Jumping onto the back of the “limo” (Monty)

We went up on the tractor. Daddy walked up. But Daddy hided until the tractor went past and then he ran and jumped on when the tractor went past. And when we got to the top, the driver must have said “what?” because we only had 4 people on at the beginning (3 children and 1 Mummy) but then also 1 Daddy was on at the end. Then later Mima and me pushed Daddy in the pool.



Jumping onto the back of the “limo” (Hugh)

What amused me about this was that the driver, bless him, didn’t seem to register the different number of passengers in the back of his truck when we got to the top. There’s no way he saw me get on. Over supper, the driver’s apparent disinterest in the world around him spawned a number of different ideas from the family. We wondered how far we could take this. We might get Monty to call the limo to pick him up, and then hide the rest of the family on the trail on the way up to the hotel. Would a flicker of surprise register if 4 new people are in the back when he opens the door at the top? Or maybe we would all get out a little early, so there is no one inside at all when he gets to the top? Maybe we could collar even some other hotel guests to maximise the fun.

Of course, it is also possible that the driver is smarter than the rest of us and that he has seen all this before and spent years honing his “I’m not surprised” expression when such hilarious jokes are played on him.





(Monty) One day we went to the cave and then we walked to the waterfall but we didn’t go all the way because we had open shoes and we thought that we would get bitten by a snake. We saw parrots in the trees on top of us.



Then we had lunch.

Surfing with Bull sharks (Hugh; more for my own memory so you may want to skip this)

On our various boat trips, I had been enjoying admiring the various breaks that we passed with Roberto our guide.

Shorebreak

It was not long before we discovered a mutual interest in surfing. He is a recent convert, having only surfed for 4 months, but his tutor is one of the young captains here, also called Roberto (“El Pelican”), who is a big wave surfer. The coast around here boasts occasional breaks of up to 7 metres, although you have to be prepared for the odd encounter with bull sharks. Needless to say, overcrowding is not a problem. Another captain, Oscar, also surfs and the three of them go out after work, between 4pm and dark. You can see where my mind was going.

We hatched a plan. We were to meet at 430 on Thursday night, down by the boat. A bit overexcited, I was at the agreed spot, but no one showed. Finally, rather late, a breathless Roberto arrived to report that the hotel owner (a yank) had got wind of the plan and stuck his oar in, not happy with the hotel’s liability. This, despite a note from me to the Manager taking full responsibility for my own actions and formally absolving the hotel of any liability. I was pretty mad, not being a great fan of the moronic American approach to matters of this sort - had I come to some grief, this is not a case which even the great Barney Branston would have picked up with any relish.

Not a happy chappy

After a bit of searching I found the owner later that night and gave him a piece of my mind. Such a shame to find this blight here in such an otherwise perfect place, and a totally counterproductive state of mind. So I am not allowed to go surfing, but when I hurt myself through no fault of the hotel doing a formally organised activity e.g. bitten by a snake on a walking tour, or, as could well have happened the next day, I drown when sent off unaccompanied on a morning’s sea kayaking in 3 metre waves, I sue the hell out of everyone I can see. Not my style but I guess he wasn’t to know.

Things look up the next afternoon, when Roberto’s smiley face appears from a hole in the bushes across the pool from us, indicating that a covert surfing trip is on the cards. I grab my rash vest, kiss the family goodbye, and leg it down to the beach. There are four of us, the usual team and me. I am lent a board, Roberto’s 6’5 short board, while he takes his spare. The 3 others are super-excited – it is supposed to be the biggest swell so far this year. Pelicano had been past Rio Claro earlier and reports 3-4 metre waves, the biggest that he has ever seen there. Given that he lives here, this is clearly going to be quite a big day. I am getting worried that I have overcooked my “chat”.

We head for Rio Boscio, the next bay along from the hotel. We are in Roberto’s “lancha”, a tiny boat with me perched on the prow.



It takes 10 minutes or so, then we arrive. Roberto gives me a mini-briefing. There are bull sharks here, he says, and he was “bumped” by one a few weeks ago, leaving him with a scratch on his shin. Another had an encounter with a 3 metre bull shark a few weeks before, legged it to the beach and had to be picked up by boat. These sharks are notoriously aggressive and a couple of years ago accounted for 2 policemen lost crossing a river down at Sirena. The drill if you see one is to shout very loudly and make a shark fin with your hand on your head, a signal I have probably not used since the heady days of “Downtown Manhattan” in Oxford. Before we plop over the side, everyone smears a little gasoline into their shins – bull sharks don’t like the taste apparently.

Each then settles to the task of waxing and scraping, then one by one we pop over the side and paddle off to the break. You can see, from the back at least, what looks like an immense wave, breaking from left to right. We are paddling, in silence, 50 or so yards apart. Total silence. I am Mike Parsons in the opening scene of “Billabong Odyssey” the best 3 minutes in the history of cinematography (it’s on Youtube). Just the sound of the water as I paddle, and the roar of the shorebreak in the distance.

