Photos From Central America

Edited photos from Central America (Panama, Costa Rica, and Nicaragua). Keep posted for more future writing.



Panama - Bocas Del Toro

 Docked at Isla de Carenero Panama

Tropical vibes at Wizard's Beach Panama



Costa Rica - Santa Teresa

 Headed out sea

 Mope moping around

 

Come sail away, come sail away with me...

Nicaragua - Popoyo

Nicaragua - San Juan Del Sur

Nicaragua - Ometepe

 The legendary chicken buses

Nicaragua - Masaya

Costa Rica - Arenal

Welcome Back To NorCal

Worn down after years of footprints, years of salt dripping off of wetsuits, the familiar trail hadn't changed since I could remember. While it's appearance hadn't changed, it felt like rediscovering an old friend again. Walking down the trail surrounded by the fresh growth of Spring, I'm focused on the shimmering blue ocean in the distance.

Setting my wetsuit and board down on the headlands, I spot the buckets, clothes, and bags that are temporarily abandoned by their owners for waves. Taking a seat on the grass, I watch the waves sloppily roll in. Debating my options, I decide it's better to surf then not to. Wrapping my towel around myself, I strip down and begin trying to stretch my parched wetsuit over my legs. Losing my balance, I stumble and catch myself.

I tell myself words of encouragement, "It's only because you haven't worn a wetsuit for six months..."

Yanking the hood over my head, I suddenly feel stiff from the restrictiveness of the wetsuit. Grabbing my board, I make my way down to the water's edge. Putting one foot into the cold water, I immediately want to run away like a child who runs from the swash on the beach. Not wanting to forfeit, I throw my body onto my board trying to keep my appendages out of the water.

My hands sear and turn plum red as I make my way out of the channel into the lineup. Twenty feet away from me, a sea lion breaks the surface and gives me a shock. The slightly opaque water reveals the kelp and sand hidden underneath me. A set rolling in forces me to duckdive and endure the frigid water over my entire body. Reappearing from underneath the wave, I instantly have an ice cream headache.

"Welcome Back to NorCal," I tell myself.

I've been home for several days now and while I miss the people and places in Central America, it feels great to be home. After six months of living out of a backpack, the conveniences of having a home are thoroughly missed. Even though the adventure was more than worthwhile, the wayfaring lifestyle is difficult at times. Suddenly trivial things like transportation back home suddenly become difficult in a foreign country. So when I stepped into the San Jose airport in Costa Rica, it was saddening to see this adventure come to a close but also exciting to see what other ones unfold in the future.

Wasting time in San Jose Costa Rica

When you have six hours in the San Jose airport, this is what it looks like when you lay on your back...

Empty lineup

One last bus ride


Looking at my hands, they looked crippled. After an hour of being in the frigid water, my hands succumbed to the cold and began to turn into claws. Shivering, I catch one more wave to the beach and walk back up to the headlands. Pulling my wetsuit off my body, the chilly air feels warm after begin in the much colder ocean. Replacing the wetsuit with jeans and two sweaters, I sit back down to catch up with the familiar faces that I left behind six months earlier.





Here are some photos from the traveling in the islands of Bocas del Toro Panama. I will also continue adding photos over the course of the next week or so.

Filtering our water for the day

 The hidden coffee shop in the jungle

 Jungle shack

Upcycled

 The unmarked jungle trails on Bastimentos

 B-ball with a view

Characters: Cléo - From Monteverde to La Fortuna

Karen, Chet and I arrived on the Monteverde hostel's doorstep at the same time as Cléo. Stepping into the office and kitchen area, we were quickly ushered out by the owner to be shown our rooms. As the owner directs us upstairs, I sigh at the thought of carrying my heavy backpack any further.

Reaching the second floor, the owner directs Cléo into the dorm with two bunk beds. Standing outside the room, I patiently wait as the owner tells Cléo something. The owner then turns to me and points to a bed and says it's mine. Turning to Chet and Karen with a look of confusion, they tell me that I'm sleeping in a dorm and that they have a private room. Acknowledging this, I make my way into the small dorm. My backpack catching on the door spins me awkwardly into the room as I catch myself on the bunk bed. I quickly set my bag down in the corner, when I notice another girl already staying in the the room. After introducing myself to Cléo and the other girl named Sophie, I have a split second to register that I wreak of sweat. Looking down at my shirt, I realize that it's covered in sweat stains. Embarrassed, I excuse myself to go take a shower.

Opening the door back into the room, there is a break in the conversation between Sophie and Cléo. I begin talking to them when I hear a knock on the door. Opening it, Chet enthusiastically exclaims, "dude! If you want to stay in our room, you totally can! It's huge! There's almost a full kitchen, a king sized bed, and another twin! It's up to you!"

Looking back into the room, I debate my options and decide it's better if the girls have a room to themselves. Grabbing my backpack I bid the girls goodbye and head to Chet's room.

Between dinner and mid afternoon the next day, I briefly exchanged a few words with Cléo. Making lunch the next day, I see Cléo, smile, and say hi as I'm chopping vegetables.

