Living on the Beach in Dominical

     Much of my time was spent under the green tarp in my hammock watching the huge storms march up the river mouth. These 'tormentas' are beautiful and terrifying. The coconut grove I was living in at the far end on the southern part of the beach was somehow spared of all the heavy winds and lightning that descended from these storms that begin at the end of winter moving swiftly through springtime with a slight respite for summer. The storms commenced in earnest in the fall laying waste to the family beach scenes that were so intriguing to me. I stayed on through the worst of this onset.

     The lone crocodile came out of his lair to relish the freshwater and see if he could catch something running by him.  I benefited too, as the storms knocked down the green coconuts that were my source of fresh water and nutrients.
    One morning, I was having breakfast at Tortilla Flats.  This is normal for most of the single guys traveling on a budget. Who walks in but a Bruce Willis look alike.  I actually thought it was Bruce for a long time afterward. This guy had a collapsible fishing rod poking out of his day pack. He wanted to know about fishing at the river mouth for the big snook that cruised the coast. He certainly got everyone's attention.

   A little white dog was barking at the lagoon. I noticed the telltale V of a crocodile swimming towards this little noisemaker.  I tried to warn the owners but they had no control over this dog. Suddenly in one swift moment, the croc devoured this poor thing in one gulp. The owners were distraught but nothing could be done.  The dangers are immense in this area of Costa Rica.
      That is when I met Anton the Russian and his sidekick from Sweden named Matteo. These guys were camped on the beach below me in the blazing hot sun looking all the worse for wear. I suggested they move up into the shade since white skin does not do well in the hot sunlight. I suddenly had two extra mouths to feed since they were traveling with nothing but trouble.  It seems they were headed to the beach resort where I had abandoned Rob the bomb.   

      I felt it was alright to make friends with them at that moment.  It turned into a bad decision since both of these guys were on the run from Europe for some indiscernible reason.  

      I got into a protracted argument about who was more powerful the USA or Russia?  As he continued to insult the USA, I warned him he was getting into trouble with me.  He continued to raise his voice over my objections. I popped him in his mouth with my open hand. I told them to go which they did.  

         In the morning, I saw them for the last time loaded up and heading to the highway. These guys were killers headed to a bad ending. I later heard Anton was fighting in Ukraine. I like the Ukraine. Careful who you make friends with. They could be hardliners.
      One evening, we were sitting around the beach fire when a man appeared out of the darkness. He had what seemed to be a body over his shoulder. As he moved into the circle of light, it was apparent he had a giant snook he just caught at the river's mouth.   My guess was he wanted to show it off before the big cleaning event at first light which I attended.      

     It begins with gutting. As the entrails fell on the ground, he took special interest in the stomach.   He slit it open and retrieved his battered lure that caught many of these giants over the years. Cleaning fish this big is hard work.  Reminded me of my Dad cleaning redfish with the electric rotary scaler in Louisiana.

   This being alone is certainly remarkable. One can hear the whispering wildlife, the seagulls and the restlessness of the ocean. Its rhythms soothe you while you dream of somewhere else. Yet...there is no other place to be more fully aware of yourself than a deserted beach.
     I was completely by myself again in the coconut grove. The nights were long with few visitors to disturb the peace. Occasionally, a group of travelers would find their way to my campfire.  We would pass the time discussing everything Costa Rica. They were interested in picking my brain about different resources nearby. 

     They departed soon after sharing some wine. We sat on the beach looking out over the ocean watching the trawlers loiter over the huge underwater sea mount just offshore.

        These fishermen were after a variety of species.  Shrimp or squid were the most likely since that is done at night when these critters rise to the surface. 

     A sea mount like this one is home to many fish communities that depend on the river outflow to bring nutrients to these waters in the ongoing cycle of life.
    There is not much to do but walk the beach during the morning and evening. One day I found a Sea Bass that lost his head to a shark attack. The fish washed up on high tide. I was about 16 lbs weight. I gave it the sniff test.  So far so good. I invited him to dinner and he accepted.   

         A surfer camped nearby.  He had a beautiful girlfriend.  They had no money.  Only a return ticket back to Canada.  I was now cooking for three.  These folks came looking for the perfect wave and had yet to find it.

      I was headed to Cape Matapalo. They stayed with me until we pulled up to that beach driving my green SAAB 95. This is the best surfing on the entire west coast.   Boy, were they happy to have met me.
     One day, my friends from the police station drove up and asked to see my visa. I showed it.  They said, 'you have three days left'.  I packed up and drove to Panama to get the new visa stamp for Costa Rica after spending three days in Panama.  Another three months in Costa Rica!  I was now staying in Hotel Astoria with parking for my SAAB behind a fence in San Isidro. The rooms were cheap.  Eight dollars per night was all I spent at the Hotel Astoria for many nights. 

     Restless me.  I traveled the winding road again down to the beach. Things were different now. The sound of silence had ushered in a new awareness that this was wilderness once again. I stayed a few days more but it became difficult to continue on this beach.  The rains became deluges that were bent on erasing all traces of human occupation. The waters were now muddy and dangerous with huge surf. There are other good beaches besides this one to explore. I was still looking for summer's return. I would not find it here.

    The tropics are endless at this latitude even in winter. Any beach will do but the Costa Ricans have learned to charge for beach space. Always travel with money.
     My brother sent me an email.  He was coming to Costa Rica to see his land that our cousin Billy arranged for him to buy. It was the best property in the area. High on a hill top to catch ocean breezes that waft in. One can actually see the ocean from this vantage point. He drove all the way to Dominical and found my hammock in the exact place I told him to look.  It's always nice to renew family ties. We drove up to San Isidro and had lunch and talked at length about everything imaginable. 

        He was staying at Billys' palatial mansion so we had a barbecue.  As the sun slowly set, I made my way down to Quepos and the hostel where I stayed for the night before making the long drive back to Dominical and the strange life of a beach bum. I finally said goodbye to that beach.
    Traveling northward, I pulled into Jaco Beach which looks like any other tourist trap. It was still summer there. I stayed at a hostel for a few nights playing strip poker with the single ladies. One becomes jaded about nudity in these settings. Clothing optional is how many people survive in the wilderness.    

         Only if you are fit. No one enjoys seeing a dysmorphic body. Since I stopped carrying any instruments with me, I would be inclined to pick up a guitar or drum and start playing. Anytime I did other musicians would join in and add something to the sound until it became a beautiful spontaneous creation. Talent is everywhere.
     My shoulder was still hurting as well as my intercostals due to the fight I had in Portobelo with the crazy drunk at Pirates Cove. I went to the Pacifica Hospital Emergency Room in Panama City. I had x rays that showed the extent of injuries.  I said it was a sailing accident that threw me against a bulkhead. I was not going to get into a detailed explanation about the why and wherefore of this injury.  That was the worst ending to a fine trip as I have ever experienced. The long drive home to San Diego was the next phase of this remarkable journey that will live forever in my mind.

   Driving one handed was a challenge. I could hardly lift my arm. I crossed the boarder into Guatamala fairly easily.  Just lots and lots of patience is what it takes at these crossings. Mexico was easier.  You don't want to stop because it invites trouble of an unknown nature. You can always tell you are in Mexico. They paint the tree trunks white.

    I crossed into the states and made my way into San Diego. I called my friend whom I worked with in the CCU. I asked if he knew of a place for me to hole up. He gave me his brother's number.  He might have a room for rent. I was relieved.  No more hostel living for me. This leads into another episode.