Quetzal Quest

The definitive sighting for a visit to the Monteverde cloud forest is a Resplendent Quetzal. We set out early to walk the smaller reserve at Santa Elena rather than trying to beat the tour buses to the main Monteverde reserve.

We've clearly made a good choice as the parking lot is not very crowded. On the map, the ticket guy points out two viewing platforms where we should be able to get good views of the volcano Arenal. Several hummingbird feeders are placed near the entrance and right away we see a Violet Sabrewing.

We pick a trail that is the most direct to the viewing platforms. The cloud forest is the jungle of the movies and our imaginations. Moist Caribbean trade winds cool and become dense clouds that bathe the forest in 100% humidity. After driving up on the dry dusty road, the damp trail seems dream like, not real. None of the pictures we take will ever do the place any justice at all. Birding is tough, although we can hear lots of activity. I get good views of several warblers.

For a long time we can hear loud call. Getting close, we pass a guide with a big spotting scope and several pilgrims in tow, going the other way. Nearby is a viewing spot. I resist the urge to turn around and follow the guide. Clearly the bird is right in front of us now, and I scan for a long time, but can't find anything in the green riot of detail.

After a while, I realize that we are on the wrong loop, but I don't tell Dan because it's all good and I don't want to start anything. We get back to the junction after 3 or 4K and try again. After about 4K more the wrong way around the loop, we come upon a big rusting tower. I push aside all fear and march up the stairs. The last platform is up a ladder along the edge of the tower and I balk, but Dan goes up. "You have to come up here" he says. "I can't". 8 feet. Ah well. It's Dan's day, so good for that. The view from here is just fine. The view of Arenal stunning. We can hear the zip lines from the park next door.

The tower provides a climax to our cloud forest story, so we wander back towards the car. Along the way I am scanning the forest for more birds and stop several times to watch the crowds of warblers that congregate near the streams. Near the trail head I stop to watch some activity high up. It takes a while to pick the green guys out of the foliage, but the more I look, the more I see. There's about a dozen gorgeous Blue-crowned Chlorophonia flitting around in the canopy.

The Quetzal has eluded us today, but I am not much for checking things off on a list, and I am glad for any reason to return. I am sure you could come here every day for the rest of your life and see something new. Me gusta reserva Santa Elena. Me gusta mucho.

Passenger side

After a few pleasant days relaxing and visiting with Roberto and Larissa, Dan and I head for the mountain resort village of Monteverde.

Everyone talks about the road. One statistic says a lot: Allow 2 hours to drive the 35 kilometers from the highway up the steep mountain road. While I have the passenger side willies, Dan manages not to spill my beer. I avoid watching the downhill side. The locals resist fixing up the road. At peak times, the traffic in the resort area is almost grid locked in places.

Google Earth track.

(Large) Quicktime movie of crossing the divide.

I booked the first place on the list in Larissa's guide book, and it turns out to be another posh joint with resplendent views of the Gulf of Nicoya.

As we unload the car, the bellboy points out that the passenger side rear tire is almost flat. We swap it out and go for dinner.

From decadence to... decadence

Today we leave the decadence of our Casa Sol for Docelunas (twelve moons), a resort near the city of Jaco. We arrive at the ferry landing quite early. In front of us is a happy American who, having made his fortune selling mattresses, has invested it all in several properties in Costa Rica. In front of him is a family from, you guessed it, Edmonton, Alberta. After a while in the sun we discover that the ferry will be another two hours. Since we can't leave the car, we pull up under the shade of a big tree and settle in to wait.

Finally on the other side, the traffic is heavy, but Dan makes good time. We turn off onto a dirt road through a typical Costa Rican barrio. The road leads to the gated compound housing the Docelunas resort. By the looks of the garden filling the huge courtyard, they must employ quite the army of gardeners. It's just stunning. From decadence to... decadence.

They have a gorgeous pool with a mosaic sun in the center. It's kind of surreal -- there seems to be almost no one here. I have a delicious tenderloin at the restaurant. We are the only guests, save one couple, under the huge palapa housing the restaurant.

Nada

We head out to check out the surfer beaches on the west side of the peninsula at Mal Pais and Santa Teresa. Dan turns the key and something familiar to all Canadians happens. Nada.

We manage to scrounge some tools from a service closet at the house and clean the positive post on the battery. Enlisting a few fellow travelers we try a push start, but roll to a dead stop by the side of the road. Nada.

Taco the gardener wrangles some cables and stops our security guy who happens to be driving by. The security guy lets off his family in the shade and pulls in beside us. The little one starts crying. Oh jeez. After several tries... Nada.

We aren't going anywhere today. We give Taco and the security guy some cash and thank them for their trouble. Dan calls the rental agency and after some discussion, they agree to send a service guy. Dan heads for Playa Grande, and I retire to Casa Sol. Around 4PM, a guy shows up in a nice uniform with a shiny new battery. As a test, after pulling the old battery, he shorts a wrench across its posts. Nada.

I drive the car back to our spot at Amor de Mar. Another fine day doing... Nada.

We are getting good at this

Dan and I do computer stuff all day. I rough out a first draft of his wedding photography site while he works on packaging up the 6 shoots he has done so far this trip. We are settling into a groove that will be hard to leave behind, but Dan has a shoot on Thursday in Jaco.

The day passes lazily. The computer stuff is nicely broken up with visits to the tide pool, dozing in the shade and regular cold beers. We are getting good at this.

