Another volcano

Since Volcàn Arenal was less dramatic than we had expected, we thought we'd pay a visit to Volcàn Poas, much closer to home. Our guidebook warned that clouds often obscured this region too, but not until after 10 in the morning. We made an early start and arrived at the entrance around 9:30. Poas is currently dormant with the advantage that you can go right up to the edge of the crater. Nonetheless, we duly noted large signs in the parking lot advising all motorists to park facing outwards " in case of emergency evacuation."

A broad paved walk, lined with flourishing tropical plants like gunnera,

 led to a viewing platform where various other tourists lined the railings.

 

But there was lots of room for us too.

It was quite a spectacular sight, with its pale blue lake giving off faint whiffs of sulphurous steam.

I was intrigued by this purple-flowered shrub that was thriving in several places right on the brink.

True to predictions, we had been there less than an hour when the clouds started to drift in. We wound our way slowly back down the steep road and stopped for lunch at a restaurant perched on the hillside.

There were comfortable chairs inside, but we chose to sit on the narrow balcony at a rustic  table and bench made from split logs. It wasn't comfortable at all but it offered a panoramic view of the valley below.

We ordered what was becoming our usual dine-out meal, a casado (translation: married man's lunch - although most menus offer it for dinner too). This is a generous platter that includes rice, beans, salad greens with sliced tomato, fried plantain, and your choice of a piece of beef, chicken or fish. It is cheap, filling and delicious.

We detoured on the way home to visit two small towns, Sarchi and Grecia.
Sarchi lures tourists with numerous shops selling furniture made from local wood, some of it very attractive. There are also workshops making brightly-painted replicas of traditional ox-carts, which can be dismantled, crated and shipped anywhere in North America. I settled for a few photos.

 

 

For those with their own pair of oxen, this one even provided a yoke, balanced carefully across the rim.

Grecia's chief attraction is its red church, built in Belgium entirely of iron and shipped piece by piece across the Atlantic.

It has elegant doors (which were missing from the original shipment and had to be sourced in Holland),

a simple wooden interior made striking by beautiful chandeliers,

and an intricate tiled floor.

Costa Rica - Return from Arenal

We left the El Castillo the next morning and arrived at the dam whose construction is responsible for the lake below Volcàn Arenal. Avoiding a busload of tourists heading for a fishing expedition, we turned in the other direction to one of Coast Rica's many natural reserves. A trail led us through dense jungle,

and across a total of seven suspension bridges of various lengths and heights,

Some spanned ravines and waterfalls,

 others afforded views over the jungle canopy.

There were other tourists here too. With each suspension bridge limited to a maximum load of 15 persons, we often had to wait for a group to move on before we could cross.

In spite of the warning, we saw no spiders at this bridge,

but we did see some menacing-looking red ants carrying leaves (presumably to line their nests.) They were fast-moving and hard to photograph.

To my disappointment there were few flowers, birds or butterflies, just some lianas with curious, rather suggestive flowers.

In part because of the delays at bridges and steep parts of the trail, it took us most of the morning to complete the circle tour, and most of the afternoon to drive back to our temporary home at Atenas.

Costa Rica (continued)

Mid-week we decided to make an overnight trip north to the vicinity of Arenal, famous for its active volcano. Guidebooks spoke of lava flows visible at night, and of molten rocks bounding down the slopes. It sounded exciting.

En route we stopped at a town called Zarcero, noted for the topiary in a park in front of its church.

The most elaborate was a monkey on a motorbike.

Even where the hedges had not been clipped into shapes, designs had been cut into the foliage.

The topiary was certainly more skilled than the sculpture of a local dignitary at the park entrance.

For me this little park turned out to be one of the highlights of our holiday.

The volcano at Arenal, however, turned out to be dormant - no molten rocks or lava trails for us.
  We were not impressed with the noisy, dusty town of La Fortuna, at the base of the volcano, and chose to move on to the hamlet of El Castillo across the adjoining lake. After bumping down an impossibly rutted and potholed road, we found suitable lodging for the night.

The little cabins were definitely no-frills, but clean and quiet, which is all we require.

