'Perfect' Polo beach. Wed March 30th.

Polo beach, beloved by locals and famous throughput Panama for it’s outstandingly beauty. I finally discovered it today and it lived up to its reputation. A secluded section of coastline, ringed by a gorgeous coral reef, with warm, opaque, crystal clear shallows teeming with fish.

As it’s only accessible by jungle hike I hadn't found the energy before. It was worth the effort! I have never seen such a beautiful beach and I’ve seen some fantastic ones this trip.

The beach gets its name from “Polo”, a colourful character who left the city years ago for a shack on this isolated shoreline, making a living cooking up coconut rice and beans for passers by. I declined, I am heartily sick of rice and beans!

Getting to Polo was a mission: water taxi to Red Frog beach, walk its 2 km sands, wade, clambering over fallen trees, knee high in surf, to Turtle beach, then the 3 km trek through the jungle. After carefully picking my way through one last rocky headland, the paradise curved bay came into view, turquoise waves lapping gently onto pristine sands.

Polo Beach

Swaying palms offered shady spots where communal bag watching duties were informally taking place. This friendly presence of a handful of fellow vacationers was a boon, I swam happily without worrying, relaxing in the soothing waters.

A lucky break on the way back,  wealthy folk on Bastimento have golf carts to traverse the forest paths, and a kind  American family gave me a lift from Turtle beach to the water taxis. Bless them. Especially as a tropical storm threatened, when the boats stop... For much of the year these islands are inaccessible: I always worry I’ll be stranded. No need to panic, the storm vanished and the evening sunset glowed pink in dusky sky.

Tonight I am tired, mildly sunburnt and with a touch of sunstroke (I was paranoidly careful, the sun caught me out whilst I was swimming, I reckon) yet happy I made it out to appreciate why this outstanding beach is so universally admired.

Bocas del Toro. Tues March 29.

A day with a difference: 'helping' at a  rural school.

A stormy, overcast day, rain falling in sheets as I set off on my trusty (ancient) bike to meet up with a group of Americans I’d met by chance who had invited me to join them doing volunteer work in a rural school deep in the forest.

An hour later I made it to the tiny wooden hut in a clearing, which housed 14 children aged between 4 and 13, with their teacher, a strong willed woman welding a machete.  OK, everyone in central America carries them to harvest coconuts, but it did seem out of place! I was soaked through, steaming like a kettle in the humid heat inside the dark room.

The volunteers’ goal was to train and sponsor these school children in self sufficiency skills. Safe drinking water is non existent here, sanitation is limited, and the villagers inland and dotted along the coast depend on their own resources, farming, fishing, to survive.

In Panama education is free and in theory compulsory but in rural areas facilities are basic and attendance haphazard. By offering practical skills and resources this charity (Ancon) aims to increase both. These children were mainly Ngobe, the largest indigenous group on the islands.(The most visible are the Kuna Indians with their bright patterned dress, I see them most mornings from my balcony as they pass by).
To be honest, the pupils seemed far less keen on environmental studies than the volunteers, disappearing to play outside as soon as the adult’s backs were turned. I learnt a lot though... I am very ignorant about nature, not even realising the omnipresent coconut was imported by early settlers, which was a tad embarrassing.

Ngobe kids

Kuna Indians who have a settlement near Bocas

By lunchtime I decided that the work was obviously 'worthy'  but not actually achieving much, so rather selfishly I decamped, cycling gingerly back through the sodden water logged , potholed tracks.

The 'no brakes' Caribbean bikes
..owner occupied ones have number plates.
Makes sense, there's no cars here bar the yellow taxis,
the odd delivery lorry and cooperative  shuttle between villages

A birthday phone call home to Richard followed by a quiet afternoon pedalling at leisure. The showers ceased and hazy sunlight drew out the panorama of birds with their musical songs.

This is my last week.
I am simply relaxing with a clear conscience.

Easter Monday. Isla Carenero

The crowds have gone; an eerie quiet has descended on Bocas. Today is not a public holiday, the special Easter market and food stalls disappeared overnight and it is a ghost town again, just a handful of vacationing gringos, long stay surfers and the locals going about their daily business.

