Costa Rica/Panama, Part I

No. We did not go zip-lining. Curiously, that was the first question everyone asked when they heard that we were going to Costa Rica. I had never heard of zip-lining, but it sounded like fun—sailing through the rain forest canopy on a wire strung from pillar to pole. But no, this was not included on our National Geographic/Smithsonian tour. We did, though, many other things, all of which added up to a wonderful, often thrilling week-long trip. As I mentioned on The Buddha Diaries, online access was both intermittent and expensive, so I chose instead to make notes along the way and write down as much as I could recall on our return. This, then, for anyone who might be interested, is the travel log for our Costa Rica/Panama adventure.

Friday, January 7, 2011 was Ellie’s birthday. A big one. I won’t mention the number, but it was noteworthy—and it was for this reason we had planned this special trip. We had considered other options, some too costly, others too time-consuming, others unappealing for the weather factor; we did want to be warm. We stumbled upon the Lindblad Expeditions/National Geographic site, were happy, later, to have done so. The organization did an excellent job throughout.

We chose to arrive a day early for the trip, and spend the night in San Jose, Costa Rica. Up at 4:30 AM, Pacific time, in order to get to the airport for an early flight to Miami. (Emily, our trusty assistant, had crept into the guest room late the night before, so that we would not have to leave poor George bewildered by this early morning abandonment.) An easy flight, with ample time to make our Costa Rica-bound connection, bringing us into San Jose late afternoon—too late for the trek from our airport hotel into the city, but early enough to check in and rest up a bit before heading out to the hotel restaurant for a birthday celebration dinner.

Saturday, January 8

With enough time on our hands, we took a taxi ride into the city Saturday morning. Our driver dropped us off outside the Gran Hotel...

... with a promise to return to pick us up shortly after noon. Breakfast on the fifth floor of the Gran Hotel was a desultory affair, with cold coffee, tasteless fruit, awful, dried-out eggs and—was it?—toast. All for a mere $34. Not to be recommended. We would have done much better to be patient enough to find a local coffee shop, but we were hungry and a bit disoriented. We took what seemed to be the easy course.

We spent a while, after breakfast, orienting ourselves in the downtown area. It seemed a bit cheerless, somehow, for a Saturday morning; the weather was remarkably drab, but it did warm up later in the morning—and, with the sun, the crowds arrived to fill the main plaza with the buzz of life. We did a bit of necessary shopping and stopped by the cathedral for a visit. A fine, open space, surprisingly plain but for an elaborate painting up behind the altar...

Then on to the “Gold Museum,” the Museo de Oro, which we had been told should not be missed. Indeed it should not. The Museum houses an incredible collection of Pre-Columbian gold artifacts, magnificently displayed, with useful information about their history and the process of their creation.

The sometimes intricate design and the immaculate fabrication of these objects is all the more impressive when you keep in mind that they were created centuries ago by people who lacked the kind of technology we have today. These are the kind of art works that bedazzle the mind and make the heart soar with wonder at the human capacity to create such beauty with such small means at their disposal.

Good for his word, our taxi driver was waiting for us at the appointed time and place, and we drove back to the hotel to pick up our bags and thence on to the airport where our tour was due to start. Our guide on the two-hour bus drive to the coast was Margrit Ulrich...

... a Costa Rica-born naturalist overflowing with both energy and knowledge of the ecology of her country. With a brief stop at a roadside coffee- and souvenir-stand...

... (excellent Costa Rican coffee; and I bought a nicely-carved wooden frog, whose back you can stroke with a small stick to produce a startlingly life-like croak!) we drove through the gorgeous, lushly foliated green hillsides (the climate here. Margrit informed us, is “wet” and “wetter,”) past villages whose houses, I noted, were uniformly roofed—and sometimes sided—with corrugated iron; a hardy, inexpensive material which provides good and lasting protection against the constant battering of both sun and rain...

If you look closely here, you'll find a couple of well-camouflaged crocodiles basking in the sun. Picture taken from the bus, at slow speed:

What a contrast with the generic, country club architecture and manicured lawns we found in the expatriate enclave...

... by the shoreline where our ship, the Sea Lion, awaited us dockside!

We were welcomed warmly aboard by the crew and escorted to our cabins, where our bags were shortly delivered to our doorstep. Our abode for the week was tiny, as was to be expected, with two narrow cots, a sink, a single closet, and a combination toilet and shower. We were perfectly comfortable, but soon found that the organization of one’s belongings is infinitely harder—and more important!—in a confined space than in a larger one. We were constantly losing things and searching for them…

A greeting from our captain, before dinner, with a champagne reception, and introductions to the several people who were to be our guides and teachers—an attractive group of young people, all of whom shared a passion for the natural environment, as well as for its conservation at a time when it is much needed. Such people would give heart, surely, to those with growing pessimism for the future of our planet. I’d be happy leaving it in their hands.

