Eat, Surf, Sleep, 2012 BCC Pavones Surf Trip
I have heard the mantra over and over since we have been here. I have seen the t-shirts, bumper stickers, and signs; eat, surf, sleep. I never knew how serious it was until this last week. I was fortunate to be invited along for a men’s surfing trip to a surf spot called Pavones, on the very southern Pacific edge of Costa Rica. It is said to have the second longest left ride in the world, and even though I lean to the right, I was willing to give a ride. So me, Ben & Jeremy packed up for a post church 9 hour drive to surf. Two cars, 15 men, about 20 surfboards, probably 15 board shorts and half as many pairs of clean underwear headed south praying for great waves and good times. We were not disappointed.
The drive was long and tedious at times as the rains and darkness slowed down the last half of the drive. As we drove the tiny roads and crossed the many, very high, un-railed wooden homemade bridges it dawned on me that these guys really like to surf. And as I looked around, there was only one other guy in the group, over 40, who had just started surfing this last year. Everyone else in the group had been surfing since childhood, so either we were idiots or we were brave, time would tell.
Pavones, or turkey town, is a very small village, a couple of tiny stores, some local surf shops, and a couple of places for non-surfing, non-sleeping surfers to grab a bite. No pavement, no ATMs, no Walmart, just a spot near a beach for world class waves, and that was all we needed. We all stayed in a house that was converted to rent to loco surfer’s such as ourselves, some on beds, some in tents, couches, floors, anywhere away from the mosquitos and the rain, cuz we knew we just needed a place to keep our boards and to nap.
The first morning we were all tired, pulling in well after 10 pm excited for an early rise. There were many among us as giddy as schoolgirls before their first dance, unable to sleep. At 5 am the floor started creaking, bodies started moving and the coffee was being poured. As the sun began to rise, boards were being prepped, waxed, new fins attached, leashes made ready and the anticipation of the sun too much for us to bear. Qucikly, men starting walking the 200 yards to the beach to get a taste of a world class wave. Overcast skies, and offshore breeze, huge slow breaking waves greeted us all as we tip toed over the rocks seeking the quickest way to the shoulder.
Personally my arms turned to jelly on the swim out to the waves. It seemed like never ending strokes attempting to reach a mirage way off in the distance. Even the seasoned vets had to take a break before attempting to catch one of these endless waves. It was gratifying to watch man after man as they found they peak of the wave, stroked quickly, slid down the wave and rode on for what seemed like hours. Four hours later, stomachs grumbling, the waves subsiding just a little, we decided it was time for the eat portion of our trip.
During breakfast, exhaustion seemed to overwhelm us, or our adrenaline had abandoned us, because men were dropping where they sat, some with plates on their laps, forks in their mouths, or coffee in their hands. But as quickly as they fell they again rose looking for the next wave. Me, Lyle and Mike F. decided to try and find our boys who were surfing a secret spot. We had loose directions from Marcell, and set off on an adventure. Unable to find them, we went down a trail by some cabanas. As the trail became overgrown and jungly, we decided it was best to turn around, so we stopped and Mike ran ahead to see if there was an opening to turn around. We should’ve know by the way he bulleted back to the car that something was up. There were waves, big long waves he exclaimed, in short panting breaths. But the best part, no one, not one person was in the water. You can make it, he exclaimed, it opens right up. Open up was a very loose word usage, as we had to dodge Lyle’s car between trees, under branches and to the beach to get to the waves. But it was worth it. He was right. There were big long waves and we were the only three people on the face of the earth that day that got to surf those waves. It turned out to be the best 3 hours of surfing we would have on that trip, and possibly in our entire life. Wave, after wave, after wave of rides 100 – 200 yards long, with only each other to take turns with. No wind, no chop, just rideable wave after rideable wave. In all honesty, it has probably ruined surfing for me from that day forward, and I truly wish my skill level was better so that I could’ve rode the waves for quite a time longer. Unfortunately I have no photos for we were all in the water.
