Once we'd been through the whole package we took a break and ran the Metz across the bay to the Gaviotas Yacht Club where they have a "USA Direct" line to the States...an AT&T operator answers when you pick up the phone. There are a bunch of the boats we saw in Panama there, including Ringoe, Donna Rose, and the three German boats they traveled with. We ordered lunch and while waiting for it to come I called Nan. No final word yet on when Kris and Bob are planning on coming for a visit, just sometime in February, but Nan said that Sis and Paul are planning on coming about the 19th of March for a stay of two weeks. They'd like to spend one of that doing some driving around the country which just fits with what we'd been thinking of doing.
As we were eating our lunch (Not so very good sandwiches but a great milkshake) in came Lazy Rebel, Philmar, and Osprey to anchor in front of the Jungle Club. They joined us at the club for dinner and we had a nice evening chatting with they and Whitey while Barb did her usual good things with food. I talked for quite a while with Dick from Osprey who is just about to complete a long circumnavigation. He and his wife left Mexico in 1980 heading west. She died last year and he now has a young Dutchman named Joost crewing with him on his little three masted schooner. They are now heading up the coast for the last leg of the long journey.
That done it was on to the Aduana. I waited while Lazy Rebel, Osprey, and Philmar each went through twenty minutes in getting their entry permit but, when it came my turn, there seemed to be a problem. I thought at first it was because I didn't have a Zarpe from Panama, but that wasn't it...I finally realized that what this sweet looking little Costa Rican lady was telling me was that because we had been here three months last year, we couldn't bring the boat back into the country until it had been gone nine months! She said she'd be happy to see us in May, but not before! No amount of pleading would change her smile or her mind. Oh well, I've really figured that the Costa Rican bureaucracy is there primarily to provide jobs and most of it isn't serious. Now we'll get to test that theory. Whitey says the Coast Guard could care less about the Aduana and, since our passports are properly stamped and we have our Zarpe, we should have no problem, at least until we go to check out of the country. At that time if they won't let us stay it really won't matter.
Back at the boat we hauled up and moved on down the bay to the municipal pier, anchoring again a hundred yard out. Joost wanted to go to the bank, Mary Anne to the post office, and I guess Peter just wanted to see the town. Lois, Eleanor, Dick, and I stayed on the boat drinking beer and trying to stay cool...it was really a hot one today! By the time they all got back and we ran back to the Jungle Club it was three o'clock, time for a nap, then run Gennie for an hour before going in to the club for dinner. Not exactly what I'd call a productive day but then there's always ma|ana.
Next, the leaking fresh water filters. There I had more success; taking a brute force approach, I pulled the leaking valves and put silicone sealant on the shafts and "O" rings before reassembling them. That did the job beautifully...you can't use the fancy valves now but we never really needed them anyway. I change the filters only once every ninty days and it's no problem to just shut off the pump and releve the pressure when I do that. The built-in valves are some engineer's smart idea to avoid having a separate shutoff. For some reason designers have never learned that "O" ring seals in moving parts seldom do a good job for long. After coming up for air for a while, it was back to change Gennie's oil. One of these days I'm going to have to face up to working on her starter again, but I'd like to have the replacement part in hand before I tear into it. It might be best to have our next visitor bring a whole new starter.
There were a few clouds in the sky today and it seemed a bit cooler, but there still wasn't any wind in our cove and the little bity bugs were out in force. For some reason they seem to bother Lois more than me...she was pretty miserable tonight. Whitey says that they seem worse to him than usual. We may have to move farther from shore to get away from the little buggers.
After breakfast we ran the Metz across the bay to the Gaviotas Yacht Club and used the USA Direct line there to make some phone calls. Got through to Dick, Kris, and Nan but batted out on reaching Sis or Dad. I suspect Paul and Eleanor are off skiing and Dad and Mom may have gone for an early breakfast. We'll try again tomorrow. There are quite a bunch of boats at Gaviotas...several from Germany and France. We stopped and talked to Rudy and Illa on Donna Rose. All the football fans are planning on going to the Hotel and watching the game this afternoon.
By the time we got back we the boat was nicely stuck in the mud. We'll be having minus tides for the next few days and even Whitey's trench to the Jungle Club was high and, if not dry, nothing but a mudfilled ditch. Fortunately, the bottom is soft. As soon as the tide came in enough to get the Metz to the dock we went to the Jungle Club for lunch and put in our order for some goodies for Whitey and Barb to bring back from Nielly tomorrow. They close the club on Mondays and go to the town of Villa Neily about twenty miles away for provisions. Whitey is going to look for some "O" rings for me.
