My motorcycle after the burst pipes coated it with a layer of ice.

The Joys of Winter in New York

On Tuesday morning, we went and dropped Daisy off at the vet to get spayed. Poor thing started shaking like a leaf when she saw that Jason and I were leaving. I felt awful, though the folks at the vet are very nice and assured us she'd be fine.

A long day of conference calls kept me busy until Jason brought her home at about 6. He had committed to helping out at Oakwood for a couple hours, so he had to head out again shortly after he dropped her off. Only directions about Daisy: keep her calm and give her water if she wanted any. So I am basically settling back on the sofa with a book to watch Daisy. . .when I notice that the pump in the basement is running and not turning off. Give it a minute or two, I think. Nope, still running. Sigh. I pulled on my boots so I could head down and check to make sure everything was OK in the barn. No sooner had I opened the doors than I hear water cascading from somewhere in that general direction. Not good.

Grab phone, call Jason's cell. . .no asnwer (Oakwood has notoriously bad cell reception). Run to barn, search for cutoff valve. Call Henry (handyman guy) on cell, ask if he can help me find the cutoff. (No, quite difficult on the phone). Henry says he's on his way. Meanwhile, I remember paying $950 for a new pump less than a year ago when it burned itself out the last time a pipe burst. Shit! Run to house. . .Daisy freaks out barking. Calm down dog. Run down basement stairs. Try to find light in the side with the pump - no good, bulb burned out. Feel around in the dark for pump switch (at this point, if any spiders had jumped out on me I would have absolutely lost my marbles). Found it. Shut off pump. Run to barn (it OK Daisy, Gooood Girrrl). Crap! Water still coming out of the ceiling all over the motorcycles and not showing any signs of stopping. Henry not here yet. Call Jason's cell again. Damn! Call Terry Ringler (neighbor). Terry on his way. Finally notice cutoff valve on pipes leading to upstairs bathroom and shut them off. And the water stops just as Terry pulls in.

Terry and I confirm which pipes were frozen/burst, and I run back up to the barn to turn the pump back on so nothing else freezes (all the taps are open, but if the pump is off. . .well, you get the idea). Meanwhile Henry has arrived, and he and Terry and I rig up a ladder up to the area where the pipes are. Terry runs home to grab an electric heater, and he and Henry get it bungeed to the ladder while I am up at the house checking on Daisy.

The story turns out fine in the end though. Daisy is fine, and Henry came back the next day and fixed the pipes. I should be set for the renters coming in tonight!

Big Temperature Swings

Weird to be back here in the US where the temperature has been, for the past two weeks, averaging about 25 degrees, and that is counting the couple of 40 degree days when it rained steadily on top of about 4 inches of snow, turning everything into a sheet of ice. We got a decent snow last night, light and fluffy, and of course Jason, being in motorcycle withdrawal, decided he's get my dirt bike out and ride around in it. Should have gotten a picture.

Me, on the road to Quepos from Domenical. Passed a place along the way called the bumpy road cafe, VERY well named.

Need to photoshop out the tire. . .

Posts are out of order

Oops. Still getting the hang of this blogging thing. Hope you'll all forgive my blunders. Our last day in Costa Rica was primarily about the ride back to San Jose. We did stop to check out the Crocodiles in a river at a bridge crossing. The picture loses something as a result of the tire that is buried in mud next to the crocs, but anyway. . .

We managed to get the bike back to San Jose without replacing the batteries, and had what has to have been one of the best meals of the trip (except for our fish) at Maccu Picu - a Peruvian restaurant. Got up early and headed to the airport.

Hope you enjoyed the trip reports! Now I have to figure out the next purpose for the blog. . .

And, the sunset. Oooh.

The beach scene at Domenical. Note: we later discovered the man in the photo is the local drug dealer. . .

Back to Domenical

Upon our return from the falls (after a VERY good lunch in the woods) we had to figure out what to do about the bike. Jason disconnected the headlight and was able to pop start it on the small hill near where we had left it, so we decided to drive straight up to the cabina, which was on a very high ridge (and thus we'd have plenty of hill to use to pop start it again). We swung through Domenical to get our laundry (Jason's the mechanic, I handle logistics) and thankfully made it back up the hill.

