Well that was... something.
It was most definitely fun, but I did not expect it in the slightest. I can now honestly say I survived an encounter with a dozen 40-somethings from Eastern Washington. A lesser man wouldn't have lived to tell the tale.
About That Scuba
If you remember I casually mentioned scuba diving right before jumping right into the tale of the Spokane Party Palace. Well I figure now is a good a time as any to revisit my undersea undertaking.
A shuttle picks me up at my Airbnb at 7:30 AM and drops me off at the Pacific Coast Dive Center in Playa Flamingo. We mull around for a bit until the rest of the divers arrive then hop into a bus to take us to the shore. We take a glorified piece of plywood out to their dive boat, which looks like it can handle 20ish divers. We only have around 8-10 today so it won't be too crowded.
I climb up to the sun deck on top of the vessel for the hour ride out to the Catalina Islands. Unfortunately the wine mixer is next week. The weather is fantastic and we get great views looking back towards the peninsula. We also see some small rays jumping out of the water and flippin' around. They look like someone flinging a pizza in the air end-over-end. We ask the dive master why they do that and he says nobody knows, some scientists speculate it's just for fun, which I believe because it looks really fun.
We arrive at Catalina and after a short briefing we strap up and hop in. The water feels great but the visibility isn't ideal. It's not bad, just a bit cloudy. We spend about 45 minutes in the water cruising around the base of the island. We see a family of 4 white tipped reef sharks, a big ol sea turtle sleeping on a rock, a spotted eagle ray with what must be a 10 foot tail, and the most meme-able moray eel I've ever seen. I forgot to pack the dive housing for my GoPro so I don't have any photos, but honestly my amateur photos are always shit anyways. Here, have a look at some professional work.
The second dive has much of the same visually, but we get an absolute treat sonically. Whale songs fill the sea, echoing and reverberating off the island rocks. I keep my head on a swivel because it feels like they are so close but I know it's a longshot. Just yesterday while reading on the beach I learned how far whale calls can travel due to their low frequency and the efficiency of underwater sound propagation. So they could be anywhere. Of course I find out later that our Spokane squad actually happened upon the whales on their dive. Those bastards.
We head back to town and we all know what kind of shenanigans await me there. The funny part of it all is that I left my longsleeve SPF shirt on the boat, meaning I had to wait about 20 minutes at the shop for them to bring it with the rest of the scuba gear. So if I wouldn't have forgotten that shirt on board I would have been long gone from Roy's tiki hut before the Spokane crew showed up. Pretty wild coincidence.
Brew Crew
Fast forward to post-Spokane and one of the reasons that I decided to come to Playa Flamingo was a craft brewery tour I found on the line. I've seen a handful of different breweries at the taverns & gin joints I've patronized on my trip so why not go give em a tour?
It turns out that I'm the only one who has signed up so instead of their normal shuttle I'll just get a fella named Ian giving me a ride in his Mitsubishi. Ian picks me up and we head out to our first brewery, Brothers of Ale (BOA). It looks like a pretty nice facility with a handful picnic tables among some well manicured palm trees and an outdoor kitchen. The brewing operation is inside a large white metal building where the owner, Alex, is waiting to meet us. He gives me the full tour, including a stop inside the cool room, where we can't help but loiter because it beats the hell out of the sweltering humidity outside.
The facility is well organized and the equipment looks to be in great condition. It's a relatively new operation, with the first beers coming off the line in December of 2019 and the beer garden opening in March of 2020, which for obvious reasons is the worst possible timing. After the tour we head outside and I order a flight of the session IPA, Kiwi Brother lager, Oktoberfest, and Dry Irish Stout. All the offerings are delicious, with the most surprising being the stout, which has a much lighter body and mouthfeel than I'm used to in a stout.
By the fourth Red Hot Chili Peppers song I really notice the Cali vibe of the place. Alex is from Fullerton and you can tell he built what he's used to. I'd say there's considerable overlap in the California-Pura Vida Venn diagram. It's a rad spot.
I dump back my flight and we're off to the next brewery - Las Olas in Playa Grande. When we pull up I can immediately tell this is a different operation. Whereas BOA had a Cali vibe, this place is unequivocally Costa Rican.
Ian leans over to me, "you ever seen a jungle brewery before?"
No sir, I most certainly have not.
We walk in and Cameron the owner is talking to a couple I suspect then later confirm is "from the Bay Area." They just stopped in because they noticed the tasting room from the road, a pulchritudinous open air building made from local hardwoods. She compliments the woodworking and then launches into the migratory patterns of various simian populations. Somehow the subject of a developer illegally bulldozing trees comes up and her solution is to educate the bulldozer operators about "the environment," aka the forest they've grown up with their entire lives.
"If they acknowledge a spiritual connection with the Earth they wouldn't have the will to harm it"
If you acknowledge they are trying to feed their families you wouldn't say something so fucking stupid. Cameron politely tells her that when you're making \$20/day it's hard to turn down \$100 from some gringo in a sportcoat to tear down a tree. That doesn't even begin to register with Elizabeth from Palo Alto. Cam does his best to keep his composure, offering the couple some beers, y'know seeing as we're at a brewery and all.