A couple of locals are already in the water and we swap “yeehaas”. All these guys are really friendly, keen to show a gringo their waves, not resentful of new heads in the line-up. Looking back as the waves march in, they are absolutely terrifying, and Roberto, Oscar and I hang back as Pelicano and the locals get involved. It turns out that Roberto is not at all experienced, and has no intention of touching any of these waves. Oscar is similarly shell-shocked, but I haven’t come 3000 miles just to hang back and watch. After a good while pondering how to go about this. I finally pluck up courage, paddle in and catch one.

I just remember looking down this wonderful smooth surface from the peak – it feels like I am looking down at the base of the wave out of a first storey window. And then I am standing up, but I’m too slow, and the board is literally sucked from my feet and disappears beneath me. I see it go into the water nose first and say my prayers, as I am surely going to land straight onto the rear, three fins into my backside. But this doesn’t happen – goodness where the board went, but I disappear into the depths of the tube and am rolled around for what seems like minutes before I am spat out. I look up, and I am only yards from the beach, then turn out to sea and see the next monster on its way in. I grab the board, and paddle like a man possessed out to sea, desperate to get back out before I am munched. I make it, but only just. The wave is breaking, I use my newly perfected duck dive, and dive down, as deep as I can. It’s just deep enough. I feel the wave plucking at my ankles but not hard enough to pull me back with it. I am back in the lineup.

Hardly a confidence building experience, but I am still in one piece, and during the next hour or so, try two more times. I never properly get up. The next attempt sees me stand up too soon and the wave passes underneath me. The third attempt is almost as gnarly as the first, but on a smaller wave and I don’t get so badly mauled. I am luckier than one of the locals, Samuel, whose board is snapped clean in two. The whole experience is just something else, though, and I need to get better, come back and do this again. The camaraderie in the boat on the way back is good laddish fun – my appalling Spanish proving good enough to join in. As we approach the hotel beach, we must return through the surf, and I am told to hold on tight. Pelicano guns the engine, gives it maximum revs then checkins through the rocks to beach the boat a good 10 yards up from the high tide mark. This manoeuvre is called “la pista” and avoids having to carry the boat up the beach. Good fun, but I don’t think it would go down so well with some of the older hotel guests.

We went again the next day, 430pm at the beach. Again no success on my part, and I get really badly mauled twice. Both times I was trying to catch some smaller waves nearer the beach and just didn’t see big sets coming in time. The first time I used my duck dive, but couldn’t get deep enough, and as the wave curls over me, I feel myself become part of the curl itself, am pulled over on my back, and just hold on to the board for dear life. I don’t know how long it takes, but finally I feel the beach on my backside, stand up, and am in ankle deep water. And that was holding onto the board. What would have happened if I’d lost the board, goodness knows.

I am not good enough to be here, nowhere near, so spend the next 10 minutes or so watching the others. Some of the locals are seriously good. At least I got out of the boat though. Oscar, very wisely perhaps, stayed resolutely put. I think he will live longer than the other guys.

Sirena

(Hugh) This trip is the jewel in the lodge’s crown and fully justified National Geographic’s description of Corcovado as “the most wildlife intense place on the planet”. Here we saw all 4 types of Costa Rica’s monkey within 30 minutes of starting our tour, all from only a few feet away.



All sorts of birds, the enormous Tiger Herons, “Great” Curucao and “Magnificent” Frigate Bird being my favourite. More of those dubious descriptive adjectives again in birds’ names – these go well with the “Resplendent” Quetzal. Finally, after some searching, a tapir – very hard to find even here and lovely to see one in the wild, chewing away on some leaves as if we weren’t even there.

(Monty) It was Mima’s birthday




and we went to see Tapirs but we didn’t find any. Then we went to the river with crosodiles in but there were no crocodiles. Then it started raining and I said I think I want to go back now. Then Mima heard some other people say I think there’s a tapir here and so we went back and it was a tapir. It had a nose like an elephant and it was quite smelly like a horse but not as smelly as the pig from Venezuela.




(Jemima) We woke up at 6am as we had to wake up early for a tour to Sirena, one of the best places to see wildlife in Costa Rica. We had breakfast early and Roberto our guide was already having breakfast, he came to join us for his main hot course and left on the boat at about 7.15. We had to leave the pier on one boat and then go onto another boat as the other boat was too big and low so we had to use the other boat to start. The journey was about one hour, we went on some awesome waves and when we got there we heard a taypia so we were all being very quiet but we didn’t see one. We saw lots of animals and it was very hot so we stopped for a rest at the power station (Ed. ? National Park Station) and then carried on.




