Playa San Miguel, Costa Rica -- night

So I indeed do have a chance to write again tonight.

Returning to my account of yesterday's events, I left the Rio Bongo damp and just a bit tired, but still in very good spirits. The next stretch of my journey, though, would prove to be quite solitary. Since cars and automobiles do not and cannot have passage across the Bongo, the beach on the northern side of the river was totally devoid of tire tracks. Also, for whatever reason, there were no beachfront settlements or evidence of any kind of human habitation. The only exception was what appeared to be a makeshift, temporary settlement, located probably just over a kilometer from the Bongo.

After passing the settlement, about two hundred meters farther on, I saw a girl lying face-down, sun-bathing, facing away from the ocean. When I was on her right-hand side, I exclaimed "Buenas!" and waved a hand; she looked up and back and waved. Then, a few steps later, when I had reached her left-hand side, I decided to approach her to start a conversation. Although I didn't expect the conversation to be anything substantial, I started it one, to have human contact, and two, to break up the loneliness of my walk. Those two reasons being separate, although superficially the same. I asked some brief questions about my location and the distance to the visible Punto Coyote. She answered in a beautiful British accent, while looking directly at me with beautiful blue eyes. Nevertheless, I ended the conversation with a brief joke about the showers at Playa Coyote, and I continued on my way.

About 150 meters farther up the coast, I stopped to take a photo of a large pelican flying low over the coastline. From there, I continued toward my next goal, Punto Coyote. When I reached it, the time was probably about 11am. I realized when I reached it that it was all rock. The tide was still on its way out, but only until 11:57am. I continued moving over the rocks, quite happy that the traction was so much better than the sand, feeling that I was covering more ground at a faster pace. Then, quite suddenly, I came upon a break in the rocks. I had reached a point where the rocks suddenly stopped as a steep cliff to a floor of sand about eight to ten feet below. To the right of that floor of sand was a cave carved out by sea-water at high tide. The width of the floor was about ten feet, where another cliff rose up to begin the rock structure again. I surveyed the landscape carefully to come up with a plan, keeping in mind (as if I could forget) that I was carrying my twenty-pound backpack and my plastic bag with boots and sandals. I was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt, long jeans, and trail-running sneakers.

Climbing down the first wall did not prove too difficult as I had found a route where the descent was comparatively more steady, less steep. I was able to descend with the pack on my back; I had tossed the plastic bag to the floor.

Climbing up the second wall was to prove a bit more difficult. First, I tossed the plastic bag up to the rocks. Then, with the bag on my back, I climbed a steep (but not vertical) route up the rocks, with careful deliberation. The bag on my back effected my equilibrium, making the climb more difficult than it would have been without it. I was relieved to reach the top.

I must also admit being afraid of the attack, or even the sight, of an animal. This is because I realized two points. First, I was in pure wilderness, near no human habitation, and on ground very rarely traversed (if ever) by humans. Second, Punto Coyote must carry that name for a reason. So when I landed on the floor, I had my hand on my knife as I looked first toward and into the cave, and then all around me.

Now, upon reaching the other side, I strapped my bag again and continued walking. No sooner had I felt proud of my achievement, I arrived at another depression, this one being much more imposing. Upon surveying the land, I quickly felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I ascertained that there was no way to descend the ten-foot wall without jumping from a respectable height; that is, I could only descend a few feet to a steady foothold before having to jump.

First, I descended to the foothold and tossed the plastic bag to the floor. Then, I ascended again to carry my backpack in hand back down to the foothold. I stooped down as low as possible to reduce the height as much as possible before tossing the backpack. Then, I simply jumped down myself. That first part was not too bad. Now, mind you, before I embarked on the task of overcoming this second obstacle, I had already mapped out, not just the descent, but the ascent up the other wall. It was this other wall which would prove most difficult, and required the most courage.

As I saw it, the most passable route began up some rocks which were already above water; to reach the base of the wall at that point, I had to hop from rock to rock, about five or six rocks. Allow me to clarify the rock wall: the path up ran from left at bottom to right at top, but at the bottom, or foot, of the route, there was about one to perhaps two feet of water. And I could not take off my sneakers to wade in the water to reach the base of the route because I needed my sneakers to scale the wall, which consisted of jagged and irregular rock structures.