In the late afternoon we dropped the mooring and ran the boat over to anchor near Gaviotas, hoping that the bugs would be fewer. Before we went I dropped off one of the dive tanks and the tank for our air horn at the Polloc, a big steel ketch from Panama which does professional diving has a compressor aboard. He said he can replace the valve which blew on us a couple of months ago so we'll have our two tanks of air again. I think it was a little more comfortable on this side...Lois didn't get anywhere near as many bites. It's a little noisier with sounds from the town and highway. At the Jungle Club all we hear are the crickets and the howler monkeys in the early morning.
The other half of the job, booze and beer, went just as well. After we'd put away the veggies we put on our going-to-town clothes - long pants, shirt, shoes and socks - and ran over to the municipal dock which this morning was for some reason crowded with fishing boats, the uniquely Costa Rican vessels with the covered wheel house and the noisy one lung inboard engine. We found our way in to the bottom of the concrete stairway and, leaving the Metz in the care of a responsible looking young man of about 12, climbed the stairs and walked the three blocks to the Hotel Surf. There's a liquor store next door to the surf so I bought four cases of beer and a case of vodka which we had the guy stack on the patio while we sipped a cold one and watched for a taxi to come by. That might of worked but it didn't; so, when I'd finished my beer I walked down to the corner and soon was back with one of the four wheel drive, Jeep type taxis which operate here. We loaded the cases into the jeep, drove out to the end of the pier, and watched while three husky boys grabbed our load and hustled it down to the Metz. The taxi driver charged us 100 and I gave each of the boys 50 colones...the current exchange rate is 92 colones per dollar. The toughest job we had was getting it all put away. We were all through with our provisioning and back at the yacht club before 11:00.
We went into the yacht club for lunch, stopped for a while at Donna Rose for a chat...they and the people from a couple of the German boats are flying to San Jose' tomorrow for a day in the big city...and then just lazied the afternoon away. Thought I might be into it again last night when Gennie's starter hiccuped again, but after a few minutes it decided to work and I got a reprieve. I'm hoping it will last another few weeks until Bob and Kris can bring me either a new solenoid or starter!
Not much to say about the rest of the day. It was miserably hot and muggy. In the afternoon, after the tide came back in far enough for us to reach the dock, we went in to the club and spent a couple of hours talking with Whitey and Dick from Osprey. Barb wasn't feeling so good...yesterday in Villa Neily she found that she is now persona non grata in Costa Rica. We don't know the whole story but it seems she had applied for a change in status and, instead of just granting or denying it, the Costa Rican bureaucracy decided to just cancel her status. They have a lawyer in Villa Neily and will probably work it out, but it will be a big hassle. Too bad, they are such nice people! For the record their address is:
Whitey & Barbara Helton
JUNGLE CLUB
Isla de Golfito
Apartado 21
Golfito, Costa Rica
While we were chatting Rex and Joan, a couple who have sailed around the world a couple of times, came in. Joan is flying back to the States tomorrow and had volunteered to take mail, so we loaded her down with a big bag of stuff. We chatted with them for a while then said our goodbys, went back to the boat, hauled anchor, and ran out to Captain Tom's near the harbor entrance. It will be easy to get an early morning start form there. There, we took down the awning, put the Metz on deck, the poles out, and got ready for the run to Drake Bay tomorrow. Again, there is this feeling of regret in leaving a nice place and nice people who we may never see again.
08:15 Rounding Punta Matapalo we pass two small sportfishing boats from "Golfito Bay Sailfish Rancho" hovering around the point. I've had one line out not really caring whether I caught anything...our freezer is still full of mahi mahi. It's a pretty ride along the south shore of the Oso Pennisula. High cliffs covered with jungle rise from the rocky beach for most of the way. At Punta Salispuedes we're told there is a ranger station where you can anchor if the swell isn't too bad and enter the national park. We saw one ranch style building which might have been it but couldn't find the big flag we were told it flew ...probably because there wasn't any wind. It didn't look like the kind of place I'd like to try a landing...the waves crash on very mean looking rocks all along the beach.
11:30 We can now see Isla Ca|as in the distance as we put Salispuedes to our stern. It's a big, flat topped island lying about ten miles offshore of Drake Bay, another Costa Rican national park. I've put together a batch of Dad's "Nuts & Bolts"
- not quite per his receipe, but the best I could do with the materials we could find in the Panama El Rey. By golly, it came out pretty good! Lois and I munch a handful as we roll along. It's about as nice and peaceful a ride as we've had.
13:30 Into the bay at Drake. It's really a very pretty place, open to the northwest but deep enough so that the prevailing southerly swell is barely detectable. It shallows very slowly and we end up parking about a quarter of a mile off the mouth of the river in fifteen feet of water, shallow but clear.
