"I am indeed but a wanderer, a pilgrim on earth. But are you anything more?" - Goethe
"There is no foreign land; it is the traveller that is foreign." - Robert Louis Stevenson

Starting on April 30, 2011, I departed Texas on a Greyhound Bus for Florida to begin an adventure on the open waters
of the Gulf of Mexico and beyond. This blog is an account of my journey and a way for my family and friends to follow along.

Mission complete: Safely landed in Texas on June 26, 2013

To follow along and get updates, enter your e-mail in the box to the right.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Hasta la Vista Costa Rica

Greetings everyone.  It's been too long and I have a lot to catch ya'll up with so let's get started.  I have long since left Costa Rica and have put many sea-faring miles under my well worn belt in the last few months but I feel the need to give a proper farewell to this tiny sliver of a country that offers so many rewards to those who travel here.

Summer Salt Dive Shop
As mentioned in a previous blog, after I travelled around Costa Rica for an adventurous month or so, I settled down in Playa del Coco to work on getting my dive master at Summer Salt Dive Shop, one of 5 or so dive shops in the area.  The owner, Patrick, and his wife, Sandra, both from Switzerland, were great to work for and I think appreciated having a native English speaker on hand to deal with US tourists who think speaking English with a French accent is a foreign language.

Coming in as a dive master trainee you are the lowest man on the totem pole and are assigned the most remedial of jobs to make the shop run but some of them had their benefits.  I now know how to cut up a pineapple 5 different ways, one of the being in the shape of a monkey riding a dolphin which really impresses the customers and can sometimes increase your tip by a dollar or more.  My sweeping and mopping  skills have greatly improved and I can change out tanks on an air compressor in 1 minute 23 seconds.

On top of all that, one of the best things about being a dive master trainee is you automatically become the in-house snorkel guide.  This glorified position (insert sarcasm) consists of knowing how to wear a mask, snorkel, and fins and being able to swim reasonably well.  If you pass this strict criteria, then you are cleared to take out paying customers who choose to have a snorkel guide instead of going by themselves because they have some phobia of going underwater, can't swim that well, can't swim at all, are afraid of sea creatures, or all of the above.  It usually turns into a good training scenario for rescue techniques.  One bonus however of being in charge of all things snorkel related was when a hot Canadian with the name of Crystal the Nurse came into the store to rent some snorkel gear, I was called in to make sure she signed an extremely important legal document that wouldn't hold our store liable if she injured herself with our snorkel gear.  After this, while loitering around outside the shop 'to meet some friends' and defending herself from the local street dogs trying to hump her leg, I decided this was a girl worth chatting up a bit more.  The rest is history and we have been traveling together ever since.  Even after everything I've dragged her through (more on that later), we are still girlfriend and boyfriend.

Dive Shop Truck
If someone asks you if you can drive a standard, assume they are asking you because they have a vehicle they want you to drive because they feel uncomfortable driving it.  Once I said yes I became the newly elected driver/equipment hauler for the shop using the truck below.

Summer aSalt 4x4:  Luckily for us we had the best dive shop truck in town
It wasn't a surprise to come to work and see the passenger seat removed from the truck so work could be done to keep the floor board together, guys pushing it down the main street to get it started, our boat captain syphoning gas into the gas tank with a garden hose, and the list goes on.

One of my most memorable stories goes like this.  One morning I came to work and the truck was not there.  I was told it was at the mechanics getting the brakes fixed.  The owner's wife, Sandra, was at the shop with her car and asked if I wanted to go get the truck and bring it back to the shop since it was supposed to be fixed.  Also if I could fill up all the truck and all the jerry cans on the way back.  So we loaded everything into her car.  Drove a little ways out of town and arrived at the mechanics.  The truck was parked in the back looking untouched.  After talking to the mechanic he said the guy who works on the brakes hasn't been around and probably won't be back for a few days but he had a look at it and the truck was probably fine to drive with the brakes as is.  So, Sandra looked at me and asked if felt ok driving it back in its current condition and if I still wanted to get gas.  The part that adds to the story is that the road out of town to the mechanics is a long uphill windy road so going back to town meant driving downhill in a fully fueled truck with full jerry cans in the back and questionable breaking ability.  She looked at me like I didn't have much choice so I nervously accepted.

I hopped in and turned the ignition with my pocket knife since the truck key is no longer necessary and sometimes misplaced.  Of course of all the times you don't want it to start, it started.  After gingerly testing the brakes in the parking lot I pulled out to head farther up the hill to the gas station.  While at the pump, the thought crossed my mind that if I was in my native country filling up a truckload of jerry cans and topping off the truck's gas tank before driving down a steep hill into a highly populated area with questionable breaks, I would probably be surrounded by a truckload of federal agents and thoroughly searched wishing I was locked up in a foreign jail instead.