Cléo looks at me and smiles back and says, "I'm going to go horseback riding right now, but when I get back would you like to go get a drink?"

"Yeah of course! I'll be around the hostel so just let me know!"

Later that evening when I find out Cléo is back, I quickly put on what I think is suitable in my vast wardrobe of a backpack. After all, I have a pair of jeans, a flannel, five pairs of boardshorts, and three shirts. I ultimately decide the jeans and flannel are a wise choice for the cool night air. 

With my heart rate a little faster than normal, I show up at my previous room and knock on the door. A few seconds go by when the latch clicks and the door swings open. Immediately upon opening the door, the air wafts with great smells - floral smelling shampoo and perfume. Looking at Cléo, she's in a beautiful sunset red dress. Her dirty blonde hair (I'll later be scorned for calling her hair dirty) glistening from the recent shower is straight and freshly combed. Her crisp blue eyes shine bright adorned with a smile that just hides her teeth. Her somewhat fair skin is slightly darkened around her nose and shoulders where they are more exposed to the intense Costa Rican sunlight.

Looking down at my attire, I'm immediately embarrassed from head to toe. My jeans are torn and the once blue denim is now slightly brown. My flannel is worn thin and has a large pink bleach stain on the front. The only positive things I can say about myself is that I shaved my face and that at least my flannel has a collar. 

Stepping onto the sidewalk we walk up to a restaurant where she eagerly tells me they play live music here at night. Walking up the stairs we sit down and order some drinks. Over the course of the evening we continuously talk as we listen to covers of American music. 

Cléo, originally from Paris, France, has been studying human rights in Holland and is currently working on an internship in Costa Rica. Her internship consists of finding and writing grants for a program that helps young Costa Rican girls in need. The internship being emotionally intense combined with long hours, often causes Cléo to travel on the weekends within Costa Rica.

Cléo's bubbly personality, kindness, and bright smile has the ability to make people smile right back. Mixed with a sarcastic sense of humor, it created an evening full of laughter. Quickly becoming friends, a week later, Cléo and I met back up in La Fortuna. A small town known for it's surrounding natural hot springs, is also home to many adventures such as zip lining and river tours. Cléo and I wanting to do something filled with a little more adrenaline decided to do white water rafting.

After a morning of homemade crêpes (Chet found out that they are not French tortillas), we waited for our tour. The van pulling up screamed tourist. Two huge yellow rafts on top with the bold lettering TOURISMO on the side. The door sliding open, a beyond excited Tico (Costa Rican) hops out.

"HEY!! MY NAME IS DANNY!! NICE TO MEET YOU!! ARE YOU READY FOR SOME RAFTING!!"

Cléo and I hopping in the van shuffle towards the back. Sitting down Danny looks at me and says, "DO YOU HAVE ANY SHOES OTHER THAN YOUR SANDALS!"

Looking down at my scarred feet, I look up and say no. Danny talks to his teammates briefly and looks back at me and says, "OKAY, WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T FALL OUT OF THE BOAT!!"

Driving around La Fortuna for a few minutes we fill up the van with other passengers from Switzerland, Canada, Costa Rica, England, and the US. Starting our journey to the river, Danny begins giving us a pep talk about rafting with the same fervor as Leonardo DiCaprio in the Wolf of Wall Street. 

Hopping out of the van, we split into rafting teams of five and six. The guides issue us paddles, life jackets, and helmets as Danny goes around and gives us hi fives and pats on the back. 

Stepping into the boat, we are taught the commands and how to paddle by the guide. Two minutes later we are in small rapids as we try to work together in a team. Our guide yells out like a drill sergeant as we avoids rocks, "FORWARD!! STOP!! BACK!! STOP!!"

Mid rapid our guide calls out, "LOOK UP AND SMILE FOR THE CAMERA!!"

For two hours, we bounce off rocks like a pinball as we traverse rapids. Eventually we hit flat water and are able to enjoy our surroundings. The dense jungle surrounds us with sloths and iguanas hanging out in the branches above. The dark volcanic cliffs and surrounding ferns remind me of scenes from Jurassic Park. 

Stopping on the side of the river, the guides show us frogs and a vine snake while explaining the biodiversity of Costa Rica. Pushing back off in the rafts, we continue to float down river before reaching our destination. Handing our gear back, the guides hand us shots of rum and a beer to celebrate. Climbing back in the van, needless to say Cléo and I were both tired and happy.



Photos of Arenal Hot Springs and the La Fortuna Waterfall

Keep posted as I will write a concluding post on this trip. I will also be editing and adding photos that haven't been seen as well as a video hopefully soon. Thank you for reading and if interested I intend to keep on writing.  -Wyatt

Below is the link to Monteverde
The Monteverde Strangler Figs in Costa Rica

Up, Up, Up, Up, Up the Rungs of the Fig Trees in Monteverde

The gravel road snaked up the steep hillside. Motorcycles and cars pass by infrequently creating the all to familiar chattering noise that a vehicle makes on a poorly grated road. 

"These gravel roads are just like the fire roads in California. The only difference is that this is their road," exclaimed Chet. 

