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.