Day -1: Hotel in Chicago
Friday, January 2, 2009
Madison, WI to Chicago, IL
We drove down to Chicago at 4ish, to spend the night in a hotel before my flight left early the next morning. It seemed like a much better plan than waking up at like 3am to drive down to the airport. Moments before leaving, I lost a sock and spent a long time pacing around frantically searching for it. Once the sock was found and the car was packed and running, I had to run to and from the car several times for forgotten items, even though I had neurotically checked my packing list many, many times.
I had waited until that evening at the hotel to take my grand last shower, but I was sadly disappointed. That was, no joke, the worst shower of my life. It started out lukewarm with no water pressure, and by the end I had turned the showerhead on the pulsing massage setting and the water was still barely dripping out. I was just about kissing the wall trying to get my head under the trickle. I spent the rest of the evening lying on the slippery hotel bedspread, looking up statistics on gear strength for my little presentation. I went to bed exhausted, with the beginnings of a headache.
Day 0: Travel Day
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Chicago, IL, Huston, TX, San Jose, CR, Tres Piedras, CR
I slept only lightly, so luckily when we didn’t receive our wake up call (!!), I still woke up right on schedule and catastrophe was averted. The window seat on my early morning flight offered a fantastic view of the sun rising over the Midwest just as we took off. When I landed in Texas, routine delays of my next flight (flight 1414, my lucky number) gave me time for “breakfast” of chicken nuggets—it was no longer breakfast time according to the Huston airport. I scored another window seat on this flight, and as we flew in over Costa Rica, my nose was pressed firmly to the glass drinking in the mountain vistas until the plane hit the tarmac.
I wandered my way through customs—including a completely empty turnstile longer than the one for Millennium Force—perfectly portraying the role of stupid foreigner. (“Where are you going?” “Tres Piedras” “Where’s that?” “No idea.”) I managed to spot Heidi on the far side of the glass, and successfully met up with the group. *sigh of relief* I was the last one there, so after a short meeting (Welcome to Costa Rica, have fun, be safe), we piled into the van and hit the road. It seemed to me a perfect cap to the day as we watched the sunset over the mountains in the cloud forest.
The cool mountain air was a relief when we stopped for dinner, and as we ate, we watched an exotic array of humming birds outside the window, as well as some bull fighting and Sabrina the Teenaged Witch (en Español) on the restaurant’s TV. We were all pretty exhausted, so conversation was scant and several people fell asleep on our way to San Isidro, where we swapped transportation from van to bed-of-pickup-truck. I concluded that riding in the open night air, atop a mountain of baggage, is the best way to travel.
As we descended into the valley, the air grew palpably more humid. When we arrived at Tres Piedras, we met up with Devin and Guy and got a quick tour of our new (temporary) home, including the brand-new roof erected that day with funding from our course fee and the hard work of some local residents. Eager for sleep, we packed our stuff away and found sleeping space on the soccer field. Maricelle provided a stack of blankets, since nights were cool and we had been told to bring only a cotton sheet. My blanket had Bob the Builder, and though the air was still warm when I first lied down, I was very glad for his company later.
As I was falling asleep, I saw a shooting star, only my second one ever, the first one having been on my tree climbing overnight in Ithaca. At some point in the middle of the night, I woke up and literally couldn’t believe how many stars there were. I had no idea that when we went to sleep, they were just getting started. I stayed awake a good while just watching them, trying to figure out if it was really possible that those were all stars.
Day 1: Intro to Climbing
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR
Although we had been given permission to sleep in, we all woke just after sunrise. It was lovely waking up in the open to natural light. Two little red birds sat sentinel on the two ends of the soccer goal, watching us wake. Breakfast that morning was the first of many fabulous meals to be had in the cocina, consisting of some very substantial pancakes, a raspberry smoothie, and toast with strawberry, pineapple, or guava jelly. We got another little daylight tour of the salon, the cocina, and the rodeo pen, then we set out on our first excursion to the mango grove.
We went through some basics: equipment, top rope belaying, ascending, and down jugging. It was all stuff I knew, but I didn’t mind the refresher and was perfectly content to be patient, knowing this was the first of ten whole days of tree climbing. I did discover that the red ascenders, in spite being less pretty than the petzl ascenders, made down jugging a million times easier. I also decided that my helmet was insanely comfortable and my new daypack was the perfect size.