We went to "home" configuration, Metz down, awning up, all the loose things that Lois has stowed back out of their hiding places, then went in to see what we'd missed last August. In what appeared from the anchorage to be a small cove in the steep rocky hillside we found the mouth of a good sized river which splits the hill in two. On either bank there is a small resort catering to tourists, primarily from the U.S. On the east side is Phantom Isle Lodge and on the west Drake Bay Wilderness Camp, both identified by signs at the river mouth. Wilderness Camp seemed to have a little better kept grounds and landing float so we chose to stop there first. It is a very nice place! We were met by a tall, thin man named Herb who, with his wife Marlina, runs the resort and who showed us around. They have several multi-unit living buildings, a small restaurant or dining building, parklike grounds overlooking the bay, and several launches which they use for fishing, sightseeing, and to pick up customers from the closest road up another river to the north. He took us to the dining building, served us a beer, and got out his yachtie guest book for us to sign. We were very surprized to see that the last entry in the book was on August 14, 1989 and that the yacht was Pendria...that was the day Dick and Penny went ashore while we stayed on board nursing my poison whatever. At that time there was no one here but we yachties; now Herb has many guests. He said twenty bird watchers just left and more are coming tomorrow. Several people came in to the dining room while we were drinking our beer.
We signed the book, got the poop about horseback riding and river tours, then took a short run up the river to where a huge log blocks the way except at extreme high tide. It's a very pretty river, clear and deep, about fifty feet wide, with towering jungle on either side. Herb says that farther up it's nice swimming... cooler than the sea. All in all, Drake Bay looks like a nice place to stay for a few days.
I'd taken the video camera in and we were poking around taking pictures of the buildings and grounds when there was a squalk and Lois was attacked, or so she thought, by a big bird, a Scarlet Macaw with its gawdy red, yellow, blue and green feathers! I started taking pictures as she screamed and ducked her head as the bird landed on her back. Once she realized what it was, she straightened up and the Macaw climbed to her shoulder, nuzzling her hair and chortling in her ear, obviously a pet. They have several pet parrots here but, as at the Jungle Club, the Macaw is by far the most spectacular.
We went in to Wilderness again, this time for dinner...a nice plate of shrimp and a welcome change from our recent diet of fish and bananas.
She finished mending the awning and we got it back up then we decided to make another run at the river. This time we timed it perfectly. We were on an outgoing tide and it was out far enough for us to get easily under the big log bridge but there was still plenty of water to paddle upstream. We were able to go maybe a good quarter of a mile before getting to a drop where white water stopped us. I don't think I've ever been on a prettier river. We found our way upstream through the jungle, slipping around volcanic rocks and between hanging vines, with the constant din of the "Chicarros" ringing in our ears. We passed a small waterfall then parked the ding in an eddy while we swam in the cool water. It's the first time we been cool for months! The water temperature is probably 75 degrees as compared to the constant 85 of the ocean. We stopped at Wilderness Camp on the way back, bought a beer from Herb, finished taking some videos I'd been making yesterday when my battery gave up, then went back to the boat to dress for our outing.
Herb had said that he would contact Cecilia and have the horses brought over to the river so we could leave the Metz there rather than on the beach. We were met at the dock by a good looking young man dressed in Levis, rubber boots with spurs attached, a red T-shirt, and a black cowboy hat ... Javier, Cecilia's husband and Jose' Manuel's son. He led us up the hill to the place where three sleepy looking horses were waiting. Lois got Blanca, an off-white mare with tiny brown speckles, and I Roja, a dark reddish brown mare. Both were pregnant, Javier told us.
Our ride was certainly not like anything either of us had done before! For the nest four hours we rode up steep hills and down deep valleys, along narrow ridges and through dark jungle. We stopped at Jose's place high on the top of a mountain where Juevier picked oranges from a tree and served us an orange-aid "fresca" while we chatted with the old man and one of his neighbors who was visiting. He and his son have some 150 acres spread across the hill tops some of which is in pasture, some in sugar cane which they use as fodder for the cattle, and some in bananas. Lots of pigs and chickens share the yard and house. From there we rode down into one valley then back onto another hilltop, climbing a washboard trail that looked very difficult but which the horses seemed to take with ease. The ground is a reddish clay which when wet is very squishy and the horses appear to always step where the last horse did. The result is a series of moguls which, instead of being hummocks, are parallel ridges perpendicular to the trail. For the most part, the trail was wide and well used. We met several other riders on the way, all locals going about their business. There are no roads and horses are the only mode of transportation.
