Things Your TC Should Do When It’s 60. 
Bob & Lynne's epic trip in their TC from South America to Alaska
 

Article 12

Costa Rica to Nicaragua.

 Copyright ©Bob & Lynne Douglas 2008

As I write this diatribe, we are sitting on a balcony looking out over the Pacific ocean, pelicans and frigate birds cruising past, brightly coloured parrots squacking away in swaying palms, sipping Pina Coladas. I fibbed about the last bit. Parrots don’t drink Pina Colada. It is so hot we are melting so the only way to cool down is to take frequent dips in the tepid sea. Bright white motor launches bob up and down in the bay; optimistic Americans ply their reels in the hope of catching something for dinner. Costa Rican children play in rock pools. We are a stones throw from the beach. On the hills behind our apartment there is the clatter and banging of construction teams putting up yet another block of condos. The road east of our apartment in Playa Ocital is being ripped apart to lay a new sewer to cope with the development going on through to Playa Coco and beyond.

We are on the Nicoya peninsular in Costa Rica, a long promontory that stretches for 35 kilometres south from the northern end of the Pacific coast. It is famous for the turtles that come ashore to lay their eggs and later for the mass hatchings. It was famous for its string of glorious isolated beaches but they won’t be isolated for much longer. Most of them are still only accessible by rough road, which is why we are not going to attempt to get to some of the best. The rainy season is imminent and we don’t want to spend the next four months stuck on a coconut-palm fringed beach. Did I just write that? What’s wrong with spending four months in a place like this?

We’ve been in Costa Rica for well over a week now and most reluctant to leave. We set off in the south coming from Panama. Like Panama it’s hot as hell on the Pacific coastal plain; the same goes for the Caribbean coast. Up in the highlands it’s a lot cooler, but still on the hot side so that’s where we headed first – up to San Vito and then westwards to ply our route along the line of volcanoes that form the central cordillera.

San Vito Area	Typical highland scenery

We have read and been told that the roads in Costa Rica are terrible and full of potholes and that the drivers are the worst in Central America. Since the latest president took office a couple of years ago, huge amounts of money have been spent filling in holes and resurfacing roads. Whoever made the statement about the drivers obviously hasn’t been to Ecuador. There is nothing wrong with the roads or the drivers, so we are happy bunnies. The police checks are few, even more reason to be contented.

Driving in South America can be real hairshirt stuff, as you now know. It can take ages to cover conservative distances just because of the road conditions. Driving in Costa Rica is enjoyable so you don’t want to go fast anyway and miss anything. This is a good thing because if you did want to cover goodly distances in a day, it ain’t possible.

The powers that be take the view that no-one needs to know where they are, no-one needs to know where they’re going. Some parts of Costa Rica are a maze of narrow or single track roads, some tar sealed, some dirt. None are signposted. There are no road signs in towns or at major junctions. Are they expecting an invasion, and like Kent during the war, all road signs have been removed so that spies and foreign armies won’t know which way to go? If that is the motivation, it’s a huge success. So, like spies and subversives, we spent ridiculous amounts of time asking the way. Ticos (as Costa Ricans are known), speak slowly when giving you the first direction and then slip seamlessly into machinegun Spanish. We can, by now, pick out right (derecho) and left (alzuedo), first, second, and third junction and beyond that we are confused.

There are a lot of Ticos who have never left their home village and have no idea what lies around the next corner, so asking the way became a regular routine. It’s also amazing how many people disagree about where anywhere is. You talk to a lot of people in Costa Rica when you’re on the road.

It’s also amazing how many invading foreigners managed to find their perfect spot in Costa Rica. The mountain lodge we found up a 1:3 drive was run by a Canadian and a German. They had a Japanese Akita dog and a Mexican Chihuahua. They all got here without road signs. Amazing. We were at altitude in cloud forest, this lodge was popular with birdwatchers (139 species of bird have been sighted here); our cabana had panoramic views of mountains and coffee plantations. The bird feeders attracted at least three species of hummingbird, along with several bright blue birds the size of a swallow but so much faster in flight. They liked to dive bomb us, trying to put a parting in our eyelashes.