Tina and Zac's first time ascending
Lunch was satisfying, though I had to water down the crazy-concentrated, very neon fruit drink. After dishes, we packed up and headed out to Paradise, a swimming hole down river, following behind Dave and his machete. The instructors had p-cord strung to set up a king swing over the water, but the cord got ridiculously twisted and they couldn’t pull a rope up, sadly. I enjoyed soaking in the cool water after the hot afternoon, and pretty much stuck to a pattern of jump in, float down river, walk up river, repeat. When we finished up, it was just starting to get dark. We walked back along the beach, scrambling over an assortment of big rocks. Guy taught us the important lesson that the darker-looking rocks were in fact wet and could be slippery—very enlightening.
As we cut through someone’s backyard to get back to the road, we were offered an amazing snack: coconuts, just knocked from the tree. They sliced them open with a machete so that you could drink the water, then cut them in half so you could eat the meat. I really don’t like coconut usually, but these fresh ones were fabulous. Then we had another example of local generosity as we were invited to a diner celebrating the new roof. Some people tried their hand at tortilla making, but I mostly sat and chatted and wished I could be sleeping (exhausting day!). Dinner was amazing—spaghetti, but not in the American sense. It had cilantro and other Costa Rican-type spices, and was all mixed in with rice and beans. The plates they gave us were heaping, and I hardly touched mine, though Devin managed to eat his and finish off 3 other people’s. Back at the salon, we had our first nightly meeting, then I opted out of the night hike for the sake of sleep. I saw yet another shooting star before passing out cold in the soccer field.
Day 2: First Real Trees
Monday, January 5, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR
Breakfast was again amazing, and I was adventurous enough to eat rice & beans, in spite of the early hour, as well as try some exotic jelly and some fresh piña—to die for. We headed over to the mango grove again to introduce the miracle of the full circle. On our way down the
Our version of a class room
beach from there we passed through a stand of star fruit trees and picked ourselves a snack. Tart, but delicious! On the riverside just across from the salon, we split into groups and did rotations, learning to throw, switch to rappel, and going over some knots. I discovered that
throw weights are a lot easier than throwing rope, and the big shot is even better. Some local kids watching us also seemed to enjoy the big shot. As we practiced all this, we were visited by a group of toucans and Becca learned the valuable lesson to keep your camera on you at all times—or learn to chase down birds.
I was starving by the time we walked back for lunch, which included the classic rice and beans, as well as a violently pink beverage that Dave called “bubblegum.” “Guess that beverage” became a new game, which we probably failed at. After lunch, we made the short walk to the swimming hole right near the cocina. It was small, peaceful, and very convenient, though the afternoon wasn’t as hot as the day before, and didn’t seem to demand the cool water in the same way. I also made the discovery of just how humid Costa Rica really is, as my hair was still wet from the swim the day before. Sitting on the edge of the rocks, I noticed for the first time a few small red bug bites on the tops of my feet—just a little ominous foreshadowing.
The swimming hole
After the swim, we went back to the trees we had thrown for that morning, and split into 3 groups to rig and climb them. I was in Dave’s group with Heidi and Dana, at one of the two trees right on the shore. Guy’s group was at the one next to us, and Devin’s was further back in the woods, in a tree that they found out too late was infested with the dreaded bullet ants. Dusk fell as we were in the canopies, and I became grateful for the headlamp that I had clipped to my harness before ascending. After Dana and Heidi were down, I switched to rappel, then left my headlamp with Dave and took a little swing in the dark. And by little, I mean not little at all. I wouldn’t have believed how far I swung out, but I was still attached to a hard knot which I had moved to a good 30 feet down my anchor line. It still caught me before I had reached the end of my swing. The only unfortunate part about my swing was that it dragged the tail of the rope through all manner of underbrush, and trying to untangle it in the dark as I rappelled was quite the challenge.
At dinner, I finally started slipping into the Costa Rican habit of mixing my foods all together. I suppose it was a reflection of this tendency that we always ate out of broad bowls rather than plates, and that spoons were as yet the only silverware I had seen in Costa Rica. This proved useful with the rice, but much more complicated with things like spaghetti.
We had our nightly meeting down on the riverbank, which was beautiful, but proved a little to noisy (especially for listening to the very quiet Tina). Once again, I lay out in the soccer field to sleep, and enjoyed the stars a while before losing consciousness.