As we turned to the west we started decending through deep jungle toward the river in which we'd been playing this morning. We forded it well above the place where we'd swum, splashing across while Lois kept up a constant chatter of encouragement to her pregnant mount. Then we were again climbing the steep trail toward another mountain top. We always seemed to be climbing out of, or into, a valley...the country is all up and down. On the other side of the river we came to what appeared to be an area of virgin jungle. The trees were huge, towering over a hundred feet above the jungle floor. Thousands of vines and other high living plants used the big trees for supports, weaving a network of green across the sky. Parrots, hidden in the green canopy, screeched at us and in the distance we could hear the howler monkeys.
We emerged on the beach three or four miles west of Drake Bay, rode along the beach for a ways, then started scaling ridges again as we worked our way back to Javier's place. We forded the river again in a place so deep that my stirrups were in the water and Lois was thinking she might have to swim. By the time we got back to the ranch and climbed down from our mounts we could hardly walk. Cecilia sat us down on a soft sofa, gave us a fresca, and showed us pictures of some of the other yachts which had stopped and gone riding with them. Really sweet people! We managed to walk back to the dock, led by a couple of the kids, fell into the ding, went back to the boat, and poured a drink. We were too pooped to even get dinner. Great day!
Cecilia had invited us to have lunch at their place so, after stopping at Wilderness Camp for a beer and chat with Herb, we gathered up a few little goodies and ran over to the beach in from of she and Javier's place. Leaving the Metz on the beach with an anchor out we went in to lunch. Their house is a concrete block building with three rooms and a big concrete porch overlooking the bay. Cecilia invited us into the center, family room where we talked with Jimmy (10) and Helena (7) while others of the family finished their lunch in the kitchen. The room is sparsely furnished. A sofa and an easy chair with cracked vinyl covers face a wall on which is hung a large tapestry of western scenes with a portrayal of John Wayne at the top. Javier and another man were just finishing and evidently had business to attend for they came through, shook hands, excused themselves and left. Then Cecilia called us into the kitchen. It is a small room with a painted concrete floor and unpainted board walls with cracks through which you can see the bay; and spotless, I guess is the way you decribe the feeling of cleanliness. A table at which the younger boy was still eating was against one wall; an apartment sized gas range was on the opposite; a work table, shelves, and a small non-operating refrigerator on the third. There were only four chairs and seven people still to eat so we ate in shifts with Cecilia doubling up with Helena on one chair until the last boy was through. She served a tasty but tough stewed chicken with the always present Costa Rican rice and beans plus fried slices of platino and orange aid.
After lunch Lois presented the gifts she'd brought: a shallow basket with a picture of the Sea Raven, an audio tape of western music, some Pick-up-sticks and cards for the kids, and a note of thanks for the horseback ride. I'd somehow gotten the idea that she made a business of serving meals to people and tried to pay for our lunch but Cecilia wouldn't hear of it. She was delighted with the tape, which she put in a portable player and tried, and gave us some limons, platinos, and eggs which she said were much fresher than we could get in the stores --- I believe that! We asked if she and the kids would like to come out to see the Sea Raven and she said, "Si!", so the seven of us, Cecilia, her three kids, a girl friend of about 12, Lois and I, all trooped down to where the Metz was now high and dry on the beach.
As I started down the steps something large went whooshing by my head and when I looked to see what it was saw a small green parrot with red trim on its wings land on a bush. Seconds later he came again, brushing my cheek with his wing as he went by; then he was buzzing the rest of us, swooping down over the heads of the kids, very much upset by something. Cecilia laughed and said something about it being Helena's pet. The fool thing kept buzzing around all the time we were getting the Metz into the water and then followed us half way out to the boat before it finally gave up. We didn't stay long at the boat. We'd only been there a few minutes and I was starting to show them some of the videos I'd taken of our ride with Javier when Helena got seasick. There wasn't much rolling of the boat but it was evidently enough, so I loaded everybody back up ran them back to dry land. Too bad! Helena is a pretty little thing with frizzy blond hair, dimples, big brown eyes, and features which reflect the German heritage of her great grandfather. She fell for Lois immediately and hung on her all the time we were together.
We circled, picked a spot in the white sand which seemed clear of the underwater mountains, dropped our hook, and I went over the side to take a look. As I swam toward the first big rock we'd seen a sunburst of yellow fish poured off its face like a fireworks display on the 4th of July. There were tiny fish, little fish, middle sized fish, and big fish everywhere, and I could see a good hundred feet or more. I noticed that when we anchored we had backed to set the anchor but not hard, and it was lying on its side on top of the sand. The boat had drifted and the chain was now in a big loop. Because I had never had a really good look at how the anchor sets, I asked Lois to start the engine and back down on the anchor. As the loop pulled out the chain pulled directly toward a big ray lying on the bottom. It didn't even seem to notice until the chain actually pulled over its wing, then it just moved a foot or so and watched the chain go by. As the chain straighted and the boat reached the end the anchor swung around, the point turned downward only slightly but movement stopped...the weight of the chain and anchor is enough to hold us with the engine at idle. I had Lois increase the RPM to 500 and the anchor started to drag slowly through the sand, not digging in like it should. The white sand layer is evidently very thin. Another clew to that came when I spotted a big, probably two or three inch, chain with a monster mushroom anchor still attached lying on the sand. The mushroom wasn't dug in more than a few inches. No place to anchor in a storm!