Watching the town slowly come to life from my balcony every morning fills me with pleasure, the traditional cafes offering desayano (breakfast), rice and beans, eggs, coffee, the smells waft up to me as the locals head for their regular haunts. Without the weekend visiting crush, I can recognise familiar faces who wave a greeting as they pass.

Another day, another island.  Today the nearest, tiny Isle Carenero, barely inhabited. Ringed by coral its shallow beaches mean surfers cannot land here without getting cut to ribbons on the glass-like reef so it's a tranquil isle. As I walked the track circling the island, via clambering rocky outcrops and wading through muddy jungle swamps, I met only gorgeous butterflies and flamboyant Panamanian birds.

Isla Carenero

The ' common' blue morpho butterfly, so beautiful

Finally I was able to appreciate at least a taster of unique marine life of the archipelago. By standing still in the translucent calm water, the surf breaking far, far out beyond the reef, fish shoals swirled around me. Bright yellow, blue and green fish darted between the floating fronds, an ever changing kaleidoscope of patterns.

The Cove

Fish in the shallows by the coral reef

Then the downside of the end of festivities - finding a water taxi! Since I arrived it's simply been a matter of finding a jetty and waving down a passing boat. Today I stood staring out at an empty sea. Castaway concerns until eventually a boat circled the island scooping up passengers and a few minutes later I was back in Bocas.

I could stay on the quieter islands, yet I'm happy here in the town. It's a (rare) moment in time when I’m comfortable with the chatter of daily life around me. I have had blissful solitude and isolation this trip, now I'm relishing being a part of this small town community with its odd selection of shops, cafes, shacks and coffee bars and cheerful, friendly residents.

Easter Sunday. Bastimentos beast.

Easter Day phone call home, wonderful. Then a memorable morning:  a rare encounter with central America’s  deadly snake, the fer-de-lance.

I was hiking (carefully) on Bastimentos island with a fellow trekker from the hostel when a glimpse of yellow and black shiny patterned skin caught my eye. There it was, right in front of us, slithering beside us along the path half hidden under debris.

My companion, not realising this was a venomous beast, was keen to get her camera out.  Not a good idea.  I made her stand very still until it eventually slid away. Scary few minutes as we made eye contact with the vicious reptile. This snake is notorious, guides warn about its danger, but I didn't ever expect to actually see one and was immensely relieved when it disappeared.

Otherwise, the trek was great, we arrived safely at Wizards Beach for a refreshing rest and picnic. I daren’t swim, the riptides lift me off my feet, so I paddled happily rather then brave the massive waves.
Back by water taxi to attend mass at the tiny cathedral here, because it seemed appropriate to celebrate Easter somehow. There's no chocolate eggs, it's all religious iconography, bright 'Xmas'  lights decorating the town and houses covered in crosses.

Fascinated by the ethnic mix here I’ve done some research...a brief history makes much sense of the current eclectic community

The archipelago was originally inhabited by native Indians, Ngobe-Bugle, Teribe (Nazo), Bokota and Bri Bri whose descendants keep their traditions alive through tourism.

Christopher Columbus visited Bocas Del Toro in 1502 to repair his ships but it was the English not the Spanish who founded Bocas Del Toro in 1826 on Isla Colon.
These wealthy Scottish and English immigrants from Jamaica, San Andreas and Providenci wanted a base to avoid British taxes. With them came thousands of slaves from the Caribbean Islands and they rapidly prospered, turning the area into a banana boomtown.

Sadly, this heyday ended in the 1920s with the demise of commercial banana production. Prosperity gave way to rural poverty. Today only six of the over 100 islands are actually inhabited and the main industry is tourism. Real estate is at an all time low and unlike neighbouring Costa Rica, tourism is also falling. Hotels are up for sale at every corner, derelict bars lurk like ghosts in the shadows.
A shame, I like this crazy shambolic, chaotic place. 

Easter Saturday in Bocas del Toro.

The holiday hoards hit the town around 8 am. One minute I was sitting quietly eating my breakfast fruit loops (I have a mild addiction to the colourings and preservatives, I love this American cereal) on my balcony, staring down on the deserted town, and then people began to steam down the street.

