From Limon I took the bus to San Jose, then another to Penas Blancas at the Costa Rica/Nicaragua border. The trip lasted longer than planned, and it was dark by the time I arrived. No more buses were in operation so I was forced to take a taxi into Rivas to get a room for the night. The next day I took a bus to Granada. I took a trip up to Laguna de Apoyo for a few days and enjoyed the clean water there for 3 nights before returning to Granada. I'm now at a crossroads as to the place of my next endeavour.
The following is the story about what happened with the seller of my bike. It's copied mostly verbatim from an e-mail:
--------------------------------------------------
I've been reclusive for the past few days because the guy giving me his bike (also named Jacob) now a good friend, had gotten himself lost in the jungle here for a week. The first few days we just thought he was at the beach in a hotel or something (before he left he told me he was going to the beach) but after he didn't contact us for awhile we began asking around and it turns out last Monday park services found his bike at the edge of a pathway atop a mountain, waited a couple days and then impounded it. Didn't go looking for him, didn't contact the family...just took it. His friend that works for park services knew it was his bike and was worried, but still didn't even bother to call us and fill us in. Had I not gone over there personally they wouldn't have lifted a finger it seems. It was a ridiculous failure of the park services but anyway....
We finally had to drive an hour and a half to the nearest city just to find out what I just told you. The family decided to go to the park the next day (Sunday) but I didn't want to wait that long. If he was alive I'm sure he'd appreciate some haste at this point.
So once we got back I packed my things on the bike as the family decided I was mostly crazy, and took off after they said a prayer...around 4 pm or so. I got to the park as it was getting dark, found Jacob's bike (it had been brought here from the top of the mountain, I'd come to find out) and asked the first park official that approached me where Poco Sol was because I'm going up there to setup a camp and search for my friend. They wouldn't tell me and said we need to organize a search party. So lots of talking and standing around and they said good we'll take care of the search party and contact you with any developments...no fuck that...I told them I'm helping. They asked some questions and eventually would reluctantly accept. The next morning 3 of them left in their truck with me following behind on the bike. Along the way we stopped to tell some policia about the search (apparently they didn't call ahead). I should mention at this point that pretty much all of them thought he was dead. The mountain side is steep, the jungle harsh...it rained every night there and Jacob had almost nothing with him.
So we convey the message to the policia and continue on, up the mountain. We arrive near the top probably around 7:30 or 8:00. We get out and start looking around, I found a footpath that apparently they all knew was there, but were just not really in any hurry to end socialization time and begin searching. So I tell one I'm going up this path to look for him, and he says at the top there is a house (it's actually a biological station) and to wait there. Fine, whatever, I begin climbing. I arrive at the station and begin looking around through the rooms. The place is empty now but had been in use just a few days before by personnel...no sign of Jacob however. After a few minutes one of the guys from the truck arrives at the station, apparently my partner for the day. He does pretty much the same search I had just done, and reaches the same conclusion I had. Before continuing on I leave a note for Jacob on a clothes line. It read something like:
"Jacob, we're searching for you, I'll return to where your bike was each morning. -Jacob"
I asked my partner if there were any rivers near by, because he would probably go there, especially if they're good for swimming. He said no not really any deep enough, and with that, we began the real work for the day. Hiking first up the mountain, then down the other face, then making vertical zig-zags as even with GPS we kept losing the footpath. Every once in awhile we found signs that Jacob had come through there...cut plants, footprints. We had to hack our way through the bush with our machetes, I drank a ton but my guide was clearly used to this type of thing. For once in my adult life I had to be waited on, it sucked. After probably 2 and a half or 3 hours of hiking, we made it to another old "house". Well it wasn't much of a house...completely demolished from weather. There were still useful materials for building a shelter, but it was clear to me Jacob hadn't been here, because they were untouched.
At this point my partner decided to take a different way back, because the way we came was terrible (as it would turnout, this was also the almost fatal decision Jacob made after attempting the same hike as us).
We start down the mountain, on an essentially invisible path. Again without GPS we would have been lost. This part of our day was extremely difficult as the face of the mountain was not only extremely steep, but it was covered in slippery mud (clay-like) and often when using the sparsely growing trees for support (necessary to not go barreling down the face) one would snap from dry rot, or simply fall over (the soil is high in nutrients so roots don't grow deep or far, I've had a couple banana trees blow over on my hammock for the same reason). Eventually after a couple spills gone to each of us, we make it to the small river creek thing that separates our mini mountain from the next mini mountain we now have to climb in order to circle back to the first station.