We spent the day at Ca|os. I did a lot of snorkling which my sinuses are now protesting. A couple of divers from Phantom Isle Lodge were treasure hunting and I watched them for a while. They were poking around a reef when one of them pulled out a clip board, wrote something on it with some kind of stylus, and showed it to his partner! Makes sense, but it's the first time I'd ever seen somebody write under water. We took the Metz into the beach and talked to some of the people at the Ranger Station. They said there were some nice trails up into the jungle but Lois and I are both still so sore from our horseback outing that we just took a walk on the beach rather than climbing the mountain.
We ran back to Drake Bay in the late afternoon and were happy we had when it started storming during the night. Not a lot of wind but lots of lighting and thunder and rain...we even managed to collect enough water for a wash.
On the way back we stopped at Cecilia's. Lois gave her some earrings and she gave Lois a decorated bag as we said goodby. We went to Wilderness Camp for lunch, then got on our swim suits and went up the river for a last swim in the cool fresh water. That has been a real treat! Back at the boat we put up the Metz and went to cruise configuration. Tomorrow we'll run up to Quepos and see what we missed there on the way south.
08:00 We pass the first of the many turtle we saw today, sunning himself on the surface and sinking slowly under as we come a little too close for his liking. A couple of boobies argue over who gets the best seat on our flopper-stopper poles.
10:00 Hookup! And what a fighter! I was relieving myself over the side when I looked back and saw that one of our two lines was across the other. Nothing showed on the surface, our usual indication of a fish, but the bungee was straining with some kind of load. We kept running and after about another five minute a dorado broke the surface, leaping forward in an attempt to shake the hook. We towed him for at least fifteen minutes and he never gave up. Finally he must have assumed some kind of a bent posture because he started to spin. The swivel wasn't doing its job so the line began to twist and I decided to haul him in. It's a good thing I did because when I heaved him aboard I could see that the leader wouldn't have lasted much longer; the twisting was in the opposite direction of the twist in the multi-strand steel leader and it had completely unraveled. The plastic lure was destroyed. We've never had a fish fight so hard.
12:30 We poke our way into the anchorage behind Catedral Point (N9 23/W84 09) and park in about 20 feet of water beside a little trimaran called Sisu from Santa Barbara. I met Bob and Louise at a potluck on Isla Jesusita last summer while Lois was north for her grandma fix.
Lots of people on the beach today...this is a very popular vacation spot for both Ticos and Gringos and it's not hard to see why. It's a lovely place where dense jungle runs out along a narrow neck of land leading to a high rock point overlooking the sea. Beaches of soft white sand line both the protected north side and the south side of the isthmus where the southerly swell pounds incessently. A path leads through the jungle between the beaches. Manuel Antonio is about three miles from the town of Quepos, a former fishing village now much devoted to tourism, and is readily accessable to San Jose' about half a day's drive away. A number of hotels and restaurants dot the high hills around the bay.
We put down the Metz, got the awning up, and fled into the water. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky and the afternoon was a scorcher! Although there's good protection, there's still a long swell that rolls into the bay behind the park and so we put out the stern hook, carrying it out in the Metz and dropping it in about ten feet of water near the beach. I'd just finished that when a pelican came paddling up to the boat, unafraid and begging for a handout. It took us a while to recognize that it was a crippled bird, unable to fly, who probably exists off handouts from humans. Lois gave him some small pieces of the dorado we'd caught.
Bob and Louise shared the rest of the fish with us at a super Birthday dinner a la Lois. She had fixed my favorite lemon cake and her "French" tomatoes to go with the dorado. We had our drinks, ate our dinner, and had chatted for a while when the squall hit. Bob and Louise made a run for their boat and, Wow! It was like we were back on the Atlantic side. For a few minutes the rain poured, the wind blew, and the lighting flashed, then all was calm again. The spooky thing was that when the wind started to blow I turned on the depth sounder to make sure we didn't drag and it was very erratic, indicating twelve feet one moment and four the next. I knew it couldn't be right but it was dark and raining so hard that I couldn't tell where we were. I started the engine to take the load off the main anchor rode and crossed my fingers. In a few minutes it was over and the depth sounder started working right again. Only Murphy knows why it quit at the worst possible time.