Since we had been seeing sunrises in Osa, we had not been able to see the sunsets. . .so we really wanted to hit the beach at Domenical to see the sunset. We headed down to the beach and picked up a couple of cervezas. Again, Jason took about a hundred pics, so I just picked one, do check out his photo site (www.jasona.smugmug.com).

We got dinner later at a small italian place that was raising money for local conservation efforts. Jason totally wowed the chef (a woman) by using the only italian he know on our way out - "Grazzi, tutti est molto bene!" She was charmed (but of course).

Please tilt head for best effect. Falls are about 75 feet, and there is a larger fall above.

Horseback through the jungle

We had signed up for a day trip on horseback to the Haru falls. We got up early to head over there, and George, one of our hosts (Australian guy, was a captian for private yachts for years) led the way. Unfortunately, along the way, my bike, which had kind of been losing parts and functions along the way already, finally gave up the ghost. Stalled out going over a bridge and wouldn't even try to start again - the battery was totally shot.

Since we only had a few minutes to get to the horeseback place, we left the bike next to a house nearby (whose owner George knew), and headed up the hill on one bike.

The ride, of course, was filled with gringos (what self-respecting Tico would pay $40 to ride a horse around for the day), but luckily most were about our age and interesting. They break the ride up nicely - you ride for about an hour through the jungle until you come to a house in the middle of nowhere with a covered patio and about a dozen tables. They feed you breakfast while you check out the toucans, parrots, and agouti's they keep on the property.

Then you head off again for another hour or so, winding up at an absolutely spectacular waterfall. The pool at the base of the falls is deep and cool, and a great place for swimming. The cliffs alongside also provide for great bouldering, with a soft (if wet) landing if you peel off. One of the young guides climbed about 30 feet up the cliff and then excecuted a perfect "cliff dive" complete with the outstretched arms. No way! Jason executed a back flip off a lower ledge. My hero!

Jason relaxing at the Cabina.

On to Domenical

Due to a little confusion over the dates, we had arranged to stay two nights instead of one in Domenical. We expected the ride there to be about 3 hours and HOT, so we decided to get an early start. Once we arrived and checked in, we headed into town to check it out, and wound up eating lunch at Tortilla Flats, a restaurant right on the beach. We both had a couple of drinks as well, and wound up taking a nap on the bleachers at the soccer field before heading back up the hill on the bikes. We decided to spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out at the cabina on the hill, since we both found Domenical to be a little on the seedy side.

And Jason's.

My sailfish. . .

Last of the fish tales.

So, not to bore anyone with another long fishing story, but we went on to catch two more large sailfish that afternoon - so we both got a chance to reel one in. Sailfish jump out of the water very dramatically, but digital camera delays mean that we have lots of photos - of the splash. Ah well.

Our gringo second mate (Jason) got a little queasy as the afternoon wore on and the wind picked up, so we decided to head in just a little early. We took a couple of passes around some rock shore areas hoping to hook a Wahoo (good eating too) but no luck. We did wind up with enough time to pull into a sheltered beach area and dive off the boat into the green waters of the Golfo Dulce (sweet gulf). Felt great to jump into the water after all that time in the sun.

After giving away half the Mahi Mahi to Darren and Javier, we took our catch home that night (our last night in the beach house) and divided it up between Monika (who took a bunch to Martina who made it the evening's special) and Feather, keeping a couple of pounds for us, which I sauteed up in garlic and butter. YUM. Jason said it was the best $800 dollar fish he ever ate :-)

Big Fish!

Jason's catch of the day

After our first quick catches, we went through quite a while where we weren't catching anything at all. We could tell that Darren was getting kind of frustrated since he was calling some of the other boats to see if they were catching anything and they were all saying "sure, we caught two sailfish already." We finally caught up to a school of fish we'd been tracking for some time and took a couple of passes through it, but didn't catch anything. Finally, we hooked something. When Jason reeled it in, we were kind of psyched - it was a Bonito tuna - about 10 pounds. But to Darren, this was a baitfish! He put the Bonito into a "tuna tube" which keeps water flowing over the fish to keep it alive, and we took another pass through to see if we could get another Bonito. Sure enough, we get another one right away. At this point, we freshened the teasers with the stomachs of the Mahi Mahi (Javier had filleted them while we were trolling), and set hooks into the Bonitos so they became live lures (at this point, I was feeling kind of sorry for the Bonitos, and Jason was making horrible jokes about one Bonito talking to the other - "well, Fred, this doesn't look so good. . ."). We set out everything and started trolling around in circles near the school of bait, looking to get a Marlin. Apparently Marlin are pretty aggressive and will come up to assess weird acting tuna (our poor Bonitos).