Pretty Polly	Typical butterflies	100mm across	Hummingbirds

There is a mountain road known as Paso del Muerte, so called because of the high road death toll. OK, it twists and turns and it has a double yellow line along its full length and it’s full of lorries crawling uphill but no more dangerous than many roads we’ve driven. It’s supposed to be possible to see both the Pacific and Caribbean coasts from up here - when the cloud doesn’t obscure everything. There are many side trips along this stretch of road, some down steep dirt roads with hairpin bends. It would have been easy to get down them, but back uphill on mud? Don’t think so. We took a well travelled detour through coffee plantations around the Santa Maria de Dota circuit, a series of twisty, short, sharp spectacular ups and downs. Another problem soon revealed itself, and we suppose it applies to other countries also – what is on the map does not always reflect what is on the ground, and visa versa. It’s so easy to get lost forever in this particular neck of the woods.

Our final destination on one particular day was Orosi, but you try finding it. We got stuck in a loop somewhere between Cartago and Orosi. I stopped to ask a Tico the way and he pointed that way. At the same time a guy in a 4WD pulled up and told Roberto to follow him in the opposite direction. He was from Bromley in the UK, had lived in many countries including the USA, which explained his American accent, and now was settled in Orosi. Apart from playing the big drum professionally in Scottish pipe bands, he was also into older classic cars, which was why he stopped to help.

His neighbour ran a B&B so we stayed there instead of our chosen hotel. He and his partner were Americans, of the first generation hippy. He used to have a 1953 TD but it was stolen. It was an interesting place, as was Orosi itself. The town and surrounding area seemed to be full of aging dropouts from the USA, the UK, and Europe. We felt comfortable here, the town had a relaxed easy atmosphere. Maybe we should join our peer group.

Costa Rica is one of the best places to stick your head over the edge of an active volcano crater. Our route from Orosi to Volcan Poas took us around the capital, San Jose. I had bought a second Costa Rica map on the strength of its street plan of San Jose. Without it we would still be there now. Volcan Poas puts out a constant head of steam, the crater lake boils. You have to get up early to see it clearly; we got there about 8am just as the national park gates opened. One hour later and we couldn’t see the hand in front of our faces. Sadly, the tour buses arrive just as the cloud descends.

Volcan Poas crater still active

That didn’t take long to tick off the list so we decided to try to find La Paz Waterfall gardens - so many people had told us we really must go see. The entry price was extortionate but what the heck. It was worth every cent. The aviary was one of the best we’ve seen. We’ve long been of the opinion that the best way to see tropical rainforest birds is to view them from above, which the aerial walkways allow visitors to do. Did you know that there are hummingbirds the size of a bumble bee? And that some species of hummingbird can perch where others must feed on the wing?

Butterflies are things that lay eggs that turn into caterpillars that leave my cabbages looking like net curtains. We don’t get on. We entered a butterfly house where the air was full of huge, multicoloured beauties that took our breath away. The insect house had the same effect but for different reasons – we will never camp in rainforest after seeing these specimens, fortunately deceased and stuck to display boards with pins. Six inch nails would have been more appropriate.

Monkeys behave badly. Highly venomous snakes are odious. Remember the snake in Jungle Book? "Trussssst in meeee." Not likely. The notices said not to touch the glass. How come? I really looked forward to visiting the frogarium. Yes, I made it up. It was called a ranarium but frogarium gives you a better idea of what is in there - vivid red frogs the size of your thumbnail, lime green and navy blue frogs a little bigger, bright green tree frogs, yellow frogs, red and yellow frogs. They all look like plastic, until they breathe. Some were in glass cases, most were attached to leaves at varying heights housed in a walk through mini rainforest. As the frogs moved around, frogarium assistants moved little marker stickers to show you where they were. Another sign – "tread carefully" – made us wince.

Its all a bit Disney but in the best possible taste, set in beautiful gardens with trails kilometres long through genuine rainforest with waterfalls running out of the La Paz river. All in all it was a great day, and all done without road signs and a totally inaccurate map.

A boiling steaming sulphourous crater lake is one thing, but what about a live, highly active volcano spewing molten lava all day and all night long? To see this phenomena we headed to La Fortuna further northwest, first following the mountain backbone of Costa Rica and then dropping down to the Caribbean coastal plain. The heat hit us in the face like a brick.

La Fortuna owes its prosperity to a natural disaster that happened in 1978. A river suddenly started to run at 42C, which should have been a warning sign, followed by a major eruption of Volcan Arenal. It had been a sleeping giant up to that point. Since then, Volcan Arenal has never been quiet. A cloud of poisonous gases pours out constantly. Molten lava spills over the crater rim in quantities ranging from just visible to major firework displays. During daytime hours the lava is barely discernible. At night you can clearly see red molten rock tumbling and bouncing down the volcano slopes. Too many people have set off for an afternoon stroll up the volcano and never returned.