We were very hot until it started to rain so we weren’t hot no longer we were freezing and cold. We went through the forest and walked by a river and then some people called us and said it’s a taypia, it’s a taypia and so we all ran and we saw it right in front of our eyes about 2 metres away it was amazing. Then we carried on through the jungle back to the power station to have lunch and we saw a snake that was eating a lizard, obviously he won’t be hungry for a while. It stopped raining and then we went back to our boat and went back to the lodge. We had supper and I nearly fell asleep at the table at the end but then the waiters came with a cake and sang happy birthday, THE CAKE WAS REALLY YUMMY.

Cano Island (Jemima)

We woke up at 730am and had breakfast. I had an omelette. There we met Roberto again for maybe the third time while we were in the jungle lodge. Happily he was a very nice man. We went down on the “limo” (tractor) and met a boat man with his boat. He was called Oscar. He was going to take us to a snorkelling island call Cano Island and on the way (you will never guess) we saw some spotted dolphins – they were having their breakfast.




They were very cool the way they came up to breath in pairs. Apparently they could hold their breath for about 10 minutes. Then we carried on the island. When we got there, well, we were about 20 metres off shore, we got changed into our swimming suits, put on our snorkels and flippers and went snorkelling from the boat.





We saw lots of fish. They were very big. We even saw a white-tipped shark and a turtle. It was very cool. We went to about 3 reefs on the boat and then we went to the beach. Eliza Monty and I made a house for hermit crabs as there were lots of hermit crabs on the beach. Then we all went to lunch as Roberto had brought us a picnic. After lunch we went to the house for hermit crabs but they had all escaped so we played another game. After about 2 hours on the beach when the tide was in, we set off on the boat. We were one of the last families to leave the beach. This time on the way back we didn’t see any dolphins but it was really fun. When we got back to the jungle lodge we got changed and settled down and wrote our diaries and drew pictures until finally it was time for supper. So went to the restaurant, had all the courses and by the time we had finished we were very tired so we all went to bed.




The palm that wanted to be famous

Corcovado (Hugh)

This is the best place we have been, ever, anywhere. It is a very special place.




You arrive at Palmar Sur after a 30 minute flight from San Jose. A 20 minute bus ride deposits you at Sierpe, a sleepy town on the river. A 90 minute boat ride, first along the river through mangrove swamps, and latterly over the sea, sees you eventually crashed ashore in heavy surf. Your gear is taken off the boat for you, and you have a 10 minute tractor ride (the “limo”) to the lodge itself.



We had been booked into two bungalows, numbers 7 and 8, about 50 yards apart. Having received the reception briefing (always carry a torch at night, stay on the trail etc.) we thought that worried kids might not enjoy the trip across to see Mummy and Daddy during the night, so decided all to bunk together and were given a larger bungalow with 4 huge double beds, draped in mosquito netting. This decision proved quite wise I think – this place is basically right in the middle of the jungle and there are come pretty crazy sounds, crashes, hoots and so on, going off all through the night. We saw several potentially lethal snakes here with the closest antivenom an hour distant.



Even while being shown to our rooms, we saw monkeys,



toucans, coati,


and passed too many tarantula holes to mention. Jemima and I checked these holes with our torches each night on the way to supper, but had no luck unfortunately [we saw plenty of Costa Rican nightjars though – just like on Hindhead Common, these guys sit on the path like bats and fly up and a few yards away when disturbed; this leads to the myth that if you follow a nightjar into the forest, you will get lost].

We did 3 guided trips here; one walking safari into the neighbouring National Park;







a snorkelling trip to Cano Island; and then a boat ride to Sirena Reserve deep in the middle of the Park on Mima’s birthday. First, Cano Island. Over to Jemima.

Tortuguero (Hugh)

We had a good time here, but only through conjuring up some good humour from time to time. One day, both Monty and Eliza were down with some minor ailment. A bit of sleep and both came good again, Eliza having thrown up the requisite number of times, once rather spectacularly, at lunch. Spaghetti – quite a display.



Mawamba lodge is not a bread and butter Goodfellow experience; set meal times and buffet bar food required us to queue, eat what we are given, and socialise with other people. But after some 3 weeks on our own, the necessity for social niceties came at a good time, and we enjoyed ourselves. The French/Americans were very good fun, and I had some educational chats with a very interesting Chilean gentleman. We tasked the children to find out mundane facts about various adults that we met (what’s your favourite animal that you have seen?; where do you come from?; what’s your name?; etc.) and they took to this game with some gusto. It has since proven difficult to turn this functionality off, however, and strangers are now being accosted willy-nilly, causing surprise and occasionally alarm.

The wildlife here is stunning, and we had some good safaris, both on foot and by boat. My favourite trip was a guided one that I took with Jemima in a double kayak.



With a guide, we were delivered by boat to the edge of Tortuguero lagoon, then kayaked on through a tiny canal into the depths of the forest.