An excellent dinner at a table shared with the doctor who was to watch out for us during our cruise, and with his brother—both practicing Mormons who have put in missionary time throughout the world. Readers of The Buddha Diaries will know that I have my doubts about religions of all kinds, including—despite my ignorance!—of this particular branch of Christianity. I would learn, in the course of our trip, that there is much we share in common.

To bed in good time after an excellent dinner. (Our chef did an wonderful job all week.) We had set sail in the course of the evening, and the pitching back and forth and side to side provided a challenging, eventually rather pleasant sensation of weightlessness. Or perhaps, to use a more Buddhist term, of “groundlessness.” Over the next several nights, it was to prove a good teaching about those assumptions we make about the solidity of our physical presence in the world. To be in constant motion in the grip of forces beyond our power to control is to be reminded, constantly, of the impermanence that characterizes our existence. Everything shifts, everything changes. Even the solid ground we think we stand on can disappear from under us and leave us… well, at sea.

Sunday, January 9

Yoga at six-thirty on the sun deck—the third story of our three-story floating condo. Our yoga teacher and “Wellness Specialist” was Becky Timbers. (I’ll succumb here to the irresistible: Shiver mine! Or is that old pirate saying too esoteric a British reference here?) Breakfast at seven—an ample buffet of breakfast foods of all kinds, and a change into water transit gear (life jackets, rubber wet shoes for wet landings) ready for an eight o’clock departure on board our Zodiaks.

The Zodiak is a sturdy rubber raft equipped with a powerful outboard motor, of the kind pioneered by the French marine explorer, Jacques Cousteau. We soon got used to the boarding procedures, we well as to the wet landings which involved perching on the side of the craft, swinging the feet over into the shallows by the beach, and wading ashore. We all grew rather fond, I think, of these handy and highly maneuverable little craft.

We landed that Sunday morning at the Manuel Antonio National Park...

... for our first foray into the rain forest. Offered a choice between two hikes, Ellie and I chose what was billed as the harder of the two, the Punta Catedral walk...

It was steep in places, muddy, and booby-trapped with tree roots, but it proved altogether manageable and a delightful introduction to the flora and fauna of this part of the world. The lush green flora reaches everywhere, from undergrowth to the canopy high above. Birds call and sing, butterflies and moths flit by, leaf-cutter and other species of ants scurry in unending lines across the path. And imagine the thrill of looking up and spotting a two-toed sloth...

... lodged on the branch of a tall tree, sleeping peacefully through the exclamations of his earth-bound admirers. Our well-informed guide...

... told us all about the eating habits and the behaviors of the sloth, including the distinction between the two-toed and the three-toed varieties. It was on this walk, I think, that Ellie got bitten by an ant...

... or some other creature falling from a tree. We were thankful it was not a scorpion or a deadly spider!

I’m an occasional, awed browser of the pages of National Geographic and other magazines, naïve enough to expect to see a pair of macaws and a troop of monkeys in every tree. Not so. The wildlife in the rain forest is hard to spot, well-camouflaged, not eager to provide a spectacle for human eyes, and I soon came to respect the remarkable ability of our guides to see, and point out, what I myself would have entirely missed along the way. Our second hike of the day, the Sloth Valley walk, produced, along with many beautiful trees...

... a single toucan, rather distant toucan sighting...

...a three-toed sloth...

... the glimpse of a howler monkey and, toward the end, a veritable troop of Capuchin, or white-faced monkeys near the beach....

This particular gang...

... seemed undismayed by the humans who had turned out in surprisingly large numbers for a Sunday at the beach in this beautiful national park.

We were back on board at noon, in time for a shower before lunch. We needed it. Walking in the rain forest, we had by now discovered, is a sweaty business. It’s not the heat so much (in the 80s) as the humidity. It’s a climate in which everything feels sticky most of the time.

After lunch, passengers and crew assembled in the lounge for an abandon ship drill. Quite a chuckle, to watch all us landlubbers struggling with our cumbersome orange rescue gear...

Later in the afternoon, after showing up dutifully on the sundeck to pick up our snorkeling equipment for use a little later in the week, we were treated to a fine slide show and lecture about sloths and their relatives by Patricia Hostiuck, the Smithsonian Journeys lecturer who was accompanying us. The passion, the knowledge—and the pleasant humor—of our guiding staff are a greatly pleasurable addition to our tropical experience.

