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.
More chaos on the road to Monteverde. This time the existence or otherwise of deities was not so much on my mind as memories of that film “Duel” where an enormous truck with “MACK” written on the front chases a bloke in a car through the mid-West. In the film there are lots of shots of the truck appearing suddenly in the rear view mirror – this was my constant vision throughout our journey from Jaco and so I was forever being forced into dubious overtaking manoeuvres to get rid of these nightmarish apparitions.
