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Loathing Lightning in Beautiful Costa Rica





When I left El Salvador, Panache was ready for a 30+ day crossing to the Marquesas. After getting 20 miles offshore, I decided to change course towards Costa Rica for three reasons:

1. My Nikon point-and-shoot I left on Bella Star was being held hostage in Costa Rica, waiting for me.
2. Costa Ricans take incredible pride in preserving the natural world around them – a practice El Salvador seems to ignore. Loving nature, it seemed like a reasonable stop.
3. Why not! A boat gives you the freedom to change up your plans on a whim! I almost felt obligated to go based on this reason alone. Why not.

Sailing to Costa Rica meant several things if I was still interested in crossing the Pacific. Instead of staying in the Northern Hemisphere for the majority of the crossing, (most puddle jumpers typically ride the NE trade winds to about 130 degrees longitude and then cross into the Southern Hemisphere), I would instead cut through the doldrums and start my crossing in the Southern Hemisphere from the Galapagos. This put me in prime position to check out Isla del Coco, a famed diving spot, and make a quick stop in the Galapagos for food and fuel and most importantly rest. My new plans were looking better and better the more I thought about it.

All this future talk was nice, but my current wind direction was looking pretty rotten. Upwind sailing. Woof. Motoring. Double woof. I motor-sailed for most of the trip to Costa Rica. I made a couple big tacks to get some hot angles, but for the most part the sail down was boring. My second day out I was greeted by a big pack of dolphins and decided to take a swim with them. Panache was under self-steering, and I tied two lines to myself and dragged in the water on the port bow. Not the safest maneuver, but it was pretty cool to be next to a whole bunch of dolphins playing in my bow wake. They were initially a little confused by my presence, but then decided I was of little threat, half-drowning in the wake of my own boat.





By the time I dried off the chuga chuga chuga of my engine dried up my happiness. Religious people have told me that Hell is literally a big circular freeway with bumper to bumper traffic, but upwind motor-sailing has to be some layer of Hell. Substitute water for magma, and wind for farts and that would truly be hellish. It was so frustrating to not be able to sail directly towards my destination. That probably sounds a little bitchy, but for most of my trip I have had decent wind (when I had it), and now I was faced with a crappy headwind. I am happy to report that most nights I had the wind at my back, but the daylight hours were filled with nothing but headwind! Not only is a headwind hard on Panache, but it makes for a very uncomfortable ride – I almost exclusively get seasick when faced with a headwind. Add the doldrums to the equation, and you can get some pretty frightening gales, too.

I had my first really big gale that 2nd night out. Just thinking about it gives me the chills. This wasn't like anything I had experienced before. I have been in storms where it builds to a thunderous crescendo, but gales have a cat-like way of sneaking up on you. I was in the cabin taking a brief nap when I registered the swift sound of water gliding by the boat at an alarming speed. Slightly groggy, I came on deck and found Panache making 6.5 knots. I looked behind me and saw nothing but black with a bone-chilling wind continually amplifying in intensity. You couldn't even see the horizon the sky was so black. By the time I turned around, Panache was making 7 knots, and I knew I had to cut sail area fast. With a snap the wind shot up to 25 knots, and Panache started to steer slightly to starboard. I had the headsail down but by that point the wind speed was at its zenith, and Panache was starting to broach. Harnessed into the jack lines I started to scramble back to the tiller to right the boat, and at that crucial moment my harness got caught up on one of the sheets. I unclipped and literally dove into the cockpit to manhandle the tiller back to center. Panache again was righted. I tied off the tiller with just enough time to release the mainsheet. At this point the wind had company: swell, rain and lightning. The whole party arrived slightly before I got back in the cockpit. I was so turned around that I didn't know what direction I was looking. Just a moment ago I had enough ambient light from the moon and starts to see the horizon and vague outline of clouds, but now all I saw was black in every direction. Pitch black. It was disorienting and more than anything it was frightening. Where did this come from!

Bolts of lightning were enough to outline the horizon, but only for a moment, and then my eyes had several seconds of blindness. Lightning and thunder, simply put, are godlike. I hadn't been so close to lightning before, and now I was in the middle of nowhere. Alone. I guess I wasn't all alone, Panache was with me and keeping me safe deep within her hull. It was useless to try and do anything; all my sail area was taken down, and Panache was just rocking in the waves, rain and wind. I have seen some bad weather over the 2000 miles I have covered, but this was the first time I was afraid. Not afraid in a nebulous sense, but for my life. I had never felt so vulnerable. I eventually wriggled out of the cabin, and braced myself to wait out the gale by motoring directly into the wind.