"Oh no, I'm gluten free. And nothing for him because it affects me if I kiss him afterwards"
Her spineless boyfriend/husband/valet uncomfortably grins and nods. Blink twice if you're in danger.
So if you're not going to buy any beer then why the hell are you still here? At this point the four bottles of mezcal on the bar top catches the eye of our bohemian busybody. Well maybe they'll at least buy a pour of mezcal.
Yeah right.
It's another 10 minutes of mindless drivel from Elizabeth before they mercifully leave. Cameron rolls his eyes hard enough to give most people a migraine and then finally turns his attention to Ian and me.
"Ok so what do you guys want"
"Uhh a flight I guess?"
"Wait, are you on a brewery tour?"
"Si"
"Oh shit! I'm so sorry, I just thought you came in for a beer. My bad, let me give you the tour."
He takes me out back to the brewing operation & explains his setup. I marvel at his ability to keep his temperatures in line given the heat and humidity of the jungle. He shows me his chiller, which must just plow through the BTUs out here. It's a modest setup compared to BOA but he's financed it all himself and you can tell he's proud of it and knows how to use it.
We head back in and I get a flight of the Beach Beer (a light, pilsner-style crushable brew), Helles, Citra Session IPA, and West Coast IPA. They are all outstanding but I'm partial to the West Coast, so I decide I'll have another. And another.
The three of us bullshit around the bar, where I learn about Cameron's backstory. He was born in Costa Rica, where he lived until he was about 10 when his family moved back to Minnesota. His dad owned a construction business and he followed in the family business as a civil engineer before getting sick of it and moving back to CR. He's had his irons in a lot of fires since his return and this is the first week that the tasting room has been open. We're some of his first guests, and likely the first to talk detailed engineering for an inordinate amount of time.
After our glasses are empty Ian and I saddle up to head on down to the next brewery, but not before asking again about the mezcals. Cameron tells us his tale of traveling through tiny towns in Oaxaca buying up as much small-batch mezcal as he could get his hands on. He learns us about traditional handmade mezcal, from the earthen roasting pits to the horse-drawn wheels for crushing the agave hearts (agave is the scientific name for the plant, the more common name is maguey. The more you know).
He then tells us about the different varieties of maguey that are used for mezcal, similar to wine varietals. There are dozens of different types but Espadín is by far the most common, accounting for around 90% of mezcal production. We're in luck today, though, as Cameron has two other types - Cenizo and Madrecuishe (the two on the left in the below photo) - that he says will knock our socks off.
I'm not even wearing socks - I'm sockless - but if I were they would be nowhere in sight. Holy shit my tastebuds are having a party. I've had my fair share of mezcals before but these are on another level. I honestly don't even know how to describe the taste. All I know is I'm going to keep my eyes out for Cenizo and Madrecuishe mezcals next time I'm at the liquor store, my word.
After we recover from that mezcal mindfuck we finally head back to our steed for the final stop of the tour, Volcano Brewing back in good ol Tamarindo. We pull into the beachside outdoor bar and belly up. Unfortunately their brewery is up the hill a piece and they don't do tours so we'll just get the tasting here. No matter, they have a pretty good spot on the beach and I've worked up a decent buzz so I'm in no position to complain. I order a flight of the Magdalena Blonde, Volcano IPA, Witch's Rock Pale Ale, Gato Malo Brown Ale and head for a picnic table on the beach.
Unfortunately the view is far superior to the brew, as all four of the offerings kinda taste the same. They aren't bad they're just sort of there. But, like I said, the view is spectacular so all is not lost. Plus there is a live band over my shoulder and the guitarist is absolutely shredding. After dumping back my beers and watching the sun set we head back to the car for the journey back to my Airbnb.
On the way Ian tells me about the incredible hiking tours in the area that wind up through the mountains among myriad waterfalls. I ask if he's free tomorrow and since it's the slow season it comes as no surprise that he is. Well hot damn I could go for a waterfall hike, sounds like a hell of a time, sign me up!
Las Cataratas
Ian picks me up again in the Mitsubishi, but this time he's brought a friend. Rusty, an Australian cattle dog, is sticking his head out the window and I greet him with a good scratch behind the ears. Rusty doesn't like being cooped up at the house all day so Ian brought him so he can run around a bit.
We start heading towards Rincón de la Vieja, an active andesitic complex volcano last erupting in June 2020. Rincón de la Vieja translates to "Old Woman's Corner" and refers to the legend of a princess named Curabanda who fell in love with Mixcoac, the chief of a neighboring tribe in a Costa Rican Montague-Capulet situation. Curabanda's father Curabande, did the most reasonable thing when he found out about his daughter's indiscretion: he threw Mixcoac into the volcano.
