Well I guess I fibbed. After two back to back subpar attempted winter camping trips, (reasons: rain, clouds, wind and cold) I sought escape south of the border.
In that five year span, I lost a lot of my overseas travel Mojo. I remembered the stress of landing in a strange airport and thinking “where the hell am I?” It was a feeling of general disorientation. With this in mind, I decided to do a “soft landing” by signing up on a Sierra Club outing. Destination: Costa Rica.
All the trip planning logistics, where to stay, how to get there and what to do would be taken care of by a well established tour company. All I had to do was sign up, drop a $200 deposit and I’d be in.
Well, not so fast.
Soon thereafter a slew of emails came in requesting all sorts of info. Medical history, reasons for my desire to go, travel experience a bit of a personality quiz as well. I shipped the hefty snail mail package to the group leader, (with an apology that I didn’t know how to submit them electronically.)
Then I waited until I got an email from Angela the group leader. (Angela had to bow out later due to an injury. Her replacement was Pat.)
“When will you be available for a phone interview?”
On the scheduled time my phone rang. Angela and I made small talk feeling each other out. Her inquiries were geared towards what my expectations were, my fitness level and pointed questions to see if I play well with others. After about a half hour of interrogation, there was a pregnant pause. I finally broke the silence.
“Well, how did I do? Am I in?
She laughed at my straightforwardness and said, “Yes. You seem fine.”
Whew!
But was I fine? I rarely spend extended periods of time around people, let alone 14 strangers for 11 days. Did I still own the social skills to play well with others?
Fortunately I would get a day to practice. I’d be seeing old High School buddy Judy and her husband Rick plus her friend Marsha for a stroll and lunch in Florida.
We all met at a wildlife wetland refuge amid the seemingly endless stretches of strip malls and subdivisions of south Florida. After a brief introductions with Marsha we set out on the 1.5 mile long boardwalk. The conversations ebbed and flowed as we spotted storks, ibises, herons, snapping turtles and egrets. Every now and then, I’d toss in a comment or statement. Nothing I said scored a glare or a roll-the-eyes moment. I took this as a good sign.
After our pleasant amble, we drove three vehicles to our lunch venue. Judy hopped in my car so we could catch up on what’s going on as we get further away from those High School years. During lunch, they asked me about my upcoming trip. I voiced my trepidation about being around so many strangers at once.
“I worry I might have become socially inept” I paused my thoughts for a moment and shyly asked. “So how am I doing?”
They all laughed. Maybe I still had game!
Our new tour leader Pat sent out timely emails for our upcoming trip. The info was solid and worth reading. A primers guide to CR.
I arrived a day before the official tour start. I literally blew through CR customs, grabbed my backpack and followed Pat’s advice to hail a taxi to the Hotel Autentico.. Bang! Zoom! Before I knew it the kindly driver dropped me off in front of the door. Wow! That was easy.
After a fine meal and sampling three different CR made beers ((for future reference) I retired for the night.
So far, so good.
I spent the day loitering around a San Jose park and taking in a baseball game. (I was the token Gringo fan). At 5 pm it was time for the Sierra Club meeting. I smiled nervously while introducing myself to a few fellow clients. We all took a seat in a semi-circle making it feel like an AA gathering. Pat took center stage welcoming us to Costa Rica.. We then went around the room introducing ourselves to the group with a few comments. Mine were very brief.
“Hi all! I’m Jeff from Durango, CO although I’m hardly ever there.”
That chore done. Pat introduced Pablo our local guide. He gave us a more in-depth rundown with photos and maps on what our future holds. I instantly liked the guy. Pablo possesses an easy going manner with a maturity beyond his years. (He was only 32). Importantly Pablo was well versed in the way of the Gringo. Clearly we were in capable hands.
After dinner, I grabbed a beer and prepared myself for a 6:30 am breakfast.
I went downstairs early. YES! Coffee was on. I spotted Pablo at a table sitting alone. I politely asked if it were OK for me to join him. His smile was all I needed to take a seat. Immediately I knew this young man was a straight shooter. After a while I made my confession.
“Pablo, I’m well aware this tour is about the birds and birders. I’m not a birder, although I love seeing birds. I’m even a member of the Audubon Society. After our tour, I’ll be hiking the Camino de Costa Rica. Would it be OK if you and Pat gave me a little more leeway to get more kilometers of hiking in? I’m a very experienced hiker and will be very careful.”
His reply was what I hoped for.
“Really? You are hiking our Camino? That’s wonderful. I would like to do that one day. Yes! We will make arrangements to allow you to go off on your own. Please be careful out there.”
I gave him an over-the-top Muchas Gracias. Like I said, I knew I’d like this guy.
We boarded a bus for a long ride to our first venue. A two night stay at a rain forest ecolodge. At the midway point we’d lunch followed by a coffee plantation tour. I got an idea on this tour’s activity level would be when we took our seats on a trailer decked out with seats. We were towed along by a tractor. We didn’t go very far before our first stop. A PR representative of the coffee coop conveyed all the steps a coffee bean takes between being plucked, sorted, roasted and bagged. Little did I know how much real sweat labor goes into our morning grind until later on the Camino de Costa Rica. (Next WW J blog).
It was close to Happy Hour when we disembarked off the bus. It took about 8 plus hours to cover about 150 miles. Welcome to Costa Rican roads and traffic.
