In Monteverde, we struck up a conversation with a fellow hiker who suggested we visit Rio Celeste, a turquoise river and lagoon in Tenorio Volcano National Park. The color is an effect of a chemical reaction between sulfur and calcium sulfate. Pretty hike, but rubber boots are advisable. Lucky for us, there doesn’t seem to be public transport along the dirt road into the park. We set camp in the parking lot, and soon were asked if we were going back into town. Another visitor needed a ride out of the park 7km to the nearest village. That must have been a long walk as dusk was approaching.
Our pictures seem to have disappeared for this park. Internet to the rescue.
After getting our acts together, we headed into the northwestern highlands of Costa Rica. Our destination was Monteverde, a cloud forest. It was a beautiful drive (I’m blocking out the long pot hole ridden dirt road). None of the roads into the park are paved – we hear the dirt roads are part of an effort to maintain the fragile forest. The views reminded me somewhat of Ireland, green rolling hills. Your first views of the park are bordering on magical, a lush green forest in the clouds. The campground we intended to sleep at was closed. G managed to secure a place to stay at the local tourist information center. A local hotel owner agreed to let to pop up Taj in her parking lot. We asked her how much we owed her, but she didn’t want any money. Wonders never cease. We repaid her generosity by eating in her restaurant for dinner both nights. Now, this turned out to be no hardship for us 1. it was raining and cold 2. the food was good + cheap and 3. we were tired.
The next day we visited the park. We decided to go the park alone without a guide mostly because we are cheap. In these parks, the guides are probably well worth the money simply because they can help point out wildlife and plants that you might not otherwise notice. Because we’re in the off-season, the park wasn’t too full. Most of the time, it was just the G and I hiking the 13 km of park trails. The sounds of the forest were incredibly soothing. We even lucked out and came across two separate guides who pointed out a butterfly with translucent wings and a quetzal respectively. G has been hankering to see a quetzal for a while (beautiful bird) and this one generously hung out for a good long while so we could snap some pictures.
After the park, we intended to hit up a waterfall in the area. The directions in Lonely Planet were lacking, so we stopped to ask a local, “turn right after the school”. Well, we turned right alright, and G claimed he saw a school (there was no school). We drove some number of kilometers down a steep gravel road and had to think twice about crossing a questionable bridge, but decided to go for it (no guts, no glory). Along the way, we ran into a older gentleman (~75) who had been raised in the area. It was his first time back since he was 8 years old. In the end, I finally strong armed G into turning around. We eventually found the correct turn only to discover that the waterfall was closed – it was on private land.
To make the most of the rest of the day, we stopped at a frog pond so G could scratch his frog itch. He wanted to see the bounty of frogs native to Costa Rica. I checked email in the lobby – bugs and amphibians are not really my cup of tea. I wasn’t completely safe though – G was bubbling over with stories of the strange and alarming after the tour.
Since we were heading out early the following day, we popped into town to the Tree House Café for some internet. This particular café actually was built around a tree, and that particular tree had seen better days. Several large branches had snapped and were precariously hanging over the street. The employees and local policia were trying to cut the branches down with a machete (not the most useful tool on wood). Now, since we roamed the great north, wood cutting devices are crucial. We learned that bigger is not always better, and had consequently picked up a little saw on the way. Fast thinking G whipped this out and convinced the men to give it a try after some prodding. Our dessert and coffee were free that night.
Before heading in the direction of Bahia de Salinas (the best kitesurfing spot in Costa Rica, known as the 8th windiest place in the world), I implored George to find somewhere we could sleep. He tracked down a few kite schools online thinking that they could at least point us in the direction of a nice camping spot. We had just missed the season though, so the kite schools were quiet. This led us to arbitrarily choose dirt roads to drive down. After some backtracking and stops to ask locals for directions, we finally found a nice beach spot to camp out. The truck was in need of some serious organization and we needed a few easy days to get back into the swing of things (because travelling is just so hard J). We loved the spot, but the damn water was treacherous (jellyfish!). At low tide, the beach was plastered with the stupid things. On the way out, we ran across about twenty monkeys making their way across the still arid landscape – rainy season hadn’t hit this part of the coast yet. It seems always to be the case that the amazing wildlife sightings are serendipity, happening nowhere near the national parks that you pay to get into.
It was an island that broke my will. In Granada Nicaragua, George had quickly cemented plans with Klaus to caravan together to Ometepe, a notoriously windy island formed by two volcanoes rising from Lake Nicaragua. Cue the kiting fantasies.
I had read that you need reservations to get on the ferry since we would be taking our trucks with us to Ometepe. We, being us, arrived with no such reservations. The scene was chaotic. George and Klaus made first contact with one of the officials who told us to pull to the side. He’d see what he could do. I got the sense that if we got on this ferry, it would be at a premium gringo who doesn’t plan price. We were the last two trucks to get on. At the time, I was grateful for the luck. In hindsight, this was just the island luring us in.
Once the ferry set off, we learned that it was necessary to pay even more money for Sonja and I. Apparently, the first price was just for the boys and the trucks. Hmph. After paying up, the rest of the ride was uneventful. We landed and soon found a place to set camp in a hotel parking lot complete with a dramatic volcano view.
There was a lot of good in the subsequent few days. Good company, free internet, lots of wildlife, hammocks with a breeze, volcano views. The bitterness slowly crept up on me though. We started to run a little low on the essentials, because we were cooking all our meals. The only stores near by were little tiendas, which stocked only basic pantry basics. Show me some vegetables people. The heat was stifling and taking care of the domestics (cooking, cleaning) was infuriating as the dry hot wind kicked up dirt. Each gust was another little backhanded slap for me.
We did manage a waterfall hike in the heat and a tour around the island. It felt good to stretch my legs and stand in the cold water of the falls. George and Klaus tried to kite a few times. The first attempt led to a standoff with a bull as George was fiddling with his big red kite and left him walking back to the camp spot barefoot along a beach used for animal watering. When they again tried, George thought the apocalypse had come as a swarm of flies enveloped them. Luckily for me, the flies didn’t move in the direction of the campsite.
Finally, we decided to get out of dodge and make a run for the border. After visiting both ferries, it became clear that a reservation was required – no ferry today, back to camp. With much hassle on the phone that afternoon, George secured us a ‘reservation’ on the afternoon ferry the following day. We were of course the first to arrive at the dock, not wanting to take any chances. This was a good call because the reservation list it seems was an arbitrarily long list of names scribbled on a sheet of paper. As the departure time approached, cars started arriving and pulling in font of us. Sometimes I miss Canadian’s respect for a queue dammit. George got his game face on and got Vida onto that blasted ferry. Klaus also managed to pull on with a lot of arm flopping from the ferry workers. Were the hands flapping in every direction meant to be helpful and guide Klaus and that big Mercedes on to the boat?
Finally, we pull away from the dock. George and I are on the clock and hoping to make the Costa Rican border crossing that day. We would be flying to Canada and DC in two days time from San Jose. Shortly there after, an official came around trying to explain some update to us. After clarifying with our fellow passengers, we learn that there is a stranded boat in play. Our ferry is now heading to the boat, which we will tow back to the dock we just left. Super duper. No border today. Just let us go Ometepe.
Eventually we dock and find a decent campsite for the night. There was little sleep to be had due to the howling wind all night though. The following morning, we hauled ass into Costa Rica. At the border, it felt like the island was still trying to hold on to us. You are required to get no less than 5 stamps and signatures on your temporary vehicle import permit just to leave Nicaragua.
