Reflecting on the trip as a whole, Day 9 in Matapalo, Costa Rica ranks highly among the rest. I slept in... then gobbled up a plate (or two) at Costa Linda breakfast... then read a couple pages of my book... and then became productive, by first helping to pack the truck, the mode of transport for this adventurous day. Fully stocked, after opting for a food and fuel pit-stop in Quepos, off I continued, with Uncle J and K.F.A., to Matapalo. Timing our arrival with the tide, which we "raced" all morning, we wasted no time tossing our paddle boards into the lagoon where we propelled ourselves alongside the dense population mangrove trees. (I wish wish wish I had a camera equipped for water sports.) The fresh water lagoon seemed an idyllic spot for crocodiles--I spotted nada one, however, the fear swam through my soul. At one point, adrenalized, I was doing push-ups on my board. Then sit-ups. Then deciding paddling would progress me furthest away from said crocodiles I hallucinated.
When it came time to test the big waters, I was swallowed up by a vicious rip tide. Round and round, I swirled, no arm strength left to free myself. I love a solid endurances challenge... eventually my non-panicked spirit won out. I climbed ashore, ate some humble pie, and absorbed myself in the pristine scenery--surrounding a full 360-degree vantage point. (There might have been a photo shoot.)
The tide was not behaving, so we opted to saving the ocean for later. We re-loaded the truck and took off on a hunt for coconut water; along the way, K.F.A. went flying off the back of the truck. Safely first(!!!). I sadly missed her fall and honestly noticed she was missing far too late, allowing her to make a gracious recovery... literally running after our crazed driver. Her ankle would later hate her for attempting such a feat, with passenger number three now buckled in we feverishly traversed the network of palm tree framed trails in search of the the perfect coconut tree.
Once there, we stocked up on coconuts and pictures--seriously miles upon miles of isolated p-r-i-s-t-i-n-e beaches--in a second photo shoot.
Our next stop was the abandoned lemon, lime, and orange orchard. Hello fallen fresh fruit heaven. I chomped down on a lemon as we traveled the distance to a beach shelter, apparently built just for our afternoon picnic lunch. Tomato sandwiches were on the menu, dessert was a prime watermelon.
I eventually braved the pacific, starting my paddle board venture past the crashing waves... where I caught sight of a large school of
HUGE sharks fish swarming my board, while stranded alone in the depths of the ocean.
Hush conscience, must you be so loud. I came barreling in right before one of the most spectacular sunsets of the journey. The sky looked to be on fired--low-flying clouds of red and purple, lit from below with dark gold. This day was called to an end much too quickly. I could have easily adapted to my largely uninhabited surroundings... where the wildlife sighting opportunities were excellent and the beaches were reflective of their mountainous, palm lined borders... for life.
The sole reason Day 9 did not walk away with the 'top day award' was a result of my subjection to dinner duty while my travel-mate was sidelined with bum ankle. This was ridiculous, K.F.A.'s ankled swelled much slower than my appetite... I wanted to join the injured reserve list. And even worse than kitchen time, my co-chef, Uncle J, was
way into the art of cooking and wildly concerned with presentation, more so than this perfectionists was with her science fair displays. The dinner preparation extended to a total time of 1:37:28 and can only be compared to torture. When the masterpiece--mushroom potato pancake with sauteed beet greens and heart of palm salad was (finally) ready, I consumed my portion before K.F.A. photographed hers; my taste buds never discerned if the meal itself was actually delicious.
Two hours late to bed, I recalled a quote from one of my favorite women, Eleanor Roosevelt, who stated, "The purpose of life is to live it, to taste it, to experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for richer experience." Eleanor would have been proud of my ninth day.
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