When we cross the river, we notice blood drips on the rock. He stands there, calls out, then continues on. I follow suit, stopping before the ascent to take a long look down the river. Jacob is a smart man, he would stay with water. If this was his blood, he'd be going in the direction of the water and not any other. But it's likely this blood is from Monday, 6 days ago. No telling how far away he is now. I continue on to the ascent, another hour or hour and a half of hellishly steep and seemingly unending path. At times I wondered if I'd be able to go on, and then I wondered how possibly a man 3 times my age could survive here for a week without food. We climb and climb and eventually we're back where we began, at the station. As I approach the area where I had left the note, I see that much of the family was there...the old man (pictured on my Facebook with the bull) and some of the sons...Lindo, Chino, Nievito, Luis and maybe one more. The pastor is also there. Everyone greets me enthusiastically as always, and asks about the search. My partner fills them in (as my Spanish still isn't great) and they all get slightly more somber. They ask the duration, and one of the other 2 officials says we were hiking for 6 hours...maybe not terrible on a normal trail but exhausting in this terrain and climate. We sit around some more, some policia trickle in who had also been searching. Apparently there are more search parties going at this point, as with a helicopter. Took them long enough, but apparently they're making some effort.
After some time we descend back down to where the vehicles are. I notice that the Red Cross decided to join the party as well. I tell them I'll be retuning to the farm tonight to sleep (as it turned out to be essentially equal distance to the park where I was camped) but first I need to pack my things and bring them back from the park. I take off, arrive at the park around an hour later, pack up and leave. I get back to the farm just a few moments before the truck with the family arrives (the roads here are much faster on a bike). I shower, have a brief conversation with Jacob's wife (She drove up after I had the rangers call her the night before and brief her on what's happening), eat, setup my hammock again, and sleep. In the morning the old man wakes me up at 5:30 with the familiar "Dos!" (the system we devised for distinguishing the younger, more attractive Jacob from his older counterpart). I protest slightly in my thought but quickly arise from my cocoon. Everyone has breakfast, I get prepared with the same nasty, stained pants from the day before, and a fresh shirt. I pack what I think I'll need for the day, and head off for the top of the mountain, slightly after the now two truckloads full of family and friends leave. I quickly pass them and begin the now very familiar road that connects us with the rest of civilization, unpaved, rocky and muddy. It's raining now but that's about right...June is the wettest month of the year in Costa Rica. I arrive at the dirt road that will take me to the top of the mountain. I begin making my way...weaving through the jungle, through muddy water crossings...I ascend a small crest, not unlike the many others here. I summit the top and when I look down the other side, I see a man walking up it. He's wearing black rain pants like the ones me, Jacob and just about every other Costa Rican use when riding. He's also wearing a yellow rain jacket, which I would soon come to know was found after the man broke in the door of a nearby ranger station. He was topped off with a blue grocery bag, like one generally finds in the tiendas here, probably recovered from deep within the contents of the last item on his back, the backpack I was so familiar with. It was Jacob.
I stopped my bike in front of him in disbelief. "My God all this time and you're the first person I see!" (I was also the last person to talk to him on Monday). "Jacob Holy crap are you ok man?" I replied...not the most eloquent exchanging of words but reality rarely is.
He was thin, but fortunately began his journey with a bit of a belly, so apparently he had no hunger after the first day. He asks for something to eat and I give him vanilla wafers. We talk for maybe a minute, not saying much, "well get me the hell out of here, can I ride on the back of this thing?" he asks rhetorically.
I turn around, he gets on and we ride out. He's a bit out of it, a little more than usual anyway. "Be careful, another fall might kill me!" he says with a great laugh. He's probably referring to the big gash on his head he received while descending the face of a waterfall on his first day. At one point in the middle he decided back up was not a good option, nor could he continue to climb down, so he said a prayer and let go. He lived, but his injuries from this would make the next few days very painful. Then asks me how the bike has been doing, "oh still a little backfiring, huh?". "yeah, I need to richen the pilot some more" I reply, which is met by a laugh that would imply he thought I was being sarcastic.