I have Casados con Pollo at Sano Banano. The classic latin american meal. Beans, rice, vegetables and grilled chicken. I am thinking of doing a piece on the best Casados in Montezuma. Sano Banano wins so far.

The good stuff

We drive to a trail head in Cabo Blanco national park just to the south, and we pay our eight bucks to a middle aged man at the information desk. He describes, in beautiful Spanish, the trail we are heading out on. I understand everything he says -- a first for me. It's 4K in, 4K out. This sounds like a piece of cake.

I got my eight bucks worth in about the first 500 meters. The trail is beautifully maintained and we pass all sorts of gigantic impossible trees. The trail slowly ascends through the jungle that suddenly changes where the old growth begins. There seems to be a lot of activity in the woods, but we never see anything. Howler monkeys bark in the distance.

As the day heats up and the trail gets steeper, I am wondering if I can make it, but we have passed the halfway mark, and we get a glimpse of the sea through the forest, so I soldier on. Up ahead, a girl is photographing something beside the trail, so I stop so as not to flush it. She motions for me to come ahead and points out a spectacular woodpecker with a giant red head. The good stuff.

Finally, the beach appears -- a revelation. We have arrived. I can't see Dan, so I climb under a tree to rest in the shade. I see him and crawl out from under the tree past a sign telling me that this is a highly poisonous tree and that I shouldn't use it for shade. Oh yeah, I remember now -- from the prologue. Árbol toxico.

The beach is a wild place with hundreds of pelicans feeding in the shallows. We find a tree to set up under and Dan wanders off to shoot photos. I wander out on the frying pan beach and try out the surf, but it soon knocks me down and I return to the shade.

After a while Dan returns and we lounge in the heat. We lose track of time and realize that we have to be out of the park in 2 hours. We are one of the last groups to leave. Along the way, we see a troup of white faced monkeys. One of them is smashing a meter long seed pod against a tree trunk, trying to open it. As the other stragglers pass me, I am alone on the climb up from the beach.

My tired lungs have little left that day and I am huffing cortisone like an addict. The heat is brutal, punishing -- deadly. I walk ten steps, rest, ten more. My lungs are screaming. Sweat is puring off me. I begin to have images of dying here. At the very least it will take me all day to get out at this rate. The sun is going down. It will be very dark in the forest, even with the moon almost full.

Finally I crest the trail and seem to get a second wind at the 2000 meter mark. I try to make up time, finally reach the trail head and douse myself in the open air shower conveniently placed at the side of the trail. Dan is sitting having a coke, chatting with a dark Indian girl who is an American from Australia.

On the trail comment card under "Positive", I put "One of the best experiences of my life", under "Negative", I put "The Heat". Under "What would you like to see changed?", I put "Nada". We drive the girl (Jenny) back to the hotel and stumble off for dinner in our jungle clothes.

It's just one damn thing after another

Amor De Mar

Dan has wrangled us a beautiful huge beach house for 4 days. It's so decadent. It's the kind of place where you could spend your whole holiday and never leave the house, and still feel like you hadn't wasted your time. "Casa Sol" is built on a large single tree trunk post in the center of the main floor with radiating joists.

I really don't have words that will do this place justice at all. I had half expected the joint to be almost teeming with birds, but it's like birding anywhere. The place gives up extravagant little treasures almost casually -- like a giant Muscovy duck the size of a full grown turkey wandering in the bush by the side of the road. Or a gorgeous tiger heron stalking frogs in slow-motion on the lawn in front of our house.

There is a small tidal pool hidden in the rocks in front of our hotel. When the tide is low in the morning, I wander around in it like I am in a pool sized aquarium. Bright little yellow and blue guys darting about. The more you look, the more you see. It's just one damn thing after another.

Everything is going according to plan

On Friday, we get up at 4:30 to drive to Montezuma, hoping to make the 8:30 ferry at Puntarenas.

It's the kind of drive that makes it hard to be a passenger; we wind through narrow switchbacks ascending the valley -- all the while there are pedestrians, dogs, giant trucks and the regular traffic on a road barely wide enough for two lanes. The yellow lines mean nothing in Costa Rica. Everyone passes wherever they like.

Dan seems fearless driving the crazy switchbacks, but when we hit straight patches, he stretches his hands to keep them from cramping. I posted a video here.

I also posted suspension bridge crossing. You can see the location here.

We just make the ferry line. I run to the ticket office while Dan waits in line. The girls at the ticket office send me away, pointing toward the boat and waving cards at me. It seems I need a special card for the car. I wander around frantically trying to figure out where to get the card. Finally I ask one of the blue shirted boys who are directing the ferry traffic where to get a "boleto para caro" and he asks me where we are in the line. Satisfied that there's room for us, he hands me the card. I run back to the ticket office, buy our tickets, and we are the last car to make it onboard. Perfecto. Everything is going according to plan.


After a short ferry ride, and a dusty drive through rural countryside, Montezuma appears out of nowhere. Montezuma is a laid-back-hippy-dream-beach middle-of-nowhere groove-town. Every place is in the hotel-tour-bar-restaurant-beachwear business. We step out of the air conditioned car into a wall of heat. 32+ degrees. We run into Diane the yoga instructor masseuse and Dan introduces me. We have arrived.

Greetings from the isthmus

Greetings from the isthmus. Great flight, sailed through customs and Dan was waiting out in front. We stopped in at the mart and picked up dinner and booze. Larissa and Roberto give a new meaning to the word "hospitality". Many drinks were consumed. This is almost too much to take in. I may not return...

Larissa and Roberto's company site.

I will be posting all of the photos for this gig here.