Starting with a waterfall
Guess what? Early breakfast at 6.30 am. Yeah, I am just about coming to terms with this idea that holiday days have to begin early. On the bus by 7.40, we drove the short distance from Tilaran to the Viento Fresco Waterfalls. $10 per person, it is worth a visit, even though the dry season means that the water is low at the moment in late March. Once you have arrived at the reception, you can get a jeep ride on a narrow track then walk the final steps down to the waterfalls. There are four waterfalls, although we only had time to visit three of them.
On the way down through the rainforest, we caught a fleeting (but perfect) glimpse of a mot mot and a supersized grey squirrel as well as tiger ants which we steered well clear of. A refreshing swim in one of the pools was very welcome as it was scorching hot, even this early in the morning.
Downhill all the way
The ride today was looked forward to by all as it was mainly downhill toward the drier plains of Guanacaste. But this was a bit frustrating; the whole group was under orders not to pass the leader and that meant squeezing on the brakes far more frequently than I would have liked. I am not particularly fast downhill but I have a few long learnt skills which made this doubly frustrating. But the monkeys spotted on the side of the road brought great relief to my sense of frustrating. It is impossible not to be fascinated by these creatures….and let’s face it, I came to Costa Rica for the wildlife!
It was hot again today and the final climb of the day – maybe the only one – took its toll. My legs burnt with the effort and the sun stung my face and bare arms. But it was blissfully short and we were soon rolling into Canas, a small town on the Pan-American highway. Our hotel, Hotel Cana Brava opened out onto it and the building work still taking place beneath it.
Canas and the comedy of errors
Canas is home to an intricately decorated church but we barely looked at it, more concerned with the extra ride later in the afternoon. After checking in, we were off again, heading through rice fields toward a small town called Bebederro. There wasn’t much about about where our 15 kms ended; the guide led us right to the river where the bridge had been washed away. I asked how we were going to cross but the guide laughed. “We’re here! End of the ride!”
Ride over then, sweat pouring, we had time for a drink at the nearest bar and then a hop back on the bus back to the hotel.
Dinner was a comedy of errors; burnt shrimp, no wine, and dinner served one plate at a time. Not forgetting, of course, that it was all over by 10 pm anyway…..I love evenings like that!
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