To start the year off right, Alex and I decided to meander down to central America where the Gallo Pinto flows like...well, as well as beans and rice can flow. But I digress. After an impromptu booking and last minute travel arrangements, we were off. It was a midnight flight with unlimited movies and wine; i.e.- I couldn't sleep a wink. After an uneventful 10 hours, we were in beautiful Costa Rica....well, being in San Jose, not really beautiful, but we were in Costa Rica nonetheless....You get the gist.
Then began the usual activities: the car rental place trying to sell us a car upgrade for $400, extra insurance for $300, telling us that where we wanted to visit was inaccessible without a 4x4. Alas, we left with our mini; A tiny 4 cylinder stick shift with barely enough power to get up a hill without downshifting......i.e.- the perfect vehicle to start our off-road adventure.
We/I had counted on using google maps and the cell phone to navigate after being reassured by T-Mobile that the coverage in Costa Rica was extensive and fast. Well, the lying lairs lied their lying faces to me. Even in San Jose, the capital, the most populated and frequented area of Costa Rica we had no service. So we headed off, no map, no GPS, and no road signs. Just the general concept for directions and a few print outs I had brought from the interwebs. The address for our hotel was (seriously) the path across from the post office in La Fortuna. Fortunately, as La Fortuna is one of the most popular first stop tourist destinations, while road name signs were almost nonexistent, the signs with a city name and an arrow pointing the direction were plentiful. Four hours of winding roads later, we were in La Fortuna: the city at the base of the active Arenal Volcano.
Day 2: Arenal-It rains in the rainforest. Why didnt anyone tell me this.
Our Hostel in La Fortuna was "The sleeping Indian." This is actually less racist as it appears as the twin volcanoes (Arenal and Cerro Chato) form a silhouette of what actually did look like a sleeping person with a big nose: I guess an Indian in Costa Rica. The upper half of Arenal was in a shroud of cloud cover with remained for the duration of the trip (and probably months following as well). So we had to imagine how majestic it looked with it's trickling flows of magma dribbling from its crater like a hungry child....or hungry Indian (to keep the theme going).
(sleeping Indian- big nose, lips and fat belly)
La Fortuna/Arenal is located in the mountains of North central Costa Rica, and despite being the dry season, get rains regularly several times a day (generally early morning, about noon, and 5pm til dawn). The temperature is also about what you'd find in San Francisco; not exactly what Al was expecting for her tropical vacation. This also meant that all the hiking trails we reduced to a river of mud.
Ignoring this fact, we attempted the most brutal hike in the Arenal region (only relatively hard- all the other hikes were quite easy). It was a simple 3 miles up to the top of the inactive volcano (who makes up the sleeping Indian's nose). However, being...well, us, we also decided to hike from town to the trail-head, adding 3 more miles each way. We were soaked completely before even setting foot on the trail, but I guess that made getting muddy that much easier.
The trail up wasn't anything abnormal: muddy, roots, steep, manageable. However, once we reached to top of the peak, the trail headed steeply downhill into the crater to the lake lying within (which due to the mist, we couldn't see until we were literally right on-top of it). Although only a couple hundred yards, it was literally a climb, with each step a treacherous muddy foothold promising a painful albeit quick decent if taken without care.
I was surprised how many people had actually gotten down unscathed, although, completely covered in mud. The lake might have been impressive, if we could see further than 15 feet. But alas, we had to use our imagination: a crystal blue crater, in the shadow of the smoking Arenal Volcano. A stark contrast of water and fire, life and death. Although the irony being that the dead volcano breeds life and the live one, death.
At this point in the hike we had the option of descending down the opposite side and hitch-hiking to a hot spring, but we opted to return back on the route we came, fearing the impending pall of night and the odds that no one would be willing to drive us (being wet and muddy) the 10 miles back into town.