I was making maybe 1.5 knots, rocking violently in the rain, and pleading with Science or God or Neptune or whatever was the higher power to not get struck by lightning. Eventually I ended up outlasting the gale, but I was not the same. As I continued to motor through the rain, I felt resigned from the trip. I felt like I was done. I didn't want to go through that again. As time passed, and I got closer to Costa Rica, these feelings came into focus and I was back to my normal self, but it was a stressful experience that made a lasting impression. When I finally crossed into Costa Rican waters it was getting dark. A thunderstorm in the distance was making a spectacular show and kept me on the edge of my seat. Is it coming this way? It never did.

As I approached the anchorage, I could tell I was in a new place. My bow was stirring up all sorts of life in the water, and the smell of plumeria filled the air. It was exotic, and the air was warm and humid like a greenhouse. The anchorage was exactly how Bella Star described it: solitary and gorgeous. Green hills surrounded a perfectly calm bay. You could swim in the water without fearing some kind of infection, and I would wake up to the sound of parrots chirping and fall asleep to the croaking of howler monkeys. I liked Costa Rica immediately.

Panache resting in Bahia Santa Elena



Dinghy landing Bahia Santa Elena.



Bushwhacking machete style.





Extreme jump + Machete = Extreme Machete Jump.



Found this little turtle while poking around Bahia Santa Elena. It was barley the size of a half dollar.



A Crested Guan. These turkey like birds are apparently pretty rare. They were all over Bahia Santa Elena.



This monstrous rattlesnake was sitting right in the middle of the trail. Shocking.



With the crew reunited I got my camera back and was once again being fed reasonable meals. We all went on numerous hikes within the bay and generally relaxed. Aaron was in love with the place, and I don't blame him. He would say “We are living a Cruising World article!” Yup, we were. As Bella Star’s water supply started to dwindle, we started to think about where to head next. Forty miles away was Coco beach, a popular anchorage with lots of infrastructure for cruisers and tourists alike. This stop would also allow us to legally check into the country.

The sail back into the Pacific was speedy, thanks to a solid 9 knots at our backs. However, after that, we were subjected to the same headwinds I battled all the way to Costa Rica. This made a short passage long, but we arrived before dark in the swell-plagued northern part of the anchorage. We were all itching for a burger and a beer so after a short swim, I slipped into a clean shirt and was whisked away to the center of town via Bella Star’s dinghy.

Leaving Bahia Santa Elena.



Right as we pulled the dinghy onto the beach, rain started to thump against the ground. It got stronger, and stronger, and stronger, and we sought shelter under the first restaurant we came to. A quick glance at the menu offered a choice of six different hamburgers, so we grabbed a table to wait out the rain. The exchange rate was a little hard to grasp at first. It was roughly 520 colones to one American dollar. After fiddling with the math for my bison burger I decided the energy wasn't worth expending because at that moment I would pay anything for that burger.

This guy is leading some kind of tequila revolution.



As lightning started to develop, I started to count after each strike to see how far away it was, but after a while there was no delay. It was right on top of us. I thought the lightning was close during the squall I recently experienced, but this sound was practically making my ears bleed, and it’s a lot enjoyable to be in the middle of when you are safely grounded on land. The rain passed, and we explored the town a little more and eventually realized we were all too tired from the burgers to do anything other than sleep.

Motoring back to the boats we had a little difficulty finding where we’d anchored. Like misplacing your car in a huge parking lot, this anchorage was stacked full of boats from all over the world. We eventually made it back to the far end of the anchorage, and Nicole was a little frustrated that she forgot to turn on Bella Star’s anchor light. Or did she? We all forget. I hopped off the boat and settled in for the night. Maybe 15 minutes later I started to drift into a book before bed. This was interrupted by the sound of someone rowing up to my boat. “Hello?” I yelled, almost annoyed. It was Nicole. “Hey.” I could tell just from the way she said it that something was wrong, and in a matter-of-fact tone she revealed, “We got struck by lightning.” Adrenalin shot through my tired body. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” She wasn't. She wasn't happy. I was in shock.

I rowed back over to Bella Star with Nicole to chat the two of them up. I knew this was probably not the best time, but I felt I needed to try and defuse a seemingly hopeless situation with my outside perspective. I wanted to try and break the mood. We talked it out, what was broken and what needed to be done, and I really tried to emphasize what really was lost. Everyone was ok, Bella Star was still floating and could still sail, and the damage was covered by their insurance. So what did they lose? The answer was time. In a matter of months at most, Bella Star would be sailing again with a totally re-outfitted electronics system. Maybe I am simplifying a terrible event and ignoring the emotional complexities, but that’s the way I saw it.

