Delfines Dulces

I splurged.  After my bioluminescent journey, I wanted to spend more time on the water today, and I especially wanted to snorkel and see dolphins, so I bought my way onto a boat tour of the gulf.  The boat is owned and captained by John, the guy who owns Cabinas Jimenez where I'm staying.  It turned out to be money well-spent, worth every penny of the $60 cost, and more, considering the marvels I saw.

We left at 8:30 this morning on a receding tide.  There were 9 of us:  John, Sam (his Hawaiian sidekick/dolphin spotter), Oso (his bow-riding, dolphin-spotting dog), me, and a group of 4 brothers and the girlfriend of one of the brothers.  They were an interesting family:  all four in their mid-to-late 20's, slim, good-looking professionals (doctor, lawyer, jazz musician, Sierra Club director).  It was great company for a four-hour journey.

The Golfo Dulce is approximately 35 miles long by 10 miles wide, and is fed by many clear local rivers, hence the name, "The Sweet Gulf".  We sped first around a small cape and back into a mangrove lagoon before the tide was completely out, spotting a couple of what I believe to be bare-throated tiger herons.  After exiting the lagoon, we spent the next half-hour to 45 min. cruising around the gulf to various places that were known to have dolphins, 9 pairs of eyes constantly searching the water for signs of the dark, arcing fins.  John was amazingly patient with his explanations of all of our non-dolphin exclamatory sightings:  floating trees, limbs, brush, coconuts, sardines balled together to escape predators, jack tuna.

Finally, he took us to a small, older coral reef off the opposite coast which hosts a large national park.  There he busted out the plane boards, an unforgettable experience that I had completely misassumed would be something like wakeboarding.  Instead it was to snorkeling what bicycling is to walking....just a slightly faster way of seeing the same thing without as much work.  The plane board was similar to a large, varathaned cutting board with handholds cut near the top and the bottom and a 30' rope attached at the top end. We jumped into the water with a mask on, grabbed the plane board with both hands and John idled us along about 3-5 miles per hour.  When ready, I angled the nose of the board downward, and it took me underwater among the tropical fish and coral.  When I wanted a breath, I angled it back up to the top, gulped some air, and immediately angled back down again.  I was able to angle to the side to explore, angle more steeply to go deeper (12' was the deepest that I went), and level off underwater at whatever depth that I wanted, including going up and over any coral extrusions I wanted to avoid.  Too soon, my turn was over and each of the others jumped in for the experience.

After a quick snack of fresh melons, mangoes, pineapples, and granola bars, we all jumped in to snorkel on our own.  Parrot fish, angelfish, sturgeonfish, dorados, sergeant-majors, et al, glided, darted, and schooled for us until one by one we surfaced and climbed aboard John's boat.

The search for dolphins continued, but John looks for everything that he can find of interest, so we stopped along the coastline to observe a troop of capuchin monkeys, white-faced and curious.  He did a 180 for a caracara that landed nearby and kept making short excursions each time we approached, finally affording us several close-up photos.  But no dolphins.  We scoured all of the known spots along the opposite side and started heading back to Jimenez.  There were two high spotting chairs located on the front rails right and left.  I took one and Dan, one of the brothers, took the other.  We saw rays and sardines and tuna, but no dolphins.  We switched out so that Paul and Tim could take the chairs.  Then Nicole and Mark.  Then I returned with Dan.  He spotted them first.

 It was a small pod of 8-12 bottlenose dolphins.  When we came up on them, I thought that we were going to run over one.  He must have been curious because he slowed his pace so that the boat was overtaking him on his exact course, waited until he was right under the bow, slipped just slightly over to my side of the bow, and turned his head sideways just underwater so that he could look up at me sitting in that chair while effortlessly keeping pace.  Then they were all around us: surfacing, arcing, blowing, diving, slapping the water with their tails, sliding across beneath the boat, playing with an errant palmetto leaf.....just hanging out with us, letting us observe for a while, going under for a while, coming back up and playing.  All this within a mile and a half of the town pier where we had started.  John hung out there with them for 20-30 minutes, letting us get our fill, or so he thought.  Or not.  I'm sure that somewhere deep inside he realized that we could have stayed out there all day and night, beginning again the next morning, and never tired of it.

Timing Isn't Everything

Timing isn't everything, but it sure beats the alternative.  The rain is pounding the darkness into submission here in my little corner of Golfo Dulce.  But I lay snug in my room, typing away, content with la pura vida.

I snuck one of the kayaks out for an evening paddle, with the hope of catching some luminescence, some dolphins, some friends on a sailboat for a beer.

I paddled out into a calm, deep, reflective sunset, though dramatic with towering thunderheads and roseate colors.  I fell into an easy rhythm that took me quickly towards Annie and Cochi's sailboat, with an ice-cold six-pack hurried straight from the 96 Market to a drybag full of ice in the forward hatch of the nondescript (but free) fiberglass sea kayak that I was lashing to the stern of their 52 foot wooden ketch made in New Zealand in 1941 or '42.  There's loads of history in that boat, including some bits of service in WWII, but this evening we were content to talk dog-training over a couple of beers while we watched the sunset.

