On Wednesday morning we packed our things and wrote a note to the hosts. Breakfast was hearty, and even included the rest of our left-overs in the form of a milk and chocolate ice cream shake that we stuck in my water bottle.
The bus to Monteverde picked us up around 8am, and we rode through some of the most fabulous greenworks that I had ever seen. It was raining, and the colors of the foliage, the dirt roads, and buildings were almost overwhelming; the bus was quiet, with people preferring to watch out their windows. We came to a dead end, and there awaited us a happy little boat. We all loaded up, admiring the pretty islands and the green, gray water before the sprinkles turned step by step into full-fledged blasts of water.
Fortunately, there was space enough on the boat to effectively run away from the worst of it, and we were only pretty wet by the time we reached the other side. Our charming assistant Ranny took us in a van to a hostel that had been recommended to us. Alejandro had not mentioned the giggling propensities of the two girls in the office, but after considerable snigger-filled negotiations we were unpacked and took off to find the reknowned hot springs, (evading a good bit of the rain with a perfectly timed lunch and patronage of a chocolate shop).
Wincing at the idea of paying $80 for an afternoon in one of the resorts, we hunted out the free hot-spring river. At one point near where we entered it, a cool mountain stream ran alongside the hot one and they merged in a series of little waterfalls and pools. We quickly were befriended by an invaluable future guide named Perico (his nickname is that of a little native bird).
Perico spoke to us about outdoor sports, about his love for the mountains, his competitive biking experience and the local flora and fauna. Katie was as charming and tolerant as one could be, especially considering that she only understood one in twenty words. It was his shift to work nights at the family hotel, and so he invited us to go the next day to Cerro Chato, the Arenal Volcano’s trusty sidekick, from which we could get to know his beloved mountains and possibly see the active volcano herself.
We left the springs before it got to dark, and raided the town for interesting sandals. Clean and bedecked with new shoes, we rejoined Perico and his cousin at their hotel where they made us fried plantains with cream and played pool with us until the late shift began at eleven. Humbled by our pool skills but bolstered by our new friendships, Katie and I slept soundly that night.
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While most of La Fortuna was just opening their doors, Katie, Perico, and I struck out for the mountain, his backpack loaded with koosh ball fruit, two pineapples, and a hefty water bottle. For the first four kilometers Perico rejoiced in grabbing all of the fruit from the roadside that we had to try, and we happily obliged. For the next three kilometers, we began ascending in earnest, and after that there was no mistaking that we were in mountain country.
The views were astonishing, the town appearing like terra cotta freckles on the face of the Grinch. (Wow. That analogy was a strange one…) When we entered the jungle itself, the wetness of our bodies was graciously matched by the dripping of the forest all around us. Huge leaves reached out from every side and moss hung from every surface, branches, trunk, rocks, the like. We would occasionally catch glimpses of great blue butterflies and there was the sound of running water for much of it.
After three or four rounds of “we are almost there,” we were there. The view of the emerald lake in the crater of Cerro Chato, standing proudly in the forefront of Costa Rica’s largest and most active volcano was, well, completely covered in rainclouds.
And so we ate pineapple with the other soggy voyagers and made fun of the ridiculously attractive weight lifters from Denmark.
We climbed down to the lake, an almost vertical descent and return that a man with a strong Irish accent had likened to “being bludgeoned at every step.” Katie and I jumped in the very refreshing water and Perico chatted with the other hikers, eventually wading in to giggle as the little fish nibbled at his feet. Our return to the pinnacle was everything we had been promised, but the descent was a slippery breeze, full of comical slides, flips, and close-misses, but considerably less steamy.
When we reached the bottom of the mountain, our pace was reduced to just a few levels above dragging, probably a result of everyone not heading my advice to have us bring something salty to offset our seven kilos of fruit. But we perked up at the waterfalls near town where Perico came to swim every day and were Katie enjoyed a brief bath.
We cleared out of the hostel and went out for pizza (with carrots and heart of palm for toppings), sneaking in a game of pool before we had to ride a smelly bus halfway back to Katie’s departure destination, San Jose. It was very sad to leave, and Perico told me more than once that I really ought to come back and work there; if I did, he promised to introduce me to every mountain in the state.
On the bus, a very darling software engineer across the aisle revealed his English skills by laughing at a funny joke that Katie made about some rather disgusting spiced corn puffs that she had accidentally bought, and he told us about his life in a charming Spanish accent. He loved his job and his family, had been with his girlfriend (who lived an hour away) for three years now, and was excited at the prospect of visiting California in the fall. He even went on to find us an inexpensive hostel in Ciudad Quesada (the San Christo), and we were sad to part from him when it came time to.
It was probably for the best though, because we basically died as soon as we reached our hostel.
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On the following morning we had to extricate Katie’s things from our shared backpack, and it was with morose steps that we reached the airport and navigated the check in. Trying to buck up a bit, we ordered an excessively large breakfast in the fairly awful cafeteria, and ended up just laughing about our bad choices, our good luck, and all the fun we had had.
Katie joined the queue and I wanted to cry. Suffice it to say that Katie is an amazing travel partner, and if you ever can, you should go someplace with her and not take it for granted.
rebeccabender 