I find it interesting how a terrible thing can re-direct life events for the better. The good old “close a door, open a window” cliché. You ride out a bad thing long enough and something good will eventually come of it. As a kid, my mother would always tell me “Success is moving from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.” I wish I remembered this that night but I didn't, so I used a similar line from Batman: “Why do we fall? So we can get back up again.” I find both quotes to be profound and true. You will eventually fail/fall, it’s just part of life. We are measured on how we mitigate those failures. By the time I left Bella Star it seemed like they were shaken, but ready to rebuild. Pretty amazing turnaround.

Bella Star relocated to the nearby marina to start the rebuilding process. The marina was expensive, but insurance would cover the cost. I, however, was not willing to pay the $2.60 a foot, so I anchored next to the marina. Amazingly enough I was able to get the marina’s wi-fi connection. For a couple of days I was even able to use the fancy facilities and check in as a Bella Star double agent. The 30%-capacity marina eventually caught on and the ruse was up, but those hot showers were amazing while they lasted. Whatever, I was still mooching their internet. 🙂

Anchored alone in Golfo de Papagayo.





Golfo de Papagayo.



Golfo de Papagayo is jam packed with great anchorages, but none of them are really advertised or marked. This must have something to do with the whole peninsula being owned by the Four Seasons. Legally nobody owns any of the beaches in Costa Rica, but when you own the land that leads to the beaches, it is kind of like owning the beaches too. I found the most perfect anchorage with a white sand beach that was meticulously manicured for Four Seasons patrons. It had a mini-market, showers, bus service and monkeys!

White-Nosed Coati saying hi to civilization.



White-Nosed Coati hugging tree.



I am usually afraid of any kind of primate, not including humanoids, but especially chimpanzees. This fear started when I read about a particular chimp attack where a woman's face was ripped off. I was happy to see these Costa Rica primates were friendly in that they didn't want to have anything to do with me. I will keep my face, thank you very much.

Howler monkey.



The snorkeling in the gulf was also pretty spectacular. Not nearly as picked over as Mexican waters. The highlighted fish was some type of file fish (similar to a trigger fish) that had a unicorn-like horn on its head. The fish was primarily brown with blue spots and very flat. They would drift over the reef and their coloring was surprisingly great camouflage. You could be feet away from one and not notice until it moved slightly. Another great find was a friendly, fragile nudibranch, a type of sea slug that is brightly colored. I have been searching for these things ever since I started cruising and came across my first while snorkeling in Golfo de Papagayo. The little guys are small, slightly longer than an inch, but their impressive color scheme and shape make up for their modest size. I really don't know too much about them as a species other than there are numerous varieties in all shapes and colors. They are truly alien.

Nudibranch in a shot glass.



My favorite thing to do in the entire world is catch Guineafowl puffers. Sooooo squishy.



Nudibranch



Papagayo was opened to us because of the lightning strike. Bella Star made their claim and the compensation was in the works, but it would be several weeks before they could even start ordering new items. What to do with all this time. I was in no hurry to leave and wanted to explore the interior a bit. The marina only offered so much, but a car rental would open up the whole country. After stripping out all the fried electronics, Bella Star was also interested in some inland travel via car. And so we all found the window that was opened after the door was closed. Sometimes you live the relaxing Cruising World article, and sometimes you live the “I got struck by lightning” Cruising World article. Either way, you roll with the punches and move on with life, and Bella Star was doing just that. I was happy to tag along.

Volcanos and Hooker Motels: Findings from an El Salvador Explorer





I knew almost nothing about El Salvador before I arrived. I knew the country went through a civil war recently, that it was roughly the size of Massachusetts, and that the Salvadorian government adopted the almighty American Dollar, but besides that I was clueless. Love that movie! My inner explorer was dying to take advantage of the uncharted waters. The El Salvador Rally group was excited to see what the country was like outside the gated all-inclusive resort everyone was docked at. That was the trouble though; almost every week I spent next to the pool in Bahia del Sol I told myself, “This week I will explore beyond the pool.” I knew I was good at being apathetic, but my time by the pool really took that skill to a whole new level. Bella Star, Knee Deep and Panache all knew a volcano trip would be amazing, so after much prodding by Nicole, she decided to plan a multi-day trip all by her lonesome. Apathy can in fact bring progress.

