Costa Rica Rainfall
Rainfall in San Jose, Costa Rica
We had already fallen down the hill twice that day. For the third time, we were heaped at the end of the slope. Rain soaked our backpacks and pattered mud into our faces. There was a rock in my back and tears of pain blurred with gasps of laughter. Lying halfway under me, my best friend was spread-eagled in the mud. As the heavens opened above Monteverde - we shook with laughter. The trip was not going as anticipated.
A few months before I had called my buddy in the states and asked: Do you want to go to Costa Rica? Now we were here and I sighed as mud trickled into my trainer. Things had already gone awry way before the mud. Our plan to meet in Miami and travel to Costa Rica together never happened. I was to arrive a day ahead, book our beds in San Jose and meet her there.
After London, Miami was chaotic. Simultaneous Spanish and English shouting surrounded us as passports were waved, shuffled and examined to the soundtrack of flip flops slapping icy floor tiles in the background. Two hours later my backpack was spat out and I waited for my final flight.
When I arrived I was met at the airport by one of the brothers who ran the hostel. My backpack was cheerfully bungled onto the truck, and off we went to San Jose. It was dark and all you could make out were straight roads and streetlights. The orderliness stopped there. Soon the whomp whomp of Reggae enveloped us and people could be seen clustering around over flowing food stalls. The truck continued on bouncing along streets riddled with canyon like potholes.
My friend arrived the next day and over cones of rice and beans, we jabbed at our map with busy pens and excited fingers. On the roof of the hostel the lights of San Jose twinkled around us.
We would cross the country diagonally, visiting the Pacific and Caribbean coasts, hitting valleys, forests and lowlands on the way. A tight schedule for two weeks but we capped our pens and toasted our travels nevertheless. Now as we wallowed in the mud I wondered if being marooned in Monteverde was punishment for our lax timekeeping.
We were destined to fall asleep in Monteverde. The journey over the rough roads, clinging on for dear life was exhausting. We flopped onto our beds and blinked once, twice …we woke up three hours later. We had missed our zip line trek through the rainforest canopy - the main reason we had come to Monteverde! Stretching our schedule - we would go tomorrow.
The next morning we were told that weather conditions were poor and the zip lines were soaked: Come back later, senoritas. Trying to make the best of it we toured a coffee plantation. It poured. Water pinged off our backs. Dejected we headed back to the hostel and took our first tumble down the hill. We stumbled down the road hoping this time we'd be a little luckier.
The hostel's owner shook his head when he saw us. We moped in our room but there was still a chance we could take the later trek. We'd ask on our way back into town if we could check on the internet. Alas our man wasn't in and we continued on without the info. We almost made it to the top of the hill this time and with our feet clinging on as hard as they could . . . we went down. Again.
We faced down the slope. If we turned sideways we could scamper down. But our feet went and we slid all the way to the bottom. Apart from the rain slamming down it was silent. We had to start laughing.
A few hours later, suspended above the rainforest we looked on as slices of sun pushed away the final wisps of cloud. Wizzing through the air we finally got what we had come for - and we had the mud on our jeans to prove it!
- Jackie Reddy