This is one of Panama's most popular vacation spots, buses from Panama City were booked out months ago and there really isn't a room free in the town. As the crowds headed for the water taxis, I headed out of the town the other way, hiring my trusty bike from 'rasta', aka Rastafarian bikes, as before.

I have now mastered the art of cycling backwards to stop as brakes are not an option. I should have tackled it in Costa Rica, rather than postponing the inevitable. It was more a mind 'thing' than physical: the act is easy, remembering to do it was the hard part. I m continually fascinated by the brains ability to adapt so rapidly when necessary, transforming the seemingly impossible into simply natural.
Cycling around the cove and around the headland to the surfer’s beach of Playa Bluff was, despite my protesting muscles, the best way to avoid the visiting deluge who were mainly aiming for the family friendly rolling sands of Bastimento island.

The surfers were out in force, awe inspiring to watch given the towering exceptionally high spring waves, otherwise it was just me and a handful of fellow bikers pedalling along the stony track by the coastline, but those like minded souls included my English cinema acquaintance from Brighton and the American couple I'd walked to red frog beach with on Thursday so, by chance, I had enjoyable company for the ride.

Along the way I stopped in at the Centre for Tropical Island Biodiversity Studies for an educative hour on the fascinating flora, fauna and wildlife of these islands. Much of it is marine related, I need to dive or snorkel to appreciate it but as I don't dive and I'm not a natural swimmer I admired the superb photos on show instead.

Stilt houses

There are gorgeous iridescent butterflies around and myriad rainbow coloured birds, still plenty to see, although I miss the monkeys. I slept to the sound of howler monkey cries for weeks and find it weird not to hear them now. And I miss 'my' sloth and her baby from Cahuita, keeping guard over my cabin. Bocas town is fun though, I like the buzz, I am energised by its fun atmosphere. It reminds me of a central America version of Lewes, the coffee bars in converted camper vans, the holistic centres, the organic delicatessen, the artists studios, I feel relaxed and ' at home' here.

Coffee bar..my favourite one

Bocas town brewery menu

This evening, another first. I sat cross-legged on the airport landing strip, 700 metres from my hotel in the centre of town, to watch the local football match.

The airfield doubles as a sports ground. When the 6 pm flight approached the impromptu bleachers were lifted to the side until it passed (very close) over our heads, and then, seats restored, the game carried on. Luckily there are only two flights a day. This trip has produced some very bizarre experiences.

Good Friday on a tropical island. March 24.

My first Good Friday spent on a tropical island. Not my normal style but I can recommend it! I rented a bike and cycled for hours, watching the surfers catch the high swell, sitting drinking fresh fruit smoothies under a palm tree, bumping along sandy dirt tracks through rainforest clad volcano slopes gazing down into deep valleys alive with colour.

A salutory lesson that life can change in a second: by chance I stumbled across a dramatic situation, lifeguards struggling to rescue  a surfer who d got into deep trouble, swept  way , way out to sea,. Crowds gathered and prayed together while relay teams of emergency services and the marine lifeboat worked tirelessly until finally they got him to shore safely, when we all burst into spontaneously applause.

This Catholic community held their small scale Semana Santa procession at dusk. Hundreds gathered outside the church here in Bocas town to light torches, sing and walk the streets worshipping at impromptu stations of the cross intricately decorated in houses along the route. I walked with them, old and young together in celebration. I may not share their faith but I share their love and respect for life.

Town ready for procession..these are stations of the cross on houses along the route

Aother house station of the cross

The procession

Bigger cities have massive shows for Semana Santa, this was tiny by comparison but it felt special, intimate, joyous. The town bars were dark as the sale of alcohol is banned during Semana Santa (much to the confusion of some tourists). Hotels are unofficially exempt but most are keeping the faith and staying ' dry'.

Bocas , as all of Panama is a melting pot of ethnic races. My English sensibility still struggles with the casual use of terms like ' Latino, chino, nativo, Indian' and the like used purely as descriptive terms. I am simply 'engeesh' rather than gringo, which I am hoping is a complement! A wide variety of backgrounds but everyone lives, works and worship alongside one another here in this awesome archipelago.

