Costa Rica - Washed Out

Rinse, Spin, Re-Rinse

Just the night before, the setting sun crowned Barva with a glowing pink halo but the darker clouds had already begun to crawl in at the lower elevations.  A day of rain was scheduled but I was holding out hope.  Everyone told me to forget about Barva in the rain.  Even with a 4x4 you wouldn't be able to get close to it.  I tucked into bed and hoped for the best.  At 2am I was a awakened by a load roar, followed by a car alarm which set the neighborhood dogs into a frenzy.  My double cube house stands proudly, with its chin up and was catching the full rage of a tremendous storm.  The wind seemed to be coming from all directions and the windows were streaming with water, like the house was inside a car wash.  The tin roof amplified the rain into a drum roll and it probably continued long after I'd managed to fall back asleep.

When I awoke, it was more of the same.  At breakfast the brave me chastised the chicken me,
winning out in the end.  I began the long slow drive uphill, the road narrowing to the width of my car.  The small rivers at either side of the road made each car-passing-car into a slow-motion dance.  A few times I had to reverse a hundred feet to let the on comers pass safely.  After 45 minutes of uphill, the temperature dropped from 71 to 57.  I kept talking to myself "hey, it could be sunny at the top, you never know."

I was emboldened by the mountain bikers - I passed five of them.  Most were in short sleeves and shorts, leaning into their handlebars, pumping slowly, mouths open.  They were soaked to the bone, the rain pouring off their chins.  The mountain was pitched 45 degrees against them and at 8,000 feet they seemed to be struggling for oxygen.  I passed Sacramento, the last town on the map, and a few miles later, after a hairpin turn, the concrete gave way to a slick clay.  I could go no further and there wasn't any space to park - I reversed backwards to the nearest house to turn around.  I would have to park a few miles away in Sacramento if this trek were going to take place.  I considered my options.  I was dressed in jeans, had no hat, no boots, only a flimsy rain poncho.  I contemplated 5 hours of cold, wet misery.  Truth be told, I lost my nerve - I just wasn't up to it.  I drove slowly back to my hotel and asked the clerk about the weather.  He said "I've lived here my whole life, I don't ever remember a storm like this during the dry season.  Ever!  The weather is getting stranger and stranger."