This actually went on for quite a while (promting me to ask just how long you could troll with live Bonito before they become dead Bonito bait). Darren had just said "we'll give this another minute and then we'll pick up and move somewhere else," when WHAM, both bonito reels start whizzing out to sea incredibly quickly. They handed one reel to Jason and Javier took the other, and we moved them around to the front of the boat so that they'd have more leverage. As we did that, we saw the fish jump clear out of the water several hundred yards out - a blue marlin!

Darren strapped Jason into the back brace, effectively clipping Jason directly to the reel (and thus, the fish). Jason asked kind of nervously if there was anything attaching him to the boat. . .and we all entertained a mental picture of Jason skipping across the water attached to the reel and fish, trying to extricate himself from the reel.

Darren was suggesting cutting the one line so that Jason could reel it in himself, but Jason (and I, who was holding onto the back of him) were like "no way!" After much give and take, they finally got the Marlin to the boat - and it became immediately clear that it was a good thing we didn't cut a line. Somehow the marlin had taken both bonitos (poor little fellas) without setting a hook, but the two hooks had gotten hooked to each other and then tailwrapped the fish (we essentially lassoed a Marlin!). We were able to get him aboard for a picture, estimated his weight at 225!

That's Javier and my Dorado (and me, of course).

There's a lot of fish in the sea

Am I just slaying you with these cute post titles? No? Um, sorry. The fishing trip was absolutely amazing, and worth every one of the many pennies it cost. We basically got aboard and headed straight out to sea at about 30 miles per hour. While we were zooming out, our captain gave us the lowdown on what we had to do - where to stand, what they'd use for bait, what to look for, etc. Basically, we'd look for schools of "bait" - smaller fish like Bonito tuna (still like 10 pounds, not small in my book) - that would attract the larger fish. We were primarily looking for billfish - marlin and sailfish - but tuna and mahi-mahi were also possibilities. The key things to look for were birds circling (over bait), or lines of "trash" in the currents (logs and other floating debris), since fish seemed to congregate in these areas. About 7 miles out, we hit one of these lines, and Darren our capitan and Javier our mate set out some "teasers" and actual lures (this is actually called "bait and switch" fishing - the teasers are filled with some sort of good smelling fish parts to lure the fish in, and then you get them with the lures).

Within about 2 minutes, we had hooked something! I was astounded, given that my previous "deep sea" fishing experience was a total disaster (everyone got sick, no one caught fish). Jason hauled it in with little problem - a Dorado, or Mahi Mahi, probably about 40 pounds. Most fish in the area are catch and release, but the Mahi Mahis you keep. Javier put the whole fish in the hold. Darren took a picture but apparently didn't know how to aim it - so the picture shows only me (no Jason) and a small corner of fish mouth. A few minutes later we hooked another one and it was my turn to reel it in - not as easy as it looks, those fish are HEAVY. Another Dorado, and this one, we got a picture of!

That's our little beach cabana on the right.

Early Mornings

One of the things we really didn't expect, given that we were on the Pacific side of the country, was sunrises. Due to a trick of the geography, however, we got excellent views over the Pacific of, well, sunrises. Most mornings we weren't up early enough (5:30) to see them, of course, but since we were supposed to meet the captain and boat in Puerto Jiminez at 7 we got up early (thanks to a loaner alarm clock from Monika). Hard to pick just one picture, Jason has many fabulous ones (BTW, the whole collection is at www.jasona.smugmug.com).

One of the bikes outside Carolina's in Puerto Jimenez.

