been hanging over us. We were pretty tired and eager to get into the jungle and get the “hard part” over with. It was the big unknown. Although we had been in contact with our guide about renting boats and supplies, there were still a lot of loose ends. It was pretty frantic, and everyone went into hyper drive.

Your team consists of combat veterans. Did the absence of living on the edge play

istrator and got an authorizat­ion letter, but up to the last minute we assumed that Senafront (Panamanian military) might tell us no. We planned to move the bikes to Paya, regardless of permission, and see if they would physically stop us. In the end, it came down to the letter from the park and paying for a film permit that allowed us to go through without resistance from Senafront.

Can you share details about Senafront?

Michel, the team’s fixer, was in contact with Senafront for several months but was unable to confirm an approval. When we arrived we were told the director was about to retire, but he wanted to meet us. Still wearing our riding gear, we were escorted to HQ outside Panama City. Ultimately, he just wanted a photo op and to tell us to be very careful. We had a letter stating our plans and the commander’s stamp, but the commander in Yaviza would still need to give his approval.

into your decision to cross the Darien?

It certainly had something to do with it. In the military we were in demanding, somewhat fast-paced jobs; jobs that challenged us physically and mentally. I think we wanted a challenge, to put our skills and training to use. We wanted to do the ride from Alaska to

Argentina, but do something more challengin­g along the way.

Darien is one of the world’s most inhospitab­le places. Tell us about the environmen­t you faced in the jungle.

Yaviza seems like a pretty rough place. You attract crowds of onlookers and have to guard your equipment closely. From there we faced bugs, bugs, and more bugs. Sleeping in hammocks helped, as the forest crawls with ants and spiders. While on the trail you have to watch for snakes and scorpions, where you stepped, sat down, or reached with your hands. Another problem was the long fragile spikes of the black palms. The jungle was humid and hot. Filtering water was a constant task as we moved along.

You had a clutch failure the first day. How did this affect the team?

While we hoped to get everyone through, mentally we were prepared for the idea that we would not all complete the trip. The rider left his bike and went back to Panama City; in some ways it helped. We were able to send him an inReach text message that the other bikes had broken down in Colombia. He got replacemen­t clutches and met us there.

Did your military training come into play in the jungle?

I am not sure it helped in the jungle or with dealing with the locals. We had picked up some backcountr­y bush-whacking skills and techniques, but anyone that goes into the jungle should have a good idea of the hazards, as well as techniques for travel.

What were the greatest challenges?

The biggest challenge after getting permission was dealing with unexpected heavy rains. The bikes failed pretty quickly in the heavy mud, and we were not prepared for that. In the end, we dealt with the clutch failures by sheer brute strength.

The Darien is a hot bed for paramilita­ry and drug runners. Did you have any encounters with them?

We suspected some of the Kuna porters we hired were paramilita­ry. Our strategy was to make ourselves obvious, not try to hide anything—be what we call a “hard target” in the military. When we reached the first village in Colombia we were told we had to get permission from the local paramilita­ry group to stay there. It was granted, provided we did not fly our drone and left early the next morning. We saw their position along the river as we left but had no problems.

Did you carry firearms?

No. The reality of carrying a weapon is usually much different than what people think. It is unlikely that four or five of us could successful­ly engage in a firefight against a large opponent that knows the terrain. Ultimately, we relied on our guides and local confidants for security.

Had you discussed what the team would do in the case of a major medical issue or fatality?

The plan was to deal with medical emergencie­s in the field and evac a casualty forward or backward depending on location. Simon Edwards, the team’s primary medic, is highly trained in trauma and carried extensive supplies. I am wilderness advanced EMT and was the backup medic. In the event of a fatality, we agreed we would transport the body to the nearest military point in Panama or Colombia and notify the authoritie­s.

Can you share details about hiring Kuna porters?

They made it much easier, though there was a considerab­le language barrier and informatio­n was lost in translatio­n. For the most part, they were hard workers, but some gear went missing that we had to retrieve. You have to keep very close eye on your equipment. Isaac Pizarro, our trusted guide, not only helped with navigation, but also when we reached Colombia, had to deal with the paramilita­ry group.

Few have crossed the Darien. Did you have something to prove or want to become famous?

I think the only thing we had to prove was to ourselves; we just wanted a challenge. For me, I think I wanted a cool story to tell my grandkids—I don’t think you become famous by riding a motorcycle through the Darien.

Was immersing yourselves into the dangers of the unknown a therapeuti­c break from civilian life and an adrenaline fix you will need to repeat?

Yes, there is a certain amount of therapy involved in, not only riding a motorcycle, but also challengin­g yourself to do something like the Darien. It’s much like climbing a mountain, you prepare for it, train for it, and I guess

when you are done you start looking for the next mountain to summit.

Why did you select the Lone Survivor Foundation (LSF) as your beneficiar­y?

I’ve worked with LSF in the past on other projects. It has a simple message, “Never quit.” Their mission is to give veterans that need help the tools to never quit.

Your team members have jobs, family, and obligation­s. How did each address stepping off the grid for months?

We were in different situations in our lives. I took a five-month leave of absence. My kids and wife were off-and-on supportive—it’s hard to justify something like this to the family. My wife and I have been married for 23 years so I think she understand­s what drives me, but it’s still hard. We stayed connected by phone and email, and my kids tracked our progress on a map.

In hindsight, what would you have done differentl­y?

The biggest improvemen­t would have been to have better Spanish skills, as well as having tighter control over the process of getting through the jungle. We sort of went with the flow, letting our guide control a lot of the action while we focused on our bikes. That was OK because we were moving very quickly, but if we had to spend another four nights in the jungle we would have run short of supplies.

Will there be a documentar­y?

Yes. In addition to sharing an amazing expedition, we wanted to convey a different side of military members after service and retirement—that their service time wasn’t the pinnacle of their life, and they are still getting out and living cool adventures. The idea was Jake Hamby’s, our videograph­er and fellow veteran, and members of the military combat camera community expressed interest. It will be a veteran filmed and produced documentar­y.

What advice can you provide for anyone planning to cross the Darien?

Unless you are really driven, I would say don’t do it. It’s not worth the hassle and does not save time or money. If you have personal reasons, then hire a guide and scout it first. Have a conversati­on about what to expect, as well as, what services your guide is expected to provide and what you are expected to do.

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 ??  ?? Working late into the night securing gear and preparing for the two-day boat ride into the jungle.
Working late into the night securing gear and preparing for the two-day boat ride into the jungle.
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 ??  ?? The team stops briefly to celebrate reaching Palo de Las Letras, the border marker between Panama and Colombia.
The team stops briefly to celebrate reaching Palo de Las Letras, the border marker between Panama and Colombia.
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 ??  ?? The team works its way up one of the last steep grades near the Panama-Colombia border.
The team works its way up one of the last steep grades near the Panama-Colombia border.
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 ??  ?? Spiders, scorpions, snakes, and ants were constant companions in the Darien.
Spiders, scorpions, snakes, and ants were constant companions in the Darien.

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