Bocas del Toro. Day 1 . Unexpectedly adventurous.

So...it took me a day to work out Panama is an hour ahead of Costa Rica.  Time isn't a factor unless there's a bus to catch and, in my defence, the sunset here is an hour later  hence why I simply didn't realise yesterday. I put my instinctive sense that the day was a long one down to the journey....

Today proved to be unexpectedly adventurous, a great boost to my morale. Once I discovered it was 8 am and not 7 am I threw a few beach bits into the rucksack and set off to explore the islands.  There are tours but I am ' tour-ed out' so headed to the cheap co operative water taxis. Three dollars, ten minutes of ouch inducing ride (the swell is high, great for surfers but not such fun on a boat) and I arrived at Bastimento.
My intention was to walk through the village over the island to wizard’s beach, as recommended by fellow travellers. Nervously striding out alone along the forest path I was watching over my shoulder constantly until I made it down to this quiet surfing beach where I sat with a friendly American couple chatting and sharing biscuits.

Their plan was to walk on to the most well known beach, "red frog", a national park around the island headland and they invited me to join them. We divided up any valuables into our underwear as the track is a common area for petty crime, so it wasn't me being unduly cautious, and set off into the dense jungle.
The track was well concealed, especially after recent storms. An hour of sinking into mud, climbing over rocks, ducking under trees, slipping down vine covered slopes, and we made it! With our assets intact :) and my self confidence restored.

Red frog beach is a long sandy stretch lined with restaurants. We parted amicably as they went for lunch while I, always a cheapskate, found the local BBQ stall hidden behind them and had a fabulous baked potato, I was famished, it tasted amazing!

Red Frog Beach

Walking back to find a water taxi I actually saw one of the minute red frogs the island is named after. It is truly tiny, I would never have seen it without following the people with cameras clustered around the tree and even then I needed my glasses.

Red Frog

I’m regaining my equilibrium now, its been a fun day in good company. I  feel 'at home' in Bocas town even though it's busier here  than the islands  Tonight I found the small  art house cinema, tucked in a backstreet, and met another English woman; a rare encounter in itself but even better,  a social worker who lives in Brighton. We passed a pleasant hour bonding until the film started (The Danish Girl...the system works in that the first person who turns up picks the film, what a great idea).

I went back to my hotel rather than stay, my eyes are closing so I’d just sleep through the film. Plus, I am still relishing the novelty of television and air conditioning. Its a rare expense, a guest house not a hostel, but omg it's blissfully relaxing after today's energetic excursion to have a cool room and easy entertainment.

Panama wed march 23

Fond farewell to Costa Rica, the airport taxi driver only charged me half fare when he heard about the robbery so I would leave with positive thoughts of his country folk, bless him. So I did!
Nearly didn't leave at the airport when I saw the 'plane'. A ten seater, (no bathroom) the pilot joined us in the bus out from the terminal to the field where it was strapped down and shook our hands before asking us to join in prayer. So I did!

Ear protectors on, we trundled off, hovering just above the tree line. Nature Air very apt name, nearest I’ve come to a canopy walk this trip, I was at eye level with the birds, honestly. Not exactly a smooth ride either.

When we finally descended everyone ignored the immigration booth and made a dash for the bathroom.
Just as well as the chap 'manning' the booth had taken lessons from the US, talk about painstakingly slow.

Eventually the 7 of us emerged into a deserted ghost town, it being the noon downtime. No chance of a taxi. I started to lug my bag up the main Street feeling like I'd landed on the set of a Western when a kind local couple came to help. Refusing my offer of a tip they took me to the door of this hostel before leaving with smiles and waves.

An hour later I was finally ensconced in an upmarket (by my standards) room, with a/c and a TV.  Original room was a cupboard, but when I burst into tears, inadvertently, my emotions are still raw, the lovely staff quickly found me an upstairs suite with a little balcony. Great welcome to Panama.

