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Summer

Africa: Bostwana & South Africa (Part I)

April 23, 2013 By Eric Schickler

All photos, text and artwork included in this Web site are copyright-protected and the exclusive property of Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer. No downloading, use, reproduction, manipulation, sale and/or distribution permitted without express written consent.

© Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer

 

Related Links: 

African Safari

AFRICA: BOTSWANA & SOUTH AFRICA PART II

Bull Elephant Rampages Our Tent Camp

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mister Moose and Bullwinkle Invade Colorado

September 8, 2012 By Eric Schickler

Most of us have never seen a moose up close. OK, so maybe you have—at a zoo. But have you ever seen a moose on the loose? You’d certainly remember if you did. They are HUGE animals.

Steer clear if you encounter one, especially in the fall (during the “rut” or mating season) and in spring (the calving season). A simple rule: avoid pestering the ladies in the spring, and the men in the fall. They both have important business to tend to, and neither involves shopping or football.

Believe me, after an unfortunate run-in with a moose, nobody will quiz you at the hospital about the proper grammar or spelling, i.e. whether you were “hooved” or “hoofed” to near-death by this seven-foot-high ungulate. They’ll just advise you to keep your distance in the future. Moose won’t eat you like a grizzly might; they’re herbivores. But they can certainly put a dent in your infrastructure.

Safe to say, most of us Baby Boomers learned what a moose looks like on TV, watching “Bullwinkle & Rocky” and “Captain Kangaroo.”  Here’s a video clip to bring you back….

Captain Kangaroo at the mercy of Mr. Moose:

Moose are the largest members of the deer family, and command respect because of their enormous size, great speed and broad velvet antlers (on bulls). They have a dark brown coat, offset by white lower legs, a strong, distinctive scent (not pleasant), hooved feet, and a unique feature under their chins, a loose flap of skin called a dewlap. (I wonder … are they related to the turkey?)

One thing’s for certain– they will not remind you of Bambi, despite their inclusion in the deer family.

If you see more than one, don’t embarrass yourself in front of your local wildlife guide by proclaiming “Holy cow! Look. There’s a flock, I mean a gaggle, of meese over there.”

A horse is a horse, of course, of course, and a moose is a moose, you silly goose. But even a moose’s extended family is, uhhh, moose. All of them. Together.

I know, I know. It’s all very awkward and linguistically redundant. But you know that singular/plural animal thing. It’s as convoluted and confusing as Latin. But once you master it, you’ll be regarded as highly as Marlin Perkins and Jack Hanna, and get more dates with athletic, outdoorsy types.

My cousin Steve is a talented poet. He shared with me one of his catchy poems while I was visiting with him this summer. His house in situated in a densely wooded area in Rochester, N.Y. After sighting a slew of animals around his property, I asked him how I was to refer to a group of woodchucks. Several of them were playing in his yard. He pulled out the poem and rambled through a litany of strange words I had never heard. (And I grew up with animals.)

It was a delightful play on the singular and plural names of animals and animal groups. It was intriguing, whimsical, educational and confounding all at once. (His poem is available at the end of this blog post).

After reading his poem, you won’t confuse a flock of geese with a herd of moose. You’ll never shriek at the sight of a lone mouse in your house, but you might if you see its sisters and its brothers more than once, or twice, or thrice. In that case, it’s mice. You’ll never again say you saw a flock of gooses fly over some dark, furry mooses. Just read Steve’s poem once, and you’ll be the pride of your grade-school grammar teacher and you’ll have a new appreciation for irregular plurals.

———————

When I moved to Colorado at age 28, I soon started many back-country forays, to explore terrain, get a feel for my new environment and capture nature & landscape photos. It wasn’t long before I encountered my first moose. Singular, in this instance.

My dad was with me. This was appropriate and fortunate for me, as his foremost duty as a father was to protect his children from bodily harm. I think I reminded him of this calling as I jumped into his arms when I saw my very first monster moose. They weren’t lying — he was BIG! Even worse, he was loose, and he was very close. I felt like I had just seen my first dinosaur.

We were in the town of Gould, Colorado, in North Park. This was near where wildlife officials first introduced moose to Colorado in 1978. The few breeding pairs that ventured off into the wild that year, and several more pairs the following year, have now blossomed into a population approaching 2,000. Needless to say, Colorado suits them well and they are here to stay. Their proliferation is due to amenable habitats and the lack of predators.