A day on the town

Since we really hadn't spent any time at all in Puerto Jimemez, we decided that we'd do a little exploring. We opted to take one bike only - me riding on the back, since we were "only" going into town. Duh. With both of us on the bike there was virtually no give to the suspension, and with the rocky, potholed roads, well, ouch. My butt was killing me by the time we got to town.

Checked email again (still no news), picked up a couple of things at the store, and then decided to bite the bullet dollar-wise and book a sport fishing trip. They say the Pacific waters off of Osa are among the world's best for sport fishing, and neither Jason nor I had ever tried it before. So we drove around to a couple of the resorts on the water (exploring some back roads and wrong turns along the way) until we found one that was able to book us a boat and a captain for the next day.

We went to the one restaurant in town for lunch, which is also a tour operator and a gift shop, and had what I have to say was one of the better "plato tipico" meals we'd had in country. A bumpy ride back home, some cervezas by the pool, and we both decided we had no desire to make dinner. . .so off to Martina's again. This time, however, we did manage to get ourselves and the bikes back home early, since we knew we had to get up at the crack of dawn.

Never saw a single one of the little jerks.

Note the classic single palm tree

Living la vida pura

No, not la vida loca. . .la vida pura, the pure life - the mantra of Costa Rica (at least the expats that live there).

The interesting thing about having a party in a country where you don't know anyone is that you never know who will show up. We spent the following day recovering from our hangovers, running into town to go shopping (Shaun and Heather said they'd get the fish), checking eMail (no word on the COX-2 pitch I participated in just before the holidays, drat), and basically checking out the town.

Later in the afternoon, after getting back to the house, Jason decided to go riding around the area (I had had enough on the bikes after Corcovado the day before), so I demurred. Idiot. First, he checks out the most perfect beach (see photo), and THEN he heads over to Matapalo, and gets to observe the only troop of monkeys either of us would see during the whole trip. It became a running joke that the bastard monkeys were refusing to show themselves to me just to make Jason feel even worse for taking off without me that afternoon. But at least one of us got to see them!

Our "party" that evening was great fun - Shaun and Heather found some excellent Mahi-Mahi and then a friend of theirs, MC Rasta Stevie showed up for dinner along with his son, Garnet. Stevie was a trip - amazing guy, very different perspective on life. Grew up catholic and converted to Rastafarianism. Wife named Feather. Appartently he MCs at several well known Reggae fests in California, lives in Colorado most of the year but was speing two months on some property he owned down the beach from us.

A chef from one of the resorts (Melissa) and another woman we had met at Martina's also stopped by on their way home from work. Lots of beer and "cuba libres" were consumed.

Conquering my fear!

The Zen of Motorcycle Psychology

By the time we got to Corcovado, I have to say I had gotten pretty nervous about the ride. Not that I'd had any real difficulties, but every river I had crossed I now knew I needed to cross again on the way back, and all the real steep downhills, well, they became uphills and vice versa. The more I thought about it, the more nervous I got about the trip back!

But first, the hike in Corcovado. It's tough without someone to tell you what is what to take in the huge variety of wild things, sounds (weird insect noises) and pick out the animals. At one point I hear a srambling in the bushes, look intently, hoping to see a monkey, sloth, or agouti, and finally, am rewarded by spotting. . .a grey squirrel. We hike about 3 k down to the beach to the first large river crossing (no bridge, of course, you just walk through) and decide to eat there and then turn around, as I am pretty wiped from the bike ride.

Pressed chicken and cheese on white (Bimbo) bread never tasted so good. Jason's got a horrible picture of me actually eating that, but I won't share it. Ugh. Funniest thing was that the return trip was no problem. I aced the river crossings, and we hit Martina's on the way back for drinks. Too many drinks later, Shaun and Heather drive us home (we abandoned the bikes), and we made plans with them to meet for fish tacos and a small party "invite anyone you like" at our pimpin' pool house.

The beach leading to Corcovado

Corcovado

After two days of pure relaxation at the beach house, we were ready for something a bit more adventurous. We decided to pack lunches and head, sans gear, down the approximately 40K of dirt west from our house to Corcovado National Park. We'd heard the road could be a bit treacherous but didn't have anywhere to store our gear once we got there, and feared it would be stolen if we left it on the bikes. We jammed all necessities into Jason's fanny pack and headed out.