Once we reached the central road (relatively) he begins yelling at people about God, "be with God!" he yells at one man in Spanish. We pass one girl and he comments "hey that looks like a girl I know". A few minutes later and he exclaims "Oh! I know where we are, of course, that WAS a girl I know". More riding, some questions about the last week and eventually we reach the convoy, quite a ways away. I flash my lights as we approach and the driver of the first vehicle greets me with the same. I stop next to them, and for an eternal moment it's silent...mouths open, eyes already red with tears, everyone stares at the person behind me. The silence is broken when Jacob yells through tears "Solo el Dios!" Only God saw me through this, is what everyone understands him to mean. Before he's done saying it, doors are open and everyone has swamped my bike. I'm fighting to keep it vertical while his wife, one of his daughters, two pastors and many friends were hugging him. There wasn't a single white eye, including my own, and if ever I begin to doubt the strength of love, I'll require nothing more than the memory of this moment. It was over, and despite all the mistakes on our part as the searchers, and his part as the lost, he is alive after spending 7 nights in the Costa Rican jungle.
As we rejoiced an ambulance came, which he sternly refused. Instead we all went to the nearest police station and informed them that the search was over. By this time I realized my rear tire was flat, apparently Jacob hadn't lost enough weight. I knew I had a leak but didn't want to wait for a patch. Before leaving the station Jacob says to a police officer in spanish "this is my great friend Jacob and he has a flat, where can he get it repaired?". Around the corner there's a shop, and I go there. I have the man, who is barely awake at this point, put in some air. I say thanks, get back on the bike, and take off again as fast as I can to try and beat the flat. I make it about halfway before I'm completely out again, and about another quarter of the way before the tire slips off a bead and I'm forced to ride at a diagonal angle the rest of the way back. In a small town about 7 km from the farm I'm stopped by a police officer who was waiting in the rain to flag me down. Apparently word had got out, but not very well, and they were slightly fuzzy on the details. They had me write down my name, and asked me where I was from. They thanked me for finding him (though I actually just ran across his path) and I replied in Spanish of course, he's a best friend of mine. As I got back on my bike they all stared out from their shack and I heard one say quietly "el es de Los Estados". They reminded me my tire was flat, and I took off, making half figure eight patterns most of the way home. A shop owner and her daughter yelled a greeting to me as I passed, friends of Jacob's who had heard the news also.
Once at the farm I was greeted with questions, until eventually the trucks arrived and the questions were directed at the occupants. It continued to rain all day while stories were told, God was thanked, people trickled in from all around. Another police officer arrived on a bike for a little bit and took some information. Tears fell from Jacob and the family, I changed the tube on my tire. That night church would be held in the garage that I spent most of my time in. Before church while sitting next to Jacob and his wife, she shook my hand and said "buen chico". I looked at her confused until she finally said in English "good boy". Yeah I know I thought, it just took me awhile to realize it wasn't derogatory as such a statement would be in the States. After her repetition I replied "de nada". During church they sang songs, I clapped my hands. People took turns speaking and many thanked me. Near the end of the ceremony both pastors and the many members of the family blessed me, my trip and my bike in a dramatic event filled with much yelling, crying and touching. Eventually after the majority of the touching was over Jacob said "just sit down, it will make it less painful". I wondered if having been blessed raises the resale on the bike?
That night before bed, Jacob said to me "thanks for saving my ass". I laughed and said "don't mention it". I did nothing, I thought, just rode my bike.
The next day he went home to Moin, Limon. He needed someone to take care of him. The day after bringing my friend back to the farm, he is gone, and I'm alone once again. It's alright though, something I should probably get used to on this trip.
While searching for Jacob in the jungle, we came across these snakes. My partner told me this is an unusual sight, as the snake on the left is highly poisonous, and generally eats the species on the right.
My partner during the search
What´s left of an old biological station
Toucans
The base biological station for our search, where I left the note.
The base biological station for our search, where I left the note.
The view from the base biological station, taken after a full day of searching
What was left after turning a tree into planks to be used in construction of the new shed.
Two rivers meeting.
The best part about being on the farm...puppies!
Not really sure what this is to be honest.
Visiting some of the little islands off the coast of Granada, Nicaragua
Granada, Nicaragua
Masaya, near Granada, Nicaragua
Masaya, near Granada, Nicaragua
Constructing a new tool shed on the farm in Buenos Aires, Costa Rica
Ascending the belltower stairs
The view of Laguna de Apoyo, Nicaragua
Constructing a new tool shed on the farm in Buenos Aires, Costa Rica
A church in Granada
Granada, Nicaragua
The above is a picture of an army of gardners, mowing the soccer field in Buenos Aires with weed wackers. They don´t believe in lawnmowers here, everything is done either by machete or weedwacker.
Granada, Nicaragua