So that’s how the trip went, eat, surf, eat, sleep, surf, eat, surf, on and on and on. Our muscles were tired, our body’s were aching. Some of the waves were too big to ride, some were too crowded to ride, but every wave caught was better than any wave we could catch back home. Ben got barreled and Jeremy rode the longest waves of his life, by far. And because of this trip I now know how to eat, surf and sleep, and although it is certainly not as easy as it sounds, I can’t wait until I get to do it again.
Nicaragua Missions Day 3
Our goal was to build 4 houses in 5 days and have three days of vacation bible school. It took us two days to build 4 houses, and we had just enough gumption and money to attempt another house for another family from a different church, not expecting a house. So while a crew dispersed to bend nails at the four houses we already finished and to give each of them a care package, we dropped a crew of five of us off to work on a new casa for our new friend. After two days and four houses,we had the process down pretty good, and thanks to our leader, Oscar, we were able to not only finish the house, we finished before noon. This included modifications to our normal design and plan. It was a true team effort, an efficient team.
looking in on the newest project
Remodel, restructure and build. No down time, lots of busy hands and busy feet.
A little girl from the home build doing her school.
And her brother
Me trying to look cool sporting a Blue's Clue's dew rag. I think I pulled it off.
Dwayne jumping in with both feet, literally, to get this concrete done!
The grateful proud family.
scenes from the long ride home
Nicaragua Missions Day 2
If day one was an eye opener, day two was good follow through, although I was a bit worried when I saw the kids trolling the dump first thing in the morning. But as we drove by, they stopped, smiled and waved. We again started the day with the plan of building two houses. We divided back up into teams, split up and got to work. Our team managed to finish our house by about 12:30 which was a perfect transition into the first day of vacation bible school.Our plan was to open up the school to 50 kids, all invites by the pastor, Marcos. An hour before the doors opened kids were already showing up. The church had one solid wall and three gated walls, with a concrete floor, a very nice building by the neighborhood standard. Unfortunately the one solid wall blocked the wind we so craved. Somehow the 50 kids grew to 68, not unexpected and not unplanned for.
- The family we built a house for today.
The shy son
Dorian and Dad making paper airplanes
The first activity of the day was to make and color a paper airplane. Our plan was to teach them how, which was quickly abandoned because of the sheer volume of tiny, tanned, dirty faces surrounding the table reaching out for just a bit of attention and love. It was if we had food to give and they were starving;tiny dirty fingers poking and prodding all over, ” no tengo” they would squeek, pointing at a blank piece of paper as if it was a small treasure. So we made paper airplanes for them as fast as we could, and they colored them to make them their own. A story of Christ’s birth was then shared before moving on to snack time. Snack time was the quietest most peaceful time of the day. My theory, they had been trained already by the daily provided lunch, sit quietly, patiently and you will be fed.
Prepping for VBS
The VBS building, the nicest in the area.
faces of Nicaragua.
- The crew
One of my favorite little girls
At times it was chaotic, it was always loud, and it was hot muggy and uncomfortable. Even the kids were saying they were thirsty. But similar to yesterday you could see the joy in the kids eyes and the excitement and glow in their faces. It was not easy to look past the ill-fitting filthy clothes, or the dirt stained faces, but the smiles and their eyes really brought a level of warmth to my heart. I could not take enough pictures of their faces. But my heart still hurt for the hundreds of kids that were not able to attend. It still felt like this was a band-aid, just a temporary fix, and it left me longing to do more.
here she is again
begging for an airplane
Katherine loving on a little boy
loving her balloon animal
There were some fantastically bright shining moments such as when I told them that they had done ” my bien” or very good coloring their airplane. they would repeat it to themselves and tell their friends, smiling ear to ear. And quickly show me any more improvements for another tidbit of praise. Or they joy they took looking at the myriad of photos I took of them. Or the simple things like when one of the teen girls with us washed their hands, and afterward they smelled their hands in joy. I know these are small things, and to me they don’t mean much, but it is what we can do and I have to deal with that. Perhaps, in time, I will be able to do much more, but for now I must just enjoy the moment for what it is, a memory for them and another life changing moment for me.