All too soon, it was time to bid farewell in order to get the kayak back without too much repercussion, so I crawled into the cockpit and started paddling.  Although the kayak was lighter by a six-pack, it seemed to take quite a bit longer coming back than going out.  I settled into it, though, enjoying the stars as they appeared, and watching the tiny bits of luminescence off the blade of my paddle.  Halfway home, I heard/felt a thump on the bottom of my boat, and something rose to the surface a few feet to my left and jumped.  Porpoises, I hoped!  And became vigilant about the water around me rather than looking more toward the stars like I had been doing before.  Suddenly the water began exploding with little fireballs of light. I had cruised into a school of flying fish just as the bio-luminescence was  strengthening, it seemed.  The fish became little torpedoes of light that would appear beside me to flash as they left the water and re-flash as they entered again.  They were on both sides of me, hitting the boat, hitting my paddle, flying through the air, appearing and reappearing.  That, combined with the magical puffballs of light emanating from each paddle stroke, created a cosmic light show that began to be accentuated by lightning in the thunderheads towering above me.

The fish stayed with me until I neared the pier where 2 guys were fishing with handlines while the girlfriend of one of them sidled for attention.  The luminescence receded as well at that point, and I was left only with lightning and stars.

"Jesus! Did you see that lizard?"

I realized that I haven't spoken about the most incredible creature that I've witnessed on my Central American tour.  It happened in Boquete, so this blog will be a bit out of sync time-wise with the trip, but the story is too amazing not to include.

At Suenos del Rio, my hostel in Boquete, the owner, Itza, contributed daily to a compost heap at the top of a 12-15 ft. boulder containment wall for the banks of the Rio Caldera.  She said that the government had taken about 6-8' of land from her in order to make the opposite bank extend farther into the river so that they could accommodate their own fairgrounds where they grow flowers and have daily tours.  So she is trying to gradually recapture that 6-8' of land by composting over the boulders.

From the first day I arrived, I began seeing the same two lizards munching papaya skins and melon skins and other delectables from the pile.  One of the lizards, whom I took to be the male, was larger and had an obvious crest.  The other, the female, was smaller and plainer, without a crest.  They took turns at the pile, and never gave each other any flak, so I assume that they were mates.

One day, as I was standing on the containment wall talking with Bruce, I noticed 3 other smaller, plainer lizards at just about the same time that the resident male noticed them.  In a flash, he took off after one of them. The smaller lizard ran toward the water and without hesitation continued running once he got there....running some 15-20' over the top of the water to a boulder mid-stream.  In the midst of my delighted shouts, it happened again.  The large male made a run at a different small lizard who ran to the water, hit the river and kept running.....upstream!

Apparently they are known as the Common Basilisk, but I find nothing common about them at all.  They are also known as the Jesus Lizard or Jesus Christ Lizard for their ability to walk on water.  Studies have found that they push forcefully downward with their feet, which every good kayaker or canoeist knows is a low brace, creating resistance to push against, thereby neutralizing the liquidity of the surface somewhat.  Then they push forward with the foot quickly through the air pocket they had just created, so there is less drag.  They achieve water speeds of 5.2 mph, just slightly slower than their land speed.  Smaller basilisks can run 10-20 meters on top of the water before dropping down to swim if they need to continue to evade their predator.  Larger ones can go 3-5 meters tops, so I assume that's why the larger one didn't pursue the smaller one once they got to the water.

This spectacle was the highlight of my day and a great reminder to practice my low brace when I get home.

Awkward Beauty

I have always been a champion of justice, wanting the underdog to win, to see Goliath slain, the bully humbled, even humiliated.  I relish the balance inherent in the scales of Libra, my sun sign.  However, as most of us do from time to time, I  turn a blind eye towards my own aberrant imbalances.

A volcano of vultures was swirling lazily overhead. (Yes, I know, the correct term is "kettle", but I like to stir the pot.)  Revulsion and boredom mixed together inside my head to cause me to look away, look for something interesting, some scarlet macaw, Cherrie's tanager, or spider monkey.  Then within the volcano glided a frigate.  I paused to compare its elegant dance to the awkward, stumbling jig of the vultures.  Somewhere inside, their jig became my own ungainly attempts at playing tennis, or surfing, or social grace.  I found forgiveness for them.  I found myself realizing that their flight was what had originally drawn my eyes upward to the sky, that their mundane nature actually invites other birds into their realm.  They are gentle giants of the air.  Soon swallows swarmed through the volcano, scooping unseen insects from the air in salacious glee.  And the scarlet macaws squawked past in pairs.

The vultures I saw were probably the ubiquitous black vulture of Costa Rica whose flight is not quite as side-to-side slipping as the turkey vulture.  Furthermore, the black vulture seems to be monogamously mated for life, both males and females taking turns caring for the hatchlings by sharing their regurgitations.  Meals are more often fresh kills than carrion, more often fruit and vegetables than weak and sickly animals ready to be taken.  They are the house cleaners of the jungles and roads of the Osa.

