Phase three of our slow motion rescue is compete. We made good time crossing from the Galapagos to Central America and while it took a lot of nursing, the Volvos reluctantly got us here, albeit with Belladonna, the evil twin starboard engine, spitting out white smoke and steam while the port side, Ms Jolie, normally purring, was leaking diesel at the air bleed screw but still turning over. Here, is Golfito, Costa Rica and while it’s not Fatu Hiva it is jaw-dropping, awesomely beautiful.
The entrance into Golfito is broad but corkscrews around into itself. So it’s a series of right hand turns and with each turn its beauty is slowly revealed. This is one protected anchorage. The first thing Marce said was, “did you hear that?” She says this a lot. It would’ve been hard to miss the cacophony of exotic jungle sounds echoing off the steep verdant cliffs surrounding the bay, sounding for all the world like we were in a Johnny Weissmuller film.
We slept well, but early the following morning the ear piercing screeching returned and as I searched for the source, something caught my eye fluttering scarlet against the deep greens of the misty jungle. Dozens of scarlet macaws were climbing up out of the jungle and making a racket while doing it. What they lack as aerialists they more than make up for in volume and brilliance. Stunning.
I love the usual cast of characters that fetch up in places like this and Golfito is no exception. We’ve got your basic special ops/Navy Seal guy who would only use knives, an ex-navy diver who says asking him to scrape your boat’s bottom is like asking a surgeon to squeeze a zit, and there’s almost always a young Aussie or Kiwi or South African couple vagabonding by boat. Tim and Kate’s Marina is our kind of place so a special thanks to Beth Leonard for the tip.
So, as I was saying, the scuttlebutt that we’re hearing is that getting things shipped into Costa Rica shouldn’t present too much of a problem. It only took two days to check-in so what could go wrong? We’ll just have to see…the proof is, after all, in the pudding.