Welcome to the Jungle - Part II

Second stop - Corcovado National Park
Again, the slide show below has some of my favorite photos from Corcovado.  Just wanted to make something easily viewable so if folks don't have time to look at all the Costa Rica photos on the right, you can at least get a glimpse of how amazing this park is. 

Slideshow of Corcovado NP

Just getting down to Corcovado was a challenge.  It is located on the extremely isolated Osa Peninsula, still on the Pacific side of Costa Rica but much farther south and sparsely populated.  It has a small one road town called Puerto Jiminez located on the southeastern part of the peninsula which serves as the base for most treks into the national park.  I was told 4 different ways to get there, some people saying I could only get there by ferry.  So after 3 bus transfers and a ferry ride I ended up in P. Jim just in time for the rain to fall from the sky as I looked for accommodations in town.

Now if we compare Manuel Antonio NP to Corcovado NP, it would be like comparing junior high to a masters program.  Corcovado is an extremely large reserve that is said to be one of the most intensely diverse jungles in the world, meaning more wildlife per square meter, filled with the most dangerous creatures Costa Rica has to offer:  jaguars, pumas, crocodiles, bull sharks, 2 of the most poisonous snakes in the world, etc., etc.

To get to the central ranger station, called Sirena Lodge, where the best wildlife spotting is, it is either an 8 hour hike or a 15 minute plane ride.  I opted for the plane ride since that gave me more time in the heart of the park and even though a guide was expensive, this jungle is the real deal, and I wanted to make the most of my time inside the park so I hired one.  Luckily, at the airport (or concrete shed down the street from the tarmac) I met another guy, Will, in a similar situation as mine, so we buddied up and split the cost of the guide.

Once we landed, we met up with our guide, Natu, and took off immediately down the trails.  We hiked non-stop for the next three days waking up before sunrise and returning just after it had set. The main thing that surprised me about the jungle was the scent.  It was a very distinct smell that permeates through everything.  It was a combination of rotting vegetation, wet trees, animals, sweat, rain, and mud.  It wasn't a displeasurable smell but a soft musk that never left your senses and made you definitively aware of your surroundings.  

The one major rule Natu told us was never to run no matter what we encountered because that will just trigger the predatory instincts of whatever we were facing.  This philosophy worked well up until one point when it was foiled by the pesky park rangers.

We had seen fresh tracks everywhere, smelled their extremely strong musk, and heard other people had spotted them just before us but for the first day and a half we could not find a pack of pakari.  They are like javelina but more aggressive.  If you don't know what javelina are, they are basically wild boar.  We had taken a break near the ranger station and Natu went to check down one more trail to see if they were around.  He came running back waving his arms telling us to hurry up as they were just down the trail.  A couple of the rangers were interested also because they had heard of a large pack of pakari that were more aggressive than usual and had an extremely large male with an all white face as their leader.

Sure enough this was them and it was a pack of about 40 or so.  The musk from these animals was extremely intense, almost suffocating.  We kept pressing to get closer and closer with Natu in the lead, the two rangers behind him, and then myself and Will.  When we got within about 15 meters, we gained the attention of a few males in the back of the pack who began to face us.  Then suddenly, making his way to the front to contest our presence and tout his dominance, was the mature white faced pakari we had heard about.  We were now in a bluffing contest with a formidable opponent to see who would make the first move.  With his course black hair at attention forming a rigid mohawk running from the crown of his head down the length of his back, he began making a clacking sound by snapping his jaws together which in turn gained the attention of the rest of the pack who followed suit.  This clacking sound could best be imitated by forcefully striking the souls of two wooden shoes together repeatedly.  And when a pack of these beasts is making this noise, it can have the effect of making humans, that would be me, second guess their intentions of tracking such a large group of wild animals that have razor sharp 6 inch tusks protruding from their jaws.  

After a few more males joined the front line with their leader, they decided to make the first move and call our bluff.  They made a short charge of a few meters then stopped as we held our ground but this rattled the rangers more than I would have hoped.  Natu kept telling them not to run but when the frontrunners made a second charge at us, the rangers turned tail and were off to the races.  I think they were well aware of the motto, "As long as you aren't the slowest..." Natu looked back at us and said, "Well, we have to run now too."  So here we are, 5 grown men being chased through a Costa Rican jungle by a pack of crazed pakari.  Natu turned to check their status and since they had stopped giving chase he told all of us to stop also.  Well I guess the pakari didn't think we ran far enough because they again ensued upon us with more tenacity than ever where by we again began to run.  This time they began gaining a bit of ground and then the words that you are told in the pre-pakari safety briefing, but hope you never have to actually put into action, came out of the ranger's mouth:  "Climb a tree!"

Now if I may take a moment here to get on my soap box.  To me this is where the US education system has failed us.  I can do the hell out of some differential equations and can even tell you what the importance of being earnest is but I am not aware of any time during my prolonged education career of being taught how to quickly pick out a tree in a jungle while running at top speed so that I may climb to a safe position above man eating hogs.  A simple life saving measure such as this could have been taught in a single PE class but instead our schools are more concerned with making sure we can run a timed mile that meets the government's standards so they look good on paper.  I would rather have learned the skill of being able to pick out a life saving tree to place in my assortment of life's accoutrements than making sure I can run a mile within the State's rigid standard of 15 minutes.