After seeing the tall beast in the creek, and apologizing to my dad for acting like a wuss, I ventured into town to the local saloon, where I asked some burly locals about our state’s new inhabitants, while sipping some nerve-soothing whiskey. That’s when I learned about the wildlife transplant program.

The moose have indeed propagated and migrated around the state. I started seeing them near Vail in the past decade or so. I recall a very unusual photo in the Vail Daily in the early 90s. It showed a moose strolling around the Lionshead parking structure, lost, trapped in a maze of cars and concrete, ramps and stairways. The poor thing. What a bad dream. I know how much I hate parking garages, so imagine this bull’s dismay? The image was so surreal, so bizarre, I expected to see ping-pong balls all over the pavement.

Since then I have seen moose a few times while camping in the Upper Piney River Basin. One memorable sighting was on a chilly, clear morning, as the sun broke over the jagged Gore Range and reflected across a large pond in a marshy area near the river. It pays to get out of the tent early — that’s when you see magical things in nature. Photographers know this. And sure enough, that was the case on this September morning.

Off in the distance, on the edge of the pond, I saw three moose wading knee-high in the water, munching on the weeds and reeds in the golden morning light. It was a wonderful sight. I didn’t have my camera (major faux-pas), but I did have binoculars. I still recall the shimmering drops of water dripping from their dewlaps.

———————

In August 2011, my brother and I hiked down to a river connecting Shadow Mountain Lake and Lake Granby in Grand County. He was looking for a spot to fly fish. As we passed through a parking area, a man emerged from the willows, and startled us with his sudden and unusual appearance.

The guy was wearing fishing waders and sporting other fishing apparel and gear, but you could barely tell. He was frantic, exhausted, beside himself and quite flustered. Most of all, he was covered with mud from head to rubber-covered toe.

“Are you OK,?” we asked, as he headed toward his truck.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, I guess. A little worn out.”

My brother was giggling under his breath and smirking.

I couldn’t resist: “And a little muddied up, eh? That must have been one BIG fish out there, wherever you just came from.”

“Oh… no… had nothing to do with any fish,” he explained. “I just ran, stumbled, fell, slithered in, slopped around in, ran through and fell again into a few muddy areas along the river. It felt like Basic Training in the military all over again.”

“I guess that’s great exercise, but I try never to do such a thing while fishing. It shakes up my beer,” quipped my smart-ass brother.

“Ha. Ha,” said the man. “You’d do it if you saw a moose as big as I just saw coming full-bore at you along the river’s edge. I’m lucky mud is the only thing I have all over me. I’ve never run so fast in my life.”

“Oh,” said my brother. “My apologies. Forget the beer joke. In fact, nobody deserves one more than you do, my friend. Here’s a cold one. Good to see you in one piece. Oh…by the way, how’s the fishing back in there?”

———————

After moving back to Vail recently, I quickly learned that the moose make regular cameo appearances in the area, even in town. A Vail Daily photo showed two moose calves trotting down a paved road in Lionshead, right past the police station! No tickets were issued and they escaped back into the woods.

 

I spotted these calves the day before, while driving at dusk on the dirt road on Vail Mountain.

They were scruffy-furred, clumsy, playful and entertaining–vastly different from their adult counterparts, who tend to be all-business. These youngsters reminded me of our poster-boy for moose, Captain Kangaroo’s “Mr. Moose” — fuzzy, funny, and relatively harmless (except for the ping-pong balls.)

The photos on this blog post were shot in August, as my friend Karen and I approached a favorite camping spot near 10,500 feet in the White River National Forest, north of Vail. These two big boys were waiting for us, and took up evening residence within 50 yards of our tent site. Karen didn’t plan on partying with neighbors like these.

I had just enough time before darkness fell to grab my tripod, position myself safely on a slope above them, and get these images.

We saw one of them the next evening near the same location, as we drove back to camp after a peaceful hike along Piney Lake in late afternoon. Earlier, as we followed the lake-shore trail toward Piney River Ranch, we heard a rustling behind and above us on the slope. The sound abruptly ceased, and we spied two moose–a mother and her calf–in a frozen standstill, staring intently at us. Funny…we were in the same deadpan, motionless position. All parties were in a state of surprise at the unplanned encounter. But after a few more seconds, they determined that we were not a threat, and trotted down the hill to the lake to eat.

