Going Wild In Costa Rica
By Mick Gordon
At the edge of the Pacific,
where the Tarcoles River meets
the ocean and route 34 breaks
from the mountains, there is an
infamous highway bridge. People
come from miles around to see
the crocodiles beneath.
Stumbling from our "Tourismo
bus" our guide shouts, "Heeey
you bad boys, you want cerveza?
Imperial is good, yes? Here,
eets for you!" He tosses his
half empty beer can over the
guardrail. On a sandbank 7m
below clunk! Fizz! Nothing! Like
sodden grey logs they lie there
with their mouths wide open. The
sandpipers skitter between
picking fetid shreds of decaying
flesh from their jaws.
Litter is an obscenity,
especially as Costa Rica's
economy depends upon a pristine
environment, so I am tempted to
retrieve the can. But better
judgment prevails.
The appearance of relaxed
indifference is purposeful.
Wound tight as a steel spring,
an apparently dozing crocodile
can explode into a deadly blur
of snapping jaws. A large dog
bites at 100 PSI (pounds per
square inch); a crocodile
delivers a bone splintering
chomp at 3000 PSI.
Thick reeds line the shore and
somewhere within, Tyson, a local
celebrity, lays waiting. He is
said to be at least 6m in length
and on a number of occasions has
invaded the nearby town on
dog-snatching forays.
For those who come to experience
the wildlife, Costa Rica's
rivers provide the most
immediate transition from urban
bustle to rustic paradise. Many
seek challenging wilderness
adventures while others are just
happy to ride a river boat
through the local mangrove
swamp.
The crocodiles are an endless
source of horrified fascination.
The muddy estuaries and placid
channels are also a
bird-watchers paradise. And
there is some amazing whitewater
rafting. There's great
whitewater rafting in New
Zealand, of course, but it
doesn't have the added frisson
provided by all those crocs, so
before heading down the Pacuare
River we pay close attention as
Mauricio, our pilot, clips my
wife Maggie's life jacket
together.
"This is very important; it is
the only thing that stops us
drowning if we fall out. In the
river we keep our feet
downstream and we stay happy."
With naivety and innocence we
push our flimsy little boat out
into the current.
At the upper end of the gorge,
with a watery slurp, our boat is
sucked into the rocky gullet. It
is pure whitewater heaven. We
are irrevocably committed to
31km of jungle-shrouded canyon.
Jelly-green water is pounded
into foam amongst bus-sized
boulders. In the jaws of
"Cimarron", an especially
ferocious rapid, Maggie is
tossed from her floppy rubber
perch at the back of the boat. I
watch in horror as her orange
helmet disappears beneath the
froth. She surfaces briefly and
Jose Pavlo, in the accompanying
safety kayak, noses toward her.
"Look at me, Look at me", he
screams, "Grab the boat!"
If it were not for his Herculean
efforts she would never have
escaped the river's grip. As she
lies choking in the bottom of
our raft, Mauricio, a master of
understatement leans over her,
"You are back in the boat now
Maggie, try and stay with us".
Meanwhile, along the river bank
naked Indian children splash in
eddies. A gent in rubber boots
and a loin cloth watches the
strange visitors from his banana
leaf shelter.
Later, as we raft the Sarapiqui,
we drift through primeval,
steamy jungle. Thirty metres
above in the branches of an
ancient tree the pendula nests
of the Montezuma oriel sway in
the breeze. At water level the
sweat-soaked river explorer
could only wish for such
ventilation.
Three locals float by on an
undersized inner tube. They fish
for dinner in rather precarious
circumstance. A 4m crocodile
studiously ignores our boat's
passing wake. "Don't worry, they
eat only dogs", our guide
explained. I wonder if the
crocodiles know that.
At the inner elbow of the Nicoya
Peninsula a canopied river-boat
ferries tourists up the
Tempisque. The Palo Verde
National Park lies at the
water's edge.
"This ees the most important
park in Central America", our
guide Jason explains, "When
there is snow in Canada, all the
birds come here".
The heat is suffocating and a
column of long-nosed bats
shelter in the coolness under a
sagging tree trunk. Apparently
they cluster in linear groupings
for camouflage. Several bats
line up nose to tail appearing
as though they were a snake.
When one moves they all move a
sinuous reshuffling in the
shadows.
From above there is a harsh
roaring sound like a pride of
angry lions in the trees. We
fearfully scan the branches and
the only thing we see is a
diminutive black figure the
howler monkey. In our confusion
we discount his appearance and
look for something more
ferocious. Unsatisfied by our
presence he soon gives himself
away with another terrifying
bellow.
The howler is big on noise but
tiny in stature. Jason, our
guide on the Tempisque River
says, "They sleeps 15 hours a
day. They ees very lazy. Here in
Costa Rica we have a name for
these. You know what we call
them? Government workers! Like
your country, si!"
RIVER EXCURSIONS IN COSTA
RICA
Sarapiqui River Tour: On
an arranged trip to the Poas
Volcano the visitor will tour
the lower crocodile infested
waters of the Sarapiqui on a
canopied river boat.
Rafting on the Sarapiqui:
The Sarapiqui River is placid
(Class 1 and 2) and beginners
will feel comfortable on this
tour. It is possible to see
monkeys, toucans and otters
along the banks.
Rafting on the Reventazon:
Safe and enjoyable white water
(Class 3) and plenty of wildlife
in the surrounding forest. Tour
companies offer more extreme
trips for experienced rafters.
Rafting on the Pacuare:
For its fantastic scenery, the
Pacuare is considered to be
amongst the best whitewater
experiences in the world.
River Boat Tour on the
Tempisque (Palo Verde): This
is one of the premier bird
watching sites in the Americas.
Crocodile Safari: This is
a great opportunity to see some
of the huge monsters that skulk
around the mouth of the Rio
Tarcoles, up close and personal.
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