The road almost immediately drops into class 8 rain forest - the highest biodiversity rating of any first growth forest. The bird and insect noises about, and Jason spotted a toucan just past Martina's. I didn't dare take my eyes off the road. The road then climbed steeply away from the beach, and up into the hills of the penninsula. The road was steep in many places, with loose rock and sharp corners, plus don't forget the ever deepening stream crossings. At one point I swear I felt the bike start to bog down mid stream and yelled at it "No, you son of a bitch, don't you dare stop here!" (it didn't). Corcovado is worth the trouble. About the longest unoccupied stretch of beach I've ever seen greeted us at the end of the road about 90 minutes later. Totally Robinson Crusoe. What's even more interesting is that it's a 2 mile walk down the beach before you even get to the park offices!

A blur of Martina at the Buen Esperanza

Happy New Years!

We made an early dinner at the house and got settled in, and decided that we'd take one bike with the two of us down the road and check out the party. The road crossed several more small rivers but the ride was short, and we arrived at the Buen Esperanza bar without incident (better known as Martina's bar). The majority of folks there were expats, primarily from either the US or Germany. Some of the characters we met included Axel, the ultra-cool german with his enormous Wolf-dog, Heather and Shaun, a young couple from Colorado who had bought property in Matapolo (the beach nearby), Martina herself, a chain smoker in a housedress and extensive tatoos, and MC Rasta Stevie, who will appear later on in the story.

Lots of drinking, dancing, etc, but Jason and I were both pretty pooped, and headed home before midnight for a swim, promising to return. Of course we didn't make it back. New Years day was a total rest day. Swimming, reading, walking on the beach, making a simple chicken quesadilla and guacamole dinner. . .purrrfect.

Jason getting happy by the pool. . .

No room at the Inn?

Luckily, after I made the last river crossing, I realized that the driveway gates on my left looked like what had been described in the directions. A passing truck slowed down and we asked if the last river crossing was Rio Sombrero and they confirmed that it was. Hurray! We made it!

We headed down the driveway past the smaller house at the gate (I assumed the caretakers place) to the house. To our great surpise, there was a car in the driveway, towels hung on the balcony, etc. What? I called hello and walked in to see a family at the table eating sandwiches. I asked if it was Casa Rio Sombrero and they confirmed that it was, and that THEY had it rented for the week! Yikes!

I headed back up to the "gatehouse" and hunted down Walter and Monika, the caretakers. Luckily, there was only minor confusion - ours. There are two houses on the property, and ours, by far the nicer, was just on the other side. We drove over and explored our new digs - an absolutely stunning thatched roof beach house. Jason was quick to break out the rum and cokes, and Monika let us know about a beach party at a bar 2km down the road from our house that she was working at later that evening.

Sorry this is rotated - turn your head!

Rollin' on the River. . .

We'd realized a little earlier in the day that we'd left the little map of Puerto Jimenez and the directions to the house on Rio Sombrero back at the refugio, so once we arrived at Port Jim, as the gringos call it, I was winging it based on memory. We had no supplies at all with us but of course the fact that we also had no panniers made it a bit more challenging to fit all of our gear PLUS groceries on the bike. We found the recommended grocery store on the other side of town, and I left Jason outside with the bikes and gear and went in to shop. Cheese and crackers, chicken breasts and broccoli, sandwich fixings and a lot of beer comprised the basic list (after all, it was New Years Eve).

All was packed into the green duffel on the back of the bikes. It was about 85 degrees and we were both still wearing all of our gear from leaving the cloudforest in the mist at 8 that morning. Sitting still was nearly unbearable, so off we set.

The road from Puerto Jimenez was actually pretty decent for the first several kilometers. Not a lot of houses, but mostly agricultural land - cows everywhere. The directions (again, from memory) had said something about several stream crossings, the largest of which had bridges. Sure enough, we crossed several bridges of various construction materials (few of which had any guard rails), and then started to hit stream crossings where the road simply went right through the streambed. Most were shallow enough that I didn't get too nervous. The last one, though, got my feet wet for sure!

Puerto Jimenez

Off to the Osa!