As with the descent, I dealt with the plastic bag first, while leaving the backpack on the floor closer to the entrance of this depression's cave. Even without the plastic bag, the climb would have been difficult. But I managed to make it a few feet up the wall to reach a position to toss the bag over the top. This was not easy though since I could not see what was on the top. I could not be certain that there was not another chasm just a few feet from the edge of this wall, so I could not toss the bag too hard. Nor could I toss it lightly lest it not reach the top and fall back down into the water below, from which I would have to fetch it. So, in essence, I had to measure my toss exactly. Fortunately, I calculated perfectly.

Now, I descended and hopped the rocks back to the floor to retrieve my backpack. This was to prove a definite challenge for several reasons. First, this wall was nearly, if not definitely, vertical, so I could not wear the pack on my back; it would have made equilibrium most likely impossible. Second, the highest foothold to toss the bag was too low to toss the backpack, or in other words, the backpack was too heavy to toss up the distance from the foothold to the top. Third, the risk of dropping the backpack into the water below added pressure to the whole situation. And lastly, and most important, if I fell backward, I would have landed on sharp, jagged rocks among shallow water, a serious risk of injury if I were to fall. So I proceeded with caution with the backpack on my back as I hopped from rock to rock to reach the base of my route. When I reached the base, I carefully removed the backpack and held it in my left hand as I began to slowly climb to the foothold. I arrived. So far so good. Now the hard part was to devise a method to get the pack to the top. I determined, as I had believed, that there was absolutely no way to toss the pack; it was sure to fall to the rocks and water below. I also determined that it was not possible to wear the pack on my back and continue climbing - I would not be able, according to laws of physics regarding the center of gravitation. And I surely needed both hands to get myself to the top, regardless of having the pack or not. So I was left pondering while holding the pack in my left hand. I urged myself to think fast since my left arm was beginning to feel the strain. I decided to raise myself up on my tiptoes to gain as much height as possible, then I moved the pack to eye-level, with the top facing down and the back against the wall. Using one hand I slowly pushed it up the steep grade of rocks until it reached a precariously secure position. Then, I quickly yet deliberately scaled the wall using my two hands. This was very difficult as I had to reach for safe hand-holds. Several times, I had to take time to find a more secure hand-hold, i.e. one with a better grip. As soon as my upper torso, and the center of gravitation, was lying prostrate on some of the rocks, I reached over with my left hand to drag the pack a few inches farther up, to a safer position. Then I dragged myself up to a safer position, from which I was able to crawl several feet to a location where I could stand upright with no risk or fear of falling. I pulled my pack and my bag to a totally safe spot, then just stood there: exhausted physically yet relieved, exhausted mentally yet ecstatic.

After several minutes of catching my breath (and after taking a photo of the wall), I picked up my pack and my bag, and continued to head north over the rocks, hoping not to find any more rock walls to overcome. Fortunately there were not. I needed about ten or twelve minutes more to walk across the rest of Punto Coyote before reaching the sand of Playa Coyote. I walked directly to the first (and only) restaurant on the beach to drink a Tropical pina and a couple glasses of water. Then, I asked to lie in a hammock, in which I took a nap.

I had arrived at the restaurant in Playa Coyote at 12:30pm, after leaving the rancho in Manzanillo at 9:15am. It had been a long and exhausting morning. I probably should have remained there for the night, but when I woke up from my nap, I decided to eat lunch to re-fuel to continue my journey. I ate a casado of chuleta, which was quite filling.

Ok, I'm tired of writing now, so I'll stop. Next time I write, I will have to re-count my trip across the Rio Coyote later that afternoon, and then my journey with the meat-man to arrive here in Playa San Miguel. As for today, there is little to re-count. Due to my understandable exhaustion, I stayed in bed until 12:30pm. After eating a late breakfast, I spent the afternoon at the beach and in the ocean. Relaxing.