We stopped in Jaco for lunch, and at Hermosa and Esterillos to check waves. Nothing happening, we hauled down to Manuel Antonio. This area is probably the prettiest jungle/beach region of the trip. Many shades of green meet white sand and clear blue water.
We surfed at the north end of the beach, which is near a point, and called a point break, but looked and felt more like a regular shorebreak to us. Direction is everything I guess. The waves were fun, but fast and a bit tricky due to lots of rip and constantly shifting. We camped steps from the sand in a small meadow surrounded by noisy monkeys (who drive Camper nuts), and sing songy birds. We cooked all of our meals because the prices everywhere are outrageous. Somehow, we have found room in the budget for beers at night.
who would like to read a story?
THE RISE AND FALL OF TARP CITY
Let me start by saying one thing. It is damned hot, wet and muggy here. There is no dry place, and the humidity makes camping very challenging. Clothes remain sweaty, and tents become steam saunas.
The first night we had a short period of light rain accompanied by sporadic thunder and lightening. The flys went up on the tents, and both Beckers roasted inside like potatoes in the oven.
My sleeping pad had a perfect chalk-stlye outline of sweat, like you might see at a crime scene. Uncomfortable?... yes. Disgusting?.... yes also. Add two direct hits from falling mangos, near suffocation, a late night fly removal, then subsequent brief rainshower. Not much sleep that night.
As it happens, Garen meanwhile suffered many of the same issues so we decided to erect TARP CITY. The idea was to create a large waterproof tarp structure that both tents would fit under. This way, we could remove the flys and experience what is called ventilation, without worry of getting soaked. Quite impressive, really.
We built another tarp house behind the truck for drinking under.
All went smoothly until the evening of the second night when the Perfect Storm came through. As luck would have it, we were at a bar ten minutes away when loud booming occurred and white flashes leaped across the sky. The rain was heavy enough to render us totally waterlogged within 30 seconds of leaving the cantina. Garen, Camper and I raced down a muddy road back to TARP CITY, falling into knee deep mud holes, and sloshing around in the dark.
We finally staggered into camp,where rivers ran under our tents and collected in pools everywhere. We dug moats and built trenches in an effort to save the camp from being washed away completely. Hours later the torrential rains ceased, but the damage had been done. TARP CITY was a failure.
A