True to the advertisement, they had a great view of the volcano, although the cone was shrouded in clouds almost all the time.

Despite that, it certainly dominated the landscape. You found yourself ever watchful for one of the brief moments when the clouds parted and you could catch a glimpse of the very top. Michael sat outside and sketched,

while I sprawled on the bed, reading our guidebook, camera ready at my hand. The clouds swirled constantly so getting a clear shot was a challenge. This is the best I could manage.

Later, we took a walk up the steep hill on which our cabins were perched, and found a sign pointing to one of the last remaining kapok trees in the region. I remember having a pillow filled with kapok when I was a child, but I guess that market has been taken over by synthetics. The Costa Ricans moved on to bananas and coffee, and are now switching to African palms for palm oil.

Apart from one other couple, our accommodations were deserted, but that didn't stop the restaurant from serving up a delicious meal. They also had the best - and most powerful - margaritas that we sampled on the entire trip. We sat and sipped before dinner, watching hummingbirds among the flowering shrubs outside. I tried to catch one on film, a fairly futile endeavour. If you look very closely, just to the right of the bottommost yellow flower, you can see a scrap of iridescent green plumage.

Costa Rica Respite

We had an opportunity in February to escape the winter doldrums and fly to Costa Rica. Our friends, Howard and Anne, kindly gave us the keys to their cottage in the coffee-growing highlands west of the capital, San José. Here's their lovely little abode.

As well as agaves and palms, the garden had flowering ginger,

and this tree with shiny leaves that looked like a jacaranda but wasn't.

An arch in a hedge led us to the neighbour's citrus orchard where we were welcome to help ourselves to fresh fruit.

At the bottom of the garden, a covered area with barbecue, reclining chairs and a jacuzzi overlooked the valley.

It was a welcome retreat at the end of a hot day of sight-seeing.

Howard spent the first three days with us before flying back to Vancouver. On Sunday the three of us visited Palmares, a nearby mountain town that was having its annual fiesta. We were there too early in the day for there to be much activity, but I did enjoy these children cavorting in large plastic bubbles.

We also visited the town square, where even the local bikers were enjoying a Sunday afternoon stroll.

A  friendly woman drew my attention to a sizeable iguana enjoying a feast of lettuce leaves.

While I was watching it, a squirrel monkey appeared from nowhere to snatch some lettuce, provoking a little confrontation.

On the way home we passed this combination of bougainvillea and the white flowers of a brugmansia growing almost wild by the roadside.

As we wound our way down the final hillside, we came to more bougainvilleas, this time tamed into a flowering hedge.

The following day we set off for the capital of San José where we had arranged to have a tour of historic buildings. Unfortunately, as we entered the crowded city, Howard's rental car was rear-ended by a local who had misjudged the amount of space between us and the bus behind us. We weren't hurt, but the car was, and sorting out the situation with the rental company took up the rest of our morning.

Instead, with a replacement car, we took an afternoon drive down to Jaco, a resort town on the Pacific Coast. On the way we marvelled at the steepness of the landscape and the way it had nevertheless been adapted for cattle and coffee growing. The tiny white blobs on the hillside below are Santa Gertrudis beef cattle. (Beef is a staple on every  menu, along with chicken and tilapia fish which are raised in landlocked ponds.)

We saw several groves of flame trees clustered in the valley depths or climbing the slopes.

Where the land dropped steeply from the roadside impromptu fences had been erected by the simple expedient of planting fast-growing trees, stringing wire between them, and then severing the trunks at a suitable height.

Jaco itself was a bit disappointing. Humid, overcast weather made the grey sand beach even greyer.

And, on this Monday afternoon, the surrounding shops and cafes seemed forlorn although we understand that at weekends the town is jumping with joséfinos (the inhabitants of San José, the capital city).

The most interesting part of the trip was crossing the bridge over the Rio Tarcolès, where crocodiles bask on the mud flats below, oblivious to all the tourists leaning over the railings and clicking cameras.

We counted about 25 of the critters in varying sizes, loafing on the sand or cruising through the shallow waters.