Karen and I sat down on the grass and were treated to a delightful 20-minute nature movie, starring mamma moose and her young calf feeding on the vegetation in the lake. The little one was watching her mother intently, following her every move, staying close for protection, and trying her best to learn the tricks of the moose trade. The golden sun cast a sensational light on them — their dark brown coats gleaming against the variations of green in the weeds, willow bushes, water and trees.

They could have cared less about us. It’s obvious these large animals are getting use to people. Just like the elk. I regularly had multiple elk grazing and resting just feet from my deck in Evergreen, Colorado. (See my blogs on “elk.”)

Since moving to Colorado, I have seen more elk than I ever wished for. Their numbers are growing exponentially, also because of the lack of predators. They are a nuisance in many areas, causing a number of problems. So moose have provided me a welcomed diversion. For a few more years anyway, they will be a pleasant, unusual surprise in the wildlife-encounter experience.

Many Colorado folks worry the same thing will happen to the moose as has happened to the elk. Fast-growing populations and negative impacts. Balanced ecosystems depend on the presence of all players. The lack of grizzly bears and wolves in Colorado means these hooved animals have a command of the land. Hunters are their only threat.

Moose are an intriguing addition to the wildlife landscape here. They represent yet another reason to keep looking over your shoulder when you wander in the national forest. If only I can get past my ingrained tendency to wince, cringe and cower while I wait for the falling ping-pong balls.

Here’s to Bob Keeshan!

_______________

Collective Chain

by Stephen Schickler

"That's an exaltation of starlings" was my remark.
She googled collectives
found chatterings and murmurations for this volery in the park.
but exaltation is an ascencion of larks!
"sorry, not starlings my darling."
A fall of woodcocks and peckers descent!
  Kittens are a litter, a kindle, a kendle of cats
they grow to become a glaring, nuisance, a clowder a clutter
a pounce, dout, destruction to a plague of rats!
a mischief, swarm, colony, horde or pack
that often become a picnic, a snack....to an aerie, cast, kettle
of hawks on attack.
The fields are full of dissimulations
 of birds
like crocs in congregation.
An unkindness of ravens might bite off 
one's nose.
like a storytelling, or murder of crows.
  I wonder..how many bobolinks 
are in a chain?
What charms of finches do in the rain?
Do they covey like grouse 
or just brood like chickens,
Sounder of boar or form flights like pigeons?
  When flushed... a bouquet is all pheasant
and to a nye on the ground...
under glass is unpleasant.
  The swans are a wedge 
as they fly in a "V"
but smack of jelly fish float in the sea.
  Does it take a siege of herons
to catch a glint of goldfish?
  Is a prickle of hedgehogs
a lead of foxes dinner dish?
  A warren, leash
a husk, down, trace
a trip of hares and a shrewdness of apes.
  Common are the herd of antelope, deer,
horses and llamas too
maybe even chinchillas and mobs of emus.
  But what are the chances?
that a sowse of lions...like a pride..
not on booze.
catches and downs 
an implausibility of gnus????
hmmmm pretty good.

Enriched by Traci
In the hills of Cortland County.
Quick, left and lean,
and so sweet to me.

____________________________________

All photos and artwork included in 
this Web site, unless specified differently, 
are copyright-protected and the exclusive property of Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer. No downloading, use, reproduction, manipulation, sale and/or distribution permitted without express written consent.

© Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer

Shrine Ridge Trail – Vail Pass, Colorado

August 9, 2012 By Eric Schickler

 

 

 

All photos and artwork included in this Web site are copyright-protected and the exclusive property of Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer. No downloading, use, reproduction, manipulation, sale and/or distribution permitted without express written consent.

© Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer

 

Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula – Part 7 of 7 – Impact of an Eco-resort, “Au Revoir” and “Mucho Gusto.”

November 21, 2011 By Eric Schickler

Editor’s Note: This is the FINAL excerpt from Eric Schickler’s full-length travelogue, “Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula.”