Anyway, back to the action.  So since our school system has failed us, I am forced to do some quick on-the-job training.  I am running, looking at trees, hoping I don't slip, trying to find a tree in font of me that is skinny enough for me to hold onto but not so skinny that it will snap under my weight, hopefully one without thorns, hopefully the one I spot up ahead isn't taken by someone else in front of me first, hopefully when I jump into it it isn't rotten at the base and doesn't timber over, hopefully there isn't a snake resting in it at eye level enjoying the show but now all of a sudden staring at the large white eyes of a homosapien who is well within his strike zone, a low branch to place my foot in would be nice too.  Is that asking too much?

It's funny how much can go through your mind in times like these.  I do remember I was laughing as I was running just thinking how amazingly entertaining this must be to an outside observer who at the time I wished had been me but no, I was enjoying this fiasco first hand.  Finally after what felt like 30 seconds, but was probably closer to 3, I have my ideal tree in sight.  It looks perfect as if it was plucked from the Garden of Eden and placed here just for me.  Right as I am about to jump with all my life's hopes literally resting on its branches, Natu yells "Stop!"  We turn to look and the pakari have yielded chase feeling they have made their point clear enough for the time being and our lesson has been learned.  Indeed it has.  We breathe a bit easier and smile at each other.  Natu turns to all of us and says with a grin, "Wasn't that exciting!"  Definitely getting my moneys worth on this one.

Just to make sure I did learn my lesson, I proceed to my tree of life and give it a climb.  It holds firm and I think well that wasn't so difficult, giving a boost to my false sense of confidence in the event of a next time.

At this point we feel we have all had our fill of pakari encounters for the day and head back to the ranger station.  From here on out, things that would have before caused a more tentative outlook took on a milder and carefree tone.  Like wading chest deep across a river where just 50 yards downstream a 10 ft croc is basking in the sun.  Or making sure we only go off the main trails in the morning because if we go off them later in the day and are bit by a snake the chances of getting us out and to any kind of medical facility decrease drastically along with the odds to survive.

But we had our trust in Natu and he never lead us astray.  We followed troops of Howler, Squirrel, and Spider monkeys through the canopies.  As the latter didn't always appreciate our encroachment, we were on constant alert for missiles in the form of large tree branches and the occasional shower of urine which they deemed a fair deterrent.   We were within 5 ft of a large tapir who decided we were too close for his liking and stampeded through our weak blockade easily forcing us to break rank.  We waited patiently in the sands of the beach where the outflowing river fought the incoming high tide and bull shark fins materialized in the confused waters to take advantage of smaller fish caught in the tidal mix.  We briefly caught the ghost-like glimmer of a jaguar as it moved like lightening from one hiding place to the next while in pursuit of pakari.  And finally we enjoyed the relaxed 18 km hike out that hugged the southwest coast of the park taking us through jungle, along the beach, and at the base of cliffs allowing us to spot macaws, ant-eaters, and bats.

It would be hard to top this outing thinking of what else I planned to do.  As chance would have it, Natu is also an extremely experienced rafting guide who has his own lodge on the Pacuare River, Costa Rica's premier river for rafting.  So we made plans to meet up the next weekend to once again put my life in his hands.  More about that next time.

Cheers,
JB

Welcome to the Jungle - Part I

I knew Costa Rica had plenty to offer an adventurous mind such as myself from what I heard on the road but prior to crossing the border and going straight to San Jose, the capital city just about centered in the country, I had done, I would say, close to zero amount of research on the region.

I spent a few days in San Jose to sort through the multitude of sights and activities that are somehow packed into such a small country:  zip lining, surfing, scuba diving, white water rafting, jungle treks, volcano treks, cloud forests, ... the list goes on.  With some detailed planning and timely effort, a well built itinerary could be put together to neatly encompass all the major attractions with one well coordinated swoop.  But who wants to do that especially since it would take time, time I felt could be better spent practicing my Spanish in late night bars.  So after talking to a few experienced Costa Rican travelers, the sentence 'One of the most intensely diverse jungles in the world is down south.' struck my fancy.  Maybe it's because I had recently spent so much time on the beach that my evolutionary DNA was yearning me forward, to move from the sea farther inland, to the canopied shade of the forest, where man was first born.  But that is getting a bit to existential for this blog and well beyond its intended scope.  I will stick with what works:  funny human interactions with insects, animals, mother nature, or other humans who may or may not be living an altered existence, ie. drunk or high.  There is plenty of this below.

So, I packed up some essentials, left the rest of my earthly possessions in a 'secure' storage room at my hostel in San Jose not knowing exactly when I would return, headed out with some cryptic notes, and hoping I remembered at least a quarter of the info people had told me.

First stop - Manuel Antonio National Park
The slide show below has some of my favorite photos from Manuel Antonio.  Just wanted to make something easily viewable so if folks don't have time to look at all the Costa Rica photos on the right, you can at least get a glimpse of how amazing this park is.

