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.