Alaska; Costa Rica similarities? It’s a breeze.
Throughout the last 7 months I have been highlighting the differences between Costa Rica and Alaska, today however I am going to key on a similarity. In Alaska, we always mused that we only had two seasons, 9 months of winter and 3 months of summer. Some would say breakup was also considered a season. Our springs were mired in the much of breakup and our falls, well they seemed to last about a week. So we endured winter and lived for summer.
Here in Costa Rica they have two seasons as well, the green or rainy season and the dry season. I posted several blogs during the rainy season, and man it sure does rain. It rains like I have never seen, like Forest Gump Vietnam rain. Well were are now a couple of months or so into the dry season and much like breakup in Alaska we are experiencing a new intra-season, the windy season. The wind here, like all great winds has a name, the Papgayo (I think there are 50 different ways to spell it) winds. These winds are fierce. They start rattling the palm trees at about 5:30 in morning, a natural alarm clock, and often die down about 12 hours later, before repeating the cycle. They are strong, gusting and loud. I mean these are the kind of winds that take a toupee to Panama. They will dry a clothes line full of clothes in 10 minutes or less. They will hurl a coconut down the street faster than a Roger Clemens fastball, post steroid use. These are seriously impressive winds. Winds that would frighten me if I was patrolling the Bering Sea in January like the old days.
a little spray taken off the top of this small comber.
another small one showing the evidence of the winds
Personally I have been enjoying them for they make being outside quite bearable. However, yesterday while hanging at the beach and doing a little surfing, I saw a glimpse into the downside of the Papagayos. You see if you have ever tried to sit on the beach in a bathing suit, during a wind storm,it is akin to being shot at by dozens of kids with airsoft guns. Basically, you are being sandblasted, the same method we used to remove paint off of our old steel boats in Alaska. It is slightly unpleasant. So to escape you jump in the water with your surf board to catch some waves. The problem there is that the wind causes a wind chop that has you taking constant green water over your bow, making it very difficult to navigate. Furthermore it pushes wherever it wants you to go, which is not where you want to be. The good news, if the hurricane is blowing off shore, then you get the perfect barrel for surfing, if you know what you are doing, and I don’t. So I usually end up upside down, holding my breath on the bottom of the ocean waiting for the thundering of the ocean to quiet down so that I can emerge to get some air, pull my surfboard back to the water as it flutters in the wind like a kite, paddle back into the wind, and try again.
spray warning
more wind clouds
but it does lend itself to some nice sunsets and cloud formations
So there you have it, Costa Rica is just like Alaska, two seasons and each with their good and bad points. Alaska’s interim breakup is messy and makes it difficult to be outside, Costa Rica’s windy season is messy and makes it difficult to be on the beach. A couple big differences, although I do take a ton of water over the bow, I don’t have to worry about icing up, and during AK’s breakup your toupee is not only safe, but a good way to keep your noggin warm. Here in CR, unless you are using superglue, best put that thing in lock up for January and February and get a little sun on your dome, after you sandblast off all the dead skin of course.
Here is a short video, with the full sounds of the winds in our back yard.
Weekend at Arenal
Living in Anchorage, when we wanted to get away for the weekend we would load up the minivan, point her south and head down to the Kenai Peninsula. In two and a half hours we could be in Kenai, an hour further we would be in Homer. It didn’t matter much which one, just as long as we were out of town.
Traveling view of Lake Arenal.
Well the same thing applies here in Costa Rica. With mom and grandma visiting we figured it was a great time to head to Arenal, one of the local active volcanos in Costa Rica. We loaded up the 12 seater with 11 bodies, and a bundle of bags and took off in hopes of catching a glimpse of the molten red lava spewing into the night sky.