Bocas town is an eclectic colourful collection of clapboard houses, restaurants, town beach and docks for the neighbouring islands. It is peak season, a popular holiday spot for Panamanian and Costa Rican as well as travellers, but my first impression is that I like it. It's fun to be in a town rather than a village and there's a cheerful, hippy style feel. Yoga retreats, organic delicatessen, spa shops (I should have my eyebrows done..I look like a monkey) alongside the usual suspects of markets, groceries, cafes, bars. The town is on a spur surrounded by water so there's a relative cool breeze, a real relief after the rainforest humidity.

Bocas

This is my base for the Easter week, so hopefully my first impressions aren't wrong! Islands to visit, hikes to do, bikes to rent, so keeping occupied isn’t an issue and I feel much more like my previous robbery self now. The Brussels bombs have put things into perspective. Those poor people...the world has gone mad. I genuinely appreciate how lucky I am to be safe and sound in this beautiful place.

Costa Rica footnote. Tues march 22

It's 'Semana Santa' at Easter, my apologies to Catholics everywhere for inadvertently rechristening the most important festival in Latin America. Celebrations already under way, processions around the streets of San Jose , where I m stopping the night. Religious icons held aloft as worshippers pray and sing their way between churches.

I am wending my way towards Panama so staying enroute in a delightful hostel in the university area of San Pedro. The shuttle from Cahuita deftly avoided the mountain landslides due to the recent rain and we arrived by early afternoon so I had time to explore.

This huge westernised city is a culture shock after sleepy Cahuita. San Jose is a wealthy vibrant place, yes, with a seamier side, like any city, but this trendy neighbourhood, full of coffee bars and bookshops, is safe to walk around and I enjoyed absorbing the buzz and youthful cosmopolitan vibe.

I’m fighting flashbacks from the robbery but 'getting there', wearing my angry bruises like a badge of honour, an initiation, a rite of passage. Although physically fine, psychologically I have struggled with this deliberate act of violence.  My run in with the cow horn in India was a random accident but this was personal, harder to come to terms with.

But one bad act brings out many good acts in response. When I explain my bruises to curious questioners I am met with universal kindness and genuine caring support. Costa Rica depends on tourism and are rightly proud of their beautiful country. People have gone out of their way to comfort me, a total stranger in the supermarket have me a hug.

So I will concentrate on the high points of Costa Rica: the parade of wildlife which exceeded my expectations, the lush green countryside, the cool waterways alive with life, the gentle villagers, the early morning canoe rides into the jungle, the crashing Caribbean surf. I  shall miss the sloth outside my cabin, who opened one eye every morning and the other every evening,  the flamboyant display of birds and butterflies, the monkeys howling through the night, I have so many positive memories of this spectacular country and that's the way I will remember it.

Cahuita. Monday blues.

Still very shaken, very sad and very angry. Tempted to go home! Objectively I know this will be a mistake. One negative experience must not sour a brilliant adventure..

Costa Rica is gorgeous country. Walking this morning through the park I saw my first racoons, bigger than I expected, with their white rimmed eyes. Plus agoutis, iguanas, the poisonous green dart frog, and my friend the local sloth.

Agouti

Iguana

Tanagers.. Common but so beautiful

Poisonous green dart frog

With hindsight my habit of hiking alone off the beaten track may have made yesterday's robbing an ' accident' waiting to happen. I inherently trust people are good but inevitably some are not. I was going to cross their path eventually. I was very, very lucky.

So, despite having the ' blues' I am concentrating on the positive, watching the vivid red birds fluttering through the palms by my cabin, the squirrel munching his lunch on my step, the monkeys high in the sky above me. Unique, phenomenal wildlife, spectacular scenery and fabulous people. I will not let one moment rob me of these precious memories.

Tomorrow I head to Panama, my final destination before home.
Easter is approaching and I am looking forward to celebrating Semanta Santa, the Catholic festival.

'Keep calm and carry on' is my motto for today...

Cahuita. Sunday. A day to count my blessings.

And so...for the first time ever during my travels, I have been mugged and robbed.
My wrist is sore where I was grappled from behind, my camera is gone as is my wallet as my backpack was stolen.
But fortunately I am safe and sound. My passport, my cards and most of my money is here in the cabin. It could have been much much worse in so many ways.
And despite the awful experience my abiding memories will be of the kindness of so many people.

