Way back in March of 2010, when Jim made his first trip to Costa Rica to explore the work assignment, Nancy sent a text message informing him that nephew David and niece Rachel were in Costa Rica. He was not able to connect with them then, but in a later conversation, David was as ebullient and effusive as he could be regarding a place we had never heard of called Drake Bay on the Osa peninsula. As a result, we put it on our “must see” list.
Getting to Osa is no easy task. Driving was our first thought, after all, we have a car and the map shows a road going all the way there. For some reason the maps here don’t show mountains and rivers very clearly, and while we doubted it would take the 8 hours a guidebook suggested, the more we talked to friends, the more it became apparent that the last and shortest leg of the journey was the most treacherous. I think it was that last part that got our attention. A shorter drive of 4 hours, followed by a 2 hour boat ride did not seem to take much of the travel time commitment out of the equation. We finally decided to fly, with one of us expressing more than a little doubt about the safety of a single engine plane over the jungles and mountains of Costa Rica (see treacherous above). The other of us suggested that it would be way cool to see the country by air and be able to spend a combined additional 70 hours “in country” as it were, instead of on the road. The other of us also underplayed the comments by his coworkers that the plane would be a rough ride due to the jet stream winds we experience on the ground on a daily (and nightly) basis at our house.
Early on December 26 in a light rain, we climbed aboard a Cessna Grand Caravan with room for 12 passengers, 3 propeller blades, 2 pilots and (only) 1 engine. For the most part, the trip was smooth as silk and provided tremendous views of the coast and mountains from Jaco’ south. Not having been at work for a week, Jim snapped a picture of the plant to see if anybody else (like his boss) was there.
After we landed on what looked like a paved driveway, we deplaned at the Drake Bay airport and waited for what seemed like … seconds to pick up our luggage from the baggage claim area, which doubled as the … runway. As promised, a cab was waiting to take us to Cabinas Manolo, where David and Rachel had stayed (as indelibly inscribed by David in the hotel guestbook).
The cab ride quickly confirmed our choice for air travel as the cab forded two rivers and enough huecos in the dirt to make the roads around San Jose seem like … paved roads. After checking in, we headed to the beach where we found surprisingly calm surf, and hardly any people, although it was only about 10:00.
Early Monday morning we boarded a boat and headed for Corcovado, perhaps the most remote park in the country. During our 6 hour hike, we saw a large variety of colorful birds, 4 species of monkeys, two types of sloths, two Peccaries, a Caiman and a Tapir. We also saw more people than we expected – about 5 other groups of 10 or so. The hour and a half boat trip back to Drake Bay reconfirmed our choice to fly from San Jose. One of us started feeling crummy even before we boarded the boat, and by the time we made it through the rough surf at the beach and into the rolling waves of the ocean, she (okay now you know who) was grabbing the gunnels and sending Poseidon her breakfast and lunch. We could have flown to Sirena station at Corcovado, too, but that would have involved an even smaller plane on a grass runway.
Tuesday we were promised a later start which proved to be correct, as we were delayed an hour while they pulled a spare boat out of dry dock for our venture to Cano island. The delay paid off, however, when Tim spotted spouting in the distance. The captain obliged us with a detour to see up close a passing pod of Humpback whales, and later dolphins.
We joined the flotilla of snorkelers after arriving at the coral reef off the sea side of the island, and then headed to lunch after the motion of the ocean began to take its toll (again). The beach at Cano island was crowded with lunching snorkelers and divers where we ran into a coworker of Jim’s, but a short hike down the beach revealed the remoteness and beauty of the area.
The after lunch snorkel was even more spectacular than the morning. Our guide pointed out dozens of sea creatures, including 3 white tipped reef sharks and fish of every color in the rainbow, but alas, we had no underwater camera. On the trip back to Drake Bay, we were treated to two frolicking dolphins. We knew we were seeing something special when even the guide got out her camera and ooh’d and aah’d with us.
Our package deal included 3 squares a day. Nancy and Jim are not known for their consumption of fish, but when dinner the second night was a fillet of fish, we dug in and were presently surprised at how good it was. The third night as Jim began eating “the most tender steak I have ever cut into” Brad (ever the contrarian) said “that’s because it’s fish”. “What? It looks like steak.” “Yeah, but it tastes like fish.” “No, it tastes like steak cooked in a pan that fish was cooked in”. “It was, because it’s fish!” ”Let’s stop talking about it before I stop enjoying it”. Later, Jim asked the waiter “como se llama el pescado?” (those of you who speak Spanish can stop laughing now, those of you who don’t, it was perfect), to which we believe he said “Guapote”.
After a pleasant hike and swim on Wednesday, we headed back to the Drake Bay airport, leaving plenty of time to get through security and a quick trip home.
David and Rachel: good call.
(Pictures to come)
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