Ellie added a massage from Becky to her birthday treat, sacrificing not only a part of Patty’s lecture but also, a bit later, the magnificent display of a huge school of dolphins...

in the setting sun...

She joined me on deck in time, though, for a visit to the bridge, where we were impressed not only with the remarkable assemblage of computer equipment used to navigate the Sea Lion, but also with the spectacular view from this vantage point out over the ocean ahead of us.

Costa Rica/Panama, Part II

Monday, January 10

I have found that retiring too soon after dinner—particularly a very ample dinner like those served on board the Sea Lion—does not lead to a good sleep. Perhaps the three-hour time change contributed. I woke exceptionally early, and found it impossible to get back to sleep. (I was engaged, too, in watching that sense of groundlessness of which I wrote earlier, the pitching and rocking of the boat.) Still, we were due anyway for an early rise, and a 6:30 departure aboard the Zodiaks...

... for a probing look into the mouth of the Aguajitas River, which reaches the Pacific Ocean on the Osa Peninsula.

It was, indeed, a thrilling ride. Not thrilling in the roller-coaster sense, but a thrill for the heart and soul confronted by the spectacle of nature virtually unspoiled, on an exquisitely beautiful morning, before the onslaught of the heat and humidity. We counted sightings of: sleepy-eyed iguanas (spot him here on the tree branch!)...

... tall, elegant herons...

... and snowy egrets, the dart of kingfishers and the howl of appropriately-named howler monkeys...

We spotted two pairs of scarlet macaws in flight—too rare a sight now that these spectacular birds are on the endangered species list. We caught a glimpse of a Jesus Christ lizard scooting across the surface of the water on his two hind legs—the feat the earns him his name. Our expert Zodiak steersman...

... navigated us through the inlet and along the banks of the river to where it narrowed to barely more than a stream. With nothing but whitewater ahead...

... he managed a skillful u-turn to bring us back to the bay.

We returned to the Sea Lion for a quick buffet breakfast, and were out on the Zodiaks again before 10AM, headed this time for the Playa Caletas in the Corcovado National Park. Offered the choice between the “long walk” and the medium one, we opted of course for the former. We passed a troop of playful Capuchin monkeys and found ourselves on a long uphill climb in late-morning humidity. Patty, the Smithsonian lecturer, spotted a toucan in a distant tree and pointed us in the right direction. She was amazed to watch, through her binoculars, as the bird dipped down, immersing its whole body in a water hole up there in the fork of the tree, taking a bath and shaking its feathers off—a first, in her own long experience.

We hiked higher, on muddy, iron-rich orange earth, past massive trees reaching up for the light many feet above us, through a mass of foliage and vines...

... grown in fantastic whorls independently and around the tree trunks. Here's a "walking tree":

I think I never saw so many different greens, some startlingly bright, some translucent, some dark, opaque… Every leaf and shrub, it seemed, offered home or sustenance to some small creature of the forest—and our guides offered us a great teaching about the interdependence of all things. It was, as billed, a long hike, and a sweaty one, but immensely gratifying. Here's a few more shots:

As gratifying, though in a different way, was the picnic lunch awaiting us on the beach on our return. Hamburgers, hot dogs, a variety of salads. Cold beer! Our ship’s staff, I must say, do a great job—efficient, friendly, always helpful when needed and yet not obtrusive.

We returned to the Sea Lion after lunch for the short trip from Playa Caletas to San Pedrillo, where we hit the Zodiaks yet again and made another wet landing. Of the two offered hikes, I chose the “Waterfall Walk,” and Ellie—after much walking already that day—what was billed as the more moderate walk. In fact, the guides oversold the difficulty of the waterfall walk, with dire warnings about the “arduous” climb, the need to negotiate mud and tree roots, and to ford a river along the way. I think some—including Ellie—were unnecessarily intimidated by the warnings, because the hike was certainly no more difficult than that morning’s, and the fording of the river easily manageable.

And it was a delightful afternoon. Not much different in the way of wild life and flora, although we did spot a crocodile lazing on the river bank—a sighting that produced much kidding about the dangers of fording the river up ahead. As it turned out, the greatest hazard was the slippery rocks. The water was ankle-deep, no more, and, as always, there were strong hands to help unsteady walkers to cross. (We have learned to use the “wrist-to-wrist” grip for security in boarding and disembarking from the Zodiaks, and staff and guides are always ready to provide support.)

The waterfall at the head of the river was quite beautiful, a favorite spot for photographs...