Day 3: Up the Mountain
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR
After yet another delicious meal, we grabbed our packs and headed out to “go big or go big,” as Dave says. The morning’s adventure was to hike up into the mountains and climb some very large trees. Our hike took us through open cow pasture, right up the side of the mountain. I pity the cows, with such a slanty home. Even with the switch-backed paths, it was less like walking than like climbing stairs two at a time. We were all thankful for cloud cover as we hiked, and I was thankful when Guy finally realized that the pace he set was not ideal for those shorter than 6’3”.
Once again we split into 3 groups for 3 different trees. I was with Tina and Libby in Dave’s group, climbing a fruta de oro—golden fruit tree, so named for the little golden flowers that literally rained down on us while we climbed. We were about 110’ in the canopy, and my seat offered an amazing view of the valley. I set up a re-direct so that I could shimmy out about 30’ from the trunk on a branch that took a steep downhill curve, then straightened out into a very comfortable seat. I enjoyed the breeze swaying my branch while listening to Libby’s interesting sound effects as she fought to climb to a higher perch.
Fabulous view from in the tree
After rapping down, we met Becca and Rolo on the ground with a very blue poison dart frog and a basket that Rolo had woven from vines while we were climbing. Apparently he just
Becca and her friend the poison dart frog
got bored. Once we rounded up the rest of the group, we started to head down the mountain. As it turned out, going down was worse than going up—my knees and ankles didn’t like it much, but worse were my feet which, now that I was down from the tree, seemed to be very painful and itchy. I remembered the bug bites, and heard Tina complain of some bites on her feet as well, and started wishing fervently to remove my shoes.
After Guy was nearly charged by a bull on the way out of the pasture, we were finally on level ground. All I could think about was stripping out of my shoes, and when I did, I discovered to my horror that the few bites I had seen on my feet before had multiplied. My feet and ankles were now covered in bites and absurdly swollen. We discovered they were chigger bites, probably caused by sleeping in the soccer field those first nights. Tina also had them on her feet, but apparently she didn’t react to them the same way I did. Dana also got the itching more than the swelling and pain, but her bites were in a much more unfortunate place.
We ate a very late lunch—our trip up the mountain had lasted longer than anticipated—and I tasted the glories of Lizano for the first time. After another afternoon swim, we came back to the soccer field to watch the locals play. I couldn’t believe how good they all were—even the really young kids. They’re footwork was just crazy. That night we had little one on one meetings with the “i-team” (our instructors) to check up on how we were enjoying our trip. Although the chiggers were a little set back, I couldn’t think of anything negative to say.
That night after dinner, we helped Maricelle with our hammocks by cutting and melting the ropes. It took us an amusingly long time to figure out how long the ropes needed to be, and how to measure them. Becca, Tina, Libby and I gathered around a candle on the floor to burn the ends, and some of the others helped string the ropes through the hammocks. When we set up
Hammock city, set up in the rodeo arena
“hammock city” in the rodeo that night, no one quite trusted the cloves hitches at first (or the rather rickety beams we tied them to), but there were no disasters. Sleeping in a hammock was quite lovely, except for the fact that there was a roof over your head, so your view of the stars was limited.
Day 4: Double Rope Technique
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR
That morning, for the first time but not the last, hammock city was woken up by Heidi’s amazingly realistic animal noises. Interesting alarm clock. I think it would have scared me had I not already been awake—lying there enjoying the hammock and the sunrise view. At that
morning’s breakfast, I made the discovery that rice, beans, and salsa are in fact very acceptable breakfast foods.
We walked around to the beach on the other side of the river again, and split into three groups to learn double rope technique. I was with Dave, Abby, and Dana, and we practiced foot locking and hip thrusting on a single blakes hitch, as well as passing knots when ascending. The hip thrusting proved humorous, and I found it a lot easier with the auto-tender, as your timing didn’t have to be quite as exact. Even when I was actually successful at moving up the rope, I still felt more than a little absurd. After that, our group quickly rigged one of the trees from the other day and jugged up to try the motion lanyards in the tree. I set mine up as a lovely swing, and spent a while enjoying the extra padding in my harness.
Our group was late getting back, but the others generously saved some lunch for us. We then packed up and headed back to paradise to play with the tyrolean traverse. On the way, we came across an army of ants on the path that Rolo informed us “bite very hard.” We were all quite intimidated when he told us to run very quickly across them. Tina, unfortunately, ended up literally having ants in her pants, but she was able to shake them off with only a few bites. It was just barely sprinkling as we swam, waiting for Devin and Dave to set up the tyrol. I tried my hand at a little river bouldering and actually managed to get myself out of the water.
