Bike: 26 miles, elevation gain 1,850ft. White water rafting: 6 miles, grade 2
The demons of yesterday were banished as the mist in the valley lifted to reveal a glorious day. “Wake up, it’s a beautiful morning… feel the sun shining for your eyes…”. Back on form, I was a happy bunny as we cycled leisurely through picturesque villages and fields of sugarcane. The terrain was gently rolling, the roads were smooth and the traffic was sparse. With blue skies above and the sun on my back, my absolute favorite bit of riding so far.
And then we hit the busy main roads with the trucks. To be fair, Costa Rica drivers are the most tolerant to cyclists I’ve ever come across. If they beep at you, it’s a friendly toot to let you know they’re there, rather than an angry ‘get out of my way’ honk. After football (soccer), biking is the most popular sport in the country, so the drivers are very used to cyclists and tend to give you a wide berth. Good job the way I was weaving around in ‘Heather gear’ up the long drawn-out brutal hills, so cruelly placed when we thought we were in for an easy ride.
Costa Rica is world-renowned for its white water rafting and with a day and a half planned on the river to continue our coast to coast traverse, it was very much a key part of our trip. I was approaching said rafting with more than a modicum of trepidation. ‘Apprehensive’ and ‘wary’ don’t really cut it, terrified is a better word. I had visions of re-living my recent jet ski nightmare.
But it’s the funny the way the mind works… With all the rain we’d had the water levels were running dangerously high, and all rafting trips for the last few days had been canceled. Which meant it was highly likely that our rafting would also be canceled. There is nothing like the threat of not doing something to make you want to do it more! So just like that, the psychology of desire worked its magic and my terror was downgraded to apprehension, even hopeful anticipation. Maybe it was also the realization that the alternative would be more biking, my poor tender buttocks cringing at the thought. I was as delighted as the others to find that today’s break in the weather meant the rafting was ON.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the ‘rafts’ were indeed rigid inflatable boats, with a front and a back and more importantly, sides. In my head, the word raft conjures up a flat wooden platform made of strung together logs, Castaway style.
We each donned a life jacket and hard hat, grabbed a paddle, and gathered by the boats for the safety briefing. We learned all about the Pacuare River, the different paddle strokes to use, and the commands the guides would yell out. Then came the bit about what to do if you fall out of the raft. Huh, but I wasn’t planning on falling out? And then came the bit about what to do if the raft flips and everyone falls out. OK, that sounds kind of extreme, really not very sure about this now. And finally, the bit about if you’ve been thrown from the raft and then somehow end up underneath the raft, unable to surface as the boat is on top of you. Aaaargh, I’m outta here, where’s my bike???
Luckily once we got out on the river, the focus was all on the team work required to coordinate our paddling and control the raft, rather than the what ifs. I don’t have a lot of core strength, or balance truth be told, but I kept my center of gravity low and wedged my foot into the boat as tightly as a cork in a bottle. The only way I was leaving that raft was if we ended up upside down!
I had strategically taken a position at the back of the raft, hoping to minimize the splashing. No chance, there was not a dry spot to be had anywhere. But if there’s one thing I’m used to on this trip, it’s getting wet! And once you resign yourself to a drenching, then the thrill of a steep drop, a churning eddy or a breaking wave becomes exhilarating. We careered down the rapids, mostly level two’s (I think one was a 2.6 but that’s about as much as they want to throw at you on the first day), doing high fives with the paddles and yelling “Pura Vida” triumphantly as we completed each one.
The afternoon flew by and before we knew it, we arrived at our campsite. Or should I say glampsite. It was like a little rainforest oasis, with spacious permanent tents erected on wooden platforms, decked out with thick comfy mattresses and pillows. Best of all, tomorrow is a rest day with no biking and no hiking and no rafting. And I, for one, don’t mind a bit. Bring. It. On.