 

Part of the Community

Iguana Lodge sponsors “Save the Osa Turtle Project,” which offers financial, technical and educational support for sea turtle conservation operations on the beaches. Four species of turtles are affected.
They also have ongoing tree and flower planting programs along the beach to attract more wildlife. The Lodge also serves as a dedicated employer of Costa Ricans only. Nearly all 30 employees at the Iguana Lodge are from Puerto Jimenez, and most either walk or ride to work on bicycles.
Employees are practically considered family at Iguana Lodge, and this leads to long-term employment and close relationships.As if that weren’t enough, one of the owners regularly drives a heavy-duty grader on the area roads to help with their maintenance.
__________________________
Mucho Gusto and Au Revoir
Leaving the resort was difficult. Life was simple here. I liked the slow pace. The friendliness. The natural harmony. The wildlife. The Honor Bar. We made special friends here, by sharing special experiences in a special place. It was indeed a total psychological escape to a seemingly lost tropical paradise.
We wanted to stay forever, or at least longer than just one week. I knew we’d likely return for a few more visits, to further explore this country’s vast natural resources and diverse people. We knew this was a teasing first glimpse of a very small slice of Costa Rica’s full fruit pie.
The intense humidity was the only difficult factor we experienced. I’m sure the rainy season would also be challenging, if you lived here year-round. We were, after all, cool, dry-air mountain people from Colorado, which is a great home if you enjoy an active outdoor lifestyle and four distinct seasons. Everything experienced here was splendid, enriching, intoxicating. It would forever be on the mental and emotional radar screen.
On the way through the lounge area, we came across a capsulizing sight. Pura Vida meant “peace, harmony, family, letting go.”  And the Tico tradition of avoiding conflict. So it only made sense we’d see this……

As Ana and I stuffed our minimal belongings into our backpacks, I reached for my hiking shoes and yelped! Out crawled a Halloween Crab. It seemed he was trying to catch a ride to Denver. Perhaps he was needing an exotic vacation in another land, like we had just experienced here. Or maybe he needed a break from the humidity.
I knew he’d be better off here (the sand is much more porous), and he was not meant to become a souvenir. I figured the next guests in our casita would love this little guy as a shower mate, so that’s where I left him.

It won’t be long. For who could stay away from such a Pure Life?

*****

Eric R. Schickler is a Colorado-based writer and photographer.

_________________________

© Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer

All photography, text and artwork seen here is copyright-protected and the exclusive property of Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer.  No downloading, use, reproduction, manipulation, sale and/or distribution permitted without express written consent.

Photo Credits:  Eric Schickler, Ana Bowie, www.costarica.com and www.wildernesstravel.com

 

Factual Reference Resources

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Costa_Rica

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_colonization_of_the_Americas

http://www.costarica.com/

http://www.entercostarica.com/Costa_Rica/Culture/History.html

http://www.anywherecostarica.com/maps

The International Human Development Index

hdrstatshttp://hdr.undp.org/en/humandev/

 

 

Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula – Part 6 – Boating the Gulf, Wildlife Sanctuary, Zip Line Thrills, Tropical Weather

November 4, 2011 By Eric Schickler

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Eric Schickler’s full-length travelogue, “Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula.”

 

The next day we arranged for a day-long boat tour around the entire gulf. This was a welcomed, relaxing, non-life-threatening follow-up to Tarzan Day.

We cruised along the shoreline of the Piedras Blancas National Park, a recent addition to the country’s park system. Much of this reserve’s acreage has been recovered from private ownership and saved from years of logging activity. It features tropical cloud forests, rugged mountains and two large rivers.

 

It is an important addition because it protects the remaining lowland tropical rainforest near the Golfo Dulce, habitat that harbors many undiscovered plant and animal species. Therefore, research activity is ongoing in the park.

Piedras Blancas National Park features pristine beaches, several types of rare trees, and all five species of cats — the jaguar, ocelot, puma, margay and jaguarundi. Don’t plan on spying one, though; they are very evasive and nocturnal.

One notable tree species is called the Tiger Tree. It has many vertical crevices and creases, resembling tiger stripes. This very hard wood is popular for use in homes, buildings and furniture, especially as ornamental columns and posts. We noticed this amazing wood in several buildings while in Costa Rica.

Mangroves and estuaries along the gulf are full of wildlife. You can explore these ecosystems by small boats, canoes or kayaks and see river otters, crocodiles, monkeys, sloths, birds and waterfowl. Coral reefs also offer sensational snorkeling.