Now Costa Rica is know for its diversiveness, and we live in the dry region famous for great beaches. We were headed towards the rain forest and jungles. The drive is about 4 hours and I like to divide it into three sections. The first section I would call the highway, from here to Liberia and a little beyond. The roads are well traveled, pretty straight and blast through small town after small town. The second section takes you into the hills where the winds await. There are sparse trees, wind farms, and a giant lake littered with wind surfers and their neon colored kites speckling the white capped lake. From inside the car, it looks cold, very cold. It reminds me of a lonesome bay in Alaska on cold blustery summer day. In reality, it is about 80 degrees out, and the wind, 20-25 mph, is a welcomed coolant.
Watching fish.
Once pass the sparse hills we enter the jungle, clouds appear, fog is present and the edge of the road disappears into the vivd green dripping jungle. There are a myriad of one lane bridges, rivers and eroding, albeit paved, roads along the way. The temperature is significantly cooler and the air becomes heavy with moisture. It is af you are driving into Jurrassic Park.
Contrary to what you may think, we are not making that bridge sag.
Four hours into our expedition we arrived at our destination, Los Lagos, a hotel / resort known for its spa and hot springs. But it had much more than we anticipated, a small butterfly farm, a frog farm, a crocodile farm and it was nestled right on the shoulder of the active Arenal volcano. It was very lush, very green well kept and catered towards tourists:us. It was perfect for this party of 11. For the kids it had three fast water slides, for the adults 7 different hot springs, pools and a spa.
At least one of them found the camera lens.
Grandma kept getting in trouble for not paying attention. The best part, she never knew it.
Happy, sad, scared, nervous? Not sure, perhaps a mix.
During our two day tour we decided to take advantage of some of the must do activites. We decided on the Ecoglide canopy / zip line tour, horseback riding for some, and a hike to the La Fortuna waterfall. In between all this we would soak our weary bodies in the hot springs and sip virgin pina colados served out of pineapples, can’t get much touristier than that.
Our Tico coffee at our new favorite place to eat in La Fortuna, La Choza. If you visit, you must eat there.
The zip line was the highlight for most. It consisted of 15 different zip lines at varying lengths, heights and speeds. All fantastically fun and exhiliariting. But what really set it over the top was the Tarzan swing perilously awaiting you in the middle of of the tour. Of course I was offered up as the sacrificial Tarzan to go first. As I eased forward onto the shaky mesh metal platform hanging over what felt like the abyss, they strapped me in the never explaining what was about to occur. The guides hooked two thin, weary looking and frayed white lines into my harness. They tugged, tightened and pulled me right next to a gate overlooking a 1000 foot drop ( at least it looked that far) and told me to press up against the gate. At this point I thought they would explain what was going to happen, instead “click” the gate was open. “Wait what is going on” I stammered, “relax, just sit” and I as bent my knees to sit I began free falling to the earth below. My intestines just about flew out of my mouth as I began screaming “NO, NO, NO”. It felt as if the two puny ropes had failed and I was going to be a ball of mush on the side of a mountain. But then the lines gently grabbed hold and began rocketing me straight up to the sky, inches away from the canopy above, and I began swinging, like Tarzan, back and forth, inches away from tree trunks. It was scary, it was exhiliarting and it was fun. The best part was watching those who went after me, knowing what they were going through, but also knowing they had the advantage of knowing what was going to happen. I must acknowledge those who took the leap, Tracy, Dorian, Alli, Jeremy, Olivia, and Grandma. Yes my 83 year old grandma took the leap screaming ‘WHEEEEE!! You’re going to miss out” Much like the Geico pig. She loved it. Mom, well she got strapped in, stepped up to the gate, and then couldn’t go through with it. But she got close.
Can you see the toucan? I can.
After the two hour tour, we rushed a group to the horse riding tour while the rest of us elected to rest our weary bodies in the hot springs. I hear the horseback tour was awesome, but I did not go as I prefered not to have saddle sores for the remainder of our stay. Besides, the last time I did the tour it ended up being a little more adventurous than I bargained for. They however loved it, especially my wife who got to ride her favorite kind of horse.