Typical river scene	Volcan Arenal active

The river still runs at 42C, now diverted through resort hotels that provide hotpools and other ridiculously expensive diversions. La Fortuna now offers many ways to set the adrenalin running with white water rafting, canoeing, kayaking, or canopy tours through rainforest. The whole area is great for hiking, cycling etc. We opted for a wetland tour on one of those flat bottomed boat things around the Cano Negra reserve. Our party wasn’t too big, the guide was great, the wildlife prolific. You get sick of the sight of caiman - they were everywhere, from tiny hatchlings to big guys one and a half meters long.

There were howler monkeys, white faced and spider monkeys, strange bright green lizard things with a mohecan spinal ridge, turtles, long-nosed bats that hung from a tree trunk in a pattern designed to resemble a boa constrictor, and prolific birdlife. And then there were stupid cows that had slipped into the river accidentally while trying to have a drink. One had been stuck in the water for three days, another had recently fallen in. A ranch-hand had been trying to drag them out of the river with a rope tied to his saddle. In sympathy, someone decided that if we all jumped ashore and got a hold of the rope and pulled, we might be able to help, so we did. We got both cows out of the water while a third busied itself trying to fall into the water. Poor caiman, denied a good feast.

Caiman	White faced monkey	One daft cow	Cattle ranch hand	Don't dry this a home

After all this cloud forest and rain forest and wildlife, we hit on the idea of a bit of R&R. We’d read about the Nicoya peninsular and its magnificent beaches, which is where we ended up, watching pelicans and frigate birds flying by and sipping Pina Coladas. Still kidding. Pelicans and frigate birds don’t drink Pina Colada either.

Our only regret about Costa Rica is not being able to get to Monteverdi, a mountain rainforest habitat that wildlife enthusiasts enthuse about. The road around Lake Arenal is reputed to be rough, and then it gets rougher heading up to Santa Elena, and then really really rough to Monteverdi. We found the lake road perfectly OK, obviously resurfaced after major washouts a couple of years ago. Experienced local guides had said that we would never get our TC anywhere near Monteverdi and that only the most rugged, ie. Land Rovers, could get up there. So we didn’t try. There are an awful lot of short wheelbase Land Rovers in Costa Rica, probably because the unsealed roads are red dirt and turn to red slime in the rainy season. The only dirt road we went down wasn’t exactly crash hot in the dry.

We left the Nicoya coast and headed back inland and picked up the Pan America northwards towards Nicaragua. This northerly area turned quickly into dry, open savannah with fewer trees, perfect for the huge cattle ranches. It is also home to poorer Ticos and it got poorer as we approach the border area. How can we tell – because of the amount of garbage strewn along the roadsides, the best indicator of poverty there is.

We knew this and the next three border crossings were going to be the most difficult of the entire trip. It took over two hours to fight our way through the chaos. We managed the exit from Costa Rica on our own, despite being hounded relentlessly by disreputable looking youths offering to "help" us through. The entry into Nicaragua was too much even for us, despite our extensive experience of border crossings. For the first time, we used one of the many "guides". We would never have sorted it out on our own. He wasn’t cheap but he did save us a car search by narcotics police so he was worth every dollar. All thirty of them.

As we were heading for the exit gates, a beat up Chevy pulled up with "Buenos Aires to Alaska" emblazoned on the side. We didn’t have time to stop and talk to the young man driving; our policeman wanted us through and out of his way quickly so he could get on with the serious business of lunch and siesta and ultimately driving some other poor motorist bonkers. Hello Nicaragua.

Copyright ©Bob & Lynne Douglas 2008

Latest Update: 16^th April 2008

That is the end of our trip through South America; 21621 kms later we are in Panama. We pick up the TC from the docks tomorrow morning and set off through Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala and Mexico to end up crossing the border into the USA at Douglas.

Hasta luego

Bob and Lynne

Article 11.

Panama to Costa Rica (April 2008)

 Copyright ©Bob & Lynne Douglas 2008

Let’s play a word association game. I say a word and you think of the first word that pops up in your head. OK. I say "Panama". You say…? Time’s up. I bet you thought "hat". Just for the record, Panama hats come from Ecuador; the best are made in Cuenca, and the very best are still hand-made by a couple of small shops in Cuenca.

The smarty-pants will have seen the ruse and maybe said "canal". So, I also bet that when you think of the Panama Canal, you think, like we did, of a long, narrow canal that links the Caribbean Ocean with the Pacific Ocean, thus saving container ships weeks of sea travel around some of the most treacherous waters in the world.