The park is considered one of the best bird watching areas in Costa Rica. But be sure to keep an eye on where you step — snakes and frogs are abundant as well.

Our boat made just one stop on shore, at Rio Esquinas, home of the Osa Wildlife Sanctuary. It is here that orphaned and injured animals from the region are cared for until subsequent re-introduction to their habitats.

Because the animals are injured and temporarily in contact with their caregiving humans, some can be handled and petted by visitors.

Ana was allowed to play with a squirrel monkey, cuddle with a rare three-toed sloth and interact with an anteater.

Back on the boat, we headed north to the far end of the gulf, where the waters are so calm, waveless, and clear you could see fish deep down below the surface. We snorkeled in the reefs briefly, then re-boarded to cruise slowly along the shore, looking for birds and marine life.

We spotted frigate birds high above, patrolling the waters for fish. Then a sea turtle just off the side of the boat. On the other side, a large manta ray floated just beneath the surface. Blue-footed boobies perched on floating tree limbs.

Flying fish rode shotgun alongside us as we gained speed to head back to the Iguana Lodge, some 20 miles down the gulf toward the Pacific.

Then the spinner dolphins joined in our high-speed race atop the sparkling waters—bouncing, weaving, jumping and, rightly so—spinning.

We stopped briefly so Ana could jump in the water and ride the boogie-board on a tow-rope behind the boat. Our guide billed this as “swimming with the dolphins.”

Sure enough, after just a few seconds the dolphins found her, swam alongside, dipped below her and tickled her toes. It was quite the aquatic dance. Ana wore a scuba facemask, allowing her to watch them weaving below the surface.

By late afternoon we were eager to escape the hot, bright sun. The cool, shady hideaway known as the Iguana Lodge awaited our return. We retreated from the beach, disappearing into our tropical refuge, tucked like a sinful secret in the jungle foliage.

As the sun set over the Pacific, the aroma of fresh grilled fish and burning candles infiltrated our senses. We reflected on our rather comprehensive tour around this scenic gulf, and now had a much better understanding of the space we were in. So remote, so pristine, so secluded, so peaceful and unspoiled. So ruled by its natural inhabitants. We felt very fortunate to have caught a passing glance at one moment in time.

Once again, it was “Pura Vida.”

We fell asleep so peacefully that night to the sounds of gentle breezes and receding ocean waves, breathing an intoxicating mix of fragrances from the plants and flowers growing all around us outside our open-air casita.

Storms rumbled overnight. Rain and thunder and some lightning awakened us. Cool breezes belied our tropical locale. It was to be the last touch of temperate weather, before the late April heat and humidity crept in. We would soon learn what tropical weather was really like.

Morning brought a hazy humidity. The sun emerged to begin its work on the airborne moisture from last night’s storm. I smelled Costa Rican coffee and mango.

(Photographer unknown)

Morning in Costa Rica. Morning on the Osa Peninsula. Morning on Golfo Dulce. Butterflies everywhere. Birds everywhere. Sounds everywhere. Fragrances everywhere. This place was magical.

Zip It

We enjoyed breakfast under stable skies, but learned that the rain was to resume for most of the day—not surprising as the rainy season was just two weeks away.

But the forecast was not great news, as were heading into the mountains today for some thrilling zip-line action along the tree canopy, near Miramar. Our guide and zip-line expert, Jacobo, told us that traveling to higher elevations was an advantage on a day like this.

It was fascinating how elevation affected precipitation behaviors in tropical climates. There were parallels to what we experience at varying elevations in Colorado. In April, and sometimes even in May, if it’s raining at 5,280 feet in Denver, it’s usually snowing in the foothills or mountains, elevations that are anywhere from 2,000 to 9,000 feet higher. It’s colder and often dryer the higher you go.

In southern Costa Rica, the lower elevations have tropical rain forests. But in the high mountains of this tropical zone, the biome you find is called the cloud forest. Because it is much cooler at these elevations, rain does not fall. Instead, the vegetation absorbs moisture directly from the clouds, which engulf the mountaintops.

As we maneuvered up the mountain on extremely muddy roads in our four-wheel-drive vehicle, the rain slowly dissipated, the air became cooler, and we soon found ourselves in the clouds! Alrighty then, let the zip-line fun begin!