Aaron Nicole and I waiting for the rain to pass.





Washington Apples in El Salvador. WA BRA!



We were going to bus it to Santa Ana and use the town as a home base to explore nearby sights. Tours were offered through Bahia del Sol with transportation, but the bus system seemed easy enough to navigate and finding our own transportation would save us lots of money. I also hoped that finding our own way would make for some better stories.

Typical Salvadorian bus



The first of many buses would get us to San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. There are many things you will notice about Salvadorian buses. The first time I saw one I wasn’t sure if it was the local public transport or a party bus. Bump cha-bump cha-bump cha-bump cha-bump was all I could hear, and the thing was decked out with cartoon character stickers everywhere, lounging stuffed animals, Jesus, a spoiler and flames dragging down each side. If that doesn't impress you, the efficiency will. The bus driver is just that; he drives the bus and stops when people need to be picked up. Totally separately, a money collector makes rounds on the bus to collect bus fare. It’s incredible how much time this saves when those two duties are allocated separately. There are no official bus stops; you can get picked up anywhere, but the best part is that merchants parade through the bus at most major stops, selling anything from snack items to antibiotics. Oh, preachers also give the occasional impromptu sermon as well. With all this commotion it makes for a pretty interesting ride.

All the theatrics are just to distract passengers from the ever-present danger on the road. A perfect example of this happened on that first bus to San Salvador. I was admiring a bucket of chickens busily pecking at Nicole’s feet when I noticed a second bus passing us. Did we stop? No, we were still barreling down a two-lane country road at 60mph. I was speechless. “Did that just happen!?” I look back at our gringo crew and everyone was watching with amazement. Everyone else on the bus fails to notice or was used to it. All the distractions in the world didn't help for what happened next. Our bus driver, apparently ashamed by being overtaken by some other bus, immediately throws the suped up Bluebird relic (an used bus from the states) into low gear and proceeds to pass the other bus in the oncoming traffic lane. We were neck and neck with the other bus and oncoming traffic was heading our way. Each bus is maxed out, but our bus is not backing down. In order to avoid a huge collision, the other bus slows (we were still going a good 70mph), and we pass just in time to avoid hitting the oncoming vehicle. My muscles relaxed half way, ready for yet another pass, but it never happened to my relief.

Three buses later we were still in San Salvador and ready for lunch. In the bus terminal that would eventually take us to Santa Ana, a nice array of snack shops were open, and we all decided to grub on the pupusa and soup shop that seemed to be the most popular. Nicole ordered the beef soup, which was actually hoof soup. Everyone but Nicole had fun touching and playing with the discarded hoof. My chicken soup was delicious, not a hoof to be found.

Do they have gun caddies? Cuz this thing is heavy as a mofo.



The final bus was a bit more plush than the others. After the crazy zigzag bus route we went through, we opted for the slightly more pricy (a couple dollars more) comfy bus. Leaving San Salvador we passed the military museum of El Salvador. I had visited it a week prior and was amazed by the way they presented their history. It was like taking a historical tour of El Salvador through all the guns that were used in all the conflicts. I guess it was one of the lasting, tangible relics from each period in El Salvador's military history. It was interesting to see the flow and sale of guns through a country that has participated in quite a few conflicts. They even allowed us to hold one of the light machine guns to get a feel for what soldiers had to carry for sometimes hundreds of miles. All this was a passing thought while I zoned out on the bus to my iPod.

Busy street in Santa Ana.



Santa Ana greeted us to a bustling street market. It took us several minutes to get our bearings before we could shuffle to our hotel. Many of the options were grim, and we decided to go with something midrange. This hotel turned out to be in the red-light district and was next to a strip club. Pretty sure one of the girls standing outside was a dude, but I didn't have the balls to go over and lift up her skirt to find out. I was ok with the hotel, Aaron and Nicole were ok with the hotel, but Molly and Ben were a little apprehensive having kids and all. We decided to give it a shot and stay for a night. I shared a room with Aaron and Nicole, and the Doolittle's had their own room that came complete with a family of cockroaches. Molly loved this. I personally loved the signs in every room that described how to properly use a condom and that anyone caught having sex with a minor would be castrated or imprisoned or something. I should really know more Spanish by now but I don't. JP asked what a condom was, and I told him “It’s like a glove for your penis.” JP found this exceptionally amusing. I had the misfortune of choosing the bed that probably had seen the most sex. I was able to make this deduction because it was the most sunken. The bed was significantly broken in. We had a round of beers to cope with our hotel faux pas that was reinforced when the owner excitedly told us how happy he was: “I have never had a family stay here before!” Great.

