Los Animales

Costa Rica is a lovely country. We cannot pretend to know whether it was the result of a blessed series of historical events or simply a matter of good government over time, but Costa Rica has made commendable strides in protection of their exotic natural environment. What is undeniable is that compared to any of their Central American neighbors, they have done a massively better job with environmental protection.

From Mexico all the way to Nicaragua, trash of every kind is seen in depressing profusion all over the roads, countryside, rivers and beaches. Then you arrive in Costa Rica, where trash is barely to be seen. To be sure, less poverty probably plays a big role in this difference, but this observation does not give adequate credit to their differences in attitude. Costa Rica has for several decades focused heavily on development of their tourist industry and this has lifted their economy. Yet they seem to have understood far earlier and better than their neighbors that strewn trash would be poison to not just their tourism, but also to their land.

Rightly famed for its verdant forest jungles and exotic animal sight-seeing, the cycle has proven to be a virtuous one for Costa Rica. Tourists, European ones especially, noticed and praised Costa Rica for its many protected parks and its clean streets. The government responded with additional parkland declarations and a garbage collection and recycling system that is far superior to any of their Central American neighbors.

The result for tourists is access to untrammeled beauty. In the dense jungles and seas of Costa Rica there are creatures galore. Plants, fishes, birds, insects and animals are everywhere to be seen and the existence of all this life provides a beacon of hope that the declining health of our planet is not a forgone conclusion.

This was our second tour of Pacific Costa Rica, having last year sailed south as far as Bahia Drake (pronounced “Drack-eh” in these parts). This year we again stopped at this lovely place on earth before carrying onwards to Golfito, in southern Costa Rica.

Traveling southbound through Central America it should not be a surprise to learn that there are fewer and fewer sailors willing to range so far from home. Unlike the busy anchorages of the Pacific Northwest, there are more often than not no other cruising boats at all.

Our outermost destination this season will be the western islands of Panama, where we have now arrived. Our sailing companions on Avant are this season bound for the Panama canal and we, late in the season, for southern Mexico. So in about two weeks time we will have to bid our friends good passage and head in opposite directions. But for now we continue to enjoy each other’s company and the support that comes from knowing if problems develop on the boat there is someone to lend a hand.

And now for the photos....

   Avant and Anduril crew awake early to dingy ashore and explore the Curu Wildlife Refuge.  We spotted deer, falcons, white faced capuchins, spider monkeys, coatis, and parakeets.

Lunch with Henry and Pamela at the Hook Up Bar at Herradura.

Punta Quepos offered a beautiful swimming beach with a resident sloth; a restaurant with pool was a short walk up the hill.

Anchored off Manuel Antonio National Park we swam and kayaked ashore (kayak to be temporarily confiscated by Park Rangers) to explore.  Sloths, white faced capuchins, howler monkeys, toucans, coatis, iguanas, agoutis, and spider monkeys were all to be seen.

Next, we anchored at Bahia Drake and enjoyed the jungle river dingy trip, Restaurante Amapola, a diving and a snorkeling trip to Isla del Cano. Avant went on a guided excursion to Corcovado Park.

Our last stop in Costa Rica was Golfito.  We stocked up on groceries and duty free alcohol.  We experienced the intensity of our first heavy ITCZ rain storm.

One of many confiscated semi submersible submarines used for drug smuggling.

Joys of Christmas Breakage

In a house things break and wear out. On a car things break and wear out. And on a boat things break and wear out disturbingly quickly. It is bad enough that we live in the age of rapid obsolescence for all things consumer, but the pace of equipment failure in the salt-water environment of an ocean-going boat makes the owner feel like a rat on a treadmill - at all times just barely keeping up.

Adding to the problem is the fact that a modern boat is chock full of complicated systems. Because things break so often we try to have redundancy in all things critically important. What this boils down to is that now there are two devices to break and require repair. Erg.

Electrical and electronic systems are among the worst. In the salt air, upon all things made of copper sprouts verdigris. What the hell is verdigris you ask? Well children, it is the enemy. And the enemy is green scum on your wire. Eww, say the little boys and girls: not on your wire! Well yes, it is true. Corrosion of wire is a terrible boat disease and almost all boats have it too. The lesson, children, is that if you are thinking about touching that boat, don’t. Wait until you are old enough and ready to marry.

And married to Anduril we now both are. Happily married we would say, but nevertheless constantly having to attend to her every need. And as with any aging body, sometimes her bunghole plugs up. That was Alice’s job to fix, yesterday, using her snorkel and mask. Good girl that Alice. Poked up the hole using her stick while Greg operated the plumber’s helper from above. Turns out that a glob of toilet paper from her big bung hole had stoppered her little bung hole. Thankfully, it was Alice’s glob of TP that stoppered the hole. Otherwise this could have turned into a situation involving marital strife.

Our sailing friends Rob and Debra have their own throuple relationship with Avant, who all of a sudden started acting up severe. All within 48 hours her hoses split, her pump leaked, her control cables broke and her gypsy stripper went jammy (hey, look it up).

If you are curious about how these boat throuple relationships work, the usual thing is that when your throuple third starts making trouble, you ask other throuples if they wouldn’t mind coming over to help with getting her ready for action. This activity is known as “roving”. Jesus, what? Get your minds out of the gutter! Roving boat repairers.

What all this means is that the holiday season, along with the holidaying, included a long share of heads-and-arms-stuck-in-awkward-places. Boats are notorious for their mighty resistance to all repair work and rovers can be identified by their many bites, scratches and bruises. Rovers are also known to disturb serene anchorages with their sudden loud utterances (#%&$!).