Slideshow of Manuel Antonio NP

Manuel Antonio town is on the Pacific side of the country a bit over midway down the coast.  The national park starts where the town's beachside road ends.  Due to its ease of access, abundant wildlife that can be spotted from the main jeep trail cutting through the park, and secluded, sparsely populated white sand beaches it is a must see for most travelers to the country.  Before I delve into the park itself, just a quick quip about my time in Manuel Antonio town.

While trying to make sense of my notes on where it was suggested I stay, the bus driver randomly dropped me off across from a picturesque 5 tiered hostel positioned at the top of the large hill that leads into the town itself.  It had endless views down the southern coast and a pool at its lowest tier to soak in during the hot, balmy days.  So much for my notes. This place was great plus I didn't feel like trudging my bag up and down the hilly area blindly searching for some other hostel of whose name I wasn't exactly sure anyway.

Lifeguard on duty.  No tipping.

One of the tiers was a nice social area where most of us who were staying there would commune in during our down time.  One afternoon around 3 pm, two guys from L.A./Mexico (was never really clear which exactly) stumble in completely drunk wearing just swim trunks with a fresh sixer of Bamboo, pre-mixed rum & coke in a can, one already popped open to drink.  Not sure how they found the steps leading down to us or much less made it down them safely but here they stood.  Two able bodied specimens representing the future of America ... or maybe Mexico.

After scanning their immediate surroundings which included myself on the couch reading, an older gentleman cooking, 2 girls on the other couch chatting privately, and a brother and sister at a table doing their spanish lesson.  They obviously only had one choice.  They made their way toward the two girls in what they probably thought was a bee-line (interesting origin of the term 'bee-line' for those who want extra credit on the test when this is over), but in reality their path more closely resembled the contrail of an acrobatic airplane at an air show.  As the rest of us covertly perked our ears to hear the ensuing conversation, the guys started in with loud introductions.  One was Jesus, pronounced 'hey-soos' of course, but he said if you called him 'geez-us' that was ok too.  I eventually called him Richard which he seemed to respond to as well.

Anyway, these guys, after finally reaching their destination a few feet in front of the girls, courteously apologized for their state of apparent drunkenness at 3 in the afternoon but hey, they were on vacation.  After the normal small talk, the conversation quickly shifted to what great marriage prospects they would make to which the girls played along with for a while.  The guys' logic being if we get married then we have to consummate the marriage.  At least their mom raised them right.

Obviously it was an entertaining situation but the thing that struck me as the funniest was as these guys were discussing their vows hoping to consummate the marriage sooner than later, the three-legged mutt who lived at the hostel named Lucky, had trotted just behind these guys, set up camp, and began to lick itself.  I'm not sure if the girls or anyone else noticed this but when two guys are trying to seriously court two women to the best of their abilities, if you throw a three-legged dog licking itself into the picture it raises the entire comedic level at least ten fold.  Not sure if that makes me clever or odd or some combination of the two there of but hopefully if at least one other person gets a laugh out of that, I will feel satisfied with my work.

As you can imagine, the rest of us eventually joined in the conversation and in the drinking of spirits in the early afternoon.  The two guys shared the rest of their Bamboo as we shared the few beer bottles we pooled together from our refrigerator, we celebrated two Costa Rican weddings (I was best man for one and ring bearer for the other), the guys passed out around 8 pm to the relief of their brides, and the rest of us headed to Quepos, the nearby 'party' town, to have a night out.  As you can see from the picture, pickings were slim in Quepos but it was an evening well spent:

The Jay Bird trying out newly acquired ambush skills.

Now back to the point of this posting, the jungle.

Manuel Antonio NP, as I said earlier, has one main jeep trail running through its center with a few small single track trails leading to secluded beaches.  Guides could be had for $20 but it was just as easy to follow a group that had a guide and listen in for free.  I'm no dummy.

The scene of quiet groups interspersed down the long hall-like trail focusing their attention intently at a particular piece of underbrush which their guide had pointed out reminded me of something more akin to an art gallery with small groups spread about looking at abstract paintings while an art critic explains what they are looking at.  The onlookers look at the piece long enough until they finally 'get it' and see the object of the painting.  Or like one of those stereogram paintings at the mall, of which I could never do, where you are supposed to relax your eyes and look through the image until it popped out right in front of you  Well, you would be amazed how close you could be to a  10 in. stick bug, while knowing exactly what you are looking for and even where it is, without spotting it, before it finally pops out at you.

The pictures and slideshow share the bulk of the experience better than I could explain in words.  So I will let them do the rest of the talking and finish up Part II.

Aside from visiting the park, I spent one long morning getting pummeled by 8 - 10 ft waves just trying to survive the paddle out to surf a few of the smaller ones.  I also ended up hiking through someone's private pasture with the brother and sister from the hostel on our way to find a secluded beach.   We found out it was private because like love, being pissed-off seems to also be an international language that is easily understood no matter what phrases someone is yelling at you.

Cheers,
JB