The roads started out surprisingly smooth, and traffic was fairly minimal. I guess not a lot of people go this far south. It was kind of a strange feeling. Miles and miles and miles of nothing, and it had a strange air about it that felt both a little desolate and a little dangerous. We made it maybe another 150 kilometers and called it a day at one of the only hostels we could find in one of the only spots of civilization along the way, and prepared for our final leg. There’s no Wi-Fi when you get this far south (the owner of the hostel didn’t even seem to know what Wi-Fi was), but being completely disconnected added to the sense of isolation. We gassed up just in case fuel was as sparse as the internet connections at the end of the road, then pressed on the next day. We crossed under a big sign welcoming us to Darién, the final province of Panama. We were immediately stopped at a large military blockade where they verified our passports and paperwork yet again. This time, they wrote the date in our passports, I guess to monitor how much time we spent there. Then we were back on our way. It was only maybe 100 kilometers to the end of the road at this point, but a large majority of this road was construction and dirt, so it was fairly slow going.