Salsa Brava is the name of a very heavy wave in Puerto Viejo. The name translates to Brave Sauce, and brave sauce is needed indeed for those that tempt fate by riding this wave. This has been the only place surfing that I have seen people wearing helmets in the water. The wave itself breaks over a very shallow coral reef, just outside of the main town. Swells generated in the Caribbean Sea travel from the east through relatively deep water before encountering the sudden rise in the ocean floor, causing the wave to increase greatly in height and pitch forward onto the reef, often forming perfect hollow barrels. Sometimes the power of the wave sucks the reef dry, meaning that the base of the wave drops below sea level, exposing the sharp reef to the detriment of whoever may be riding said wave. This is a wave for the experienced or foolhardy, and I dare not set foot nor fin upon it as it beckons. Right now however, there is not enough swell to form any waves on Salsa Brava, so I would be content upon the beach brake mush at Playa Cocles down the road.
After enjoying a week in Dominical, we made the cross country trip to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean side. I had been looking forward to returning to Puerto Viejo nearly ten years later, as I had spent a month here with Ray and Peter, and had many memories of the area. One of the first hotels we checked into was the Hotel Agapi, run by a Greek man and his Caribbean wife, where I had stayed for an entire month with my two friends for $350 or $400. I was very pleased upon returning to find the wife Cecilia still there to show us around. I was somewhat frightened that she may remember me while touring an apartment suite identical to the one that I had stayed in before, as a few nights of mischief and some accusations of missing dinnerware had us leaving on not the best of terms. The price of $85 per night this time around however had us continue on our way for cheaper lodgings. The next day my focus would turn to the surf, although my expectations were rather low after leaving the pacific. My last sunset session in the water before leaving Dominical resulted in an injured shoulder due to some overconfidence in my duck diving abilities. Some overhead sets came through just as the sun was setting and I found myself caught inside. Earlier in the session I had successfully ducked under a rather large wave that broke right in front of my face, so I went into this slightly larger wave with gusto. I’m not sure what went wrong, but the wave forcefully removed me from my surfboard and decided that it would be best if I went tumbling under water in the other direction. The ocean also seemed to know that I hadn’t done any yoga for quite some time, so it took my right arm from off my surfboard and placed it ever so forcefully back behind my head. Ouch. I frantically tried to avoid several more large set waves in the near dark while the pain in my shoulder panged with every stroke. After wondering whether I would catch a wave before it became completely dark, I managed to get aboard a smaller roller that carried me back towards shore. So now I had two injuries in two days, and would become good friends with the ibuprofen bottle.
That morning we had left Dominical just after 8 am, not knowing for sure how long our journey would take us. Creeping up the twisting roads towards the continental divide, the temperature dropped steadily from the 30 degrees that had already accumulated in Dominical when we had left. The lowest the thermometer read was 11, just before we started making our way back down again. Quite a bit before that bone-chilling temperature, we had entered the realm of the clouds, and received a fine mist of rain which we had not been accustomed to for our entire trip thus far. We passed along some amazing views from high atop the mountains, and took a little break in the city of Cartago to look at a church, then continued along our way. We ate lunch just before Limon on a roadside soda for some of the cheapest food that we’ve had during our trip, though Denielle may have paid the real price later in the evening vomiting all over the bathroom. After driving across a couple of old railroad bridges on the wrong path, we soon found the road again and came into Puerto Viejo with a little time before sunset. The temperature was a cool 24 degrees, a nice change from the constant sweat inducing heat, both day and night, of the south western coast.
The water temperature of the Caribbean was cooler as well, as we soon found out the next morning. Overcast skies and cool Caribbean breezes helped to shape the surf into a messy pile of confusion. Nicole took Denielle’s board into the water for a while, but soon became frustrated with the 9 second swell. There’s scarcely time to catch your breath when waves are coming in every 9 seconds and you don’t know which way to turn. It took me a while to figure everything out as you would paddle for one wave, miss it, then turn around only to find another one directly behind it. Some prey confuse their predators by overwhelming them with sheer numbers. There are so many options available that the predator fails to hone in on just one, and ends up getting nothing. That’s the way that I felt out in the water, as though the ocean is throwing everything it has at you in hopes that you leave empty handed. You would try to turn and paddle for one wave, but then another would look better just the other direction and slightly behind, and then another still would be coming a tiny bit later. I soon figured out to select one of a set well in advance and hope that it worked out. The waves grew quickly as the beach was quite shallow, so you had to be on your game to stand up quickly before getting pounded into the sand, but then the wave would quickly fizzle out. So you would jump off into the knee to waist deep water and paddle back out again. There were a few longer rides however, and good times were had despite the ever growing crowds throughout the session.
That night we went into town and caught a movie at the internet cafe. A large screen is set up across the road, and you just have to purchase at least a dollar’s worth of goods from either the internet shop or the liquor store up above. So we got some seats during the last quarter of the new Star Trek movie, and caught Avatar in its entirety. The movie wasn’t the only entertainment, as soon two police on motorcycles came up the street and appeared to be watching the movie. These were soon followed by a police pickup truck full of police that all hopped out and came towards the crowd. They singled out two guys for some apparent reason and handcuffed them to the back of the truck. Then the police hopped in the bed of the truck with them, and drove off.
Today we took the car down to Punta Uva, a small beach about 8 kilometres south for some relaxing and snorkelling, sans snorkel. I remember walking here with Peter about 10 years ago to surf over the super shallow reef. So this time, with flippers and goggles in hand, I swam out and saw a plethora of tiny brightly coloured fish making their way around the different types of coral. Perhaps the most amazing site was a jellyfish about the size of a golf ball, gracefully making its way across the reef. I got close but not too close for fear of a nasty sting. We packed up from the beach and went down to Manzanillo where we had some gourmet French cuisine. Although I’m pretty sure you can’t claim gourmet when you use white bread from a store-bought loaf. Anyway, the crepes we had for desert were quite good. We returned to Playa Cocles, just outside of Puerto Viejo to watch the surfers before sunset. While the waves were less than half the size of the previous day, it was a nice relaxing end to our relaxing day. Now we’re headed back into town for a while, as Nicole is organizing an intra-country bus ride from the southeast to the northwest tip to catch her plane back home the following day. We’ll be heading off to Panama in the morning, and off to Boca del Toro for some island adventures.
Tyler.
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