“Grilled mahi mahi...”

When you go without television for a long period of time, your brain becomes sensitive to stimulus of all kinds. You tend to appreciate the beauty and wonder of the natural world all around you. And then when you are confronted with the idiot box once again, your brain doesn’t stand a chance. Inundated with a vast array of colours, images and sounds, it becomes overloaded, and you simply sit there and waste vast periods of time. There isn’t a whole lot to do in Playa Hermosa once the sun goes down, as it’s not a town really, just a small village of a few small hotels, no street lights, and only the sound of the crashing surf from the beach. Therefore, each night of our week long stay we have been enjoying all the movies on our cable television, and slowly watching our brains rot.

There is one thing that I have noticed from watching all the Spanish subtitled movies here, and that is that the Spanish language seems quite incapable of capturing the vast descriptive vocabulary of the English language. Knowing a handful of Spanish words, and being incapable of ignoring anything written on the screen, I find myself spending the whole time reading the Spanish translated dialogue that flashes along the bottom. I’m not sure whether it is just the translator that lacks the ability to translate the many nuances and colours of the English language, subtle differences between words that make the language more poetic, more interesting, or if there truly isn’t sufficient Spanish vocabulary to capture the dialogue on the screen. I feel sorry for my Spanish brethren if the latter is the case, as they are missing out on a wonderful thing.

By day, we recharge our minds through the written word while sitting under the hot sun on the hotter sand on the beach, but even of later, our selection of available books leaves little in the way of mental stimulation. A far cry from the zombification of the idiot box each night, but still, not quite the strong literary works of the books that we began our trip with. Why do tourists read such drivel? Simply visit any used book store in a beach community and you will be bombarded with the works of James Patterson, Danielle Steele, and others that seem to write approximately 20 books per year with the same formulaic pattern of steamy love scenes, haphazardly slapped together plot lines, if you can call them plots, and characters that lack any more depth than that of a wading pool. Perhaps these books are just as close as television as you can get, seeing as no one is going to be able to find extension cords long enough to plug in their portable televisions on the beach, so they let their minds melt in the heat of the sun while page after page of detective/lawyer/spy loosely skips through the story in front of them. We have managed to find a few gems along the way, Cormac McCarthy’s Cities of the Plains is one of the best books that I’ve read in quite some time. I suppose I’ll just have to keep my eyes open and my hopes up.

On another note, things have turned towards the better here in Hermosa, fittingly as we are just about to leave. Last night we went out for supper for the first time in a long while, and I had the pleasure of having a wonderful grilled mahi mahi. Imagine the best grilled steak, unfortunately for the vegetarians in the house there is no adequate comparison, but more tender and flavourful than you have ever experienced. This is the wonder of the mahi mahi. This fabulous flat headed trophy fish found his way onto my plate and into my heart. And then today while Denielle was working her way through Yolates class, half yoga half pilates, I had the best surf session of the week. I caught a metric tonne of waves, most of which had some decent shoulders to ride, and some very steep late take offs with life or death bottom turns that were truly enjoyable. The session ended with a ride that went right to the beach, so that I had to jump off right before the sand. Denielle caught a few pictures, and also managed to get some of the talented skim boarders. These were the best skim boarders that I’ve seen before, as most tend to just run along, throw their little board down on the low tide standing water and skim along the beach. These guys stand atop the edge of the steep slope, run down towards the water and toss their board onto the sand, skip over the small wave right at the beach and go out about 20 feet to an incoming waist high wave, snap back and ride it back into the beach. Quite a sight indeed. Tomorrow we leave for Mal Pais to rendezvous with Skya and Nicole, and while the surf forecast is looking small, it should pick up midweek. So we’re leaving the screeching scarlet macaws behind and heading back to evil country.

p.s. there was no tsunami apparently here in Costa Rica after the 8.8 earthquake in Chile. We were inland being harrassed by the police at the time anyway, which resulted in Denielle having to drive for a short period because they had a problem with my name not being on the papers. We wrestled on the ground for a while, but I was albe to put him in a secret karate hold, so we didn't have to pay a ticket.

Tyler.

“Close out sale...”

