Manuel Mangroves

In my last post we left off with the bus finally arriving to whisk me away to Manuel Antonio. Well, let’s just say if I were an egg white I could have been a lot fluffier. The bus took me all the way to a roadblock three miles outside of Quepos. It was 14:30 and the block was not to be removed until 16:00. So I could either wait or walk.

To my delight, there were six other backpackers on the bus so I didn’t have to walk alone. We chatted along the way, switching off to get to know the other people in our group. Names were not exchanged, as they never are. They are reserved for later, when you realize you’ve spent several hours with the same person and still have no idea what to call them. That’s always the way in a backpacker lifestyle.

Rain graced the world and mingled with the sweat on our brows and shoulders. Upon reaching the other side of the protests, the four of us headed to the same hostel hitched a ride in the back of a pickup.

After a day that was long enough to transcend two blog posts, all I wanted was food, a shower, and a beer. This was accomplished, though not necessarily in that order.

The hostel had a tree house vibe, it’s multi levels hugged a hillside as though it was growing along with the flora. Each dormitory had its own tower that gazed over the canopy and out to sea. I instantly dedicated the upper platform as my morning yoga space.

A large pool separated the main building from the taco bar, which was where I spent the evening with the girls from the bus.

Though most of them chose to visit the National Park in the morning; I elected to take the day off. After a longer than normal yoga retreat, I took a bus to explore my options for things to do and then spent the rest of the day lounging by the pool.

I hit it off with two Canadians who were spending several months traveling and working in Central America. We made plans to go on a kayaking tour of the mangroves together and tentatively a catamaran cruise.

Unfortunately, Chan wasn’t feeling quite well so only Kayla and I ended up going kayaking. It was quite different from the other experiences I’ve had. The river was shallow enough at most points to touch the bottom with our oars, and the current was practically negligible.

Crabs scuttled up the roots of the mangroves, while snakes and iguanas lounged in the upper branches. We passed a group of sleeping bats camouflaged expertly with the rough bark of the tree.

As we navigated through the tributaries, our guide instructed us to get in single file. I love kayaking, always have…but this was something different. We wove our way through the mangroves not with our oars but with our hands. Since the waterways too narrow to row we had to reach out and propel ourselves forward using the mangrove roots.

More than once I was sure I was about to take a bath in the murky brown waters. Fortunately, I made it through the mangrove maze without submerging. (No, I did not stop to take pictures as I was too busy trying not to get stuck.)

Overall it was an excellent experience, though I must say I will not be signing up for any mangrove kayak adventures in the near future. Give me open rivers and oceans instead!