We went out the entrance bucking the stream of incoming traffic, waded a small fresh water stream...also cool, and walked to the end of the road where there is a small hotel, a couple of restaurants and a number of fruit stands. All the tables at the hotel restaurant were full but when I asked a young tourist earnestly studying his Costa Rica guide books shared his with us. We sat in the shade drinking a cerveza and chatting with our young tablemate about Costa Rica for a few minutes, then bought a pinapple, melon, oranges, and bananas from one of the stands and headed home. The fruit vendor was very happy...he usually only sells a piece of fruit at a time and I think he charged us accordingly for our haul. No matter, we had just run out of fresh fruit.
Back at our beach, Lois waited while I swam out and got the Metz, bringing it in and anchoring in water shallow enough for us to carry our goodies through the surf without getting wet...it's a short surf, seldom more than waist deep. We'd just gotten our fruit put away when visitors showed up, two ladies from Germany had swum out and hailed Lois as she brought in clothes that had been drying on the deck. We chatted for a while while they treaded water, then invited them aboard for a beer. Virginia, who speaks English very fluently, introduced her friend as Bonnie and said she and her husband own a small hotel called the Vila Bar here at Manuel Antonio. They spend two or three months here each year. She said that she ans he were very interested in boats and hoped to someday do what we are doing. We showed her through the boat and, before they dove in and swam back to the beach, she invited us to come in and be their guest for dinner at their little nine room hotel just beyond the park entrance. She said her husband would love to talk with us.
We were considering her offer...it's a long walk after dark and the surf on their beach is to high to take in the ding...when the park skiff showed up. Through a Spanish speaking Gringo, the ranger told us that he was sorry, but they didn't allow boats to anchor in park waters. That didn't come as a complete surprize...we'd heard rumors to that effect, and can certainly understand why. It's a beautiful place and, while one yacht isn't a problem, a dozen fishing boats parked off the swimming beach could be very much of one; so, we prepared to up anchor. It was three thirty when we moved out and by four fifteen we had anchored again in almost as pretty a cove on the north side of Punta Quepos. I had expected to have to anchor off the sea wall in town and this was a pleasant surprize. The sea is quieter, we don't need a stern anchor, and we don't have the crowds on the beach. Not sorry at all now that they booted us out, we had our evening martini and watched a magnificent sunset in the western sky.
It's about a mile from our bay to the municipal pier and breakwater and in between are more high rock cliffs broken by several more small bays and beaches... really a very pretty area. The jetty, or breakwater, juts straight out to the west a quarter of a mile south of town center. Behind it is a long, high, steel pier and on shore a number of large red roofed buildings all looking like they are left over from the days when Quepos was a busy shipping port; now the pier appears to be used only by fishermen. A dozen or more sportfishing boats are hanging on buoys in front of the pier. As we ran along the pier and toward the beach in the Metz we saw two open outboard motorboats roaring directly for the beach where we could see the surf breaking; then, as they looked about to run up on the shore, they turned 90 degrees left, ran behind the breakers down the high seawall in front of the town, and disappeared. We went over to where I thought I'd seen them turn but could find no break in the surf which was a bit too big for us to try in the Metz, particularly when we had our going-to-town clothes on. We were about to give up and go back when we saw another boat coming. This time we timed it so that we were at the turn point close behind him. He slowed as he reached the surf line, waited for a wave to break, then adjusted his speed so that he reached the channel between waves...we followed doing the same thing. At low water the surf breaks on a long sand bar which parallels the seawall. Behind it is a channel several feet deep which is kept open by a river or estuary leading to the north of town. Once on the inside of the bar the water flat.
We drug the Metz up on the sand where a number of people were sitting or playing, found three boys who said>
We'd just gotten our stuff put away when a familiar looking young lady in a familiar looking kayak hailed us. It was a girl who had swum out to the boat yesterday just as we were asked to leave the park and she was paddling one of Lee Moyer's new seagoing kayaks. We asked her aboard and talked for a while. Her name is Charlene and she's a student in Montreal, Canada who is vacationing in Costa Rica during her semester break and had rented a horse this morning, and the kayak this afternoon, from a guy on the south beach of our bay. Tomorrow we'll have to go in and ask him where he bought the kayak. Lee and Judy have sure left their mark down here...we've seen their boats from the Sea of Cortez to Panama!