Hate is a strong word, so I will just say that I dislike the waves in Playa Hermosa greatly. They rise up very quickly from nothing and break all at the same time, very steeply. It becomes very frustrating when every wave you catch closes out all around you so that you have no opportunity to ride anything. Combine this with the strong winds and even stronger currents, and you end up with a big choppy mess. Even paddling here seems different, almost futile amongst the strong rips and long shore currents. It sounds silly, but as your hands pass through the water it feels softer than usual, as though the water density were lower here for some reason. You can paddle all you want, but really the water is going to take you where it wants to, which is usually the wrong spot. Despite this, the wave appears to be popular, as many surfers jockey for a chance at the same 3 second rides. Taking pictures from the beach may give the appearance that the conditions are better than what I speak of, as I present a handful of the better waves amongst a multitude of thunderous beach-wide close out waves.

Although I’m not having much fun in the water, the rest of Playa Hermosa is quite fitting for its name, translated to “beautiful beach” in English. The caramel coloured sand is clean and garbage free, but strikingly hot in the midday sun. An abundance of birds populates the fringe of palm and mango trees along the beach, the most notable of which are the scarlet macaws. Balance is present everywhere in life, in the things we do, the places we see, and the experiences we have. Balance is the main theme behind all of ecology as well, as animals are forced into tradeoffs. To be good at one thing usually means that you can’t excel at another. The scarlet macaw pays for its remarkable beauty, the bright red, yellow, and blue feathers, with perhaps the most obnoxious vocal call that one could imagine. This is usually how they are spotted, one simply has to follow the ghastly screeches to see the birds, usually flying in pairs, but sometimes as in our first night here, in small flocks up to 13 birds.

The humidity was exceptionally high today with a strong lightning storm last night that brought along sheets of rain that left steaming puddles everywhere in the morning. I messed about in the water, catching a half dozen or so close out waves while large sting rays breached the water all around me. Denielle had a more enjoyable time at yoga, where she had the pleasure of two instructors to one student ratio, with her being the only student. She purchased 6 more lessons for the price of 2, so she should be quite busy downward and upward dogging for the rest of the week. We then went into Jaco and got a milkshake fix and some more groceries for the rest of the week. I’m looking forward to getting back to Mal Pais on the weekend, but perhaps I’ll be able to find some more suitable waves down the beach before the week is through. Meanwhile we’ll continue to watch the Canadians throw away opportunities at the Olympics, heavily filtered through the patriotic eyes of the American networks.

Tyler.

“Guanabana con leche...”

They say you should never drive away from good surf. Nevertheless, yesterday we loaded up the car and headed off for the central coast towards Playa Hermosa. This is after catching the wave of my life earlier in the morning. A beautiful overhead wave that I just barely made the steep drop on, surging forward ahead of the crashing lip as the offshore winds sprayed water in my eyes. I dug in and made the bottom turn, coming back up to the face of the wave on my front side. The steep wall held up for close to 200 meters, staying consistently head-high as I pumped up and down the face at breakneck speed, staying just in front of the breaking lip behind me. But the crowds were arriving for the weekend, and we needed a break from the peninsula before returning in only 8 days to Mal Pais.

Loaded up in the car, we sped away through the two rivers, drifting around corners and skipping over humps bumps and jumps. We weren’t sure of the way, but I’d be damned if we weren’t going to go as fast as possible. I love to drive, and these rally-like conditions were better than the most advanced x-box or playstation game. We zigged, we zagged, connecting small road to small road until we finally found pavement. With the excitement of the rock and gravel behind, we smoothly sailed the rest of the way towards the edge of the peninsula towards the mighty friendship bridge that skirts over the narrow north point of the Golfo Nicoya. After briefly pausing to take pictures of the bridge, we resumed our journey south along the coast, now onto the mighty Interamericana, highway number 1. One would think that the major freeway connecting all of Central America might be faster than the cow paths and river crossings that we had left behind, but bumper to bumper traffic and long stops waiting for construction was what we encountered instead.