The pump clicked and I had everything topped off.  As I was about to leave a guy and his weed-eater asked if he could hop in for a lift back to town.  Although my spanish is acceptable it was too much for me to try and explain to him the situation he was putting his life in and I didn't want to seem rude and not let him ride, so I just gestured for him to get in the back.  I pulled out slowly to begin my downward descent, pushed the button for the hazard lights which really do nothing, and put my hand over the parking brake more for comfort since it absolutely doesn't work.  After a few hundred feet the guy in the back gave the international sign for wanting me to stop by banging on the top of the truck like a man who didn't take his tourette's medication.  I'm not sure if had suddenly realized the situation he was in or wanted to weed-eat the grass on the side of the public road but in any case he hopped out and I continued on my own.

I know everybody would like to hear about a fiery ending and I thought it would be fun to write one but let's stick to reality for this one.  By the time I was rolling through town I couldn't rest my bare feet on the floor of the driver's side due to the heat coming from the transmission but luckily first gear held up for me.   I made it back to the shop with a smile on my face and had just enough time to wipe the sweat from my brow before the other guys came out to help me unload the jerry cans.

Let's Rodeo
Aside from the daily excitement around the dive shop, the Costa Ricans like to spice up there daily lives as well and hold the occasional rodeo.  I found out that there was one such event in the nearby town of Santa Cruz.  There was the local fair of horses prancing through the throngs of people, food vendors selling everything from tripe to central american chow main, and then there was the rodeo.  Instead of trying to describe this event I made another video.  A picture is worth a thousand words and a video is worth 258,092 or something like that:

Video Short:  Santa Cruz Rodeo, Costa Rica

Corobici River Rafting
My buddy, Mark, from Miami was getting jealous of all the fun I was having without him and found a cheap flight down to visit.  One of the things he really wanted to do was go rafting so I made sure we had that in our schedule.  He was a bit nervous about it and kept asking questions about how safe it was.  Since I had already been rafting in Costa Rica I assured him everything would be fine and to stay calm.  However, when we got there the boats were a lot smaller and the rapids were a lot bigger.  We ended getting into some serious rapids with the biggest being a 16 ft drop with a hard left .  Somehow the boat stayed upright on the first attempt.  So our guide insisted we get out, haul the boat back up river, and try again until we flip.  Our second attempt was a great success with everyone gasping for air and scrambling to get back in our boat and grab our gear.

The Big One
1st attempt:  Somehow we road this one out right-side up
2nd attempt:  This time we weren't as successful

Mt. Rincon de la Vieja
After all the excitement on the river we planned another trip to the mud baths and hot springs of Mt Rincon de la Vieja National Park.  After a few hours of driving down bumpy dirt roads we arrived at the park headquarters where they looked at us as if we were aliens from another planet.  It was a Monday and all Costa Ricans know the park is closed on Monday.  Why would we show up on a day the park was closed.

Needless to say we were a bit demoralized but after some discussion, they realized we just wanted to go to the hot springs and didn't want to hike in the park.  We could just drive down the road a bit more and hop on in.

The process of getting in the hot springs is like this:  You pay a few bucks at the trail entrance to enter the trail to the springs and use their change rooms to get into your bathing suit.  Hike down a trail then cross a shaky bridge one at a time over the cascading river where the hot springs are.  On the opposite side you scamper down to the hot mud application area.  There is a man down there who enjoys his park's job way too much.  He has small pails of hot mud and brushes waiting for you and begins to slather you in mud and will continue to do so until you tell him to stop or ever inch of your skin is covered.  I think Mark enjoyed this a bit too much.

All grins and one satisfied customer.  You can't get this kind of service in Miami.

Luckily for me Crystal was along with us
Biggest leaf I could find




















Waiting for the mud to dry before hopping in the hot thermal pools behind us

Hasta la Vista Costa Rica
After Mark left, it was about late January and time for me to leave Costa Rica as well.  I had made plans with a boat captain I met last year to meet him back up in Guatemala on the Rio Dulce and help him sail his boat out of the Rio Dulce and down south through the Bay Islands.  I convinced Crystal who had not spent too much time on a sailboat that this was going to be an amazing trip and she should come.  I tried not to mention too much about the 4 day bus ride back up north through Nicaragua, El Salvador, and most of Guatemala.  I wish I could say the bus rides were uneventful but there were the usual issues at borders, incomplete bus schedules, and uniformed drivers.  However here are a few top pics from the trip:

Bus Stoppin' in San Salvador
The sun sets behind a dormant volcano as we settle in for the night through Nicaragua




At the largest outdoor market in Central America located in Managua, Nicaragua.  
Everything from babies to pig's feet to live iguanas.



And here are a few of my favorite sunsets from Costa Rica to wrap things up:










As always, hope everyone is doing well and expect another update soon.

Cheers,
Jb