The beautiful room in the hooker hotel. Aaron and Nicole look so excited!



Soaking in the pool at the hooker hotel.



On our hunt for food we stumbled upon several beautiful parks, and a gigantic church that was right next to a beautiful tree-house-like restaurant overlooking the city. Having a big day of volcano exploring to do the next day, everyone returned to our hourly hotel for a nice family movie while God knows what was happening in the building next to us. It sure did sound interesting. Molly pointed out how ironic the situation was: Our little family was all huddled in an hourly hooker motel nestled deep in the red light district watching Toy Story 3. After the movie sleep was hard to come by with all the stripper music bumping next door. Early in the morning, after the music had stopped, someone was busy dropping screws or nails in the hallway. Maybe they were bullets, but I will never know. What I do know is that it was infuriating.

Chess in the park, Santa Ana.





Cute dog. Cute kid. Cute. A thanks to Bella Star for letting me borrow this image 🙂







Our early departure didn't serve any use to us, since we were too late for the one bus that transports people to the volcano trailhead. Option two was zip-lining in the mountain village of Ahuachapán. A good second option. This trip only took two buses and spat us out into some of the freshest air I have ever smelled. Correction, tasted. This little town clung to the mountain’s edge and produced some really delicious coffee. The streets were clean, and the zip-line tours were closed. We walked over to the town hostel to figure out a plan C. The hostel was cute, clean and had a surprising amount of Star Wars memorabilia, which the kids loved. I wanted to stay there for a night but we didn't bring any of our stuff. The owner himself ended up taking us all on a hike to a local lake where we ended up eating lunch and soaking up the sun. After the long hike up, everyone was glad to catch a ride back to the hostel in the back of a truck. Thanks, truck!

Armed guard at the bus station.



Fresh bread in Ahuachapán. 10 cents a roll. I ate four. I am fat, deal with it.



Pet raccoon in Ahuachapán. He enjoyed crawling all over me.



Grinding corn for papusas.



Wood stove cooking is still very popular in El Salvador. The country faces widespread deforestation. Bummer.



Owl butterfly.



Our return to Santa Ana did not take us back to the hooker motel. Everyone decided on a reasonably priced Holiday Inn lookalike. No cockroaches, hot water and a decent attached restaurant. Very tourist of us, but we needed some pampering.

Our extra, extra early wake up put us on the one bus that went to the volcano. After park fees and guide fees we were told that one more fee would be required when we hiked through private property. Fees fees fees. It was worth it though. It wasn't jungle as much as it was a mesh between coniferous forest and some jungle hybrid. The hike was hard but easy enough for a dog named Dogo to follow us the whole way. Part of the fees paid two armed guards to accompany us. What a deal! The hike transitioned from jungle, to pasture, to barren land on the side of the recently (geologically speaking) erupted volcano. It was more than enough to work up a sweat. The peak was actually a volcanic sulfur lake that looked up at us. The drop was gradual, but looked to be at least 1,000 feet. The sulfur-infused water gave an emerald green/blue hue and made our noses pucker. We watered up and returned to the trailhead that was, by that point, engulfed in mist. Our return bus was late due to the low visibility, so everyone amused themselves with freshly fried plantains and hide and seek in the mist.





Dogo the hiking dog.





Sulfer lake, Santa Ana Volcano.











Ancient indigenous rock painting.



Volcano man Aaron.







Cactus patterns



The Cruising Mafia.



Aaron touching a poisons plant on a dare. Live extreme.



Bush face in the mist.



The Doolittle family + Nicole



When the bus finally arrived, it was clear that the mist didn’t slow anything down bus-wise. With maybe 10 feet of visibility, our driver was barreling down the mountain. What is the big hurry!? Back at the hotel I took an insanely long shower and was ready for food. Aaron and I overruled Nicole’s protests, and we all went to McDonald’s for dinner. This fine establishment was located in a mall that could have been stateside. Even in El Salvador you can find America. I don’t have a problem with this. A good burger is almost a universal desire, just like convenience. These are American inventions but could have been anyone’s. If El Salvador had an incredible product, you would find it in America. Personally, I think McDonald’s should have a McPupusa.



The bus circus back to Bahia del Sol was a bit more toned down. This time we knew what we were doing, and had proper expectations concerning time. Even if our escape from the gravity of Bahia del Sol was only for four days, it was a rewarding four days that gave me a little more bragging rights when it came to the country. I could now sit by the pool without feeling guilty.