Worst. Birthday. Ever.
First, I want to say hey to Mamoo. Today would have been my sister's 42nd birthday. I love you, Mom. (And we're moving to the Arenal Lodge today if you have an emergency. Our phones are not working.)
This will most likely be the last internets access I have while we're here, so I'll have to wait till we get home to give further report. BUT I already had these pics on my laptop, so...
On Tuesday, which happened to be George's 18th b-day, we went to Ricon DeVieja National Park to hike to Blue Lake, a beautiful waterfall with a pool the color of John Travolta's eyes. The drive was three hours, much of it rough dirt roads, and when we neared our destination, it started sprinkling. By the time we parked the car, an all-out rainstorm had begun, with winds strong enough to fly Stella. It's hot as seven hells in Costa Rica--for the most part--but it was damned chilly here at this point.
This meant trouble. I knew the kids wouldn't want to hike in this weather. The first clue was they said so. Georgia was close to crying. Biggy's solution was to buy us all rain ponchos in the nearby "country store." These were as thick and effective as Save-Rite brand trash bags. My solution was to wait it out in the store and pray. I know my husband. He wants what he wants, and he has an uncanny ability to ignore any obstacles. He wasn't going to leave without hiking; the rest of us could just wait in the car.
Fortunately, the rain did stop after about ten minutes, so our by now bedraggled and disgruntled group took off for the "moist transitional" forest. Our fearless leader put us on the wrong trail, however, so we ended up seeing fumeroles--boiling mud pits-- instead of the promised waterfall.
But it was all good. And as a bonus, near the end of the trail: a family of capuchin monkeys. Darling.