Initially, I thought Jemima was going to tire of this quite quickly, but she got into it as we spotted more and more wildlife, then ultimately she asked if we could paddle all the way back to the hotel instead of taking the boat, which we did, munching manzanas de agua on the way. The highlight was sitting underneath a tree while a large troop of white-faced capuchin monkeys crossed the canal along a tree branch only feet above our heads.

One evening reinforced for the kids the lesson that things don’t always go their way, when we paid to go on a night-time tour to watch turtles laying eggs, and no turtles turned up that day. We spent a rather wet couple of hours in the dark sitting on an airstrip, while we waited for the turtle spotters to report positive sightings. When none turned up, we went back home again. By this time (10pm) all 3 kids had fallen asleep on the tarmac. Not a whole load of fun, but personally I was quite relieved not to have had to disturb the turtles in what I saw as a rather voyeuristic tourist experience. If the Costa Ricans are really concerned about saving the turtles, I think they should ban this activity and just let the turtles get on with it. Admittedly only 5 kms of the total 22kms nesting beaches are open to tourists, but those beaches are the least successful nesting sites by some distance, funnily enough. The Tortuguero town itself is 100% devoted, one way or another, to the tourist industry and I don’t think they’ve got this place quite right – the guides are a bit tired – they see people like us every day of the year, on a 2 day turn-around and you feel a bit like one tiny bit of meat in a sausage machine. When the time came to leave we were ready to go.

Thankfully we flew out this time, and so didn’t have to endure tourist buses and live commentaries on the 6 hour return trip. We were the only people on our plane, piloted by a rather racy young lady. Security precautions were amusingly lax. As the pilot was completing her final checks, a local rather lazily cycled past us down the runway. He was about halfway along the runway as we past him doing about 150 miles an hour, the wind from the propellers ruffling his hair as he pottered along.

Tortuguero (Monty & Eliza)

We holded some frogs. They were called red eyed tree frogs.



We went on a walk to hold the tree frogs and then we went for a little walk and we went in these kind of net houses and first we saw blue butterflies called the Morpho butterflies which are actually brown but because they use up all the light they look shiny blue on the front. Then there was another netty thing and we saw frogs in there. We saw blue jeans frogs, a yellow and black one, a red eyed tree frog and a yellow one.

We had breakfast and then we went on a boat trip to find wild animals and we saw some baby crocodiles and some birds and herons and howler monkeys and one spider monkey and we saw a few baby monkeys as well. And then we came back for lunch and then we went swimming and we held some baby frogs and I throwed a drop at it and an iguana jumped in and went swimming in our pool and then it did climb out the other side it did and I shouted there’s a lizard in the pool there’s a lizard in the pool. Jemima said it swam right past her on the bottom. She saw it she did.




Then we let some baby frogs go. We had to give names to the baby frogs and I called mine Fluffy and Spike.

Tortuguero (Hugh)

Today we get an opportunity to travel in one of the coaches driven by crazy men who overtake speeding motorists on blind corners. In addition, this guy has some kind of disability in that he can only brake using short intermittent and sharp jerks of his right leg. The kids watch “Star Wars IV”, which I previously knew as “Star Wars”. Our Nintendo DSs remain in the back pockets of our hire car, now returned. Hopefully the car cleaners have kids.

Our guide on the bus is a Caribbean called Henry with a really dubious sense of humour, broadcast throughout the bus with a powerful microphone. I put earplugs in ostentatiously whenever he starts on a new topic but this does not throw him off balance at all. In our tour bus, we are accompanied by Chileans, a French/American family, a large group of humourless Belges, some Dutch, a gay couple from Florida (who simply lurve the children) and an English couple (the first Brits we have met on this trip). I think the Americans enjoyed us Brits introducing ourselves. It went like this – “Hello, where are you from?” [Sally]. “Surrey” [Sarah]. “I said where are you from?” [Sally]. “Surrey” [Sarah]. Repeat ad libid.

The second leg of the journey is more fun; we are in a boat this time journeying into the Tortuguero National Park. On the way in, we see red spider monkeys, howlers, spoonbills,
iguanas,
caimans and birds of all sorts of lizards.There are also manatees here but these favour the grazing at the bottom of the canal rather than swinging through the trees, so we do not see any. I cannot hear the word “manatees” without recalling a late night conversation with Mel Holland and Martin Large at a Salmons’ dinner party long ago, when both Martin and I misheard as “huge manatees”, Mel telling us that she was studying Humanities. A long and confusing exchange followed, not helped by high background noise.

I have good form on this kind of thing. A recent conversation witnessed by Sarah was my discussion with the posada manager in Los Roques (imagine a strong Spanish accent) during which he was explaining that he would come with me with a baggage trolley to do ‘the Chicane’ at Gran Roque airport. I then asked somewhat quizzically and using appropriate swerving hand gestures, why we would have to run a Chicane between the posada and the airport, a very straight forward five minute walk, Sarah collapsed in giggles and refused to engage any further. Maybe that bit of my brain is missing. It took me years to understand the “where’s the soap?” joke.