Three and a half hours later we came to the Tarcoles River, just north of Jaco. We parked on the far end of the bridge and walked back to the middle to join the groups of tourists looking at the main attraction far below the bridge in the river below. Basking in the hot sun were two dozen prehistoric monsters. Anyone who has ever wondered whether Jurassic Park would be a possibility need only look at the mighty salt water crocodile. The pictures I took don’t really show the size of these giants that well, but the bigger ones there I would guess to be between 15 to 18 feet long, much longer than our car. The long pointed head alone, struggling to contain the snarled mouthful of stalactites and stalagmites of flesh ripping teeth, would be just over three feet. Rest assured that these monsters would make quick work of anything that fell over the hand rail. I have always thought that drowning would be one of the worst ways to die, but then I learned of how crocodiles catch and kill their prey. The manoeuvre is called the “death roll”, a term that conjures up any number of horrific nightmares that pale in comparison to the reality of the event itself. Any unsuspecting animal caught near the edge of the water has one of these boat sized predators stealthily float up like a benign log, with little more than eyes and nostrils protruding from the surface. In an instant, with the tip of the nose mere inches from its prey, it lunges up out of the water and snaps its mighty jaws closed with literally tonnes of force exerted through the sharp point of each and every engaged tooth. If this weren’t bad enough, the crocodile then uses its mighty power to roll its prey in the water until every breath of panicked oxygen has been expunged. This combines the horrors of drowning with the pleasant feeling of a few tonnes of reptile clamped onto your body. That is unless you have the fortunes of falling victim to this beast in the midst of others. Then you can experience your complete body being torn to shreds, limb from limb, t-bone from prime rib, as you provide the local buffet. It’s very impressive and humbling to think that these mighty predators have survived from the time of the dinosaurs, once upwards of 100 feet or 30 meters long. Even these cold blooded beasts under the bridge, deceptively motionless in the river, are large enough to only need meals every month or so. We get back in the car and continue on.

A lot has changed in the town of Jaco, barely a town at all anymore, and I had to double take that we hadn’t been transported to Mazatlan or Puerto Vallarta. Large apartment complexes had since arisen all over the landscape, and the streets were clogged with the weekend traffic from the big city. We stopped for lunch, and then continued on south 5 kilometres to Playa Hermosa, touted in the Lonely Planet guide as the most consistent beach break in the country. We arrived to find tiny waves and lots of people in the water. Oh well, you can’t surf all the time. We quickly found a place to stay, bargained from $40 to $30 dollars a night for 8 days. It’s a nice room with fridge, air conditioning and cable television. My mom would be happy to know that we spent an hour and a half last night watching curling on that television. Team Canada was playing Denmark, and fell behind nearing the end of the match. The game wouldn’t have been that exiting except for the fact that the announcers that NBC managed to find were blatantly not very familiar with the game. Anyone who has seen the movie “Best in Show” may have some idea of what I’m talking about. The small talk ensued and commentary was borrowed from any major sport that you could think of. Subtlety was not their strong point, and we were very entertained. Canada ended up making a comeback after a costly mistake to remain undefeated in the tournament.

Today we went back into Jaco to get some groceries and do some shopping. I didn’t go out surfing this morning as the waves weren’t good and there was some pain in my shoulder yesterday, some tendinitis creeping back in, so I thought it would be best to give it a break. We had a nice lunch with some guanabana con leche, which I found out other people call soursop fruit, mixed with milk. It’s just about the best thing that you could ever drink. We then walked past the POPS store where I used to run a five dollar a day milkshake habit, and continued along to the beach. I pointed out the tall hill on the north side of the beach where Peter and I had climbed and almost died, getting lost in the razor-wire jungle. I bought a mesh tank top that should prove more fitting for the amount of sweat I’ve been producing, especially here off the peninsula where it actually rains once and a while. The difference in humidity becomes quite apparent, making the air conditioning very pleasant at night in our new room. I also managed to find some fake fish, or fishing lures as people might say, at the big grocery store. Unfortunately you’re not allowed to fish off the beach here in Hermosa as it’s a wildlife refuge, so all the fish that I won’t be catching will have to wait until we return to Mal Pais. We’re off to the beach for a while here soon, and maybe tomorrow I’ll go out for a surf session in the morning.

Tyler.

“Leaving turtle country...”