On the tyro, I flipped upside-down in the harness for the first time, and succeeded in dunking my head in the water—by which I mean Guy bounced on the tyro rope until he dunked me. Once we had all had our turn, as well as some of the local boys who were helping us out with the retrieval, it was thoroughly dark for the hike back.
After dinner, I had my first chance at the shower facilities. Compared to my last shower in the states, this one was hands down superior in every way. Even though it was cold water coming from a hose above your head, the novelties of soap and shampoo were much appreciated.
Day 5: Barefoot Beach Climbing
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR
Upon waking up and stepping out of my hammock, my feet were even more sore and painful than they had been before. Based on this, I opted out of the hike up into the mountains to see the sugar farm. As much as I wish I could have gone along, I really didn’t want to get part way there and realize I had made a bad decision. I stayed back with Dana (whose chigger bites also couldn’t handle the hike), Abby (who was keeping her company), Heidi (who didn’t want to slow the group down), and Guy (who was stuck babysitting us all).
We walked over to the beach and Dana, Abby and I practiced with our motion lanyards on some low branches, while Guy kept an eye on us from the tree where he was rigging hammocks. My goal was to spend as much time out of my shoes as possible, so I kicked out of them once I got a few feet off the ground. I spent a while learning just how terrible I am at throwing ropes. My most skilled toss landed over a bromeliad which, when I cinched up underneath it, rained an impressive amount of water down on my head (better than raining down bugs, which is what happened to Dana).
Bromeliad-- plants that grow in trees, using their roots to get nutrients from the air
After working my way up and down my branch several times, then enjoying the barefoot beach swing that my motion lanyard created, I peeled out of my climbing stuff and sat down on the beach with “A Climber’s Guide to Self Rescue.” Who knew rocks could be so comfortable? For lunch, we had the rice, beans, eggs, and fried cheese (fabulous!) wrapped in a banana leaf, which was intended for the people hiking to the sugar farm, but we took advantage of ours for a riverside picnic. After Guy finished rigging the second tree for the overnight, we went for a dip in the swimming hole.
A big rock of sugar
The hiking group came down and met us at the swimming hole, and shared some of the sugar they had brought back. It was a little bit like maple candy—gritty, and with some flavor instead of just being sweet. They also showed us pictures of the refining process, and of the sloth they saw along the way.
Back at the salon, I discovered that I fail at applying sunscreen: I had some interesting splotches of burn on my shoulders. My complaining was rewarded when Rolo brought me back an aloe leaf—the real thing really works well. After dinner, we packed up our overnight stuff and headed across the river again. I was in the smaller tree with Dave, Libby, and Tina, Guy and Hallie opted to be ground crew (beach camping, not such a bad alternative), and Devin was with the rest in the bigger tree. It took a while to get situated in the hammock, but it was really quite comfortable. Libby and Tina were out cold within minutes (long hike), and I just enjoyed the treetops for a while before drifting off.
Day 6: Rescue Techniques
Friday, January 9, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR
I woke to the noise of some very loud cows that were being driven down the road just across the river from us, thinking it was Heidi and her animal noises until I realized she was in the other tree. I sat in my hammock for a while, watching the sunrise through the canopy, before rapping barefoot out of the tree. The general population was slow to rise, and it was a while before everyone was down and packed up, so our breakfast was a little late (but very worth it).
Tree full of people waking after the overnight
Dave laid out the options for the day: waterfall adventure (rappelling down a series of waterfalls), rigging your own tree, or practicing rescue scenarios. As much fun as they all sounded, I chose the rescue scenarios (largly because I wasn’t sure if my feet were up to the hiking involved in the waterfall option, though they were better). Guy took the rescue group (me, Dana, Abby, and Heidi), Dave led the waterfall adventure with Rolo, Hallie, and Becca, and Devin took Libby and Zac out to rig a tree.
For the rescue tactics, we went over to the mango grove again and set up a couple lines. First we each tried being the first into the tree, getting off the elevator onto a motion lanyard, setting a student anchor, and transferring a student from the elevator, to the anchor, then to rappel. Then we “learned by discovery” that if someone becomes unconscious on a static anchor line, you need to move the elevator to them instead of trying to move them to the elevator. We also tried a little tandem rappelling, which is really more of a rock climbing thing, but still interesting.
