Yes, I know, it’s been a few weeks. I am really taking this study thing seriously, and the more I am into it, the harder it seems to get. So give me some slack.
That, and the fact that I’ve taken some absolutely amazing trips, about which I am going to tell you.
Starting with my trip two weeks ago to Tortuguero.
Tortuguero is a thin strip of land, only a little more than 200 meters wide at it’s widest point, which is located on the northern tip of Costa Rica on the Caribbean side, just south of Nicaragua. It is completely separated from the mainland of Costa Rica by a fresh-water canal which is open to the Caribbean Sea at both ends. The whole island is a national refuge for three different species of sea turles, which return to this tiny spot each year to lay their eggs. The mama sea turtles are huge. When I finally caught sight of one in the black of a caribbean night, I was amazed at its size. If you want to know what one looks like, either look on the web, or rent a copy of Finding Nemo and check out Crush and his dad.
To get to Tortuguero involved a long bus ride through some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. Costa Rica is a relatively young land, which, resulting from shifts in the techtonic plates and intense volcanic activity. There are 112 volcanos in Costa Rica, four of which are still active.
The land juts up from the sea and is completely covered in vegetation. There are ridges on ridges, and ridges behind ridges, of lush green. From time to time it is completely englulfed in the clouds, as were we when we traveled through the cloud forest. The varied vistas are beautiful to the eye and the climate change from top to bottom and one side to the other is remarkable. When we left the central valley we did so in another driving rain, the daily activity of the rainy season. On the caribbean side it rains very little, in comparison, but the humidity takes your breath away and leaves you dripping after even the slightest movement. Once you quit moving, however, you cool off fairly quickly. This is surely the reaon for the multitude of hammocks stretched between trees and in prominence on the porches of many of the houses. It’s not about being laid back. It’s about survival!
Following the bus ride was a two hour boat ride up the canal to our destination, the Hotel Laguna. But on this island there are no high-rise condominiums. Rather, individual huts that blend into the surroundings, engulfed by forest (jungle) and on property situated between two very different bodies of water. The Caribbean is as smooth as glass and fairly whispers. The canal a muddy thru-way teeming with fish, aligators, and caman. The trees on either side are alive with birds, monkeys, snakes, tree frogs, iquanas, and probably a million different varieties of flowers and fungi. You find yourself surrounded by the uniqueness and feel a bit out of place, as though you are the alien in this place — and perhaps not part of the original plan.
The reason people go to Tortuguera is not the beach. It’s black sand is off limits for swimming. The reason for the restriction is that the presence of the turtles, especially during the laying season, brings in every sort of predator, any one of whom might find human flesh a welcome change of diet. Besides those, the turtles, themselves, can bite a leg off with a single snap. You don’t want to mess with mama!
But the beach is wonderul, none-the-less, and the people of the island paradise don’t seem to mind the restrictions. We watched several fishing one afternoon, their gear was just a plastic soft-drink bottle wound with fishing line and with a piece of bacon, on a hook, for bait. Despite such meager fishing tackle, they were pulling them in like there was no tomorrow. Everyone seemed to have dinner well in hand for another night.
Of course, just walking along the sand was wonderful. Feeling the rhythms of the waves in your bones was very calming and just looking out over sea, with the sun setting behind you, was very reassuring.
We took boat trips downs several of the canals that snake into the undergrowth on the Costa Rican side of the canal. Howler monkeys screamed at us in the boats, and seldom ceased to sound off during the night, their cries echoing over the waters. Tree frogs, their red eyes glowing, were seldom seen, but kept up a constant hum every night. Of course, the sound of the sea just out my back window (no glass, just a screen) lulled me to sleep at night.
We saw three different species of monkey on Tortuguero. Howlers are relatively large, and black and very noisy when their territory is in jeapordy, which seems to be the case often. Capucines are small and quick and their white faces very animated. Spider monkeys move through the tops of the trees with amazing dexterity and they are very mischievous. One perched on a branch above our heads on one trail and proceeded to pick and peel the fruit he was after, deftly dropping the empty peels on our heads. Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing, but I’m not convinced of that.
Watching the monkeys navigate their highways in the tops of the trees brought to mind that wonderful poem by Robert Frost in which he explains why the birch trees are bent. It’s not ice storms, he insists, but the result of a young boy climbing to the very top and then riding the supple trees to the ground, leaving them permanently curved toward the breast of the earth. He closes the poem with the line, “One could do worse than be a swinger of birches…” Seeing the monkeys made we wish for the opportunity to ride the trees as they do, so effortlessly and with such seeming joy.
The main city on the island is Tortuguero. It is a thin little burg filled with tiny shops and bouncing with afro-caribbean culture and music. The inhabitants of that part of Costa Rica are the result of the mixture of indigenous people with African slaves, brought to Costa Rica to work the banana crops. Strains of reggae music are everywhere, and the laid-back life-style part of what you feel while there. Those who live there get around soley by boat. Water taxis are available several places in town, but every house has a boat or canoe lying outside, and most of them have hammocks on the porches (see above for explanation of hammocks). The people themselves are very warm and open, and their dark faces break easily into wide grins.