Curabanda, heartbroken, went to live on the side of the volcano, where she gave birth to a son. Now Curabanda must have inherited the level-headed demeanor of her father because she made the completely rational decision to throw her son into the volcano to be with his father. As Ian was telling me this I couldn't believe the Happy Gilmore level logic I was hearing, but upon further research that's what the legend says. Crazy family those Curabandes.
On the drive Ian also tells me about some of the indigenous peoples of Costa Rica, namely the Maleku and the Boruca tribes. The Maleku historically occupied the area we are now, stretching from Rincón de la Vieja in the north to Arenal in the south. The Boruca were farther south, towards present day Panama. They claim to be the only tribe in Costa Rica that were not colonized by the Spanish, with many traditional customs and traditions surviving to this day. They are probably most well known today for their large wooden masks that they adorn for their annual Danza de los Diablitos ceremony celebrating the resistance of their ancestors against the Spaniards.
After my cultural history lesson we pull down the dirt road towards Don Rafa Adventure Tours. We hop out and let Rusty run around a bit with the other dogs on the property. We walk over to meet our guide for the hike, a laconic Tico who sets off down the path with three dogs in tow, Safra, Lucy, and Lola. It's not long till we get our first glimpse of the water and it's a ridiculous deep turquoise color, a result of Mie scattering from suspended minerals. The river also has a high sulfur concentration and has been sought throughout history for its supposed medicinal powers.
We continue up the trail and reach our first river crossing. I step in and the cool water feels incredible on my feet. I reach down and splash some on my face and it's so refreshing that I reconsider my skeptical stance on its healing powers. A few more river crossings later we reach our first waterfall. It's not the tallest but I can jump off it.. so I got that goin' for me, which is nice.
After the plunge we make our way through some steep walled canyons and a few tight passages. We encounter a couple river crossings that are not for the faint of heart, this hike really makes you work for it.. holy cow.
Soon we arrive at the second waterfall, and this one is more substantial. We swim across the river and climb up some rocks and find ourselves behind a curtain of violent water. We're in a little cave in water up to our chest just soaking it all in. We swim through the torrent to a ledge where we can sit and let the water fall on our shoulders and wash all our worries away.
From here we leave the hiking portion of the trip and begin the climbing section. It's not too challenging, though, and shortly we arrive at a section of the river that cuts through a narrow crevasse and we're gonna have to swim against the current like the salmon of Capistrano. It's a hell of a swim and I'm giving it everything I got. There is a rope overhead to assist but I ain't need it. We make it to the edge and when we climb out we find ourselves face to face with Catarata La Leona.
It's a stunning cascade, barreling over the rocks into a crescent shaped gorge that has been cut through the limestone. The sound of the water crashing on the rocks gives you a respect for the power of the river and the mist adds a feeling of calm. Ian has been here a handful of times but he's still in awe. He tells me that when the river is lower the two streams on either side of the rock atop the waterfall split and come together in the shape of a heart. He also tells me the first time he came here he repelled down into the canyon, which sounds pretty rad.
After getting our fill of the catarata we head back down the trail for a traditional Tico lunch and hit the road back to town. On the way back Ian mentions that we'll pass right by Papagayo Brewing, home of one of my favorite brews: the Passion Fruit Ale. Well dadgum if it's on the way we might as well stop off for a beer right?
Ian concurs and we belly up to the bar at Papagayo Brewing Company. The first beer tastes so good I must order another. I must! I must! While enjoying our second (third) round Ian mentions that this shopping center has two other breweries - looks like we have ourselves an impromptu brewery tour.
We finish up at Papagayo and head over to Numu Brewing, which has a pretty nice tasting room with an upstairs lounge atop a spiral staircase. Ian and I enjoy some Chorotega IPAs while chatting with Robert the owner, who originally hails from Chicago. I make sure to serve him a heaping pile of shit-talking regarding the epic implosion of the Cubs, which is nearly as satisfying as the beer.
The last stop on our spur of the moment beer tour is Captain J Match Brewing Company, the smallest of the operations we've seen. The tanks are small but the beers are good. The owner is a Tico named David who is passionate about his beer and the brewery. It's a spartan space that you can tell he's built up himself with little outside investment. All the beers are named after beaches in Guanacaste and the artwork is fantastic, reminiscent of Boruca masks.
Once we've had our fill we say goodbye to David and set sail for home. Along the way Rusty gets a little tuckered out and climbs up front to take a snooze on my lap. He's a goooooood boi, a very good boi.
I've arranged for Ian to take me to the airport tomorrow so we discuss logistics before he drops me off for my last night on Tico Time. If anybody makes a trip to the west coast of Costa Rica hit up Ian and Patsy, they are great people. Plus they have a 4WD Ford Excursion limo, which I respect the hell out of for the sheer audacity of it alone.
This is when the international version of the Sunday Scaries hit me hard. It's been a downright adventure from start to finish. I'm not ready to leave but I have obligations that require my attention elsewhere (no I don't I'm unemployed, what the hell do I have to do). As much as I want to bail on my flight tomorrow I think better of it and pack up all my stuff before hitting the sack.
Costa Rica, it's been a damn pleasure. Buenos noches.