Returning to the stables after a month long cow herd.
After an excellent, gigando dinner at La Choza in La Fortuna, the next morning, we headed out for our hike to the waterfall in La Fortuna. The hike was down the side of a mountian on steps made of perforated concrete which allowed the massive vegetation to grow through and around it, almost engulfing it as part of the earth. I am not sure how many steps there were, I stopped counting after one trillion, but at least they were of varying heights angles and depths to keep it interesting. The trip down was worth the view, the trip up was tenuous. Next time we are packing a lunch and our swimming trunks and enjoying the view for a while.
Is that Bear Gryls?
Although we did not get to see any lava, or even the very top of the the volcano, it was a weekend to be remembered, a great way to spend the last one before school starts up again. We got to see a lot of critters; the infamous coati begging on the side of the road,monkeys chilling and posing, toucans, iguanas, butterflies, crocodiles, frogs and even a sloth. I am extremely proud of grandma as she did each an every adventure set before her, living life to the fullest. But most of all I am proud of her for surviving three days and two nights without her facebook. That my friends was a real challenge!
This is about as much of the volcano as we ever saw.
Here is a short video compilation of our weekend for you to enjoy. Until our next adventure, I need some sleep.
A Turtle’s Pace Part II
After paying our fees, at an open air shack filled with 5 Ticos wearing some semblance of shirts with turtles on them, making them obvious official turtle guides, we embarked on the second half of our journey. $8 for non-residents, was the fee for our “guided” tour of the beach. There were about 15 students and 10 adults, a salty group ready to stretch their legs. After money changed hands, we were issued our official green passes, and then canvas bags, which we were informed were to be used to gather trash. Cool, we pay to work. So that’s how socialism works. As we began walking towards the beach, the rain clouds moved in. No worries, as long as the turtles were there it would all be worth it. They were not.
Some major log moving going onLet's not move this one, it's too comfy.
I knew this was the only turtle we would see on this day.
We walked and walked and walked. We saw signs of turtles, drag marks, egg pieces and even a big old dead turtle. But no baby turtles and certainly no big momma turtles. After trudging for what seemed like miles in the black gritty sand, our guide finally spoke and asked us to help clean up the driftwood so the turtles would have more nesting room. So not only did we have to pay to see nothing and pick up trash, we had a good 1/2 hour of hard labor. We had resigned to our fate that we had just paid $8 per person to clean up trash, move driftwood, walk in the rain, and do things we could do every day in Guanacaste for free. Perhaps we could find turtles on the other side of the beach. I was clearly not hopeful. For after conversing with several of the turtle attendees who had attended several turtle coming outs in the past, the best time to come was very early in the morning, or at night, not 9 am. As I walked back along the surf lane allowing my feet to be washed off by the ever beating surf, I noticed a small portion of our group gathering up the beach a little. I altered course . As I walked into the small circle I heard cameras clicking, oohs and aahs, and saw some pretty big smiles. There were several baby turtles emerging from beach!
We see turtles emerging from the eggs buried in the depth of the black sands.
It was amazing to watch, first about six turtles, then 15, 20, 40, 60, 64 at final count. It was like a clown car at a circus, they just kept coming and coming directly out of the black sand. Slowly moving, covered in dirt trying to find their way. A few knew right where to go, others wandered off to the left or the right, but eventually they all seemed to at least point to surf. Maybe not directly, but at least at an angle that would get them there. The journey ahead of them was long and arduous, for they were about the size of a silver dollar, and about 1/3 the weight. Every footprint, stick or pebble presented an obstacle. A few got flipped over, some got stuck, some had to alter course completely, but all were determined to make it to their destination. It was then that I realized we were the turtles. We had a long and arduous journey, we had to alter course, we had to climb up and down the footprints left by nature, but we were determined to make it to our destination. The only difference, the baby turtles got stronger with every flip of their flippers, and we got a little weaker with every pothole.