It happened on a stretch of beach outside the main tourist area which is popular with locals and so on a Sunday was full of happy families. It seemed safe enough. I had walked contently for miles without a care in the world until suddenly a man jumped out of the coconut tree lining the sand and seized my arms.
It was the look in his eyes which will haunt me. I now know crack addiction is common and suspect this was it. I was terrified and instinctively swung my bag of my shoulder towards him.

Amazingly, it worked, he let me go, snatched it up and disappeared.
My screams drew people flocking to my aid. I was given water, made a bed of leaves to sit on, the police were called, women cuddled me and children ran to give me crackers and sweets and stroked my head.

Alas, my clothes were in my bag.  Feeling rather naked clad only in my bikini we waited an hour or so for the police ( fast by Costa Rica standards) who then got their pick up stuck in the sand.  Even I could appreciate this was farcical.

So for another 30 minutes various methods of extraction were tried, including tow ropes, wooden planks, leaves under the wheels, until eventually an ambulance appeared to take me to the clinic. That's the process (although they are supposed to arrive together) and I persuaded them to take me back to Cabinas Tito instead as I figured I didn't need a hospital, I needed to feel safe

The family here were wonderful, bringing me coconut water, hugging me, telling me not to worry about the key (obviously that had gone too.). They also negotiated with the tourist police station, a different division, to come out and write my report for insurance, as Cahuita police are notorious for ineptitude. As witnessed with the vehicle fiasco....

I have finally stopped crying, the shock kicked in and I sobbed for hours. But I know I was incredibly lucky. I am counting my blessings. I have lost only possessions, my photos were backed up, and I am not hurt.  I have much to be grateful for.

I sat this evening talking to Tito’s mother. We bonded about women's issues using broken spanglish and she told me Tito is out with the townsfolk looking for the perpetrator. I don't hold out much hope but I appreciate the gesture.

Crime in Costa Rica is on the rise, the wealthy tourists draw those with nothing. I hope whoever gets my shorts and my t shirt likes them! I am very sad about my camera. Also sad about my make up bag because it had my pretty tin Annie have me before I left, which had sentimental value.

But I am determined to count my blessings and be positive. Despite feeling sore, miserable , sunburnt after hours sitting on a beach in my bikini minus my clothes and suncream, and desperately homesick I am fine, which is all that matters in the end. Tomorrow is another day.

Cahuita. A strange Saturday.

A strange day full of odd moments, from horrid to special.
The bad bits:
Nasty encounters whilst on an early morning hike through the national park.

1. My foot made contact with a very large alligator like species, hidden under loose sand on the trail.
I am not sure who moved quickest, him or me.
I’m going with it was only a harmless Cayman for peace of mind. Funnily enough there wasn't time to take a picture!

2. My face made contact with an enormous spider’s web, plus spider. Instinctively hitting it away I hit myself in the face with my camera which was on my wrist strap. Black eye but no spider bite.
No picture of that either!

Otherwise, despite the rain showers, the first for days, a great, if long, trek. By setting out soon after sunrise I finished the whole trail and back (around 12 km) surrounded by the rich exotic jungle life. Vivid butterflies, irridesecent birds, my best sighting yet of the gorgeous yellow toucan with his splendid beak. monkeys, etc . Fascinating variety of crabs underfoot -  all shapes and sizes.

Crabs everywhere

Plus the above two nasties. Glad I was wearing full covering, despite the heat, there are a lot of lurking dangers in the forest Humidity is the killer. I was wetter when the rain stopped, drenched in sweat in minutes.
By the time I stumbled exhausted out of the national park and into my cabin I was shattered. Unusually I’d walked in mostly solitude, so hadn't spoken to anyone all day.

Creeks

Sitting outside with a cuppa (yes, I am carrying a travel kettle, it's my most priced possession, I’d be lost without it) I was feeling rather old, homesick and lonely when a hummingbird cane to join me.

That's the special moment: these tiny things are so beautiful, it lifted my spirits and made me cry at the same time.
Weekends are harder alone as families are everywhere. Central America is devoutly Catholic and large families are the norm. As I walked back from my beach stroll tonight the townsfolk were gathering in groups for BBQs on the sand. But everyone is friendly, several women waved me over to join in with their picnic, but my limited Spanish makes it difficult. People are very kind.
Like Tortuguero, everyone knows everyone else here and as there I notice a subtle but distinct change in their attitude towards me when I become a familiar face. Now I am not a tourist, I am "English lady" and I value their acceptance. It makes me feel I am not so alone after all.