After an uneventful walk back to La Fortuna, we hit up the local Sodas for a casado, as we had been doing every night, and would continue to do for the remainder of the trip. A "soda" is not a sugary drink promising diabetes, but a Costa Rican version of a diner. It was a place for quick, cheap, and local food (consisting of bean, rice, meat, and side salad in some form or another). A "Casado" is the most typical meal for dinner, meaning literally "married." The meaning for this name being that there are 2 separate foods on a plate meant to be eaten together. Here, it meant Beans&Rice with a protein (usually the choice of chicken, beef, or fish). We ended up ordering a casado nearly every night to be able to compare the differences in each region and restaurant. La Fortuna/the mountains had pasta/potato based salads and a simpler presentation/ingredient list. Monteverde/Santa Elena had more complex flavors in the meat and beans, and instead of salads, used stewed root veggies. The Pacific coast, tended to have larger green leafy salads, smaller portions of rice and beans, but larger portions of meat/veggie alternatives.
Anyhow, I digress. We sipped from the finest box wine and local beer, swinging in the hotel hammock, learning backgammon, and fell to sleep under the droning patter of heavy rain on thin metal roofs.
Day 3: Arenal- Hot springs for Cold nights
On this day we decided to walk to a different hike that stemmed from a hot spring/hotel resort off the base of the Arenal Volcano. It was a 5 mile or so walk on the road to the hotel (named Los Lagos) and we stopped along the way to poke our heads into places we didn't belong, but looked interesting.
We snuck our way into the hotel and strolled through their butterfly and crocodile exhibits.
After the brief distraction and meandering through the "hot springs resort" (basically several pools on a slopping hill all tiled and chlorinated; nothing like what we thought a hot spring ought to look like), we headed up the steep trail at the back of the resort that ended in a overlooking view. We arrived at the top, just as the noon rains hit and camped out under the summit's shelter until the storm passed.
The fog had not let up, so again, it was up to our imagination to admire the stunning 180 degree view of the volcano and the surrounding valley. After, we headed back to Arenal to fetch our trusty rental car and drive to an actual hot spring: 100 degree waters formed the rushing stream that cut through the dense misted emerald forest. Small pools formed periodically in the babbling stream and was graced with a smattering of locals and gringos alike; all enjoying the hot water in the tepid pre-sunset temperatures. It was an amazing location and we drifted away under the gentle massage of the warm flowing waters.
Day 4: Arenal, traveling the road to MonteVerde/Santa Elena.
After signing out of the hotel, we headed to the Arenal National Park to walk the eastern base of the active volcano. We were surprisingly alone on one of Costa Rica's most visited Volcanoes and we enjoyed the rolling mist, volcanic rock paths, and fields of tall grasses the graced the volcano's sides.
(note the mist covered Volcano- we never got a clear view)
After our hike we got in our Mini car and started our drive to Monteverde Cloud Forest/ Santa Elena. The road slowly got worse and worse. From nicely paved straight road, it changed to a windy and debry-strewn asphalt. From asphalt, it went to dirt road, and from dirt road, we ended on rocky, pit riddled mountain paths. It took several hours to navigate our tiny-underpowered car through the last 30 kilometers of road.
Physically exhausted from the drive alone, we finally reached the town of Santa Elena...just before the rains started again. We unpacked our still wet things into our puddled hostel room, ate at a Soda, and enjoyed watching people scurry about in the 40 MPH winds that blasted through the narrow hilltop streets.
Day 5; Monteverde: the verde-ing
Rainwater had pushed its way into our room by the morning, and we had everything balanced on anything with legs or pegs we could find. Although, as a result of all this rain, the Monteverde Cloud forest was saturated with dense life. Every tree had a thousand of things growing off it. And even the moss had moss. We strolled through the paths, under the shelter and comfort of the thick forest floor and marveled at the beautiful screen strewn before us; a seemingly unending ocean of green.
After spending most of the day in the reserve, we elected to go on a chocolate tour.
Day 6: A split in the Road- the very very shitty dirt road; aka- the little mini that could
While the northern roads getting to Monteverde were crap. The roads leading south were far, far worse. They were so bad to the point that it would lead you to believe that they purposed tried to make the roads undriveable. The main highway leading south had been closed for maintenance, although we did not find that out until driving down it a while. There were no signs or anything to show that the road ahead was closed; just a guy with a rope across the roads that would walk up to your car and tell you that the road may be reopened in a couple hours....maybe.
As we headed back through town to leave from the other direction, we stopped off at the side of the road to find the town Ficus tree. It was a hollow braid of vines with a perfectly circular hollow core. It made it super easy to climb the hundred feet or so to the tree's foliage.