This was a new adventure for us both. It paralleled my tree-jump & rappel adventure in that, once again, I wanted to yodel like Tarzan.

Stopping in time to land properly on the tree platform was tricky. I nearly hit the tree on my first landing. Reminded me of the crash-test dummy thing in car tests. I learned really fast how to better use the brake by the second ride. We definitely felt like circus trapeze artists. One platform was 105 feet off the ground.

(Photographer unknown)

We zipped along on several different lines, totaling 2000 feet in length. It most certainly gave you the feeling of being a jungle animal or bird—dipping, rising and soaring at high speeds above and through the dense forest canopy.

(Photographer unknown)

If that wasn’t enough, we spotted several howler monkeys, a friendly sloth and a colorful toucan in the trees nearby.

Thinking our day of adventure was done, we all loaded back onto the two trucks for the long ride back to Iguana Lodge. That was when the fun really began. Both trucks slipped and struggled on the muddy road, one obviously carrying a few too many passengers to make it up the one hill we encountered before beginning our ascent to the valley below.

We watched in shock as the top-heavy vehicle slid sideways, then listed to one side as it slipped into the drainage ditch along the road. It was close to rolling over!

The driver spun the tires, but to no avail. Now the vehicle started sliding slowly backwards–down the hill towards our vehicle! Our shock turned to alarm. With everyone in our vehicle preparing to jump from the truck before we got rammed, their driver brought the truck to a halt.

He exited the truck, stepping down into the slippery mud, and with a matter-of-fact nod to our driver, uttered one word: “Chains?”

“Yes. Time for chains,” was the reply.

Strapping tire chains on two vehicles in sloppy mud didn’t look like fun, and I’m thankful they didn’t enlist our help. We were doing just fine enjoying cold beer on the back of the truck. In short order the chains were on and they did the trick. Our drivers got us out and safely down the mountain.

Will the Osa adventure ever cease?

 

“Did You Forget How Close You Are to the Equator?”

After a few very comfortable April days, with cooling storms at night, and some daytime cloud cover, we met Central American reality on the fourth day.

Now came clear skies, increasing heat and much higher humidity. Our active pace was about to slow down.

After 20 years in Colorado’s cool, dry climate, I had lost all memory of what muggy weather was. My only experience with humidity was in areas of the United States, and during a single trip to Cancun, Mexico, 18 years earlier.

This was a new experience. Afternoon humidity became almost unbearable on a few days on the Osa Peninsula. Even lying in a hammock in the shade was uncomfortable.

I started to think we should alter our daily schedules–get up earlier, stay up later, and save the middle part for siesta. A wise adjustment. Now I understood one of the reasons for “Tico time.”

Another way to beat the sultry afternoons was with a long cool shower. Our casita had a wonderful open-air bathroom & garden shower, featuring a five-foot privacy wall, over which was a clear view of the jungle. It had large built-in gardens with exotic plants and colorful growing flowers–succulents, bromeliads, orchids.

You could hear and see the birds, feel the breeze and smell the fragrant forest. I felt as if I were starring in a TV commercial for Herbal Essence shampoo. It was also not unusual to have a vibrant Halloween Crab, or bright green gecko hanging out in the shower looking for a free fresh-water rinse. I frankly didn’t want to leave the cool shower on those hot afternoons.

Nights were pleasant for sleeping, and our active days of adventure tired us so that we were dreaming about papayas by 10 p.m. Which was good, because around 4:30 a.m. the howler monkeys and macaws would start.

Even when the hot humid days hit, by midnight it was comfortable and the large ceiling fans were the perfect touch. When the tide came in during the night, the roar of the waves, just 200 yards away, would often wake us. But who could ever complain about the rhythmic crash of ocean waves, even at 2 a.m.? It was another example of nature’s music on the Osa Peninsula.

Gosh…. “Pura Vida” happens even at night.

 

To continue the travelogue, click here to go to Part 7:

http://adventurephotographer.us/costa-ricas-osa-peninsula-part-7/

___________________________________________________

© Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer

All photography, text and artwork seen here is copyright-protected and the exclusive property of Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer. No downloading, use, reproduction, manipulation, sale and/or distribution permitted without express written consent.