It isn’t a long, narrow canal at all. Well, it is 80 kilometers from one sea to another, so it is long. Most of it is a wide natural waterway, more a string of lakes at different levels than a channel, with a series of locks to raise and lower ships between the various levels. It is these locks that are narrow. The first ships that passed through these locks in 1914 had plenty of room. Today’s huge container and bulk carriers only just fit, most have one meter to spare either side. It is fascinating to watch as these monsters are guided through an impossibly tight gap. This is the only place on earth where a captain gives up control of his ship.

Entry Miraflores Lock	Will It fit	Only Just

Many people think that it is possible to drive the Pan American highway all the way from South to North America, through Colombia and into Panama. There is a distance of 54 kilometers that are impassable dense jungle known as the Darien Gap. It is reputed to be the territory of the lawless, bandits and drug runners. In reality it is a much debated piece of land where local inhabitants, conservationists and other interested parties are trying to hold off the day when tarmacadam replaces rainforest. Perhaps it would be handy to be able to drive the whole length of the Americas; handy that is if you fancy driving through the lawless bandit and drug runner territory known as Colombia.

Many things in life are not as you would expect. We thought Panama City would be all about the canal and port, seedy and scruffy like most ports with the usual fair share of lowlife, backed by an unattractive, charmless city. The canal is not just a marvel of engineering, but also scenic. Panama is a long narrow country with Costa Rica at its westerly border and Columbia at its easterly border. The canal cuts the country in half at its narrowest point.

The port of Bilboa is located to the east of the canal on the Pacific ocean, the city sits further to the east well away from the canal and port, a modern bustling city of high rise office blocks where a huge amount of worldwide trade is negotiated and managed. To the west of the canal there begins a string of beachfront development that sprawls as far as the Costa Rica border.

We didn’t have too long a wait for the TC to arrive by container ship. What we did have to wait for was the paperwork – reams of the stuff. If we thought that getting the TC into a container in Guayaquil was difficult, getting it off the dockside in Bilboa was like plaiting sawdust. I won’t bore you with details, but it’s a good job I don’t carry a firearm, otherwise there would be a pile of bodies to clear up. Maybe it’s time to invest in a cattle prod.

Travelling west along the Pacific Coast we soon realised that a formerly sleepy string of small, coastal villages with cabanas or small hotels is being bought up, demolished and replaced by executive residential resorts with golf courses, marinas, health spas, all gated and security guarded to protect those who can afford it from the local Panamanians who cannot. "Absolute beachfront" has hit Panama.

We found one of the few cabana hotels that are left: a blissful setting overlooking the tepid Pacific, perfect for swimming, snorkelling, fishing or dry-roasting. Panama is green and lush and colourful. The natives are friendly. The roads are good. The driving standards are as near normal as we have had for months. We could buy fresh fruit and veggies and eat salads again. The mangoes are to die for. To use motivational speak, Panama under-promised and over-delivered.

We headed further west towards David before heading inland and uphill towards Boquete. Approaching David, we both suddenly felt even hotter than normal, like sticking your head into a fan oven. The temperature must have gone up by at least 5C in the space of 30 seconds. We were wet through. I personally was really pleased that my nose isn’t any nearer to my feet. How do people live in this? Praise the Lord for airconditioning.

Boquete is at the head of a long, straight steady climb, up into the cloud forest. We were basically driving the long sweep up of an extinct volcano to go in search of the quetzal. What we found was a sprawling mountain village surrounded by a spider’s web of single track roads that wound around precipitous slopes covered in a patchwork of coffee, banana and tropical fruit plantations. Half of the place is just out of the cloud line, half is in the clouds. The difference in temperature is amazing; you can virtually draw a line on the ground to mark the transition.

What, you may ask, is a quetzal? It’s a bird, but no ordinary bird. Its full title is Resplendent Quetzal, and for good reasons. I still don’t know how big it is, but it has tail feathers twice the length of it’s body. It has a body of garnet red, with back and wings and tail feathers of brilliant emerald green. It has a crown of chestnut brown tufts, sort of punkish, and a small beak that gives it a "Tweetie Pie" expression, like the canary in Tom and Jerry cartoons. It is, above all else, a devil to spot.

We walked a mountain trail to bag our first quetzal. We were in cloud forest as opposed to rain forest. What’s the difference? With rainforest, sometimes it stops raining. Cloud may conjure up airy fairy pictures but you are basically in cloud and clouds carry water in suspension so really you are walking through mizzle. Which is good because at least it is cool.