Cracking lodge this (Mawamba). Quite basic, positioned on a spit of land between the Tortuguero Canal and the Caribbean Sea. There is swell here on the beach, but not really surfable and no hire shops. There are large signs everywhere saying “no swimming”, and there are certainly strong rip currents, but I haven’t drowned yet. Perhaps there are sharks, I don’t know.


Here at the hotel we’ve seen a snake, lots of frogs (some of which have been persecuted by the kids), and the usual gamut of giant insects. Sitting outside our rooms in the dark, we have been used as climbing frames by various spiders and crickets.
This is a little unnerving, but the locals seem to survive so we have been taking the view that we will too.

9th – 16 July The Bermuda triangle week (Sarah)

Ok so no internet in Monte Verde and Arenal. Not surprising given that a substantial proportion of the population still appear to use the horse as their main form of transport. What we got up to - a brief summary:

Thurs 9th

Leave Jaco having caught the surf one last time and inadvertently all burnt properly in the sun having eschewed suncream as we are now locals. Visit Walter’s Surf Shack to see what having a Costa Rican surfing dad would be like (Special ‘Walter’s Surf Shack’ T-Shirt and photos to follow dad). Call at surf beach densely populated by claw waving crabs. Wave back.

Push onward on extremely wiggly road along coast which suddenly viers away from the sea, swiftly loses tarmac and becomes extremely wiggly steep and bumpy road.
Go up and up and up through clouds, past cowboys, yukka plants and coffee plantations to Monte Verde. The views are amazing and the scenery fabuluous. A mad mad place in the middle of mad mad nowhere. This is a mecca for bird watchers the guide book tells us. Not once our kids arrive then.

Fri 10th

Early off to Monte Verde Aventure Adrenalin place, morning stroll through hanging walkway jungley humming bird trail brings humming birds but little else. I spot a female Resplendent Questal but the females lack the resplendent tail which apparently is the point. She was jolly pretty though in a tailess sort of way.

Fab zip wires though, lots of speed, lots of length 510m the longest and not too much braking so several rides ending in human tourist / crash barrier entanglements. Hugh and the girls partake of the ‘Tarzan swing’ a 50 foot pendulum on a bungey cord. They of course think this is fabulous. Monty and I look on. Of course I know its only a matter of time before Monty joins them and I am left to spectate on my own for the rest of time. Mental note, take up knitting.

Not enough adrenalin for Goodfellow genes though, oh yes an afternoon’s canyoning ensues and guess what…. I get to be maniac-mum and go with the girls.

Why is it that the world over blokes cannot resist the opportunity, if given the chance, to drop a woman thirty or forty feet straight down on a rappel line. Yes and Hugh does have video evidence and yes I did make a very long silly girly wooping noise. Such a good role model… J and E didn’t woop at all, they have that gene thing going on I suppose.

Survived that day intact.

Sat 11th

Riding fun: Our first ever riding en famille is at El Rodeo (not sure about the name, makes me feel a bit anxious) with Kelvin our very accommodating guide and two very enthusiastic bouncing dogs. Hugh’s mission this holiday when on horseback seems to be to become ‘Zorro’ he tends to hair around the place somewhat out of control with one arm in the air and a big beaming grin. Quite cute actually. Anyway we all ride out western style for a couple of hours, the horses behave impeccably, the kids are still smiling at the end so all in all a positive outcome. Begin to wonder if we’re turning into the Waltons. Waltons on a sugar rush maybe.

Still more thrills – the Monte Verde WORLD OF INSECTS beckons. Not your usual
zoological experience, here the guy takes you in by yourselves to what is essentially an old aircraft hanger built into the side of the mountain. He doesn’t just point at the insects, giant cockroaches, tarantulas,
dung beetles, scorpions etc he only flipping grabs them, thrusts them in your direction and says things like ‘no poisonous’, ‘no dangerous’, ‘only biting a little bit’. Is this covered in our holiday insurance I wonder. Too bad, I turn round and Hugh is clutching some sort of scorpion. OMG.

Sun 12th

Hike trails around the Lodge and again don’t see very much wildlife. Funny that. There is now baking sunshine.

Leave Monte Verde in the late morning and drive down down through the cloud forest past the cowboys, back down to the farming lands. Lots of wee stops as usual and also usual suspicion that sat-nav lady has completely lost the plot.

Finally after very circumvented route arrive at what is supposed to be the most breathtaking volcano in Costa Rica to find…… a cloud.

All that and a few monkey sighting stops uses up the whole of daylight so we hunker down at hotel for the night.