 

Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula – Part 3 – Iguana Lodge

June 20, 2011 By Eric Schickler

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Eric Schickler’s full-length travelogue, “Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula”

_______________

Iguana Lodge

Pura Vida was on our minds when our driver found the hidden gem named Iguana Lodge, an eco-resort operated ironically by two former trial attorneys from Colorado, where we live.  Nestled contently in the tropical rainforest, just a few hundred yards from the beaches of Golfo Dulce, the small lodge fosters a tranquil, sedate, relaxed feeling. It is an isolated and private oasis where no oasis is even needed—in the middle of a massive tropical paradise.

Our home for the next week was situated just a few hundred feet off the finest beach on the Osa, Playa Platanares (locals call it “Playa Preciosa”).

My friend and traveling companion, Ana, and I were greeted with mango daiquiris and another “Pura Vida,” this time from someone in a colorful sarong with a warm smile and fresh flowers, and much better looking than the burly judge-and-jury, baggage-weighing pilot.

“I am Maureen. Welcome to Iguana Lodge.”

“We are so happy to be here,” said Ana.

“Mucho gusto,” was the reply from our greeter. (“With much pleasure!” – “My pleasure” – “Thank you.”)

We got a quick tour of the quaint resort, checked into our casita, unpacked our 27-lb. backpacks (a five-minute task), and giggled about where we were. I looked at Ana and squealed, “Let’s go!”

Like two five-year-olds bolting from the classroom on the final day of school, we scooted 200 yards down a shaded, meticulously manicured path.

It was a living corridor of plants, flowers and all kinds of broad-leaf trees. Before we could say Robinson Crusoe, we emerged from our tunnel and onto the beach. A very deserted beach.

The hectic pace of the travel day had just melted away. With our minds and bodies at ease, our seaside jungle experience was underway. It was just one hour after our plane landed on the Osa, and “Pura Vida” had already sunk in.

We explored the beach for hours, unwinding more with every step.

We came upon a river outlet, and walked inland slightly to explore. Beyond the tree line was an enticing lagoon, but its sole proprietor greeted us as we approached. A  large caiman, looking for lunch! We moved back toward the gulf rather quickly, hoping to extend our vacation beyond the first two hours. Now we knew why they highly recommend using guides whenever you venture off into the jungle. The beach would be just fine for now.

Back near the lodge, we found the secret trail, dipped back into the dense wall of trees, and it was Garden of Eden time.

The warm humid breeze gently tossed the palm fronds and supple plants to and fro, creating a kaleidoscope scattering of soft light.

Butterflies and birds of all colors and sizes danced on the dense air. Reptiles slithered in the ground cover. Monkeys rattled the branches above us. A large iguana crawled slowly along a tree branch, munching away at the foliage.

A brightly colored waterbird sipped from the lodge’s stone fountain, which was surrounded by a garden of vibrant flowers, including the unmistakable bird of paradise.

All this tropical adventure and sensory overload was making us hungry. We geared up for one of the resort’s most talked-about features–its food. Iguana Lodge offers outstanding international cuisine and local fare. The creative meals feature fresh, healthy ingredients, and the cuisine has attracted rave reviews, ranking among the best in all of Costa Rica.

The breakfasts featured incomparable Costa Rican coffees, considered some of the richest, most aromatic and most flavorful on Earth. Then came our Adam & Eve experience. A giant tray was brought out from the kitchen, loaded with a cavalcade of local fruit treasures: fresh cut mangoes, papayas, melons, pineapples and bananas.
Next came entrees like eggs benedict, huevos rancheros with rice & beans, and banana crepes. And finally, the sinful homemade pastries. Then more delicious coffee.

Later in the week, before leaving the country, we would take a tour of the Cafe Britt Factory that produced this fine coffee in Heredia, just north of San Jose. 

 

 

We were treated to educational, humorous and theatrical presentations that took our knowledge of coffee to a new slow-roasted level. This tour has become one of the country’s most popular.

We learned the history of coffee, the growing and harvesting processes, how it is manufactured and the best way to brew and drink it. We also enjoyed complimentary coffee the entire time we were there. Despite the tour’s three-hour duration, I can’t recall one person getting sleepy.

This was not your average dining experience at the lodge.

Breakfast was enjoyed on the outside verandas, where just feet away tropical birds rustled about in the rain forest canopy, emitting so many varieties of songs and chirps and whistles you felt a symphony was warming up in the distance.

