At risk of becoming full-time residents at Camping Maria near Cahuita, it was a wrench to go and meander into pastures new. After moving camp a couple of times—shoreline tent pitching can be a little damp at best with those boisterous Caribbean waves—we got settled having made a pleasurable little routine for ourselves in which to indulge daily, such as taking long beach walks, fortifying ourselves with home cooked meals in Maria’s beach-garden and amusing ourselves with the Jason’s production of Mission Impossible about the black and green poison dart frog.
jasonspafford
5-12 May 2015 – Camping in Costa Rica: seesawing the Pacific’s calm & Caribbean palms
The air, leaden with its usual heavy humidity was also laced with thick vegetation and alive with the noisy chirps of crickets. As well as the deep bulging calls of howler monkeys, affording us a quick glance as they were beckoned into the black heart of the forest. It provided a melodic background to the faint purl of an ebb tide; its subdued waves gently stroking the sandy shore. Manuel Antonio usually tended toward a manic tourist spot throughout peak season, although we greeted it—a small oceanside village in the Pacific region—in the serenity of the off-season.
30 Apr-4 May 2015 – Costa Rica, mi chica bonita: my fair lady!
Sure, Costa Rica knows how to charge for her unapologetic beauty but there are a myriad of workarounds in order to keep on budget while indulging the ‘rich coast’. For us, it was time to step up our camping game—iOverlander, S&M Boiler Works, Nomadic Matt, A Dull Roar and Horizons Unlimited were excellent sources of cost-saving accommodation and value-added information on Costa Rica.
22-29 Apr 2015 – A drop of the Pacific, a dash of Panama & a delicious dollop of Costa Rica
Rather than hack our way through a 99-mile swath of malarial, guerilla-infested, roadless swampland separating South America from Central America—with a machete in one hand, throttle in the other—we took the cowardly route and boarded the Ferry Express instead. Actually, Jason towed Pearl and me up the ramp onto the vessel. After gaining 22 grand on the clock, I could hardly call her anything but admirable—having mosied me partly down and up an entire continent—albeit with a couple of hiccups along the way.
4-21 Apr 2015 – Cutting our umbilical cord with South America (2 of 2)
“Where the plantain are we gonna park the bikes for the night?” I barked down the helmet’s intercom at Jason, as we cruised into Caucasia around dusk. Scruffy buildings with washing strewn all over them dominated the municipality. Daylight was rapidly receding. Some Scots cruised up on their 1200ccs, the three amigos whom we’d missed out on meeting in Medellín and the five of us unknowingly kicked the side-stands down at a US government protected hotel. I was in high spirits as we walked away from the reception desk, somehow having managed to assimilate a negotiation of room rates strategy into my lexicon of survival Spanish for the group. A few friendly beers and a night’s worth of banter later, they offered us a trio of eyes for Central America, the Scots’ next destination. Fine fellas.
28 Mar-3 Apr 2015 – Cyclones in Colombia (1 of 2)
Reluctantly extricating ourselves from the Ecuadorian jungle, we found ourselves in a non-lulling state of head-loll as the bus buckarooed its way back to the concrete jungle, Quito. Seated near to a pair of young males, I overheard a similarly aged girl sat adjacent pipe up: “Sorry, I’ve got to ask: why’ve you got a broom with you?”
12-27 Mar 2015 – A walk on the wild side: Wild thing, I think I, I think I love ya! (4 of 4)
In Luis’ back garden one bright morning, he randomly brought out a couple of snakes he’d caught for identification and study purposes, before releasing them back to where he’d scooped them up. For God’s sake, let me take hold of one. Had I been body-snatched? On the brink of flinging it away from me in a trajectory as far as one could manage with pipe-cleaner arms, I held onto my teetering nerve along with the writhing creature. To calm myself, I called it Sally; now a ‘she’, I noticed Sally possessed the temperament of a purring pussy cat; and wasn’t actually writhing at all; rather, lay quite still in my hands. She didn’t even have teeth.