As such, we were forced to use the side roads through San Juan to bypass this closure. These roads were laughably shit. It would have been utterly unmanageable going the other direction. However, as we were heading downhill (and some sections were uncomfortably steep), we were able to eventually come out and hit a road with cement. The Ticos (Costa Ricans) have a saying for driving their roads: a Costa Rican back massage. And it truly was. I felt bad for our poor little rental car, but glad we had one as no buses would be able to get out via the same route, and those relying on public transit would have had us stuck in town a day or so due to the construction.
To give you an idea of Costa Rican construction sites. I'll give you an example. On this day, we happened across a part in the road where workers were using a back hoe to fill in part of the road that had collapsed. There was room for a single car to drive through still and not impede the construction, but the crew dragged the pile of dirt across that path and continued to slowly fill the hole. Traffic sat for an hour just waiting for the backhoe driver to eventually clear the dirt away which allowed cars to pass by the construction site. There was no need to obstruct traffic, it just was what the backhoe driver did so he could reach the dirt by rotating left, rather than put the pile to the right and allow cars to pass while he did his work. This probably wasn't malicious, just that the construction crew didn't even take drivers into account while doing their job. Not even an afterthought.
We arrived some odd hours later without any reservation or clue to the coastal town of Quepos, the hotel base for those traveling to the Manuel Antonio National Park. Rumor is, that before some nearby colonial town was sacked in the yonder-years, one ship escaped ladened with the treasures of the doomed city and presumed buried some place in the vicinity. The town, however, was much less magical. Quepos was a cesspool for those feeding off/robbing tourists passing through to the most visited National park (and smallest national park) in Costa Rica. It lacked, charm, culture, good food, and hygene to start the list. Gangs of high school aged kids roamed the streets at night, and when the hotel receptionist was asked for a restaurant recommendation, "no where" was her reply. She simply told us what parts of town to avoid and sent us off on our way with a "good luck." We were fortunate to find a small Soda with only 4 tables, right next to the bus station. It was run by a kindly old man and his wife, and were almost completely sold out of the menu, save 3 or 4 items.
The town wasn't as sketchy as the receptionist had painted, but it still lacked any appeal, so we retired to our hotel with a bottle of wine, the guide book, and the promise of a hammock.
Day 7: Quepos/ Manuel Antonio/ Getting the Hell out of Quepos: Uvita sounds like a nice place- why the F not.
Coming to the Pacific coast of Costa Rica was completely impromptu. I had elaborately planned out traveling to the Caribbean coast (what to do, where to stay, printing maps of the city, etc). However, after several days of intermittent rain and soaked clothing, we decided to head to the Pacific side of Costa Rica instead because of it's promise of consistent sun and heat. And that it did provide; not a drop of rain hit the Pacific coast during our stay, and the heat bordered on broiling.
Today we planned to hit up Manuel Antonio National Park. As stated before, it is the most visited and smallest park in Costa Rica. At 19 hectores in size, it was also one of the most densely populated with creatures. A vast array of primates, sloths, racoons, birds, lizards, and other mammals lived in piece and no fear of the vast waves of humanity who came to gawk at them daily.
Ironically enough, the most visited park in Costa Rica was deemed a national park mere hours before it was scheduled to be bulldozed for a condo complex. Luckily for the world, it was not. The park is pristine, teaming with life, and surprisingly peaceful; as the hordes of crowds never make it past the initial beaches, leaving the several miles of trails and hidden beaches relatively untouched.
Monkeys stole food from sunbathing tourists, sloths....well slothed unmovingly in the trees (they sleep 22 hours a day, and only come down from the trees to shit once a week), and howler monkeys growled like a pack of velociraptors from the treetops.
We swam, we photo'd, we hiked: It was bliss.
As the sun set, we marched back to our mini and drove to our final destination, a town we knew nothing about; Uvita.
Day 8: Finally the stereotypical tropical vacation- Pura Vida Uvita: The whales tale...kinda like the bees knees,...but not.
Leaving Manuel Antonio/Quepos, we didn't know we would be ended up in Uvita, we just drove the coast until we found an area that seemed nice: quiet and beach-side. Uvita was just that. It was sterotypical Costa Rica: A sleepy dirt-street town, swarms of coconut trees lining every path, and surfing shops/surfers underneath any rock you overturn.
