Picture: Meg enjoying the power of the cascade 1/2 way up the slope overlooking the waterfall near Vera Blanca
Cold! The night had been a chilly one which we should have anticipated due to the altitude.
We’d been socked in by the busy clouds racing up and over the ridges all day. It made for a great morning walk as we meandered along the farm tracks out back of our B & B. Interestingly, the scenery was very similar to that of English farmland complete with cows and eye-aching greenery (at least to those of us who are used to the brown hues of summer California). It was good to get the blood pumping as we walked up some very steep trails. Definitely felt the altitude. Walked over to the signposted Lecheria, but didn’t see anyone around except some bored bovines.
Later in the day we drove Raul down to a craggy waterfall a few miles outside Vera Blanca that tumbled down from a cliff that had to be easily 100-150 feet high. We stood at the bottom buffeted as much by the noise of the cascade as well the actual spray. The lush greenery clung defiantly to the cliffside right up to the water creating a very pretty picture. A little up the hill, there was a cool-looking water garden tourist trap where for a hefty fee it’s possible to see the waterfall from higher up, enjoy a fancy dinner, and explore the other attractions. Large, fancy coaches waited outside in lines. We opted for the free backpacker style encounter, and were totally satisfied.
By now, our meager traveling supplies augmented by breakfast at the B&B were almost gone. I’d been looking for a grocery store since we left San Jose and had yet to find one. I left Robyn and the kids and started driving through the village and out towards a bigger town I’d noticed beckoning on the map. 45 minutes later, I still hadn’t gotten there and was about to turn around when I saw a small store on the side of the road. I pulled in and walked into the gloom of the dirt-floored establishment. The shelves were nearly all empty although there was an ample supply of tinned sardines, some chips, a few eggs, a tube of black bean paste, and a few tortillas. I bought some of the eggs, beans, and tortillas and was very pleased to find an onion and a pepper in a corner. Success! I then noticed a bottle of Liqueur de Aranja which I guessed was some kind of orange-flavored alcohol. Good enough, I thought. I paid up and went home feeling like my first foray into the depths of Costa Rica was successful as I’d managed to secure enough food (just about) to feed us all. The total cost was about $2.50. In addition, I’d managed to have a conversation of sorts in Spanish with the lovely abuela behind the counter. By the way, I was glad to have expected that no-one would speak English and had been practicing my Spanish diligently. I was now able to apologize for butchering their language.
Another ritual was born that evening, too. After eating an early dinner, we all wrote in our journals until there was not enough daylight to see, then sat back on couch within the relative safety of our little cabin (which by the way shook with every clap of thunder and blast of lightning) and listened to the astonishing pyrotechnics of the nightly thunderstorm while the rain drilled away at the roof. Meg wondered where the little kitten was while I wondered if the cabin was going to float off the mountain…