Our stay here in Ostional has been very relaxing and enjoyable. Despite almost drowning last Saturday, and being attacked by a pack of dogs, things seemed to turn around as we got in the groove. I got back out into the water and caught some of the best waves of my life. Just now I have returned from a sunset session that ended with a really long ride with lots of turns as the sun started to dip into the ocean. The wind has been howling offshore all day, so I decided to sleep in a little bit and surf at sunset. We made the adventurous drive into Playa Guiones for a little yoga action. This was my second yoga class, the first being on Tuesday at the same place. Although I’m not one for all the inner-earth supporting your life spirit garbage, it has really improved my flexibility, and according to the yoga instructor, has really opened up my hips. Ladies beware of my open hips.

After yoga we had some delicious smoothies at some hippy raw food vegan cafe, then went and found an envelope and stamp to let our house insurance people know that we did in fact want to cancel our home renters insurance as we had said before we left. They’ll be receiving this written document on the backside of a flyer for a local restaurant, inside an envelope adorned with a green snake stamp. We rocketed back to Ostional, splashing through rivers and drifting around corners, so that Denielle could be home by 4 to talk to her sister Sarah in Australia. I had a couple pieces of toast, and made the short walk to check out the waves. Within one minute of standing on the beach I witnessed two surfers get barrelled. The howling offshore winds were holding the wave faces up until the last possible second, and then all the energy from the wave gets pitched far forward, opening up that holy grail of the barrel. I hurried back to the room and grabbed my board and my Imperial tank top and returned to the beach while Denielle chatted on the computer.

I performed a couple of quick stretches on the beach and warmed up my shoulders while looking out to the lineup. This was the busiest I had seen the waves here, counting 26 people in the water. That may not seem busy compared to the hundreds in the water at Tamarindo, but when you’re used to being the only one in the water, this becomes quite a change. Entering the water my heart jumped up into my throat. Not only was it very windy, but the water appeared to be at least ten degrees colder for some reason. Usually measuring in at a bath tub-esque 30 degrees, it now felt like a cold swimming pool. I quickly paddled out and began to shiver with everyone else in the lineup. Going for a couple of waves I soon realized that this would be a frustrating session. The wind was making it extremely difficult to catch waves as you had to catch them very late, as the wind was pushing you back and making the drop in very difficult. That, combined with the competition with all the others in the water for each and every wave meant that the pickings would be slim.

On a couple of the waves I was very close, but just as you approach dropping into the face, the wind would blow a fierce spray of water into your eyes, rendering you blind. You try to keep paddling forward, but it becomes very difficult to concentrate. You’re used to seeing the waves break at a certain point, but when the wind is this strong, they stay almost beyond vertical it seems for a very long time, breaking much later. You end up wasting a lot of energy trying to catch waves that won’t break for quite a while past you, and pulling up shy on ones that probably would be just right. Especially as the head high sets are looming quite large in your periphery, any hesitation spells certainty that you will not get that wave. After a long frustrating wait out in the cold, cold water, I begin to think that I may not get a wave before the sun sets. At least the view is nice, one of the nicest sunsets here yet as the strong wind is creating a layer of rippling clouds that have now turned different shades of pink, purple and orange as the sun rests precipitously on the edge of the water. And then it comes, a nice head high wave with a good shoulder. Now or never I tell myself and paddle hard. I surge forward, blinded by the spray as though some angry neighbour has turned the hose on me. My body naturally makes the stand up, and as I regain my vision through the watery blur, I turn into the face and ride the wave all the way towards shore, right in front of Denielle whom is diligently taking photos.

I’m not sure why the formerly deserted town is now so busy, it may have something to do with the upcoming soccer tournament and party on the weekend, but we’ll be glad to get out of here and leave the people behind. We’re heading south on the central coast to Playa Hermosa, which translates to beautiful beach. Hopefully the crowds will be thin there so we can enjoy the beach and the waves and prepare ourselves for company coming the following week. Skya and Nicole have rented a house in Santa Teresa, where we had stayed for two weeks prior to coming here, so we’re looking forward to hanging out with them and returning to the tranquil town. After that Nicole is taking some Spanish classes, so I think we’ll be heading towards Dominical, further south of Jaco and Playa Hermosa where we’re headed next.
Tyler.