Back to the turtles. Our reason for being there in the first place.
I can’t show you pictures of the turtles because they only venture in from the ocean in the dead of night, dragging their huge bodies along the sand to the jungles edge, leaving trails that look like jeep tracks, where they dig massive nests in the wet earth, and lay about 100 eggs, covering them over with the sand before dragging themselves back into the sea. It has to be an arduous journey. Their bodies are made for the ocean, after all. Land is not their element. Yet every year they continue to return to do it all over again. After about 50 days, the eggs will hatch, if they haven’t already been found and eaten by the many animals that crave the delicacy. It is against the law for humans, of course, to dig up the eggs. We did find one nest that was uncovered and the tiny turtles still alive within. (I posted the pictures on Facebook if you are interested.)
If they survive the nesting period, one night there will be movement in the sand and then the race for life begins in earnest as the baby turtles, only a couple of inches wide, drag their tiny bodies toward the sea. In the morning we could track the progress as we followed thousands of tiny tracks, a few of which, we could see, actually made it to the place where the tide had been. Those few might have a chance. Most of the tracks, however, ended abruptly in a blot of sand, evidence that someone else had fulfilled their life-need for food that night. Only about one percent of the turtles will actually make it to adulthood. Nature may seem cruel, but everything works together so that all may survive.
One night we took a ‘turtle tour’ which consisted of standing in complete darkness on a spot along the beach, until one of the massive mamas was spotted. Our guide would flash an infared light so we could navigate towards her, and once there, we had to stay a bit of distance behind the mother as she dragged herself to the place where she would dig the nest. Once there, however, she paid no attention to us as we gathered around and watched her lay her eggs and deftly cover them. Before she finished we scurried back out of the way, then followed her on her long and arduous trip back to the safety of the waters. The whole process took about two hours, and was a remarkable thing to witness. It is something I will never forget.
The tree frogs were numerous, but very secretive. They blend so well with the background that I’m sure I walked by hundreds without ever seeing them. I mangaged to see four or five different varieties. There are many in Costa Rica. The red-eyed tree frogs come out only at night and harmonize with the other insects in their nightly serenades. There are several poisonous varieties of tree frog in Costa Rica. I didn’t see any of them. You can recognize them immediately because of their bright red coloring. It’s nature’s way of saying, “This is one bad dude. Approach at your own risk!”
Iguanas and other lizards ran wild everywhere. I saw two different kinds before I even got to my room. They move so quickly and blend in so well. We did see several iquanas on our tours. The females are a pale green and loll on the branches of trees. One male we saw had a bright orange tint to the crown of his head and the spines along his back. It was his way of saying to the females, “Hey babe, wanna party!”
I actually shared a room with one of the several varieties of lizards. This one was only about four inches long and contented himself with staying on the screen of my bungalow. He was a tiny basilisk lizard. They have the nickname “Jesus lizard” because they run on their back feet and move with such speed that they can skim across the surface of the water. The little guy in my room checked in with me. That is, he was there when I got to the room. He was quiet and content to maintain his vigil at the window. When I was packed and ready to leave, as I got to the door, he suddenly was there, and slipped out the door in front of me.
There were human companions on the journey, as well. One of the highlights of my trip to Tortuguero was meeting a group of new friends. Pablo and Alex are brothers from Costa Rica who were very helpful and worked with me a little on my Spanish. Both work in computers and we had a great time together talking and laughing. Even the difference in our ages and the barrier of language couldn’t get in the way of our fun. Ancilla is a wonderful girl from Vancouver, whose family immigrated from China. She speaks English and Cantonese, but no Spanish. She’s traveled a lot, but always with friends. This was a new kind of adventure for her, and we felt an immediate kinship. The four of us were like the ‘four amigos’ for the weekend. We developed a wonderful friendship which I am determined we will maintain into the future. We have actually gotten together since the weekend when Ancilla came back through San Jose on her trip back home to Vancouver.
Isn’t it amazing that often it is the things you don’t expect to happen that end up being, perhaps, the most meaningful? What a wonderful journey life can be.
Tortuguero was another reminder, for me, of the intricacy of creation, and the absolute necessity to work hard to keep it from going away. I wish everyone could experience some of what I have already seen. Experiencing the symbiosis of the world and it’s peoples, and seeing how some, in places like this, are commited to maintaining the beauty and wonder of it, makes me want to work all the harder to make sure that we, as caretakers of creation, don’t mess it up.
My sermon for the day.
And that, my friend, is only a small taste of what is happening with me. I’ve got to get back to my studies, now, but promise to tell you about my trip to one of the active volcanos and what one disgruntled white-faced monkey had to say — in another installment.
Peace, my friends.