Cahuita Friday March 18th

In a bid to ensure different muscles hurt today I rented a bike.  The most expensive so far and the most ancient. I turned down the no brakes ( 'just pedal backwards madam') in favour of brakes but a dodgy saddle which tipped me off whenever the dips got too deep, i.e. frequently. After these tracks the South Downs Way will be a doddle.

No brakes, no gears, not cheap...but fun!

Still, it was fun, I was able to venture through the local villages, avoid the coati/pizote (a cross between the possum and racoon to my eyes) which dart around determined to be run over, spot the sloths and the squirrels, the flamboyant red parrots and fluorescent butterflies.

My 'I ve been cycling all day on dirt tracks with a hat on, so my hair is flat and I look knackered' look...

Other wildlife encounters:
1. The stupendous sight of thousands of blue black Colombian butterflies streaming down river every evening migrating to their homeland. Indigo ribbons weaving patterns in the twilight. A nightly dance performance of a million fluttering wings.

2. A less amazing sight: the bold, brash species of the American ' spring breaker'. These young adults hunt in packs, emit loud shrieks and eliminate everything in their path. Sadly this is not a rare sighting. If only.  There are so many groups of tourists here, I can't believe it.
Costa Rica’s massive tourism industry has come as a shock, especially after Guatemala and Nicaragua where it barely exists. Here the infrastructure of this rich, westernised country is built around vacationing. Thousands flock here, mainly from USA and Canada, and I m still adjusting to the sheer scale of this human invasion.

The resulting price leap in goods and services means locals are struggling to afford the cost of living, (so am I!). The family who run this Cabinas (collection of huts) tell me they depend on growing their own fruit and veg as shop prices are exorbitant. Given these huts aren't cheap and they are not poor by Costa Rican standards, it's a measure of how high the cost of living is here.

But thanks to this booming tourism business the standards of hospitality are well honed, unlike the rest of Central America. The upmarket huts are cleaned daily and menus etc are multi lingual. Still no air con but a better class of fan and hot water in the showers. There is more (ish) English speakers, thanks to the high volume of USA visitors. But. ..looking back the idea that I thought Nicaragua's San Juan del Sur was touristy seems ludicrous compared to Costa Rica, which offers itself up as a giant theme park  for wealthy Americans.

Upmarket Costa Rica cabin

Local gym!

Natural pools safe to swim in..

Pros and cons of solo travel:
Pros: I can avoid the hoards and appreciate the glorious scenery and animals. It is without doubt a spectacular country with incredible wildlife.
Cons: unlike Nicaragua and Guatemala, ironically I am finding getting around harder because there is little independent shuttle services as most travellers are on a tour and the locals don't travel long distances.

This north coast with its rainforest and Caribbean sea is a wonderful unique place which I cannot fail to love. I crave to travel deep into the jungle as Colin did and be completely immersed in nature. But I am a coward. Last night I stepped on a frog in my cabin and nearly had a heart attack. I know my limits and I’m better staying in four walls and a roof, even if they have holes!

Cahuita March 17

A small town at the entrance to another national park. I rose at dawn through habit and so headed in while it was cool and quiet. Different animals as well as the same: yes, monkeys, sloths, sea birds but here also squirrels, blue crabs, bizarre insects and massive spiders.

That was nearly the end of the national park then

Blue crabs

Hard to see crabs

This afternoon for the first time I swam in the surf of the Caribbean, as here there are sections of the beach where natural pools form which are safe, away from the dangerous riptides. The sea is warm so I m hoping the 'bath' will ease my aching bones from the boat journey

Unidentified squirrel

As night falls I can hear howler monkeys very close, branches are falling around me. The wifi here works only in one spot which is leaving me exposed outside, so I am heading for the relative safety of my room before either the debris gets me or the mosquitoes do!

Tortuguero to Cahuita -March 16.