"Yeah, the forest is also quite similar looking. The climate feels like a California Spring."

"There is so much more wildlife in these forests though. There are monkeys, toucans, and other stuff in the forest. Our forests are so tame," said Chet. 

Chet scanning the poorly drawn paper map we received at our hostel says, "we should almost be there."

Looking down at the map, it looks as if someone handed a toddler a pen and paper. It looks like nothing more than a bunch of doodles with landmarks written on it.

Continuing on the gravel path, I see a little unmarked trail that darts off into the jungle.

"Hey! I think that's it! We were told it's an unmarked trail."

"I don't know... Why don't you walk in a little ways and check it out."

Listening to Chet, I eagerly saunter off into the forest. The twigs cracking under the weight of my boots, I scan the trail for the thing we've been looking for. Determined to find it, I keep walking deeper into the forest and begin to lose myself in my thoughts. Maybe it's because I miss California, but I can't help but draw parallels between the cloud forest in Monteverde and the Redwood forest back home. It's the same forest litter, same forest patterns - tall trees that let in little light with sporadic undergrowth. Hearing a crashing noise to the right of me, I instantly snap out of my thoughts.

Trying to find the noise that startled me, I find a bunch of raccoon, weasel like animals jumping out of the trees fifteen feet away from me. I later found out these are called Coatis. Watching them for a minute, I turn back and head for the road not finding what we are looking for. 

Making it back to the road, Chet and Karen finish talking to person in a car.

"What did they say?"

"They have no idea what we are talking about..."

Slightly defeated, I suggest hiking back through the forest since it was a beautiful trail. Their interest spiked when I told them about the raccoon weasels. 

What we are searching for are trees called strangler figs. We have been told that they are trees that have grown together and created a mesh like network of branches that create the tree trunk. It's a natural phenomena that is created by a normal tree. With time and careful placement, animals hide strangler fig seeds in the bark of the tree. Forgotten seeds sprout and begin to climb the tree like ivy. Eventually the strangler figs out compete the host causing it to die. Over the course of many years, the host tree rots away leaving a hollowed out tunnel created by the strangler figs.

The first Strangler Fig Tree

Trekking past where I saw the Coatis, we stumble upon the first strangler fig. Excited, I immediately drop my bag and tuck my body into the hollowed out trunk. Standing up inside, my shoulders almost span the diameter of the tree trunk. Peering upwards, I contemplate if I can climb it.

Looking up from within

Grabbing the first rung of the tree, I find it's easy to climb because of the cage like structure of the tree. Pulling myself up higher and higher I eventually make it to the top. Like looking through an airplane window, I peer out of the tree and see that I'm in the canopy of the forest. Bromeliads, mosses, and tilandsias float on the tree branches around me. Birds sing as the tops of the trees reach for the sky to compete for the sun's energy. In the distance, I hear a gust of wind blow through the leaves which starts to crescendo as the gust reaches me. Tucked inside the tree, my stomach begins to turn as the tree begins to sway in the wind. Momentarily I feel like John Muir in the Yosemite tree tops. It's just a fleeting feeling as the tree sways again sending vertigo sensations through me. I eagerly scramble downwards like a dog cowering from lightning.

Views from the Canopy

Upon reaching the ground, I excitedly tell Chet and Karen what I saw and that they too have to climb it. Chet pulling himself into the tree climbs upwards somewhat discouraged from his fear of heights. From part way up the tree, I can hear Chet quoting Smeagol from Lord of the Rings. 

"Up, up, up, up, up the stairs we go..."

After both Chet and Karen climbed the tree, they talk about other trees they saw further ahead. 

"Wait until you see the one over the cliff!"

The tree over the cliff

Walking down the slope, I could see the ominous tangled trunk in the distance. It was arched like the leaning tower of Pisa over the hill side. Looking into the cavernous trunk the beginning of it looked like the rib cage of a whale. Climbing higher and higher, the trunk got tighter and tighter. But each step upwards was a step closer to the canopy top. I could only think of Chet quoting Smeagol. 

"Up, up, up, up, up the stairs we go..."

Reaching the top, I yell down below and wave before scurrying back down from my fear of heights. Karen hopping into the trunk begins climbing upward. Chet points up into the canopy at the Capuchin monkeys climbing around. A curious monkey hops onto the tree Karen is in. With the monkey poking it's head into the tree where Karen was, I was momentarily scared until the monkey scurried away. For an instant, all I could think about was Karen getting attacked by a rogue monkey eighty feet in a tree. 

Vertigo

Wait... Let me take a selfie

As Karen reaches the top, she pokes her head out and waves at Chet and I. After a few minutes of enjoying the view in the forest canopy, Karen begins her descent to the ground. As she descends downwards, I sit and stare at these grouping of trees and admire them. It only made me excited to be back in the familiar Redwood trees back home in Mendocino.

On our last day in Monteverde, Karen and I went to an orchid garden. Here they  contain species of orchids found in Monteverde and specialize in miniature orchids.

What is believed to be the world's smallest orchid. It's the size of a pencil top. For scale that is my pointer finger.