By this time, we got word via walkie-talkie that Devin’s group wasn’t having great luck with their tree—in fact, they broke the big shot. They gave up and joined us in some aid climbing for coconuts, and then we all packed up and headed back for dinner. On the walk back, the moon was ridiculously bright—literally casting shadows.
After dinner and another lovely shower, we hit the hay to get some good sleep for what promised to be an epic day to come.
Day 7: Gringo Mike’s
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR, Gringo Mike’s house, CR
After breakfast, we packed up climbing gear, swimsuits, and lunches and once again piled in to the bed of a pick up truck. In the daylight, this particular form of open-air transportation was even more amazing. We had a little Disney sing-a-long (collectively, we knew all the words to “Be a Man,” very impressive), and before we knew it we were in front of Gringo Mike’s huge house, created (without moral objection) from rainforest wood, by locals from the valley.
Gringo Mike's room, very lux
After a tour, we hiked out to the tree and got a little preview (Becca measured the trunk size at 16 arm spans) of the behemoth we would climb that day. Then we left Guy and Devin to rig, and Rolo led us on a crazy jungle path to a very cold little waterfall. The braver souls swam in the pool, but it was the idea of climbing while wet that kept me sitting on the rocks, watching the morphos until it was time to hike back.
Back at the base of the tree, Guy and Devin had two elevators successfully rigged, and we started pulling on climbing gear and taping up. Many of us had extensive jugging blisters (it is legitimately possible for your blisters to have blisters—mine really did), and “bare-knuckle boxing tape” was a necessity.
I was sent up third, and clipped onto the rope with great trepidation over the 170’ jug I was about to begin. It was certainly a long way up, but not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. I stopped for pictures on my way up rather than to catch my breath (although the views from the top would by far trump the pictures I got through the canopy). I was floored by the vista that greeted me when I broke through the canopy—you could see the whole valley in perfect clarity, in every direction.
Epic view from up in the tree
While the others climbed up (a lengthy process), I enjoyed the view and the impressive stability of the 3’ wide branch I was on. Devin pointed out the very sketchy rope he had to ascend to rig the anchor lines—it literally had moss growing on it. They leave the anchor line in Gringo Mike’s tree year round, and simply (or so I say, but I’ve never had to do it) re-rig a near by tree each year, and climb up it until they can reach the exiting anchor line. Apparently this was originally accomplished by Keith prusiking up a vine. Yeah, that sounds safe.
Lunch, all wrapped up
Rolo was the last to come up, and kindly brought our lunches with him. Check “eating a picnic 170’ in the air” off my list of things to do before I die. Guy passed around a bag of pull and peel licorice as a special treat. I already had a soft spot for cherry pull & peel, and now that flavor definitely has specific memories attached.
Gringo Mike's tree off in the distance
The process of rapping down was almost as long as jugging up, but I definitely did not begrudge the extra time I spent in the tree waiting for my turn. Guy and Devin said they felt bad about the class back in Ithaca where I was up in a tree for all of 2 minutes, and they definitely more than made up for it on this trip. After a very, very long rappel, my ATC was so hot I literally burned myself. Once on the ground, we took some pictures at the base of the tree, then “popsicled,” as Dave would say.
On the ride back, after being chased down the mountain by a pair of horses, then a pack of dogs, we stopped at a little convenience store, for lack of a better word. I had, no joke, the best ice cream bar of my life there. And not just because I was hot and exhausted from the morning—it was really that delicious. The others indulged in ice cream and coke flavored with sugar cane, then we made our way back to the salon for the night’s events: a rodeo and dance party in honor of a local kid’s 18th birthday.
When we arrived at the salon, the “discomovil” was parked outside, and the speakers were already set up inside what we had come to consider our home. Our little hammock city was transformed too: full of spectators, with a cattle truck outside. After changing into the least smelly clothes I had left (which were still considerably grungy), we walked over to the rodeo. It was interesting to see the differences between US and Costa Rican rodeo—the cattle prods and other methods they used to put the bull in an ill temper, but mainly, the playing with the bulls. In this Costa Rican tradition, after the rider has fallen, people jump into the ring and start provoking the bull, trying to touch its horns (or just piss it off, I’m not sure). One guy was too slow when the bull charged him, and had to roll under the bleachers nursing some minor injuries.
