Corcovado Day 1: The Hike In

Hugh and I woke up really early and got to the bus stop by 4:15. The bus driver didn't come out until 5am, but not a big deal.  We slept on the bus for quite a bit until the driver stopped in Chacarita, where I'd catch a transfer to Puerto Jimenez. The ride was about 4 hours and curved around the Pacific gulf onto the Osa Peninsula, home of Parque Nacional Corcovado.  I hadn't yet gotten my permit to enter the park, and had no idea where to go once I got off the bus in Jimenez. So I walked up to the first white guy carrying a backpack and got some direction. His name was David as well, he had been doing some research of a nearly extinct species of bird in a preserve, but hadn't yet made it to Corcovado. He had a friend who worked at an info center in town, and he led me there. Tina was an Oklahoma peace corps volunteer who'd gotten stuck working the desk at the info center for a while, but she helped me get everything in order.

Obtaining the permit involved a lot of running (literally) back and forth across town. It was nearly 12:00 and I needed to get everything done before I caught the 1:30 bus to Carate, the last town before hitting Corcovado. I went to the Minaet, sort of their national park office, and got my permit for 4 days in the park. Then I ran across town to a different spot to pay, then back to the Minaet to verify it. I had about 30 minutes left to drop off my laptop and other things at the info center, get lunch and buy food for the trip. All went well and I made it in time for the bus in.

Only it wasn't really a bus. They call it the "Colectivo," and it's really a tarp-covered truck with benches in the back.

I piled in with a handful of other foreigners, likely researchers and volunteers. The ride was 100% potholed dirt roads, intersected now and then by river crossings that the Colectivo busted across with ease. About 2 hours later, I was in Carate, about to start my trek in through the rain that was coming down steadily.

It was so exhilarating to be taking strides alone on the endless wilderness beach in the middle of a storm. I couldn't help but start beaming, thinking to myself, "now this is adventure."

A lone macaw was perched high above in a tree, face tucked in beneath his wing to hide from the rain. I hiked along as the thunder echoed the sounds of the crashing waves and crossed a couple rivers to get to the station at La Leona.  There I met with the ranger, Martin, who stamped my permit and upon hearing I was from the states told me about the big game that night. I'd completely forgotten, it was the Gold Cup final between the US and Mexico. I told him I was really disappointed to miss it, but he invited me to come back at seven to watch it with him on his small, completely off-color TV.

Setting up camp under the patio roof was a cinch, and I made a couple cups of Ramen for dinner.  Seven rolled around and I met Martin and his two friends inside to watch the game.  It started off well for the Yanks, going up 2-0, but stupid mistakes led to a flurry of Mexican goals, and they took the match 2-4. One of the guys made dulces for us, which I thought would be something like hot cocoa. I was informed it was just agua y dulce, which tasted like maple syrup. It knocked me out as if it were Mike Tyson in a title fight.

I didn't sleep very long, though. I heard some rustling from outside my tent, where my pack was sitting on a bench. Raccoons, I thought. I flipped on a light and saw a small animal scampering off, while my pack lay on the ground and a fresh hole had been chewed in the ziplock bag containing my food. It was sort of dumb of me to leave it out in the first place. I pulled the pack inside and closed up the tent. That's when I checked the bag and found ants swarming all over the trash pocket. Swell. They weren't after the food, which I kept inside. The pack went back out and I had an ant squishing party for a bit before trying to sleep again. The animal came back, and without my contacts in I couldn't really tell what it was, but I yelled at it and flashed my light angrily and he didn't return.

I slept through the rest of the night really well. The sounds of the jungle were roaring back at the relentless waves as the rain came down steadily. It was a fantastic symphony of noise, and my tent was pitched right in the middle of it. I would wake up at 4am to start my hike to Sirena, the next station, 17km away.