We paused there a while, then head back down to the pool just below another, smaller waterfall, where we had been promised a refreshing dip. Hot and sweaty by this time, everyone jumped in. From earlier experiences of this kind, I had expected the water to be cold. But no, it proved to be cool enough to be refreshing, but by no means shivery cold. It was sheer delight to sit under the waterfall and take a natural shower in the cascade of clear mountain water, and to enjoy the joyful shouts of children—both young ones and adult! There are pictures…

Dinner on board—an excellent prime rib, with of course a choice of fish or vegetarian for those so inclined.

Tuesday, January 11

(A double birthday for our grand-twins, in England. Unhappy not to be able to reach them with birthday wishes today…)

Another difficult night, sleep-wise. I continued to find it hard to adjust to the unfamiliar circumstance of sleeping on board ship, and Ellie is bugged by alternating sultry heat and the blast of cold from the air conditioner. And the ship sailed, this time, through the night.

Still, we woke and raised our blind to the spectacular sight of the Golfo Dulce—a long stretch of tropical beach...

... lined with tall trees and coconut palms...

... beneath the bluest of blue skies. We heard the harsh call of macaws, and spotted the flash of scarlet between the trees. We were not so lucky as some, a small group who had taken a Zodiak ride to the shore, and were able to get some wonderful pictures of the birds perched in the trees and feasting on whatever macaws like to feast on in the early hours.

After breakfast—the usual generous spread!—we boarded a Zodiak ourselves and headed for the beach, where the crew had already set up kayaks for our use. We had chosen a double, given the limited number of singles available, and it took us a while to adjust to steering the small craft with the rudder. I found myself constantly overcompensating, with the result that our course tended to veer from left to right, increasing the amount of work needed to maintain the forward motion.

But we did manage a fairly long trip up the mouth of the Rio Esquinas...

... a rather wide delta lined on every shore with mangroves...

... their roots visible a good couple of feet above the waterline...

... and reaching down to the silt below. Aside from the many water birds, there was not much to be seen in the way of wild life—though those who had chosen the Zodiak transportation rather than kayaks did manage to spot a boa constrictor sleeping in an overhanging branch. It was, though, a very quiet, very pleasant way to navigate the waters and be part of the landscape. The best analogy might be walking rather than driving through the countryside—a far preferable way to see the world.

It was hard work, and we were pretty much exhausted by the time we returned to our starting point and grateful, once back on board, to sit back and listen to a useful talk by one of our guides, Fico Chacon, about the history of Costa Rica. The country has been spared some of the tyranny that has characterized some Central American nations and developed, in the course of the twentieth century, a functional social democracy. It has not been without its social unrest, of course, and is currently experiencing many of the socio-economic problems shared by a large number of the world’s nations. But all in all, it’s hardly surprising that the country attracts so many expatriates to live.

Lunch. Rest. A pleasant sleep, helping to compensate for an unrestful night. And after the nap, an opportunity to go swimming from the ship’s fantail, in water that was nearly bath-tub warm and a glorious view of the Golfo Dulce to enjoy.

And, late afternoon, after another short leg in the Sea Lion’s voyage, a final Zodiak excursion for the day—this time to the fabulous Casa Orquideas, the “house of orchids.” This is the sea shore home and garden of an American couple, Trudy and Ron MacAllister, who arrived here thirty years ago and never left. They have been working ever since to create their own veritable Eden at the edge of the rain forest. It is remote from civilization, accessible only by boat, but open to visitors able to make the trip, or brought here, like ourselves, on group tours. Not many, then, will make it to this extraordinary spot, but those who do will be as richly rewarded as we were.

Ron and Trudy...

... were on hand to greet us with a few words about the history of the garden. Then we were free to wander at will, or to join one of our guides on a walk through the garden. The chief wild life attraction was, as usual, the birds. They flock to this place for the endless variety of blossoms, and for the trees and plants that offer a rich source of fruits, nuts, insects...

and other edibles. We saw numerous toucans...

... and, high in one of the trees, a handsome hawk—along with several exotic smaller species whose names, regrettably, I did not note down and don’t recall.

There were butterflies, too...

... including the spectacular, neon blue Morpho...

(not my picture!)

... flitting from plant to plant: more than one hundred species of orchids, birds of paradise, bromeliads…

... each with its own peculiar beauty and its particular function in the infinitely complex ecological plan. ("Intelligent Design"? Hmmm!) I could have been taking notes all afternoon, but chose, instead, to walk, and gaze, and marvel at it all.

It was near sunset when we returned to the Sea Lion, in time for the “cocktail hour” on the upper deck. An enjoyable dinner and good conversation with new friends before a last stroll on the deck and bed time.