Arenal Volcano
Well obviously I’m all about the extreme, so as soon as I got out of San Jose it was one adventure after another. On my first full day in La Fortuna I decided to visit the famous La Fortuna waterfall. After my stuff was stolen I told myself I should take a day to get organized. Only too quickly did I realize it would be better for my physical and mental well-being to get out and do something.
The walk from my hostel to the falls was 5km one way, or I could taxi for eight dollars each way. Why on earth would I do that? During the stroll I met a couple that were on their way to a rope swing, so I took a detour to check it out. Although, it appeared safe and the water was calling my name I elected to pass on launching myself. I still wasn’t sure if my luck had turned around yet.
As I continued on the path was easy, with a gradual incline, it passed by farmland, boutique hostels, and a hammock house with the faint scent of marijuana. Just when I was beginning to ponder how easy it all was the road swerved upward. By the time I reached the top I was pouring sweat…yes pouring, and the humidity did nothing to help my predicament.
There was a fifteen dollar entrance fee to the falls, which is pretty steep if you ask me, but there was no way I was turning back after that climb. As I pulled out my money I attempted in vain not to drip sweat on the counter of the ticket booth.
Fortunately, I got a chance to cool off during the 500 stairs down to the viewpoint. Let’s not talk about what I thought about the fact that I would have to climb them to leave.
Mist drifted over my face, propelled outward from the force of the falling water. After a quick dip, I found a comfortable seat and wrote in the flimsy journal I had purchased as a temporary substitute for the two I had lost. The beauty and tranquility of my surroundings inspired me and I wrote the peace of my heart. (Check out La Fortuna for the full excerpt)
On the following day I continued my adventures with a 12km hike that traversed the valley between the active Arenal Volcano and the dormant Cerro Chato. The guide, Emanuel, was at home on the overgrown trail that was punctuated by wry and mischievous roots. In a way this strange humid, green, humming forest reminded me of home. In Big Bear on the dry dusty trails, I was in my element, in my backyard. It was my playground, and this forest filled with creepers and dangers unfamiliar to me was Emanuel’s.
We traversed narrow paths, lowered ourselves with ropes into canyons carved by rain, and pulled ourselves out of ravines. Lunch was taken by a quaint stream that bubbled mearily over rocks yet to understand the smoothness of time. Some of us took a dip in the pools protected from the currents by small legions of moss-covered stones.
It wasn’t until after lunch, after hopping over wobbly boulders, climbing on fallen trees, and braving the slippery surfaces around the river that my troubles began. I was standing on the side of the stream, gazing up into the canopy when I decided to reposition my foot.
CRACK-POP!
The sound erupted from my ankle as it rolled over a stray root and my body promptly fell to the ground. I knew that noise all too well. I had heard it in Korea right before my ankle swelled up to the size of a tennis ball and I nearly passed out from the pain.
I took nervous breaths as I tried to discern the extent of the damage. It hurt for certain, but the pain was bearable and my ears were ringing, which meant I wasn’t going to pass out. I knew there was swelling but it wasn’t noticeable unless I took off my sock. I quickly brushed aside the others’ protests of concern and made a joke about “walking it off.” We had at least 5km left, what else was there to do but walk?
The rest of the trek passed by without consequence. We saw several blue butterflies which are said to be lucky because they spend three months in a cocoon but only live for two weeks after they hatch. (Well I wasn’t complaining, I needed all the luck I could get).
Eventually, we passed out of the jungle and through a grove of rainbow eucalyptus; the only type that doesn’t originate in Australia. Then Emanuel pointed out a shed filled with golden orb spiders. When I say “filled” I mean you could make a horror film out of this shack. The webs are as large as I am tall, the spiders are the size of small cell phones and there were at least twenty of them scattered around. Not to mention they are deadly poisonous.
Check out the bark on this rainbow eucalyptus
The hike ended at the observation deck of a private resort, where we had a clear view of Lake Arenal and the volcano. A troop of monkeys swung through the branches nearby, clutching their young as they went. I gazed out over the peaceful landscape, listening to the caws of local turkeys.
As clouds pulled in close to the valley we drove to the hot springs. There is an all inclusive resort that charges forty dollars per person to sample the volcanic waters. But, if you walk to the other side of the street and go down under the bridge, you can relax for free.
Bridge on the way to the observation deck
The water was warm, diluted from the deluge that started the moment we left the bus, but it was relaxing all the same. Emanuel passed out cocktails and covered our faces in the purifying volcanic mud, which I’m pretty sure he collected directly from the stream.
I sat chatting with the others, listening to the rain, with nothing but a few flashlights to battle back the absolute darkness of the night. It had been a full day and I was at peace.