As we were about to leave the beach one of the riders, a lady, now in a bikini which could hardly cover her ample proportions, came out and asked us about our boat. She said her name is Elizabeth and that she had lived here for twenty years before getting married to the captain of a fishing boat from Alaska, and now spends about three months of the year here and the rest in Kodiak. We talked for a while and then invited her and her two guests out to see the Sea Raven. They didn't stay long, Jesse had their lunch ready, but invited us up to her house for cocktails later. I was a little leary of the climb but Lois jumped at the chance to see one of the houses on the hill. We went in to the beach with the high tide about three o'clock, tied the Metz to a tree, put on our shoes and started up the hill. It's quite a hill, unpassable even with four wheeled vehicles for the first half mile, it is steep and rutted by heavy erosion. Fortunately, it had started to cool off and most of the road is shaded, but we were still dripping wet with sweat when we reached the top. The view from there is spectacular. The road looks down on the bay at Manuel Antonio with it's beautiful beaches and rock islands.
With a little coaching from a passing neighbor we found Elizabeth's house, a beautiful stucco building set in a tropical garden. It's not pretentious, but a very lovely home with a grand view of the sea to the northwest and decorated with many carvings, paintings, and other arty objects. It turned out that she is the lady who runs the gallery we visited when we came here last summer. Her husband, Skip Bolton, is off in Kodiak doing something on a crab boat and the couple with her are visiting from there. She served us grapefruit juice and vodka and we sat and talked for quite a while. Very well educated, Elizabeth is what she calls a "half breed"...her mother was Costa Rican and her father a Gringo. She went to college in San Jose', started her gallery and built her house before meeting her husband eight years ago. Very interesting lady! The sun was almost down before we excused ourselves and headed back to the boat and we got down just before dark. The walk down was much more pleasant than the climb not only because it was cooler, but also because we had the view of the sunset most of the way. I was glad Lois had taken the invitation.
11:00 We'd been thinking of going to Punta Leona today, but we had gotten such an early start and were making such good time that we decided to keep going to the Tortugas. The trip so far had been very dull, with no dolphins and not even a fish to liven things up although I had the lines out. Now, however, a boobie was accompanying us, a mature bird with pure black and white coloring which seemed to be using us as a fish finder. It would fly back and forth, keeping pace with the boat, then would suddenly swoop down to the water, dive, and come up with a fish in its beak. Then, with hardly a hesitation, it would be in the air again and repeat the performance. It stayed with us for almost two hours before finally disappearing.
13:00 Islas Tortugas, or at least within sight of the anchorage. We could hardly believe our eyes! The anchorage was filled with at least fifteen boats! We had expected a few people, knowing that at least two tour companies brought visitors out on weekends, but this was a bit much! Our experience with the Gulf of Nicoya has been during the off-season, June and July, now I guess we'll see what the busy tourist season is like. We decided to go on to Jesusita rather than fight the crowd.
14:10 Anchored in front of Doc Casper's place between Jesusita and the mainland. No other boats here...there are a couple across the way in front of a small resort which was closed last summer but seems to be open now. We went to "home" configuration then just loafed the rest of the afternoon, watching all the fishing and tour boats as they came past through the channel. There's a strong current here, three or four knots at peak, so we do quite a bit of swinging around. Other than that the water was flat even though we had a pleasant breeze all afternoon.
13:50 Approaching high tide and so we haul up and head for Puntarenas. The channel there is very shallow and, although we know it very well, I like to always go in and out on a rising tide. There's a nice breeze out of the south and our six boat sailing club, which had anchored again not far up the channel, is now out in the gulf having a ball.
15:30 Into the muddy, murky estuary at Puntarenas. There's one very large british yacht in the anchorage, the Micheala Rose, but other than that it looks just as we left it. All the little sail boats in front of Eggert's are different now though; we recognize only two, Ringoe and Flying Turtle.
We'd planned on eating our dorado tonight but when I started Gennie I found that she had only only a trickle of cooling water coming out. I shut her down and went below to check, fearing that an impeller had gone; but no, when I opened the sea screen and turned on the cock no water came in. Something is blocking the through hull, probably plastic. I didn't feel like fooling with it tonight so we ate a tunafish sandwich.
Once we got through with the phone calls I set off with my little red wagon while Lois headed for the grocery store. I managed to get some new fish gloves and a couple of lures, a new and proper fitting for my high pressure hydraulic hose, bushings to connect my new washdown system, and a nice bronze ball valve for the watermaker hose. The latter two items I found in a little, hole-in-the-wall, used hardware shop where an old fat lady wearing thick glasses helped me paw through piles of pipe fittings. She charged me 400 colonies (about $4.50) for the valve and bushing because, she pointed out very carefully, they were bronze and "Muy bueno!". The valve alone at the regular hardware store was priced at almost ten dollars. The only thing I couldn't find was an "O" ring for the two way valve for the watermaker. I must have looked at 200 different sizes of "O" rings at different stores and found some close, but none just the right size. The straight ball valve will have to do the job.
