The Driver Who Waited

On the map, there appeared to be a town near the rainforest center. That was enough planning for me.

I was staying in Casco Viejo and wanted to see the rainforest beyond the Panama Canal. I found the Panama Rainforest Discovery Center near Gamboa, looked at photographs, and ordered an Uber. I assumed I could take another one back. A town, in my understanding of the word, would have cell service, people, businesses, and cars moving through it. Somewhere among them would be a driver willing to return me to Panama City.

That assumption did not survive the drive.

Cell service weakened as we went. The driver had trouble navigating, and we went down the wrong road. Eventually we reached a military checkpoint, where armed personnel came out while we tried to explain where I wanted to go. They gave us directions. We turned around and found the Panama Rainforest Discovery Center.

There was a small ranger building at the entrance and a path leading into the forest. I was ready to get out when the driver asked the question I had not adequately considered: how did I plan to get back?

There was no signal with which to summon another car. Whatever I had imagined Gamboa would provide in the way of a return trip was not waiting for me at the rainforest center. The driver offered to wait. I told him I might be an hour and a half, perhaps two.

Then I walked into the rainforest.

A ranger had given me a map and pointed out places along the trails, including a hummingbird station. I asked about large animals in the forest. I remember being told that big cats lived there but had not been seen near the trails for years. This information was probably meant to reassure me.

It did not.

The forest was beautiful, and I was increasingly aware that I was alone in it. I photographed the wet path, trees, leaves, and flowers. When I heard something move out of sight, my mind supplied an animal large enough to end the trip permanently. At some point I became convinced that this was where the story of my travels would conclude: not through geopolitical crisis or dramatic accident, but because I had taken an Uber into a rainforest without arranging a ride home.

At the hummingbird station, two rangers were waiting. One spoke English; the other did not. They offered me coffee and showed me the birds gathering near red feeders. I could hear their wings. One ranger helped me line up my phone with the viewing equipment so I could photograph birds he found in the trees.

Farther along, I climbed platforms into the canopy. The view opened above the treetops, green continuing toward low hills under a pale sky. Back on the trail, the ground seemed to move. Leaf-cutter ants were carrying pieces of vegetation in a line. I stopped to photograph and film them, careful not to step into their procession. In my head, Sir David Attenborough began narrating.

The driver was still waiting when I returned.

I had imagined paying for one Uber out and another back. Instead, without quite realizing it, I had effectively hired a driver for the afternoon. By the time we returned to Panama City, the total was roughly $250, as I remember it.

I was grateful that he had stayed.

I paid the fare. The driver had been right to ask.