Mon 13th

Early start – guided walk through the hanging bridges at lake Arenal Rain forest reserve. Our guide, this time a young guy called David again goes beyond the call of duty in teaching us Gringos about the fauna and flora. He shows us FOUR baby eye lash pit vipers within metres of the path, oh how reassuring to know that in our ignorance we would have marched straight past them. He shows us native injun type stuff like where bats have eaten away at the palms to make shelters, and Monty’s favourite, a nest of tiny Motmot chicks.

We have still more scheduled fun in the afternoon. A hike up some old lava flows would have been splendid if not for the dense cloud and sudden driving rain but hey, we had big sticks to bash each other with so everyone was happy.

Rain gone and on to the Hot Springs……….. now these hot babies were coooool. If I were to choose a party destination I think the hot springs at Arenal would be up there. You can sit in the steaming pools or under one of the hot waterfalls, supping a Marguerita or suchlike while listening to the sounds of the rainforest unwind around you. Maybe not quite so relaxing with three kids shouting ‘mummy mummy look I can pretend to be dead as they sink under the water with their eyes wide open…….but there did seem to be plenty of grown ups having grown up sort of fun, you know, conversations…..witty repartee…..parking chat.

Tues 14th

Our second ride and a huge one at that. Literally thirty gringos and cowboys on a sort of cowless cattle drive through the lowlands of Arenal to a rather spectacular waterfall. These Cowboy guides seemed to be real McCoy although a bit of showing off involved, lots of unnecessary galloping around over very short distances between gringos and shouting the Equivalent of ‘Arriba arriba’.

We didn’t have swimmers with us, communication issues I think, so we girls opted out of swimming in the shoals of what looked like trout at the bottom of the waterfall in just their pants but Monty and Zorro went for it. They both developed a new form of ‘pantless riding’ on the return journey. Bit of a risk to your manhood I would have thought but it seemed to work for them.

Again kids and horses were on great form, grins all round especially from Eliza’s horse. Zorro and I managed to charge about a bit, as did Mima on ‘Little Black’ her new favourite horse after Benji.

Back to hotel for pool action – you had to get there over a hanging bridge which added to the charm. Then supper at the most fantastic Steak house with panoramic views of the volcano and Arenal lake - truly spectacular now that they weren’t hiding behind clouds in the manner of a Dartmoor tor.

Weds 15th

Jeez you have to get up early in this continent – pick up at 6.50 today which means generally that there’s no chat, chanting or scrapping in the Goodfellow family for the first hour or so. This often gives the wrong impression to other uninitiated people who are picked up at the same time as us that our children are impeccably behaved.

Little do they know that the kids are still powering up for the day ahead. If they were worked by remote control this would be the equivalent of ‘standby’. Today’s victims are a lovely young couple from Texas, I cannot imagine when they got up at the crack of dawn they were thinking Gee I hope I’ll get to spend the rest of the day on an inflatable raft being asked incessant questions and engaged in constant conversation by a group of overly persistent British kids.

The raft trip threatens to be a disaster, for the first half an hour we spot only a butterfly which has landed on Eliza’s arm and now appears to be stuck there.
Alfonso the guide seems like a sweetheart but has such a thick accent that the kids give up asking questions as his answers although animated are virtually unintelligible, they revert to the beleagured Texans.

Things turn around magically as we spot all sorts of amazing wildlife at really close hand, the best being a six foot crocodile lazing on the bank. Monty who has refused to believe that there are crocs in the river thus far whilst we have all been threatening to throw him in, suddenly has very very wide eyes indeed. There are sloths, howlers, bats, emerald basilisks, iguanas etc etc.

At one point chaos ensues as Alfredo finds a poison dart frog in the undergrowth at the side of the river and brings it to the raft only for it to jump out of his hand and into the swirling water. Poison dart frogs do not shoot rapids, they are approximately two centimetres long and mostly seem to walk around at the bottom of trees.

Alfredo shouts ‘ My frooooog’ in a very plaintiff manner so we all abandon ship and search, initially to no avail, it is nowhere to be seen, the raft begins to float off…… the Texans hurl themselves back in…. then after time stands still for a few seconds Mima spots the tiny lifeless red and blue form shooting downstream at a rate of knots. Alfredo hurls himself into the water and emerges triumphant clutching his prize. The frog seems to shrug off its problems pretty much immediately and we even manage to have a celebratory photo shoot.


Later on as Hugh Eliza and I trail Spider monkeys and a Crested Guan (the most enormous flying emu like bird) through the forests by the hotel, the volcano begins to errupt and I mean reeeeeeally erupt. Hugh says something beautifully understated like ‘goodness me you can see the pyroclastic flow, lets go check if Monty and Mima are ok…’ and I go into full blockbuster apocalypse panic mode:

Streaking is the wrong word but running through the forest at full pelt imagining giant burning boulders ripping through the trees and the hotel buildings. Would we survive? Would we have time to get into the car before it is destroyed and drive at top speed, tyres squealing, away from the volcano with the ground cracking and shuddering beneath us? What about the noxious gases which the eruption would emit? At what point on the way back to our room would we succumb to the sulphurous fumes and be unable to even crawl to rescue the children from their plight?