Water to Water

The humidity here creates a constant human body water cycle, taking in and expelling, so my clothes are usually drenched by the time that I finish the 10 minute walk to school in the morning.  I spent the morning doing number identification with pre-kindergartners, and if you don't think that that is blue-collar labor, try it some time.  At recess I was playing catch with one student, then two, then three, then suddenly there were about eight different types of balls coming my way at once.  All of the kids on the playground were laughing, the teachers were falling out of their chairs, and an uproarious time was had by all.

School was let out before noon, but I waited around for my couchsurfing host to coordinate a volunteer project.  After walking to the library with two friends, we walked back to her house to say goodbye.  I was switching  my lodging to Cabinas Jimenez because my host had some new surfers coming in for the night. I checked in, got all of my things dispersed in the room, then took a kayak out for a paddle around the bay.  About 1/2 an hour out, I ran into the front of a squall, so I did a U-turn and enjoyed my first afternoon downpour since leaving Ashland.

Tonight, I'm enjoying a beer, watching a ball game on the laptop, and basking in the first air-conditioned room since I left Panama City.  Tomorrow I'm up early to see whether I can help get the kindergartners ready for their parade, after which will be a local bake sale and fair.  Then I'll be checking with all of the local tour companies to see whether I can glom onto a group hike into Corcovado National Park to get the group rate.  I've been conserving money on this trip, but the promise of exotic bird and animal sightings will make it worth the expense of hiring a guide.

Don't Believe Everything You Hear, and Only Half of What You Google

I met my ping-pong buddy, Willie, at the bus stop this morning at 8:00.  We were both heading to Costa Rica today, and he proved to be an invaluable asset at the border.  There is a four-step process at the border that involves going to four different stations:  the immigration window for leaving Panama was first, only one woman in front of me, so I was through in less than 5 minutes.  Willie then led the way to the money-changers and worked the best deal ($1 for 500 colones).  The money changers were under the same roof as the Panamanian immigration but with no signs advertising their service.  Next he led me across the street and down the block to the Costa Rican immigration, no simple matter in itself because trucks are lined up for hundreds of yards on each side of the border waiting to get through, then roaring away quickly when done.  Finally, we returned back toward the Panamanian immigration but on the other side of the road to catch the bus to Golfito, a town on the coast about an hour-and-a-half by bus.  

Willie had lived in Golfito for the last 20 years, having moved there from Hawaii, with a few Rainbow Gatherings sprinkled in between for good measure.  He got us off at the right bus stop in Golfito to check on the lancha schedule for Puerto Jimenez.  We had time for a beer before catching the lancha at 1:00, so he led the way up the Street of Dreams to a nice little bar where we had a cold one to celebrate our arrival.  He saw me off at the landing, putting me on an 18-passenger lancha whose pitometer was reading 35 knots, and it still took 1/2 an hour to get across the Golfo Dulce, 3rd deepest gulf in the world, rimmed by green, tree-clad mountains above a calm, aquamarine, inland sea.  It was so unexpectedly beautiful that I couldn’t stop smiling.  I say “unexpectedly” because all of the other travelers I had talked with had found Costa Rica expensive and unappealing compared to Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Panama, so I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come over here.  Wrong!  Southern Costa Rica is beautiful, and although more expensive than Panama, a couple of amazing contacts have softened the landing.

Janina, my couchsurfing host, met me at the Puerto Jimenez dock with her bike, and walked me back to her house, where I learned about her company for the next couple of hours.  She coordinates homestays and eco-volunteer situations for people who prefer to go on vacations by volunteering to work to create a sustainable Costa Rica.  She easily has all of the bigger eco-tourism places beat on price because she does all of her own legwork for finding volunteer situations and places to stay.  She has me going to both a public and a private school tomorrow to help teach English to elementary school kids before heading out to her friend’s sailboat for cocktails at sunset.  If you're interested in a volunteering vacation, check out her website: Green Life Volunteers

Puerto Jimenez is on the Osa Peninsula, home to the Corcovado National Park; squirrel monkeys, surfers, and scarlet macaws; 50% of the biodiversity of Costa Rica; and 2.5% of the biodiversity of the world.  Dolphins and whales are frequently spotted in Golfo Dulce while bicycles and gringos are frequently spotted in Puerto Jimenez. 

I plan to stay a few days to sample the sights of this natural paradise, to soak it in with the help of my newfound friends.

Blowing Out of Town

Cool breeze dominates Boquete with an almost

full moon chaser of life, adventure, stars

to hang my eyeballs on when I put them away for the night.

River sound, leaf sound separate and commingle

slipping in and out of wind-blown branches

curling into my cabana like a friendly boa looking for my mice.

The boa,searching onward, slithers across a line on a map

unaware of silver other than as a cool sliver

on the rock that has lived on the face of the timeless cliff.

The almost moon gives a jagged smile to the constrictions

painted here and gone, leaving behind

the barest trace:  a mouse hair or three, an “s” track in the sand, a drop of blood.

No politics or presidents, only silent assassinations in the night

small mice missed only by their families.

As the snake resumes its affiliation with the hunt,

the breeze from Lower Monkey laughs and sends him on his way.