We were invited to a local house for dinner, which was a fabulous heart of palm dish with beef (and rice and beans, of course). By the time we got back to the salon, the dance party was warming up, and we broke the ice with our crazy gringo dance moves. Dana tried to teach us an acceptable form of salsa, but I’m quite certain that what I was doing was nothing close to that. After a while, Dave opened up the locker so we could get our sleeping stuff out, and those who wanted to go to bed could. We dropped our stuff off on Mark Onay’s porch, where we would sleep, and we split up from there: some stayed to sleep, some went back to the dance party, and I went with Guy, Becca, and Zac for a late night swim.
When I laid down to sleep that night, I really couldn’t believe everything I’d done in one day—let alone the fact that I was here in Costa Rica, doing any of this at all. Bushwhacking in the jungle, climbing a 170’ tree, watching Costa Rican rodeo, and salsa dancing in public are definite not things I could have foreseen myself doing 6 months ago. NEVER. What a trip.
Day 8: Rigging Hammocks
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Tres Piedras, Costa Rica
That morning, we all slept fairly late. I woke to the sound of the exploding bird—its chirping sounded just like a time bomb, ticking more and more frantically until I was sure the bush would blow up in front of me. We wadded up our stuff and made our way back to the cocina for breakfast. Our salon was covered in remnants from the night before: confetti and streamers and noisemakers littered the floor.
At breakfast, we heard for the first time about the earthquake that hit Costa Rica on the 8th. I knew instantly that my mom was, at that very moment, freaking out back in Wisconsin. Dave said that Mark had received many frantic phone calls and emails, and had replied to them after confirming with Dave that we were safe. I doubted seriously that this would do anything to calm my mom’s nerves, and of course I was right.
That morning, we were joined by Keith and Kenny, two ex-COE instructors. Kenny had taught Guy’s B-rock class once upon a time, and I had of course heard legends of Keith, pioneer of tree climbing. They ate lunch with us, then headed on their own climbing venture, attempting the same tree that Devin’s group had tried to rig days earlier (their failure made Libby and Zac feel a lot better).
The options for the day were hiking out to a waterfall/swimming hole, or rigging our own hammocks for the second overnight. I chose the hammock rigging (obviously, as that was the activity that involved climbing), and went up in a tree on the beach with Guy, Abby, Libby, and Dana. Four people operating motion lanyards in one canopy is a bit of a squish, but we successfully rigged 3 hammocks with only small mishaps, namely Guy falling and swinging into me, nearly knocking me off the branch. Dana and Abby went down first, then Guy told Libby she had enough room on her motion lanyard to leave it on and tend her blakes on the way down. Not true. As I sat with Guy enjoying our handiwork on the hammocks, we finally realized it was taking Libby an awfully long time to rappel. When I looked down, Libby was about 5 feet off the ground, hanging upside down, and Dana was just underneath her saying, “Maybe you could try standing on my head.” She had reached the end of her rope just before touching down, and she couldn’t unweight the blakes to untie it. Guy went down to help and eventually got her unstuck, while I watched uselessly from my perch in the tree—I think the whole thing was a lot more humorous from where I sat.
With everything set for that night, we went back across the river for lunch, then a quick swim, after which we went our separate ways for our solos. I found a comfortable rock a ways down the beach, and stretched out to think a little, completely forgetting about the journal I had brought with me. At one point, a basilisk, aka Jesus Christ lizard, ran over the rock behind me, down right next to my shoulder, then across the river—very up close and personal.
Guy called us all back to the salon by blowing a conch shell—or at least those of us who could hear him came back; his technique was still a little shaky. After dinner, we packed up our overnight gear and Dana shared some of her chocolate covered coffee beans. Apparently the caffeine affected me more than I thought it would. As I was definitely not ready for bed, I joined
the night hike group for the first time. That was the first night they saw any snakes: three small cat-eyed snakes. We also saw more frogs than I can count (only one of which I managed to catch, but Rolo got a good laugh at all my attempts), a scorpion, a stick bug the size of my forearm, and a basilisk that Rolo actually managed to catch.
We headed back to the overnight trees after our hike, and I went in the tree with Guy (who actually decided to give sleeping in a tree a shot), and a very taciturn Becca (who had tripped and bruised her knee pretty good on the way there). After getting Becca’s shoes dropped on my head from above (good thing I was wearing a helmet), I climbed up and settled into the hammock that Libby had rigged earlier that day. I stupidly forgot to remove my ascenders or carabiners from my harness, and slept on them all night.