Anyway, we got back to the hotel where the world and their pets had gathered on the terrace to have a beer and watch the eruption from the comfort of their deck chairs, Monty and Mima are still watching the Silver Surfer completely oblivious to the rest of the world, so I power down again and crack open an Imperial.


Thurs 16th

We’re due to leave Arenal today and return to San Jose for more early morning pick up fun on Friday. We decide to take a punt and hire horses directly from the hotel for a hack out before we leave.

This time its just us, six horses and a Costa Rican guy called Herman who has no English but who is just a complete dude. Its raining so he rides Western with a huge yellow poncho and a battered old hat pulled down over his ears. All you can see under his hat is his big wide grin. If Herman had a cigar and a revolver he could have been riding out with Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Herman has utter confidence in the horses, i.e. that Monty’s regularly rides out with babes on its back. We start off cautiously but soon gain confidence and have an hour and a half of quite possibly the best riding I could imagine. Herman brings up the rear with Monty trotting both of them grinning like Cheshire cats. Zorro and I canter and gallop at the front only waiting for Herman, Monty and Herman’s directional hand signals and the girls canter at a beautifully lolloping pace in between. For once we are perfectly matched to our steeds i.e. mine is more forward going than Zorro’s so his horse follows mine which lends a little more control to the ride than usual, the girls horses are willing but steady and I don’t think Monty’s had a panic button at all.

Just brilliant.

Costa Rican horses don’t do apples by the way, we tried and I wouldn’t say that this lot get rewarded with a polo and a pat on the neck. I don’t think Costa Ricans are as sentimental about their steeds as us lot. Not to say that they are poorly looked after just that they are expected to do a job and do it properly, end of.

We leave Arenal having had just the most fantastic time and make it back to San Jose in time for the next adventure.

Arenal – “is there actually a volcano here?” (Hugh)

Arenal is another amazing place that Costa Rica offers within a few hours drive of anywhere else that you might have been previously. The journey here was predominantly (time-wise at least) conducted on mud tracks. We left mid-morning, initially running through, and ruining the start of, a massive (>2000 riders) 50km mountain bike race, the participants ranging from the occasional professional through granddads, kids, even punters on unicycles (from what I saw this was almost immediately regretted), but after leaving Santa Elena, we saw almost no one for many many miles. We were trusting our loyal satnav, but there were times when that trust began to run thin. By the time we made Ticaran, we were running seriously low on diesel. But Ticaran brought fuel salvation, along with some advice for the best local eatery at Plaza del Café 8 (12) kms further on.

It was a long old road around Arenal lake, but finally, the first monkey sighting (by Sarah). Far off in a tree, requiring us to park on a blind corner, but definitely a monkey. We don’t yet know what sort. [it was a howler]

It is getting late now, but finally spot a sign to the Arenal Lodge Observatory. Is this what we want? Doesn’t look like the pictures we have seen, so we move on. It seems there are a number of combinations of “Arenal”, “Lodge” and “Observatory” possible, but none of them ours (our itinerary says we require the “Arenal Observatory”). Getting close to La Fortuna now, and I cannot recall from an internet map which side of La Fortuna our place lies (before, after, sideways?). One option lies up yet another dirt track (9kms from the tarmac) and we are nervous about taking this; if we are wrong that’s at least a 45 minute diversion and it’s already getting dark. We know that the lodge is very close to the volcano, but said volcano is completely shrouded in cloud (is there actually a volcano here?), and we don’t know which flank our place sits on. We take the road anyway, and soon enough stop and ask some guys on the side of the road (is there actually a volcano here?), show them a picture, and we are enthusiastically ensured that we are on the correct path.

Our persistence is soon rewarded by our second monkey sighting, this time a whole troop of howler monkeys by the side of the road, howling away like billy-o. We have since learnt that they howl in the morning, at dusk, and when it starts to rain. And the rest of the time. Very cool. The troop then stayed in the same point for a few days, so we have reliably seen them again and again every day.

We learn over the course of the next few days that sloths don’t move about much either, staying in the same tree for up to two weeks before coming down briefly for a dump, then going up a new tree. At one stage we are told reliably of the whereabouts of a suitable sloth (between dumps) in a tree by the side of the road, and are driven past the spot a couple of times by taxi drivers; however, at those times we were not able to stop. Other tourists are gathered round, so we know where the beast is. Finally, we drive past under our own steam and are able stop. Unfortunately, it seems to be that this is the moment that said sloth is having its bi-weekly ablution, so we must wait for another chance to see sloths.

