Stand and Deliver

So I had just left the beach in Jacó. Knowing how dangerous roads can be in Costa Rica, Lenay and I saddled up to make the seventy kilometer drive back to Quepos. What's dangerous about Jacó and the highway in this country is that petty crime is rampant. I had even been warned by my host father about highwaymen lying in wait for motorists. A group of bandits speed their car past a couple of mopeds, block the road, and thieve at gunpoint. I didn't want that to be me. But I had another concern, far more urgent .

The rain was coming.

All ready starting to fall in droplets, we hurriedly made it to a service station to fill up the motos for the trip home. I was nervous, simply put. I didn't bring a poncho, and aside from my helmet, all I had for protection was the cracked pair of sunglasses I had gotten from a sunday fair in San Telmo, a month earlier. Furthermore, I'm not exactly a salty biker. Afterall, this was my first time riding. How would I react to the road?

I jut wanted to get home, so I steeled my resolve, sucked it up and pulled back onto the highway. The further we road, the slicker the highway became, and I was becoming concerned. I didn't want to dump the back, especially with the agressive drivers. Visibility was diminishing rapidly as the shower pouring down upon me boosted into a fully fledged unholy downpour. Sunglasses barely helped. They kept the rain out of my eyes. That was hardly beneficial though, because with the continual proliferation just adding and adding up, I couldn't see anything anyways.

Well we kept up this impossible struggle for over an hour. The sun had gone down, and I was keeping my bike on the road by pure instinct. My clothes were completely soaked, my teeth were chattering, and I could do to stave off mind-numbing cold was to mumble 'Three Little Birds' by Bob Marley. And to be completely honest, I was praying to God that every little thing was going to be all right.

SIx o'clock rolls by and I am at my end. Exhausted, my arms numb from the crippling rain, I knew this was the end of the road. My fingers had no feeling at this point either, most likely from my death grip on the throttle. More importantly however, I was worried about Lenay. She had kept up with me every step of the way, unbelievable. I was about to fall off of my bike from exhaustion. The endurance she had shown in the last hour confirmed to me that she is one of the toughest girls I know. A complete hardcase, if you ask me, especially if she's tooling around Costa Rica after dark through a monsoon-like deluge of rain.

So here we were, two pallid ghosts in the dark, shaking something fierce just to push the cold out. After asking a couple of bewildered cops for directions, we spurred on, driving another half mile only to hide under the awning of an abandoned motel. This was the moment of despair I was dreading. What were we going to do all night? The storm wasn't abating. If anything the downpour was just building up, and deafening to all those hearing rain drops crash in this damned storm.

We spent ten agonizing minutes under that awning. Retrospectively, I would have called it a strategy-rethinking session. It was really just a near panic, as We struggled our frozen minds into action. By chance, a local family was leaving next door. Asking them where the nearest shelter was, we were directed to a cantina at the end of the block.

This place was dead when we shuffled through its doors. Only the regulars and the owners family were present at this hour. Sauntering up to the bar (the it probably was a stiff crawl) I immediately ordered a coffee and a whiskey rocks (hey, I needed to get warmed up!). After being introduced to Millet, the proprietor of the bar, we were both given towels and a spot at the bar. Fifteen minutes later I was dry in my change of clothes and warmed by my Johnny Walker. The rain showed no signs of slowing down, so I ordered costillas de cerdo (pork ribs) on recommendation from the inebriated Millet. Who's going to argue with the owner?

We had spent several hours here by the time my hopes of getting home were diminishing. Millet by this time was slouching over and griping to me about his wife's infidelity, all while taking pulls off of the bottle of house scotch. But at least we had a roof over our heads. The clock eventually advanced past ten o'clock and I could still hear the rain's faithful requiem fall upon us. By this hour the regular clientele had made a larger showing for sunday night karaoke. So here Lenay an I were, trapped in this unknown village (I later found out it was Parrita) listening to the drunken butchery of over a dozen latin songs, all followed by a slurry of whooping. It was fun though. I gave my very own version of 'La Bamba,' while Lenay sang 'La Camisa Negra,' a recent hit by the Colombian Juanes.

Near the end of the night a Tico named Charlie and I made friends. For over an hour however, I endured his recommendations of accompanyment to a local town. Road. Dangerous. Ladrones. You will get robbed. Hotel. Warm. Take my credit card. I am friend. Rain. Night. Dangerous. Thieves. Go home tomorrow. Hotel. Nearby. Warm. I take you there. You will get robbed. Stay off the road. Night. Dangerous. I take you to a hotel. Warm. You go home tomorrow. Safe. I am poor. want nothing. Take my credit card.

I had to listen to that for over an hour! So frustrating. And by eleven thirty, the power went out in the cantina. Stuck between the sword and the wall, there was now really no other choice. After asking for a 'small token tip,' Lenay and I followed this drunken driver to the town, roughly ten minutes away. Thankfully I forced him to drive in front of us, because people, there are no traffic cops on the road in Costa Rica, and this guy was driving in England for the majority of the trip.

We found a place, and got accomodations. I took advantage of the air conditioning and warm shower (a serious luxury). At the crack of dawn I rolled out of bed and drove home to Quepos.

Some might call this trip a nightmare. We decided it was an adventure. Was it safe? No. Was it unique? Hell yeah! Would I do it again, if given the choice?

You better believe it!