To be fair, it wasn’t all crescent wrenches, blow torches and wire strippers. Here in Costa Rica, Christmas and New Years also happened.

Our friend Mer had booked a week at a yoga retreat in Costa Rica and as luck would have it the resort was nearby to where we were going to be. Mer was immediately tasked with transporting boat parts down to us from Canada. Her bag of delivered boat jewelry was a welcome gift and we also got to spend her birthday with her, which was fun.

Greg struggling with rewiring the electrical panel and fixing things......

......and Alice caught up on some previously downloaded Netflix.

It wasn't all fixing. Over the Christmas Holiday Season we sailed from Puesta Del Sol, Nicaragua to Bahia Ballenas, Costa Rica .

In company with S/V Avant.

No stopping at San Juan Del Sur. We were stuck here last Spring with 50 knot Papagayo Winds.

We had a lovely few days in Bahia Santa Elena and hiked to the impressively tall 4 foot high waterfalls.

After checking into Costa Rica at Cocos, we anchored at Bahia Brasilito and Tamarindo and enjoyed spending time with Mer, celebrating her Birthday.

Missing my family at Christmas and with no turkey in sight, we enjoyed a beef and seafood Xmas lunch at Tamarindo.

Raw yum tuna.

Fresh Red Snapper.

Avant finally fixed all their boat problems and caught up to us at Bahia Samara for a NYE lunch and fireworks.

I am glad someone will play bat-a-ball with Greg.

Over the Christmas week Bahia Samara was filled with kayakers, snorkelers, and divers .

Debra scrubbing the waterline while Rob supervises.

Our new friend is keeping a close watch from the bow.

Only the Few

Having risen before 6am we had only time for a single cup of coffee before pulling away from the docks. So when our outward bound bar crossing at Bahia del Sol proved to be entirely unexciting we were entirely pleased not to be more rudely awakened. Crashing waves were non-existent and we didn’t get even slightly wet.

We crossed the bar as a company of two boats. S/V Avant, crewed by Rob and Debra, are heading to Panama and we are tagging along with them for a portion of their trip. As the end of the day’s light was dimming we made it around the corner into Golfo de Fonseca and into a calm anchorage at Playa Tamarindo.

Happy, happy to be sailing again.

Crossing the bar with Avant.

The following day was a short 3 hr passage to Isla Tigre, just over the border line into Honduras. Alice and I had been there the year previously and the neat simplicity of the procedures we had experienced checking in and out of Honduras proved to be an illusion. It turns out we had never actually left the country. We showed the officials a copy of the exit zarpe they had issued (permission for the boat to leave) but could show no corresponding exit stamp in our passports. Muy problema! The sign on the wall stipulated that we had to pay a fine of $US1,791 each. Ouch! As in, no bloody way, ouch.

After a lengthy back and forth discussion in our miserable Spanish, and upon some reflection on their part that the mistake might not have been entirely ours, it was proposed that the fines could be reduced to $170 each. Hmmm. How about still no? ...Ok, if you leave in 24 hours you can depart with no fines, but no passport stamps for you! With this ruling we have now officially become permanent illegal residents of Honduras. Ordinarily we wouldn’t care a whit about such a thing, but we had a sickening certainty that without an exit stamp the officials in Costa Rican would deny us entry into their country. Grrr. We took a small comfort in the fact that we were not being threatened by a stay in a room with bars.

The solution to the kerfuffle was a morning skedaddle followed by an unscheduled stop some 60 miles down coast into Nicaragua. Finding themselves unexpectedly in the company of international scofflaws, Rob and Debra chose to join our unlawful gang, damning the authorities with their rules and taking their chances as outlaws. Having previously been there, we felt reasonably confident that Nicaraguan officialdom would overlook the missing Honduran exit stamp and place nice new ones in our passports. We would thus be able to obtain officially issued paperwork that would satisfy the fussy bureaucrats in Costa Rica.  So off we went, criminals all.

Illegals exploring Amapala, Isla el Tigre for the day.

Our second visit to beautiful Isla el Tigre.

Lots of pangas and fishing nets to dodge in the Golfo de Fonseca.

Marina Puesta del Sol is a lovely but virtually abandoned resort in the pristine estuarial waters of coastal Nicaragua. The tumultuous politics of Nicaragua have virtually destroyed their tourist industry and elegant resort properties located in remote estuaries no longer receive visitors. We stayed a week, for 5 days of which we were their only guests.

Docked at Puesta del Sol Marina, Nicaragua.

Empty docks.

The pool all to ourselves.

Sunrise view.

The 2nd pool, ocean-side version.

Flor de Cana Tour, an hour by bus from the marina. They make world-famous rum. 

There was one dock-side guest however, that proved to be a real night-owl party animal. One of those guys you just can’t get to leave. We decided he was a rat. This assessment proved to be under-rated when we learned that he had much more impressive teeth than a rat. This made him a marsupial.  This important animal difference, while difficult to discern, is akin to the divide between a total scum-bucket and a guy all the girls are dying to date.  Turns out that while he's cute as all get out, he is afflicted with a rare eating disorder: "shrimpanolia" is known as an insatiable appetite for shrimp. Go figure. Our night-time marauder lost interest after we locked up all the shrimp containing food items in marsupial-proof plastic buckets .

And now go away so do we. Next stop, Costa Rica.

Opossum snacks