Costa Rican Adventure – Day 16 – The Journey Part 2

With a full day’s collecting (as unproductive as it was) already under my belt, I’m ready for some dinner, and the cook staff at ACG provides the best meal of our visit; fried fish and purple salad, plus the ubiquitous rice and beans I take out of pure hunger. I finish my dinner in a hurry, as our next adventure will be beginning shortly; a trip to the beach searching for nesting sea turtles. Although the chances are low that we’ll actually witness an arribada, the opportunity to explore another region of this conservation area was all I needed to sign up. We’ve been warned that the rainy season is not the best time of  year to even get to the beach, and it was pointed out that most surfers don’t bother trying to get there this time of year. I see this as an added bonus, the opportunity to get to an area almost devoid of human presence, a stark contrast to today’s “tourist trail”.

Our driver shows up with his specially equipped 4×4 and I realize tonight might be a little more adventurous than expected. The truck is soon filled with the 7 of us, 3 on the front bench and the rest sitting with our knees in our noses on benches facing the interior of the truck. With the headlights on, the easy rock playing, and everyone excited to see what is to come, we head off down the dark, muddy road towards the beach. It soon becomes evident why no one comes down this road in August, if you can call it a road by this point. Within minutes I’m bounced into the air and soon recognize just how luxurious our buses this morning really were. Our driver takes it all in stride, laughing, joking and accelerating through the mud that threatens to swallow the feeble. Deep rifts open into small streams, bare rock gives way to thick mud, and tree branches whip through the windows, with each corner a hope that the road will still be there on the other side. I brace myself against the roof and door frame, but the bumps, rolls and slides are too much and I spend as much time out of my seat as I do slamming back into it. The highbeams illuminate glowing eyes all along the track and nightjars explode from the dirt with a flourish, racing our 4×4 and then diving back into the forest again. We count 62 individuals in less than an hour, each disturbed by our presence. Throughout the drive I can’t help but smile and laugh at each obstacle we overcome, each branch that causes me to dive forwards or risk losing an eye, and how this car ride is better than any rollercoaster I’ve been on. We cover 10 kilometers in an hour, and eventually reach the end of the road. Our voyage has only just begun however, as the road doesn’t end at the beach, but rather a seasonal river, followed by 4 more kilometers of hiking before we’ll look over the ocean towards the Philippines. We’re told that the river usually isn’t more than knee deep in the middle, and as I push aside thoughts of caiman, constrictors and currents in the dark, I stow my socks and pant legs in my bag to stay dry, go barefoot in my rubber boots, and secrete the last of my adrenalin. We nominate Joel, our tallest voyageur, to lead the way, and soon discover that tonight the river is waist deep. I hoist my full camera bag & tripod above my head as the cool, murky water flows over my boots and engulfs my feet, then knees, then groin, and inch my way across, mindful of the rocks, boulders and other tripping hazards that would result in a call to my insurance agent back home. 30 meters feels like an eternity with my cherished gear suspended above my head, but we reach the other side without concern. I dump the water from my boots and forgo the dry apparel in my pack to slosh bare-booted towards our destination.

We walk onward with only the moon and our headlamps to light the way, constantly scanning for signs of life. This area of forest was once the midden of early peoples, and is now populated with giant fruit-bearing trees spawned from discarded fruits. The trees rise up and surround us in the dark, and we watch for wildlife. Large trees play host to giant cockroaches and whip spiders, blue and orange land crabs dart into the undergrowth, and the jungle is alive with lasers, or rather frogs who’s call sounds like a Star Wars battle scene. I want to stop and photograph all these fantastic animals, but we have a long ways to go and it’s already after 9, so I walk on, admiring the diversity around me with each step and vowing to come back again someday. Soon the puddles in the road start to run together and we find small fish and bright blue crayfish swimming beneath our feet. This small stream continues to get bigger, as do the crayfish, as we get closer to the coast, making hiking all the more difficult. Soon we’re splitting our time slogging through mud and retreating into the forest around this terrestrial stream. Our path takes a turn while the stream continues into the forest, and we welcome the drier terrain. The next bend brings us face to face with the mangrove swamp and all the mosquitoes which call it home. My headlamp becomes a liability as I’m swarmed by nematocerans attracted to the light, and I walk head down with a new drive to get beyond these wet grounds. Its not long before we find the wet season has provided another obstacle for us; a washed out bridge over the last section of swamp. Hearing the ocean and already wet footed, we forge ahead, checking more closely for eye shine in the home of the crocodile. As fishing bats circle the swamp, dipping their feet below the surface in search of fish, we wade through the water and are pleasantly surprised that it is only knee deep. Another boot dump and we’re off towards the pounding surf echoing in the distance. Soon we’re welcomed by different species of crab, a large purple species congregating near the forest’s edge, smaller, swifter species darting across the sand and disappearing down tunnels. We pass a tourist station used in the dry season when access is easier, and finally see the waves rolling onto the beach. The moonlit beach stretches on and on, with no sign of human habitation besides a city far off across the water. With no sign of sea turtles nearby, we begin walking down the beach for signs of activity. The waves crash and the crabs scatter, but it’s not long until we find recent tracks in the sand. These aren’t from any reptile though, and appear to be the tracks of an ocelot, out for a stroll along the beach. A little further along and we come across a set of tracks leading up the beach from the sea. All eyes turn to the tide line, hopeful for a glimpse of a sea turtle flinging sand. Following the tracks leads to a freshly cleared spot in the sand and another set of tracks leading back to the sea. Although we’ve missed this female, just knowing she was here tonight invigorates us and we continue down the beach with eyes peeled and spirits high. Walking to the end of the beach reveals one more missed opportunity, and after the long walk through sand in my boots, I sit and take a break watching the clouds blow past the moon. After carrying my gear for so long, I feel obligated to shoot something, and set up for some long exposure photos of the pounding surf.

We walk back down the beach, and come across fresh turtle prints made since our earlier trip. Again we find a recently completed nest but no turtle, displaying just how fast they are capable of nesting. I feel our chances of actually seeing a turtle are approaching the odds of a needle in a hay stack, but the search continues down the other half of the beach. Another 3 sets of turtle tracks along the next 3 km of beach, and as the tide continues it’s way out, we head back with lights turned out, walking in the dark.

As my eyes adjust to the dark and I look down in exhaustion, I see stars around my every step. I worry I’m hallucinating until I realize the harder I step the more stars I see. It dawns on me that these terrestrial stars are in fact bio-luminescent bacteria in the sand, and with each disturbing step they fluoresce, guiding my way along the beach. Looking out to sea, the moon set for the night, cresting waves glow brightly, each illuminated by the bacteria underfoot. With fireflies signaling from the forest edge and suns twinkling from light years away in the now cloudless sky, we are literally surrounded by Nature’s laser light show, a sight like never I’ve seen. As I stand and absorb all that surrounds me, I know that I may never experience these displays again, and for a brief moment my back stops aching, my feet stop throbbing, and I just am. Alone in the night but not the dark, I see the wild without the touch of man. I imagine life before human presence, and know this must be what it was like, with the night hiding the scars and the dancing lights highlighting the beauty. I force myself to return to the present, take in each source one more time, and continue my trek back to the car, away from the light.

My feet are blistered and bleeding, my back bruised and bent, and my legs tired and chaffed, but as I drag myself along the trail towards home I recall the magic I’ve seen on this longest of days. A day where destinations were abandoned, be they insects on volcanoes or turtles on beaches. As I’m bounced back towards camp in the rear of a 4×4, I know that today’s journey will be hard to top, and one that will stay with me for a long time. As the clock tolls 3, I look forward to my final destination of the day… bed!