A five hour journey in an open boat with luggage thrown into the front seats and people thrown into the back. Um! Interesting experience. The crocodiles sunning themselves on the sandbanks were rather too close for comfort, as were the dangerous riptides of the Caribbean sea, which at times was only yards away.
Nervous at lack of facilities I refused breakfast, good idea to avoid motion sickness but bad idea in terms of hunger and dehydration. Perpetual traveller’s dilemma. Luckily we stopped half way at a shack for toilet and biscuit break which also gave my aching bottom a break.

Heading off, that's my Xmas pressie case onboard!

The river runs perilously close to the sea...

The speed varied from very fast, swerving around blind curves, the spray drenching us and the luggage, to painstakingly slow as parts of the river are silted up. As usual the boat was overloaded so going aground was a regular feature, at which point we all followed shouted Spanish instructions on which side to lean. Given the proximity of the crocodiles no one was very keen on being at their eye level.

Looks wide but is very shallow, had to row this section!

There are tributaries everywhere, we wove in and out, twisting and turning, through national park territory with not a house insight bar our 'service station' stop until we arrived in the port of Limon. Suddenly an enormous container ship veered into view as we chugged into the harbour side.
Moin is a bustling shipping town with, according to our taxi driver, a famous football club. Luckily I d been able to fix a shared ride to Cahuita, 90 mins away, but our driver came from Moin and was determined to show us the sights of his brightly coloured Caribbean birthplace so we got a guided tour of its multi hued wooden architecture.

By the time I finally dropped my case in my new Cabinas I was exhausted but delighted with my new pad, a brick built cabin spotlessly clean set in beautiful gardens. And a great welcome: a sloth and her baby almost within touching distance of my door. Awesome.

Sloth ( and baby)

Tortuguero March 14/15

Days and nights blur into dark and light. I live like the villagers, up with the glimmer of dawn and in bed as the moon rises. The wildlife here is amazing, worth the 'jet leg' sensation of out of synch body clock!

Yesterday and today I took the canoe tour at 6am, using the local unionised guides who have mainly grown up here and love Tortuguero with a passion. Highlights, the toucan flying low over my head, the cayman peering curiously at the canoe, the many herons, ibis, parrots resting on the branches as we slipped past, the loud cries of the howler monkeys and the curious chatting white faced capuchin families swinging in the trees.

Jesus lizard ..so called as it runs over water

It took me ages to spot this one

Bit close for comfort ..though only a harmless cayman

Today's tour was free (its normally 20 dollars for three hours) as the guides are protesting against the motorised tour boats by offering promotional deals. My guide, Roberto, who was born and still lives in this house where my hut is based, told me the boom in package tours and the growth in new luxury lodge outside the park is damaging the village and the park. These firms use outsourced labour, and their boats are scaring the animals.

Toucan. .my favourites

The age old debate of cultural colonialism again. I reserve judgement, as much as I value the insights travelling alone is giving me and much as I love the independence it brings, it is also physically and mentally exhausting at times. This is the first place I have seen tour groups and I eye them enviously as they are escorted from the dock and transported with ease back to their luxury hotels.

Alas, a two week tour here would eat up my three month budget, but I can see both sides of this debate. Tortuguero is unique and deserves to be seen and appreciated. Tourism is a complex issue. Uncomplicated...the universal value placed on the volunteer work here miles deep into the jungle, so good work, Colin!

I have hiked the trails, walked the glorious coast and relaxed in the village with its calm Caribbean vibe. Tomorrow I travel 3 hours by boat to Cahita, another of Costa Rica’s national parks.

These days here in Tortuguero have been tremendous. Sleeping to the sound of the sea, waking to the cries of birds and monkeys, gliding along the river spying on the incredible diverse colourful wildlife, walking along the sands by the crashing waves.
I am so grateful I made it up here, it is indeed a truly special place.

Tortuguero at dawn.

Canoe trip along the river. Pictures tell the story.

This place is beyond words beautiful.

Dawn patrol

Red frog.  Poisonous if gets into blood stream

Just checking us out!

Turtle

Spot the iguana

Iguana hiding in the foliage

Keeping an eye open!

Heading upriver