A male mantled howler monkey broke the morning calm with its baritone roars, causing more than a few startled guests to spill their treasured coffee. If these animals don’t remind you that you’re in the jungle, nothing will. They are found in great numbers in Costa Rica, and are best known for their resounding howls, audible for a half-mile or more. They are very vocal at dusk and dawn and, like dogs, will also howl at thunder, planes and humans.

After the howler settled down and the fresh fruit and pancakes arrived at our table, the serenity was again shattered, this time by the Osa Peninsula “Air Patrol,” approaching from up the beach.

The raucous, inescapable signature squawks, coming from two large scarlet macaws, startled us as much as the howler monkey.

We always knew when they were cruising the tree line near the beach, and we knew when they had passed by. Reminded me of an ambulance with its siren blazing—impossible to ignore. They are often seen in pairs “patrolling” the beaches, landing in the very tall almond trees and enjoying their fine bounties.

They are quiet when feeding in the treetops, are very difficult to get near and rarely, if ever, come down low in the canopy.

The Iguana Lodge Resort was situated around a main lodge called “Rancho Grande.”  It is a two-level, open-air building that looks as if it grew from the forest floor, with native hardwoods, ornamental woods, bamboo trim, and a towering thatched roof.

Its large open kitchen was always bustling with activity; cooks meticulously cutting up the fresh fruits and vegetables that were brought in daily. The upper-level great room was used for quiet relaxation, happy hours and gourmet dinners. A large cooler was stocked with juices, champagne, wine and beer, and was a popular place to visit.

Guests simply recorded what they consumed on the “Honor Bar” Drink Register. At week’s end you pay a lump sum for your total. The running joke all week among the guests was betting on which couple would have the most painful bar tab.

We stayed in one of just a handful of cozy two-story casitas (or cabinas), set on pillars and nestled in the dense forest.

The casitas’ decks had inviting cushioned bamboo furniture and a relaxing hammock, shaded under flowering tropical plants and trees.

Inside was a large and luxurious mosquito-netted bed, screened walls, and artistically designed “garden bathrooms” with semi-open outdoor showers. We discovered rather quickly and happily that insects and mosquitoes were quite scarce.

But somehow an occasional tree frog, crab or gecko would sneak in to visit. We found out why the next morning. The resident cats stay busy all day chasing the geckos along the resort’s trails, an entertaining side show for us while we’d swing lazily in the hammock during afternoon siesta.

The resort does have electricity, but a portion of the power reserves are from sun-powered generators. Most of the lighting at night is with candles. This creates quite the ambiance.

New amenities added recently have brought a touch of luxury and culture to the resort. Guests can now exercise in a 65-foot lap pool, frolic in a jacuzzi, hit either of two salsa dance & yoga studios, kick back for some peaceful reading in the library and browse in the art gallery.

After experiencing guided outdoor adventures and activities during the day throughout the peninsula, guests gathered at dark (about 6 p.m. year-round due to our proximity to the Equator).

Guests who caught fish on deep-sea fishing excursions often added their catches to the culinary mix, so every night was a different seafood surprise.

The atmosphere at dinner was totally “Gilligan’s Island,” inherent in both the people present and the interior atmosphere of the lodge. In places like this, you can always spot  “Marianne,”  “The Professor,” a “Ginger” or two, “The Skipper,” a “Mr. & Mrs. Howell,” and of course, “Gilligan.”

Nightfall coincided with dinner. All of the resort’s 24 guests gathered around four long tables, which were arranged in a large square formation. A high number of candles ringed the tables, and represented the primary source of light. It created a rich, warm, comfortable atmosphere, spawning robust conversation.

Stories that started at happy hour continued through dinner. So many colorful anecdotes of the day’s adventures at sea, in the trees, on the beach, in boats, on kayaks, on ropes and or on horses–many becoming more embellished as the wine flowed.

Each night we sat next to different guests, so by week’s end we had become acquainted with nearly every cast member from Gilligan’s Island.

______________________________

To continue the travelogue, click here to go to Part 4

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All photography, text and artwork seen here is copyright-protected and the exclusive property of Eric Schickler Adventure Photographer.  No downloading, use, reproduction, manipulation, sale and/or distribution permitted without express written consent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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