Day something-or-other of our Costa Rican adventure
A bad night, due to a persistently noisy bird that made a distinctive ‘waaa-waaa’ noise well into the small hours.
This may have been the bird that kept me awake. You can imagine it making that waaa-waa noise now. Yes, this is the bird alright. Damned bird.
I still managed to wake up at an unearthly 5.15am, though. So I grabbed my SLR, tripod, long lens and compact camera and quietly slipped out of our room. The idea was to see if I could take some spectacular photos of the Arenal volcano in all its mist-enswirled, golden-houred, early-morning majesty.
The short answer was no. Although I’d remembered all the kit , I’d quite forgotten that I’m a bit crap at actually taking pictures. As you can see.
Taken through a photographic lens using an exposure and an F number.
It was nice being the only person around, though. Very peaceful. I saw a toucan, the national bird of Costa Rica. The camera was pointing the wrong way, of course.
After breakfast I drove Carol and Georgia to the reptile/amphibian/butterfly house about 30 minutes away then came back and joined Sarah by the pool. It was very hot. Later, we all reassembled for lunch then got back in the car for our next big next adventure.
Now, I’ve got two main fears in my life, apart from injuries and horrible illnesses. (And buttons.)
These are depths and heights. The snorkeling was curtailed due to the mix up with the masks and an inconveniently-placed sea urchin, so that was the depths bit taken care of. This afternoon it was the turn of heights, in the form of a sphincter-loosening zip-wire experience.
I was determined to do it, though. I was. We’d heard from white-water rafting guy Victor and others that it started with a teensy little ride of about 10 metres and then a slightly longer one, before you hooked up for the major descents. You’re eased in. That sounded doable. What was there to worry about?
This. As we drove into the parking lot, I was confronted by the sight of someone on his final run. He was 30 metres up, travelling at about 40mph, and screaming his lungs out. That was it. I decided there and then to be the official photographer, despite my well-evidenced lack of prowess in that field.
The rest of the family got kitted out in zip-wiring gear then signed disclaimers and boarded the cable car that would take us up to the start of the run. I ran off a few shots and went back to my beloved terra firma to await their arrival. I checked all my equipment: Camera? Check. Er, that was it.
All went well for Carol and Sarah, but Georgia got stuck halfway along one of the wires and had to haul herself, hand over hand, to the end. Hot work. I missed this entirely because, following some stupid advice, I was in completely the wrong place for almost all of their rides. Brilliant.
It’s not red and there are no customers in it
The previous day, Victor had also mentioned a restaurant we should visit in La Fortuna, the closest town to our lodge. Mention my name to Louis the chef, he said. So in the evening we grabbed a cab and headed for the fabled Red Rock Steak House.
The waiter made us feel welcome and said we could sit wherever we liked, which meant anywhere at all as the place was entirely devoid of customers (it stayed that way throughout our visit). Once seated, I casually dropped Victor’s name, making what I thought would be construed as white-water-rafting motions. It worked! Within minutes Louis himself strode out, proudly bearing a tray upon which were placed cuts of meat along with some massive prawns. In Spanish he enthusiatically took us through the items one by one, giving each a different name despite all of the cuts looking identical to my untrained eye (apart from the prawns, obv. They looked like huge prawns).
Did they have a wine list? No. Just a choice of red or white, by the glass. The waitress took a picture of us for the restaurant’s Facebook page (two fans so far!) and we set about our meaty dinners, our conversation punctuated by the occasional roar of a passing Mack. To be fair, the food was pretty good and the desserts were to die for, or perhaps as a result of.
Hungry?
Made it back to the lodge just in time to get a drink from the bar before it closed at 10pm. 10pm!
Next time: the least guided tour in history
Where we go and what we do 