That chance comes a few days later during our slow river raft (no rapids here). We see a pair of 3-toed-sloths from below mucking about (slowly) in a Warooma tree. All adults are amazed but the kids focus instead on some fish they spot zooming around in the water. Their attention is re-focussed with some difficulty; they don’t realise that this is unlikely to happen again.

The lodge observatory Arenal is in an amazing place, only just over a mile from the volcano summit. Arenal itself is a textbook volcano, completely conical.
When we arrive, the top of the hill is shrouded in cloud (this scenario continues for most of the time that we are here; “is there actually a volcano here?”) but we can see red lava as night falls, and large red hot rocks tumbling down towards the chasm that separates the hotel from danger. Monty thinks that this is cool. Since 1968, when the current period of activity commenced, Arenal has grown 750 feet in height. We eventually see the volcano in its full glory, finally free of clouds on day 4 and it is majestic indeed, seeming to get steeper nearer the top. We are apparently fortunate to see this – it is sheathed in cloud 60% of the time, and more so during the “rainy” season (now).
Hardly reassuringly, when we ask, that the last “important” eruption was only 4 days ago. The hotel information comes with emergency procedures – gather here, panic there etc.. Indeed, on our fourth afternoon, all hell breaks loose while Eliza, Sarah and I are pursuing a troop of spider monkeys from below on a trail not far from the hotel while Jemima and Monty chill out in front of “The Fantastic Four – Rise of the Silver Surfer” following an early morning and hard day’s rafting. Suddenly, noise like thunder, and we see pyroclastic flows like the photos of Mount Helena erupting, through the trees. It seems that misfortune has crossed our path once more - the monkeys are immediately forgotten, and we dash back to rescue Mima and Monty expecting the panic sirens to go off any moment. But back at the Observatory, the volcano’s fireworks have merely encouraged everyone resident to gather on the observation deck with bottles of beer, so we relax and watch the show. The Fantastic Four surf on, Jemima and Monty oblivious.

Sarah has extracted Eliza’s stitches with my Swiss Army knife scissors. The threads themselves are already stuck into Eliza’s scrapbook – important records of a Cuban doctor’s great skill and care taken to avoid scarring. The scar should be invisible – it lies on the eyebrow.
We have evaded danger here at Arenal so far, although only just. The most recent lucky escape was when we were waiting for our volcano tour and Mima asked me whether she could climb a tree in the centre of the car park. I want to check for snakes, and do so, finding no snakes in my sweep, so am about to approve the exercise when I spot a few slow moving insects underneath the branch. Closer inspection reveals hundreds of these things, wasps creeping slowly around a disguised nest. Clambering about so close to this next would have been bad. A blanket ban on tree climbing has now been introduced.


We go horseriding again, to the very impressive “La Fortuna” waterfall this time. Monty and I go swimming in the river, Monty in his pants and me in my trousers which raises a few eyebrows but elicits cries of “Pura Vida!” from the locals.
I am getting quite keen on the Western style horseriding, which suits the fact that no one has ever taught me to ride properly. With Western style, you just point and squirt – a bit like riding polo ponies I expect. Quite extraordinary how this horsetrekking thing works over here though – at the beginning before the ride began there were 26 punters (including about 10 kids) sitting on horses all crammed within a very small yard. No kicking, no reering, no biting, no ‘agro at all in fact. Horses all well behaved too. Would never work in England, all the horses would be terribly behaved, despite being better “schooled”. But not at the cost of the horses’ spirit – once we got out in the open fields, we all had the opportunity to ride however we liked. Mima was completely in her element, and without input from her parents left some way behind took it upon herself to canter across a long field up at the front and has talked about nothing else since. Eliza also pretty self-sufficient and things are looking promising for our week on a dude ranch in Jackson 5 weeks’ hence.


We have also gone to hot springs (too hot for me), been on volcano tours (not dangerous enough for my liking), and the kids have scared hotel staff and residents with their exploits in the hotel pool. Drove a few kms to a local steak house two nights in a row, where the food was good, the views of the (int)erupting [Monty] volcano were tremendous, and the kids took turns driving us home (OK, as Eliza described, admittedly I was “pedalling”).

Slow river rafting was unexpectedly most rewarding in terms of wildlife. Many lizards (the Emerald Basilisk or “Jesus Christ” lizard so named because it can walk over water), Sloths, Howler Monkeys (yawn), a good 6 foot croc, short-nosed bats (Sarah’s favourite), Poison Dart frogs, Anhinga (careful how you say this – it took a few goes to spot this one). many Kingfishers, bla bla bla. Eliza is the primary point of reference for fauna classification, having purchased a laminated guide to Costa Rica wildlife which we find the tour guides sneakily consulting for the answers to tricky questions.

Tomorrow, we return to San Jose then transfer north to the Tortuguero region on the Caribbean side of the country. There, among other things we will “assist” nesting turtles. How they managed before tourists came to Costa Rica we may never know.
Monty weeing as far as he can.