Day 9: Packing Up
Monday, January 12, 2009
Tres Piedras, CR, San Isidro, CR
Once again, I was one of the first awake, opening my eyes to see the scariest ant I’d ever seen crawling down my anchor line toward me. I squished it with the edge of my hammock, only to see another crawling from the tree onto my hammock, and several more on the branches my hammock was tied to. After flicking away those that were most imminently invading my space, I vacated my hammock, climbing to a less ant-ridden part of the tree. I had worried before that I wouldn’t be able to identify a bullet ant if it came near me, but the others were right when they said it would be obvious. These ants were at least an inch long, and just looked like they wanted to kill you.
I found a comfy seat and watched the sunrise in the valley for the last time. I think I startled Guy by being out of my hammock when he woke, and I got some strange looks from Devin too, who had been ground crew for the night. Once more people were awake, I climbed back over to my hammock to untie it and drop my stuff, then I rapped down, saying goodbye to the last Costa Rican tree I would be in.
Gear explosion all over the salon
After breakfast, we did a massive gear explosion all over the salon, then started packing our bags, with little breaks for filling out evaluations and having one last check in with the instructors. I had a little jolt when I realized that wearing flip flops home probably wasn’t a good idea—it hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that it was winter back in Wisconsin. My head was full of thoughts of my inevitable return to the real world; I just wasn’t ready to wake from this dream yet.
Once bags were packed, we had our last meal in the cocina, including the coconuts that we had cut down aid climbing the other day. Since we had finished up a little early, we decided to walk to the bus stop rather than ride in the truck with our luggage. After saying our goodbyes to Rolo, everyone was really feeling down about leaving, and it was a solemn walk past our swimming hole, and the mango grove, and the river banks where we had spent so much time. I think this was the first time I’ve ever had to leave somewhere I loved with the distinct knowledge that I might well never be back.
We made a pit stop at the little store where I’d had the choco bigger (the fabulous ice cream bar that they were sadly out of now), and I bought some Lizano and guava jelly to take home with me. We had the bus nearly to ourselves, and as we traveled the same mountain road back to San Isidro, the views were no less amazing.
Lots and lots of baggage
We looked like the most ridiculous group of gringos as we walked to the hotel with all our baggage, and we were all very happy to dump the bags and take advantage of showers and the soap and disposable towels that the desk clerk distributed. When we were all a little cleaner, we walked across to the town square and had our last nightly meeting on the steps of the San Isidro cathedral. We were all shocked to discover Rolo in the square, who joined us for one last diner at a favorite restaurant of Dave’s.
Our “night hike” of the evening took us around the city, to a market where I tasted passion fruit for the first time, then back to the hotel for a few card games before bed. It was weird sleeping in a bed (hard and tiny, with transparent sheets, but still a bed) indoors, with the noise of the city around us instead of the river sounds.
Day 10: Going Home
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
San Isidro, CR, San Jose, CR, Huston, TX, Chicago, IL, Madison, WI
Becca and I both had a scare as we woke to the cathedral chimes, ringing 6 times. Six o’clock was the time we were supposed to be leaving the hotel, at the latest. As the 6th chime rang out, we both bolted out of bed and ran downstairs, where the desk clerk told us, with a “you look like crazy gringos” expression, that it was only 5. Relieved, we went back to the room, where we definitely did not have an hour’s worth of getting ready to do, so within minutes we were sitting in the lobby with our giant bags, nearly falling asleep as we waited for the others.
We ate a breakfast of some very interesting bread (who knew you could put gummy candy and frosting on it and still call it bread?) at the bus stop, then piled in for a long drive to San Jose. I was not alone in napping, since I had slept only fitfully the night before, and we were in San Jose in no time. We all piled in to one taxi (by piled, I mean squished—we had at least one extra person per bench seat, I sat on a suitcase, and Dave stood next to the door), and those of us in the back seat had the pleasure of having our ankles burned by heat exhaust coming out under the seat. At the airport, we finally had to say our goodbyes, with many promises of future meetings, and go our separate ways.
Becca flew with me into Huston, then on to Chicago, where I watched a midwest sunset as we touched down. After meeting up with our parents, we said good bye too, and headed out to face the harsh reality of Midwestern winter: it was a bitterly cold -10 degrees (not even including wind chill), talk about a friendly welcome home.
For way more pictures than you could ever wish to see, check out my Costa Rica album on flickr or Dave's pictures under CR 09 and CR 09 (2)
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