Cloud and rain forest come in three layers – a lower storey of ground cover plants, a middle storey of mid-sized shrubs and low trees that tolerate shade and an upper storey of trees 20 to 30 meters high, all covered with plants and climbers that supported other plants and climbers in a jumble of jungle. Green is punctuated by vividly coloured flowers, dragonflies and butterflies.

Cloud forest is not quiet; it is full of bird song. You can come up with any number of randomly generated sounds and there is a bird somewhere that makes that sound. There are reversing lorries, a squeaking swing door that desperately needs some 3:1 oil, a bird that sounds like it is reading from an opticians eye chart, and then there is the "ooooo ooooo" where the first "ooooo" is higher pitched and the second "ooooo" is lower pitched. That sound was all around; it is the sound of the quetzal. How many did we see? A big, round zero.

We tramped uphill until we found a huge amphitheatre of vertical rock walls dripping with waterfalls and no sign of a way up. The track so far had been well walked until we ended up walking up a stream bed and emerged into this open space. The bit of track ahead had vegetation brushed aside, like animals make when they habitually tread the same path. There are leopard and jaguar in Central America. Sometimes it pays not to dwell on the possibilities.

We thought the best chance we stood of sighting the illusive quetzal was in a bird and animal sanctuary further down the side of the volcano. The guy who owned the sanctuary used to own a TC. Still no quetzals but instead a host of neurotic birds and animals suffering from the effects of silly people. They had a pair of macaws, until very recently the property of a Colombian drug baron. The birds will be waiting for him on his release in 50 years time. Not.

Flower	Dragonfly	You too can see a Toucan	National costume

It isn’t just the birds, flowers and butterflies that are a riot of colour – the national costume of Panamanian women comes in gawdy, bright colours too. Floor length baggy dresses straight out of the Stepford Wives are worn by many women in rural areas, and even by young girls. Maybe they are cool. I would have thought that the national costume of anyone living in this climate would be precisely nothing.

Panama also makes world prize winning coffee. That came as a surprise too. So, we went on a coffee plantation tour. We now know how to grow, pick, process and roast coffee. We know that no matter what the quality of coffee bean you start with, bad roasting will ruin it. A mild roast will give you the full nuances of the bean but with acidity that hits the front of your tongue; medium roast will be less acidic, and dark roast will have no acidity at all but loose most of the complicated flavours. It will also take on a smooth, choclatey flavour. Over roast will taste bitter.

The worst enemy of coffee beans and ground coffee is oxygen. Open a pack of vacuum sealed coffee and straight away the deterioration starts. After 3 weeks, chuck it away or drink more. The second enemy of coffee is boiling water, so let the jug rest for a minute before throwing water on coffee. People who use percolators should be shot at dawn. Plungers and mocha style coffee makers are fine. Those high tech shiny contraptions that take up such a huge amount of space are also fine, as are coffee filters. This is according to Guru the Guide.

If you want to box clever, buy only beans and put them in the freezer and invest in a grinder. Buy single estate, 100% Arabica guaranteed organically grown, shade grown, high altitude coffee beans. That means buy Panamanian coffee beans. Never heard of Panamanian coffee? Us neither until our coffee plantation tour. So where does it go? High end restaurants and high class retail outlets in the USA.

The only downside to Panama was the police checkpoints. After our experiences in South America we decided not to speak a word of Spanish, act daft and really make them work for whatever they wanted. We also decided not, under any circumstances, to hand over our original passports. Apparently they have no right to ask for them, photocopies will do. One particular checkpoint was manned by a couple of awkward b------s who demanded to see the originals and wouldn’t let us pass.

I opened up my passport and held on tight to one end. He pulled at the other, so I pulled on my end and he….. We played a game of tug of war for a while and he let go, cursed us, foolishly turned around so Roberto hit the accelerator and made a break for the hills. The official was jumping up and down on the spot shouting but couldn’t be bothered to give chase. Roberto swears he heard him tell us to get outa here. I never heard a thing.

We had five police stops in Panama; every time we worked the "no understand" act and it worked. The only way to find out if they were genuine or private enterprise was to give them the documents they wanted and see what happened, but by then it would be too late so not engaging in any form of dialogue was the better option.

The border crossing into Costa Rica was, we suspect, symptomatic of what we are to face throughout Latin America. Touts posing as officials approached with offers of help to guide us through the procedures and then of course, they want money. We can now cross borders blindfold but they don’t understand "no". We have also entered the land of the photocopy. They want multiple copies of every document, which we carry always, and then do nothing with them, insisting on seeing the originals to process us and the car. Somewhere along the line the photocopies disappear. Maybe they have shares in timber companies.

© Lynne Douglas 2008