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| Tortuga is across from Paqera, beside the diver (click to enlarge; hard to see) |
By Ed Rogers
By 5:45 am on March 16 our car was packed with all the stuff we thought we’d need for our junket to Tortuga Island. We justified the overkill as better to have and not need, than to need and not have. Our tour boat was operated by Varso Tours and was due to leave the dock from Muelle Turistico de Puntarenas at 8:00. Our house is a couple miles outside San Ramon, Costa Rica (which will be called CR from now on) and it's about a 45-minute drive from there to Puntarenas on the Pacific side of CR. There are a number of islands within Nicoya Bay; Tortuga sits at the southern tip of the Nicoya Peninsula. The trip to the island takes one and a half hours.
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| Waiting on the dock |
Back to the trip. You may ask yourself, “Why are they leaving at 5:45 in the morning for a boat ride that is not pulling out until 8:00?”
There are very few street or highway signs in CR. Even with a map, it is very easy to get lost. Having been lost on a number of occasions, I allow for that possibility. It happened this time, also. Puntarenas is one long Peninsula, which dead-ends at a ferry dock. We were to take a right just past a large green sign that said “Ferry Straight Ahead.” The green sign no longer existed.
We stopped at the ferry ramp and pulled out our map—after all it is a narrow peninsula, so how lost could we be? Lucky this time, it was an easy fix. The road we were on made a circle back up the peninsula, and ended at the gate of the parking lot and loading docks for the tours. We were very early; it was 6:45. The area is safe, a large gate and a security guard patrols the docking area. A parking lot is provided inside the gated compound. There are restrooms and changing rooms, also tables under shade trees for eating or waiting. The one thing we did not bring, and I was dying for, was coffee. Our cooler contained: 4 cokes, 4 beers, 3 bottles of water, 2 ham sandwiches, a number of packages of Oreos, Ritz Cheese and Crackers, and bags of peanuts. When, we got back home, we still had everything but 2 cokes, 2 beers, 1 ham sandwich, and 2 bottles of water.
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| Janie and I are off |
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| No, that is not snow—think birds |
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| A fellow of the world (It could be Moto if he wasn’t so hung up on Cali) |
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| Now, that's the way to live! |
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| Our boat lands at Tortuga Island |
Those of us who wished to go snorkeling were asked to stay on the boat. After stowing the gang-plank, we were taken to a rock formation jutting from the water about 100 yards away. If at all possible bring a camera with which to take underwater pictures. The colors and numbers of different kinds of fish are unbelievable. From the rock a reef runs along the angle of the shore, and the calm, clear water has very little current. It is ideal for amateur snorkeling. With little effort you will be able to enjoy all of the different species of colorful fish, and sometimes a turtle or two will pay a visit to the island that bears their name. If you are a good swimmer there is another small rock island to the north of your location. The water becomes deeper and the fish larger.
Butterfly, Night Sergeant, Red-light Goby, Cardinal, Soldier, Angel, Hog, Parrot, Bare, Box, and Idol. These are only a few of the fish you will see in this wonderful underwater world.
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| Time to enjoy sun, sand, and surf |
At 11:30 we were called to lunch. The snorkel gear, the fruit, and lunch are all part of the tour and included in the price. There is a place to buy food, beer, and drinks on the island, but it is not cheap. They also have the only restroom, which will cost you $1.00 (500 colons) to get the key.
We were served a very tasty Marlin and rice, green salad, and iced tea. The meal was prepared by the boats crew and laid out on a clean table cloth in the cooking area under the trees.
Up until the time for lunch everybody had gone their own way. Some of us were off on the boat, while others swam or lay in the sun.The meal brought us together. It was a chance to make friends and share stories.
I had the great fortune to be seated across from a gentleman who shared my interest in scuba-diving. As he wove his tales of diving the inter-waterway from Seattle to Alaska, I knew I was not in his league. He had thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment with him. I had to ask, “Are you a professional photographer?”
I was so shocked when he said he wasn't I forgot to ask him what he did for a living. There are not many jobs that allow you to travel the world as he had done.
My wife Janie had in the meantime been in deep conversation with a retired school teacher. We have one daughter, and my wife has been missing her. Even though we speak to our family and friends, over Skype, once a week, for Janie that’s not the same as being together in the same place. The lady also had a daughter she missed very much. The talk gave Janie a feeling of not being alone. She and the teacher parted a little teary-eyed but happier.
While we have been in Costa Rica we have spent most of our time around the Ticos of CR. This was the first time we had been around that many gringos since we left the States. While I love the people here in CR, there is a common bond that we all share with our follow countrymen/women that is hard to break.
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| Our day in the sun is over— there's our boat! |
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| It was a great trip |
Pura Vida
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Copyright © 2013 by Ed Rogers
| Please comment |
Ed, this is a wonderful, very informative write up, with the level of detail and human interest that readers wish they could get from Fodor's, Frommer's, and Lonely Planet. Much as I was eager to read of the previously discussed trip by reed boat to the island by the same name off Haiti, I am glad your outing was more genteel and safe.
ReplyDeleteYou raise an interesting point about our innate bond with our fellow Americans. Interesting to me, at least, because I have had the opposite experience. I spent three weeks in Africa without seeing another American, and had a great trip. Then I was around Americans the fourth week, and the mood of the trip took a nosedive. Even compared to the French Foreign Legion types I had been spending some time with, the Americans stood out as jerks. Does Costa Rica attract a certain type of American who is less pushy and easier to get along with?
As for your mystery camera guy that could be me if not for my quest to move to Cali: Nope, I will hopefully never have that receding hairline. Do you happen to recall if he mentioned writing? He looks very much like a travel writer I knew a couple of decades back, allowing such as I can for the update in age, of course.
So tell us the truth: You left Cali for Costa Rica; is it really that much better there? If so, what are the average temperatures and are there decent motorcycle shops around - and what do you think of the riding potential there versus Cali?
The gentleman's name is Andy Robinson. Andy said he also had been to Africa and other places that you have visited.
ReplyDeleteI sent him this link, maybe he'll drop by and you can ask him. You were more than likely around American tourist. These people live here and are not the crazy right wing nut jobs, that come on vaction. It does take a special kind of person to live the Pura Vida life style. Not to say there are not a-holes of Americans
everywhere.
Where we live the temp runs from mid 80s to low 60s year round. Most of the time there is a breeze which comes up the mountain, so if you get hot in the sun, you step into the shade.
Outside of China or India, there are more motorcycles than anything else. The government wanted to raise the cost of insurance on them and they blocked the roads going into San Jose. The government backed down. Your peeps have power down here.
Also, I left Cali to Memphis, and Memphis to here; but yes, this is far better than anyplace I've ever lived. And, I've lived in a lot of places.
Andy Robinson seems a guy I could have known, or at least should have known. Will have to research the name and see what he is about.
ReplyDeleteMost of my time down your way was in the late '70s and early '80s. My memory is cloudy of much that went on back then, but I don't think motorcyclists had any power. It is great to hear they do now, but back then the ghost of Che Guevera still breathed and everyone went out of their way to avoid any similarity to him, so they could keep breathing.
Most of my time in the region was in a country directly north of you, so there were no American tourists to contend with. There are now, I hear, but back then your life often depended on being able to convince people you were Canadian. Belting out "O Canada" through a broken jaw really hurt, but it could keep you breathing.