We
stopped and peered carefully into the shaded brush to find a ten foot reticulated
python staring right back at us, his probing tongue probably sensing our
fear and fascination. The magnificent creature was the first
in a long series of wondrous encounters we were to have that made up for
all our previous frustrations that included coati mundis, immense iguana’s,
alligators, tropical porcupines, countless exotic birds and small reptiles,
and spectacular butterflies and insects. It was just the first day and
already I had to begin rationing my film stock. At this rate there was
no telling how much better the show was going to get. Waiting in line to
catch the car ferry crossing the Gulf of Nicoya to head up into the peninsular
mountains we encountered a fellow who having discerned our desire to experience
the country’s more obscure natural splendors offered his services guiding
us to a cavern at the top of a nearby peak.
The
steep incline was arduous, but visions of Journey to The Center of the
Earth provided inspiration enough to endure the weight of my camera gear
and all that heat in anticipation of an unforgettable lost world discovery.
We stopped
occasionally to re-hydrate and take in the widening panorama as the elevation
increased and I hardly even bothered with the wildlife we saw on the
way up for fear of running my film supply low before attaining our goal.
Finally we reached that magic moment during peak ascents where there was
nothing more above us, which I couldn’t understand, thinking the mouth
of a cavern should have been visible long before we got anywhere near it.
After catching our breath our guide walked us toward some trees, and there
at their base he proudly pointed to an opening in the ground, barely wide
enough for me to squeeze into.
“!No es
possible!’’ I scowled while removing my pack and extracting my floodlight.
Gaping in, the hole broadened to a couple of meters, but dropped almost
vertically making entry impossible. Whip scorpions clung to the ‘ceiling’
not far from three tiny bats, each probably wondering who the idiot was
blinding them with that damn light.
Withdrawing
in disgust, Babe had her ‘peek’ experience, and we departed, shaking unbelieving
heads. On the way down I offered my definition of a cavern to our guide
for future reference, and it didn’t include holes smaller than my neighbor’s
dog digs under my backyard fence.
But there were
to be many compensating experiences, each exceeding our expectations.
Hikes along
the southern coast found us deep in some real caverns containing unfathomable
bat populations; tracking Scarlet Macaws first audible from over a kilometer
away; startling herds of peccaries into small scale stampedes; happening
upon a bespectacled owl who sat as still as a Buddha as I flashed away
at close range; and Cappucine monkeys shaking their little fists at us
while hurling threats and insults in Cappucine.
In the central
highlands one national park allowed no over-nighting but we were advised
that adjacent farmers might let us camp on their land. The first family
we inquired with was most accommodating and not a little amused at the
hammock/net cocoons that we slung in a grove of towering mahoganies.
The earth-shattering
roar of howler monkeys blasted us out of a peaceful sleep at first light
the next morning.
A
large troop of them had settled in directly above during the night, miraculously
missing us with their prodigious effluvia.
It was walking
through a minefield getting back to the redecorated truck.
We left this
small country so impressed we even began talking about returning some day,
but with a much, much longer visit planned - as in permanently. There was
no end to our little schemes.
Our friends
thought we were crazy – all this nonsense of wanting to leave the bland
security of the States behind to carve out a new life in the hills of some
banana republic.
I’ve long suspected
we must have been wandering nomads in some previous lifetime, little interested
in cultural conventions.
It had become
painfully obvious, a truism if not a mantra, that to us life is these submersions
into exotica.
Everything
else is just waiting.
The following
are John's previous articles for the magazine:
We
stopped and peered carefully into the shaded brush to find a ten foot reticulated
python staring right back at us, his probing tongue probably sensing our
fear and fascination. The magnificent creature was the first
in a long series of wondrous encounters we were to have that made up for
all our previous frustrations that included coati mundis, immense iguana’s,
alligators, tropical porcupines, countless exotic birds and small reptiles,
and spectacular butterflies and insects. It was just the first day and
already I had to begin rationing my film stock. At this rate there was
no telling how much better the show was going to get. Waiting in line to
catch the car ferry crossing the Gulf of Nicoya to head up into the peninsular
mountains we encountered a fellow who having discerned our desire to experience
the country’s more obscure natural splendors offered his services guiding
us to a cavern at the top of a nearby peak.