The next day (officially day three of the trip) we left the refugio to head to our primary destination on the Osa Penninsula. This was to be one of the longest riding days of the trip and was also New Year's Eve, so we got an early start so that we'd improve our chances of arriving in Puerto Jimenez in time to shop for food.

The first part of the trip continued on the Cerra de la Muerto (road of death, AKA the Pan American Highway). Bikes turn out to be the best possible mode of transport on this road, since the word highway is a bit of a misnomer. It's a twisty, fairly narrow, potholed, two lane road. It's also one of the only North-South routes through the country, so all commerce that doesn't move by sea (there is no rail in the country anymore) moves along this road. Translation: huge, very sloooooow moving trucks create lines of traffic a dozen cars long moving at 20 kph. The bikes allow you to pass (reasonably) safely even on the very short straight stretches.

As you come down (and down, and down) into the plains around San Isidrio, the temperature goes from a chilly and damp 50 to an uncomfortably warm 80+. We turned off the Pan Am there and headed to the coast, up and over a smaller range. This road was actually better than the Pan Am, and far less truck traffic. Less than an hour later we were arriving at the coast in Domenical (where we'd stay a week later for a couple of days). It was HOT. We stopped briefly in town to get the location of the nearest gas station, but really needed to push on towards OSA, since we had quite a ways to go. The road down the coast to Palmar Norte (where we rejoined the Pan Am) was recently paved and beautiful, with glimpses of the Pacific around most of the curves.

We hit the Pan Am again for about 50km before turning off onto what was supposed to be a paved road toward Rincon and Puerto Jimenez. That's where it got interesting. Although sections of the road were paved, they were interspersed with multiple large patches of gravel, potholes (and I mean 12 inch deep potholes), one lane bridges, etc. It was 60k to Rincon on "pavement" and then the road turned to pure dirt. Strangely, pure dirt was easier than the unpredictability of the pavement/dirt mix. At about 3 in the afternoon, we rolled into the dusty town center of Puerto Jiminez.

Jason in the midst of the cloud forest

Cloud Forest Preserve

The Pan American highway winds through the four mountain ranges that form the spine of Costa Rica and divide the Atlantic and Pacific watersheds. Above 6,000 feet, the uplift of the constant Pacific breezes creates a "cloud forest" environment that is quite different from the coastal rain forests. These areas are almost always in the clouds, and though it may not be raining all the time it might as well be - the moisture seeping off the canopy above drips onto the forest floor almost constantly.

We had arranged to stay at a refuge on about 95 acres of privately owned land. We arrived early enough to get in a hike in the afternoon. There is not a single spot of horizontal land - and as much grows on vertical serfaces as it does on the ground. There were mosses growing on epiphytes growing on palms growing on. . .well, you get the picture. I can't image trying to pick out a jaguar or other elusive fauna in the midst of all of that - you could be standing on top of them without noticing.

The refuge also gave us our first taste of the country's 4WD roads, about 4 km of dirt and a little mud. Not bad at all.

Crater on Volcan Irazu

The Last Country the Gods Made

After 10 days on the road with no access to email, phone, etc, I returned to an inbox full of meeting requests and rushed off to NYC for my first two days back. Finally getting control of the schedule and am able to start to record some of the details of the Costa Rica trip.

The land bridge that is Costa Rica now is less than 5 million years old - making it one of the last land masses created in the world. However, even as the youngest land area, with less than .1% of the total world land mass, it contains more than 5% of the flora and fauna! Really beautiful country.

The most notable aspect of the trip down there was the backup at customs on the way in - we couldn't figure out why the line was at a complete standstill. . .until we noted the soccer (football) game on the TV and all the customs guys sitting under it. The minute the game was over the line started moving again. We picked up the bikes the following morning in San Jose - not the new KLRs we had expected but two Yamaha 600s that both had some pretty substantial miles on them. They also were missing the promised side bags, and so we borrowed a stuff sack and multiple bungee cords to improvise.

We set off out by about 10, and decided to add a side trip up Volcan Irazu. It erupted almost constantly from 1963 to 1965, covering the entire top of the mountain with ash. The craters have now filled with bright green water and the landscape is almost lunar! Apparently there are also wild horses on the mountain, although we didn't see them.