On the positive side, I got a chance to chat with my fellow travelers. They consisted of two lawyers, three engineers, one college professor, one doctor, one librarian, one biologist, two nurses, one physician’s assistant, one non-profit director of the Chattahoochee Riverkeeper foundation and me. A retired Jewish firefighter. I was in the company of a bus load of smarts. However I did detect a bit of social awkwardness in a few of the guests. Our politics leaned left except for one who kept his opinions to himself.
Upon arrival (finally) Pablo pointed out a trailhead. That’s all the direction I needed to take off for a quick lap around the ecolodge grounds.
After dinner and a few more observations, I texted my family.
“Good news! I’m not (by far) the most socially inept person on this tour. There’s at least three others stranger than me!”
The next am I woke, drank hotel room provided coffee and took off for a quick jaunt on the local trails. I was on lap two entering a clearing when I saw a green blur fly by. Luckily the blur landed and stared down at me. I took this photo. I had captured an elusive resplendent quetzal without ruffling a green feather.
I proudly displayed my trophy to the birders of the tour. A few doubted me and accused me of finding the photo on the internet. I looked at them with a “Really?” expression. One birder asked, “how did you get the shot?”
My reply, “the early bird gets the bird.”
After breakfast, we padded along behind Pablo to another ecolodge famous for its potential quetzal sightings, plus its extensive trail system. YAY! Pablo heard it through the bird vine there was a quetzal taking center stage nesrby. We gave chase as he shushed us not to make too much noise. It didn’t matter. Beneath the green beauty was a bevy of paparazzi birders. I retreated to the outfield taking in this crazy scene. I decided I wouldn’t trade my solo sighting for all the birdseed at a PetSmart.
Then off for the longest organized hike/stop and stare trek to a BFT. (Big Freaking Tree). In total the hike was about 5 miles long.
I was green lighted the OK to head back to our ecolodge unattended. After lunch I hefted my backpack for a second lap sans anyone on the trails.
The days went on like this, stays at high end ecolodges wedged between eternity seeming bus rides (only longer) intermixed with stop and stare bird walks, one whale watch (with an extremely animated excitable guide) and a flat bottom river bird staring cruise. All punctuated by my Lone Wolf (as one fellow traveler nicknamed me) tendencies to take off on solo ventures and bail on certain organized events.
During this no stress existence I got to know and enjoy the company of the other Gringos. Here’s a few of the more notable characters:
Doc Lee is a retired GP from Santa Fe and fellow member of the tribe. His adventure resume was outstanding. Hikes, climbs and journeys into countries that weren’t on Rick Steves list of places to go. His stories were epic in length and achievements. All told in a strong Chicago-land accent. I told him he ought to write a book, but one story alone would exceed 500 plus pages. He called me a “New York Sharpie with an abrasive personality” Our bantering provided entertainment at Happy Hours and bus rides.
Pat our Sierra Club no nonsense leader who kept us all on track and on time. Pat is a retired nurse from Tulsa. She had a bit of Mother Hen in her with constant warnings about aggressive roosters, getting lost in the dark and wearing the proper footwear. When she became a bit overbearing, a few guests called her Nurse Ratched of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” infamy. In reality Pat is a liberal minded, kind and caring human being. I enjoyed our early morning chats.
Yes, our crew sported a dynamic duo too. Doug the French professor and Jo the librarian were well read and traveled seniors whose obvious affection towards each other was quite endearing. Doug spoke about their trips to France and love of the language. He was a true Francophile. Jo and I talked about our shared love of books. On the long bus rides, she was dialed into an audiobook. Smart move on her part. Jo is the one who nicknamed me the Lone Wolf. Of course, I howled when she said that.
Barbara was a notable guest too. She was by far the youngest paying member. She was employed as a lawyer for the White House. Somehow her position was bombproof regardless of what party was in power. When I queried her about her politics, she replied “Moderate.”
My comeback was this. “What’s your favorite color? Plaid? These aren’t moderate times. Pick a side!”. Barbara laughed at this. She laughed at everything! She is a lively opinionated soul. (Like me.)
Then there was Sally. A Southern Belle who could trace her lineage to Founding Father, Patrick “Give me Liberty or Give me Death!” Henry. Her Scarlett O’Hara persona belies a stalwart of conservation and environmental issues. Sally was the founding executive director of Chattahoochee Riverkeeper. (1994-2014). With a starting grant of $50,000 from Ted (as in Turner) the non-profit blossomed into a $1.5 million/year advocate for keeping the Chattahoochee pollution free. In 1995, the Riverkeeper took the city of Atlanta to court for ignoring Federal clean water standards. For a change the Good Guys one!
I enjoyed listening to her as she name dropped meetings with Jane (as in Fonda) former Atlanta Mayors, former GA Governors and spending a night at the Woodruff Estate. (Coca Cola fame). All told in a breezy humble manner. During her career she was feted with many awards and honors for her conservation efforts. I’m convinced all the fish, fowl and other critters who call the Chattahoochee River their home appreciate her guardianship too. Sally now writes a monthly column on environmental issues facing Atlanta and beyond.
From this bloggers perspective Sierra Club outings attract an extremely interesting and educated clientele. Happily (for me) conversations went well beyond the “nice day if it doesn’t rain” variety. Even more happily (for me) I rediscovered I had the necessary social skills to get along with others. I still had game!
All in all this Sierra Club outing provided me with the “soft landing” I hoped for. I’m pretty sure my Mojo has now returned from my self induced hibernation.
So what if I fibbed! I’m back!
Cheers to all your travel plans,
Jeff
Last photo. Guess which Samsonite luggage piece is mine.