Finding their way.
guess what I have!
At least now the journey to the surf had been worth it. We had seen what very few had ever witnessed. The sheer determination and pure beauty of God’s creation. The instinctive drive to survive no matter how hard. Events like these always affirm my belief in a creator. It seems incredulous to me to believe something so perfect as the circle of life could ever happen by accident. If you ever take a quiet moment to think about the true miracle of life, both in humans and creatures, of flora and fauna, it seems impossible to me to come to any conclusion other than the conclusion that it is planned. All of it. Each and every morsel. And nothing will affirm my faith in that more than seeing it in action with my own two eyes.
For many more pictures, video, and commentary enjoy our following two minute documentary.
P.S. On the way in I related a story about a teenager leading us on a false shortcut. On the way home we let a teenager lead us to the best Pizza place in all of Costa Rica. “The road is a little sketchy” he warned, but that pizza is good. When a road is barely passable by bicycle, covered in spider webs, and drops down 100 feet a time; that my friends is not the sign of good pizza place. This trail made the previous trail look like the Autobahn. It was steep, tiny, overgrown, full of fissures, gorges and gashes, muddy, slick and deadly. In short, it was scary. However once we turned down, there was no turning back. What we wouldn’t do for great pizza. How was the pizza? We will never know, it was closed for the season. Needless to say, those of us driving were not too happy with our teenage connoisseur. If you want directions I will give them freely, however be aware because there may be a former Gold Coast teenager roaming the roads chanting, ” the road is sketchy, but the pizza is good, the road is sketchy, but the pizza is good!”
Kodak Moment = Orlando Trip
For those of you that don’t fb with us ( and if you have to ask what fb means then it is obvious you don’t fb with us. A conundrum I know) I thought I would share with you that Dorian recently entered some of his photography in the Fine Arts competition ( I think it is called a competition) in Anchorage. There are many categories in this competition, singing, drama, instrumental prowess, bands etc. You enter, perform or display your mighty fine art and you are judged by Puala, Randy and Simon. Simon can be a bit persnickety at time, but he means well. Okay, maybe those aren’t the judges but I am sure the judges there are just as “qualified”.
Once again I digress. Dorian entered one of his pictures and he got a “superior” with an invite to nationals. Now I must confess, I was not sure what this meant when Pastor Ryan relayed this information to me. I wasn’t sure if it was like the Boy’s and Girl’s club where everyone gets a medal and everyone was the MVP and we never ever lose a game. It must be the coaching. But apparently a “superior” is much harder to come by then a B&G club medal, of which I have many, because unlike the Olympics, the coaches do get medals in the B&G club. You get judged, the points are added up and you have to reach a certain score. If you make the grade, you get an invite to nationals, which happens to be in Orlando in August.
Now, for those of you that have feasted on this blog from the beginning (Niki) you know that I have posted some of Dorian’s pics in the past. You also may have caught the fact that we once, not long ago, ventured as a family to Orlando (see the ” I know it is not 2009 Christmas Letter” tab at the top of the page) and single handedly booked every seat on AK Airlines in the process. So I would say the blog has come full circle. Now, Tracy and I are still having a friendly debate over which one of us should proudly escort out son on his trip to Orlando, and I believe I have the edge. Although I am not sure I am man enough to bare the liquid heat dripping from my shiny noggin during that time of year. None-the-less, for my son, I will suck it up and sacrifice my pleasure to join him. That’s the type of guy I am.
So I say all this to let you know that today I am posting some of Dorian’s pics for you to enjoy. He has always loved taking pictures and has a very nice camera which he can work magic with. So all the pics in today’s post were taken by Dorian, edited by Dorian, and admired by Dorian. Please enjoy.
Redoubt still steaming away
P.S. if you haven’t already you should check out some of our friends on the blogroll to the right. This week I would like to highlight “see brad run”, he is good people (read his blog of the same title!!)