After collecting young coconuts to drink, we hit the beach, walking until we reached the "whales tale." The Whales tale is a peninsula where access in only available just before or after low tide. Naked beach/sandbars made the tail, and the fins of the whale we rock and reef that fanned out like a fin on both sides.
This was the snorkeling spot of Uvita, but sporting only one pair of swim goggles, Alex and I swam in the lukewarm waters, swapping the glasses when we happened upon a lone coral or fish.
From the water, we found a side-leaning palm tree to provide shade, and collected cocos to rehydrate our sun-baked bodies. The sprawling beach completely empty, save the smattering of sand crabs that occasionally came out of their holes to investigate.
As the sun started to set, we grabbed some beers and box wine, and watched surfers attempt the small waves (it was a beginner's beach), and the rays of the sinking sun silhouette the images of frolicking children in the wake.
After a long day of sun, we headed back to eat at the same spot; a surfer's hostel next to ours, equipped with a single item dinner-of-the-day and ping pong table. We ate, we drank the fanciest of box wines available, and played ping pong until sleep crept into our eyes and the anticipation of a warm bed with a mosquito net took over.
Day 9: Kayaking is not for lovers...a good way to get dumped.
On our final full day in Costa Rica, we planned to rent kayaks and snorkeling gear and head back to the outer edges of the Whale's tale to explore the more extensive reefs out of reach of beach-goers.
Oddly enough, snorkeling fins were illegal at the Whales Tale, to "protect the corals." I'm not sure how much this actually helped as people would get tired and walk on the corals where fins would have kept them buoyant. Regardless, we traversed the long beach with a heavy double kayak and pushed in past the surf. There were no water-tight bags available in the town, so we had our backpack, with cellphone and camera in the kayak with us in a tied up trash bag.
We snorkeled the day away, pulling the kayak with us to keep other boats away, and saw moray eels hunting in the corals, herds of giant parrot fish, colorful schools of smaller fish, puffers, and the occasional large silver unknown fish (looked like a skinny tuna, or a stubby less underbitey barracuda.
After hours of cooking in tropical ocean waters, we headed back to shore. Instead of getting out before the surf broke, we tried, regretfully to coast the kayak right into shore. The boat flipped, our stuff got scattered in the wave, and we rushed to pull the trash bag of expensive electronic out of the water. The electronics survived, thankfully, and we thought we recovered all of our stuff, but it dawned on us, right as we were returning the kayak, that the snorkel masks disappeared in the confusion; sinking back to the snorkel-gear gods deep in the open ocean...or washing up on shore on the next tide....
We limped back to our hostel room, cleaned up, and headed to usual dinner spot for a game of drunken ping-pong (the only way I can beat Alex at ping pong).
We sat on the beach and watched the sun go down one last time, nursing local beers, and watching the waves erase the beach and lap at the feet of the towering palms.
Day 10: The return home; driving on Empty
The last day of our trip was a lazy one: We slept in; we ate some fruit for breakfast in the early heat, we relayed our travel knowledge with fellow residents who just arrived, and we started our long trip north to the airport. We stopped at a local crocodile hang-out and watched them glide dangerously through the currents.
Per the rental agreement, gasoline was included, so I was not concerned with keeping it full. However, gasoline stations were far less common as we thought, and the MPG of the car far worse than anticipated due to the mountainous roads. With the gas light on for 40 kilometers, and no clue how to get to off-airport car rental station, we cruised on fumes back into the nation's capital. At about 50 kilometers on empty (about how much I estimated the car would run out of gas yet), we stumbled upon a sign for Alamo rental cars and slowly coaxed our mini-car in that direction, whispering sweet words of encouragement of fuel efficiency into its dashboard.
We reached the rental car station with elation and started our long, uneventful airplane trip back home; watching the free movies provided, and dining on the finest cuisine that airlines have to offer.....i.e. soggy, luke-warm grilled cheese (well microwaved cheese- no grilling here). We arrived in the wee hours of the morning to San Francisco, where I awoke a few hours later to enjoy the several hundred emails at work, that had impatiently been awaiting my return.
All in all, a wonderful time, a wonderful place, and with wonderful company.
1 comment:
Sounds and looks amazing. Thanks for writing it all up.
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