With my shopping done, I stopped by the gas station, filled our jerry jug, and headed back to Eggert's. Lois was already there waiting and chatting with some of the people. Eggert and Anna are selling the business and moving on. They've bought a motor home and plan to head for the U.S. for a while, although Eggert says he like to end up in Spain. When I asked why he doesn't like his home country of Denmark he only grinned and said, "It's too damn cold!" Peter from Ringoe was there...he says they will haul out about the 2nd of March...also Steve from Riatea, almost ready to head south again after several months working in the States. We took our groceries and goodies to the boat, stowed them, then brought back our empty dive tank for Eggert to fill. Had lunch at Chung San's...good Chinese rice and Chop Suey...then Lois went off to get her hair cut while I killed time talking to folks at Eggert's.
It was a quarter to four when Lois got back, looking sharp in her new close-cut hairdo. We wanted to get out on the rising tide so rushed out to the boat, hauled anchor, and were on our way before four. By five we were anchored again at Isla Gitana on the other side of the gulf. There are three other cruising boats here but not Philmar. Tomorrow we'll go in and see who's here and where Philip and Mary Anne have gone.
We went in to, what shall I call it, the Club this morning and met a few of the other boaters parked here: Winfield and Nancy on Windrift, and Elan and Bella on a boat named Lady Starr. Both are heading south. Linda and Daniel were in Paquera for the day getting supplies and showing some visitors around. They've done quite a bit of work around here since last summer, the most evident being the new thatched roof over the bar. It's a huge, inverted cone with a peak at least fifty feet in the air. Made of poles trussed with steel to resist high winds, it's covered with heavy palm branches and makes a great shelter for the big round bar and adjoining tables. All the pet animals are still here, including a couple of new pigs which the dogs do a pretty good job of keeping away from the tables. The big swimming pool is still inviting. We had a lunch of hamburgers, talked with the others for a while, and a nice young man named Rudolfo called the Bougainvillea for us to make a reservation for the 25th. No luck, they are full up! Guess we'll have to settle for less.
Lois wasn't feeling too great so we spent the rest of the afternoon on the boat, going back in just before dinner when Linda and Daniel got home. We had a nice chat with them and they agreed to call for reservations at another hotel which Linda recommended. Linda's dad, Carl, is in the States but will be back next week. We'll probably spend a bit of time here while waiting for our visitors.
Philmar called us from Ballena on the morning radio net and said they were coming back in this evening. Phil said they had their two guests from Mexico City with them and asked us to see if Linda could fix dinner for us all tonight. She allowed as how she could probably do that, if we didn't mind having Ministroni. We said OK, and she did...a huge pot of sort of a meat and vegetable stew with lots of unknown things in it. There turned out to be quite a crowd. Phil and Mary Anne had her aunt and niece with them, Dave and Donna visiting with Linda were there, Winfield and Nancy from Winddrift, Kurt and Linda and Steve and Kathy from two other boats, Shaharazade and Sassafrass, that just arrived, Linda, Daniel, and their three kids all dug into the pot. It was good and there was plenty!
We went into the club again in the early afternoon, swam in the pool, showered, and socialized. More people showed up today: an Alaska fisherman named Tyler and his daughter come in from Seattle via San Jose', Peter and Eleanor showed up on Lazy Rebel, and a boat called Windwalker came in from Playas del Cocos. They said more boats are following. Looks like the first wave of the class of '90 is arriving in Costa Rica.
08:00 Anchored at Islas Tortugas. Nobody here but a couple of fishing boats this morning, but I suspect the tour boats will be along later. We are just at high tide and the water is nice and clear. We ran the watermaker for the last half hour coming but the computer says we should be down about seven more hours so I cranked up Gennie and she went to work. As I'd expected, about 11:00 the tour boats started arriving. Not as many on this Friday as there'd been last Saturday, but we ended up with six I think, and about a hundred people playing on the beach. We stayed on the boat and watched Gennie, doing little jobs and reading.
14:30 Tank finally full right on schedule. Our water usage is very consistant and I've been keeping records long enough to be able to predict within a few minutes of when the tank will be full. I shut down Gennie then went over the side to take a look at our bottom and through-hulls...both are still in good shape with almost no growth after seven months.
15:30 Anchor up, clean this time, and on our way back to Gitana.
17:00 Re-anchored at Gitana. Several boats have left. Now there are only Lazy Rebel, Ringoe, Sassafras and ourselves. We had our evening cocktail then Lois fixed a nice salad for dinner ...we've been eating too well and we can see more of the same when our company starts coming. More?