I'm writing this from an office in Puerto Jiménez, in Costa Rica's Osa Peninsula, where they've been kind enough to let me crib some wi-fi waves. I'm stranded in this tiny, tumble-down Pacific Coast village. Just outside the front door, the street is a river, while raindrops the size of marbles pound the makeshift river, car tops, and the roof of the tiny office I'm in. Remember the drum solo in that old recording, Wipe-out? This is louder.
No Normal Rainy Season
Hurricane Tomás crept up on me. It rained like hell when I arrived at Finca Rosa Blanca Coffee Plantation and Inn Halloween night, but I didn't think much about it. After all, it's supposed to rain here; it's rainy season. The downpour continued Monday and Tuesday, but I was mostly indoors at the Second International Planet, Peace, and People Conference near San Jose, Costa Rica, so I shrugged it off. Even when Finca Rosa Blanca's co-owner, Teri Osman Jampol, apologized for the lousy weather, I didn't get it.
Understand, there is no lightning and no wind this far west of the eye; there is only rain, and it falls straight down, without punctuation, without end. So how could this be connected to a hurricane? But Thursday morning, when I tried to fly to Quepos for a stay at Arenas del Mar Beach & Nature Resort, all flights were cancelled. The Quepos tarmac was underwater. My cab bounced and splashed back to Finca Rosa Blanca, where I learned that 24 people had been killed in a mudslide on the hill we face from the restaurant. That number has since climbed to 30 people, and more are missing. This is not merely the rainy season, not just two-hour afternoon showers. This is the side effects (the side effects!) of a hurricane.
Stuck in Puerto Jiménez
There was a brief lull in the rain this morning, but planes still couldn't reach Quepos, so I flew through blinding clouds and rain to Puerto Jimenez, where I'm due to check into Lapa Rios Rainforest Ecolodge tomorrow. It's about ten miles from this town, but I still won't get there until tomorrow at the earliest, because the river has swallowed the roads, so I'm stuck here.
But do we visitors from North America have any right to complain? Much worse things are happening in this beautiful country, including an entire neighborhood that was washed downhill near San Jose.
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Before even leaving town, though, I saw toucans and hummingbirds. On the ride to Lapa Rios we passed (and briefly stopped) for roadside hawks (that's their name, and they're just as advertised), howler monkeys, a tree full of scarlet macaws, and more. And that was just a warmup for the 100 or so critters I was to see for the next couple of days.
One more thing, at least for now: Sunday (yesterday) morning my bird-watching group been unable to continue down a road because of a raging river crossing it, a river that hadn't existed a week ago. Later that day I went back with another guide, and the authorities had already been at it with a backhoe so the road was passable. Given all the washouts in many parts of the country, it's impressive that they were able to make the road passable (at least in a 4x4) so quickly.