Shake, Rattle and Roll On

I arrived in the Osa this morning, June 1, 2015, although there’s no telling when this entry will actually be posted, seeing that internet here is spotty at best on sunny days and nonexistent when the weather turns for the worse. But that’s ok with me. It’s another reason why I chose to come to the Osa, and so far, I’m happy that I did.

It’s quiet here — quiet due to the fact that the only sounds are the strokes of my fingers against a keyboard and the hum of a small fan working overtime to give me a reprieve from the humidity. Everything else is nature’s chorus, and she’s been singing quite the tune since I arrived, whether it be the growl of a howler monkey or the whistle of a scarlet macaw.

My quarters for the next week, where I’ll be doing most of my writing, is a private tiki hut that opens directly to the jungle. I can hear the crashing waves of the midday surf just below me, and the chirps, calls, and noises of who knows what else will surely make my first night an experience in itself.

I’m the only guest here at the moment and will be for the next five days. It’s the slow time of the year, now that the rainy season has returned; albeit, from what I hear, the El Niño effect has left the area a little drier than normal. I have no complaints though, because it made my journey from the States a little easier.

I left on the morning of Sunday, May 31, and flew from Dallas to Houston and then Houston to San Jose, Costa Rica’s capital. I exited customs and sprinted to the regional airport a few blocks away, just in time to board the last flight of the day – a small Cessna that took me from San Jose to Puerto Jimenez, where I stayed my first night at a small bed and breakfast owned by the same couple who owns the Lookout Inn, my current home away from home.

If the Cessna was a little bumpy, then the “colectivo” bus (if you can call it a bus) from Puerto Jimenez to Carate Beach felt, at times, more like riding through a small earthquake. We shook. We rattled. We rolled on. Up and down and over five small river crossings, a few of which are known to block the only road to Carate whenever the summer rains choose to flex their muscle.

I arrived two hours later at approximately 8:00 a.m., unpacked, and went for a hike shortly thereafter. It wasn”t the easy trail I had anticipated. I started by climbing more than 300 steep and rickety stairs known as the “Stairway to Heaven” before being overcome by the rainforest.

It was a little unnerving hiking by myself. The markers were infrequent, and the terrain unforgiving. A slip or misstep could have sent me tumbling down the hillside. Multi-colored lizards rustled the leaves underneath my feet as I approached before darting off without warning, scaring the bejesus out of me in the process. After about an hour and a half of trekking, I decided, for the sake of Maven the raven fans, of course, not to venture any further without company.

On my way back to the lodge, I stumbled across a large greyish feather, which I’ll keep in my tiki hut as inspiration. I was told it was likely from a pelican. I’ll add it to the two others I have back in Dallas, both of which literally fell from the sky and into my possession at times in my life when I was having serious doubts about this project. Some people may see it as only a feather, but for me, it’s confirmation that I’m on the right track.

Follow me on Instagram at @Joshua_Maven or @HonchotheVan, on Twitter @MaventheRaven or Facebook at Facebook/TheLastImperial.

Pura Vida