I'm back. Writer's block can be such a cruel curse. Anyhoot, as we rolled up to the Costa Rican border we kind of wound our way around a couple of very large buses. I didn't pay much attention to them, but I should've. We parked the bikes in front of the empty immigration office. As we casually brushed aside the half-motivated tramitadors, Linda decided to take a little bathroom break. In the time it took her to get back the buses disgorged hundreds upon hundreds of lost souls seeking to enter Costa Rica. So what would have taken me 20 minutes turned into a mindnumbing 2 hour border process of standing in one line after another. It cost 5,650 colones ($19) for each motorcycle for one month. The fee doubled if you wanted to bring the vehicle in for 3 months. Aside from waiting in line it was a very casual border experience. For us it was a crowning achievement to make it to Costa Rica. This has always been our foremost destination. Mainly because Linda's brother and sister live here. And they both have little baby girls. Linda has yet to meet her 8 month old niece in San Jose. So we were pretty excited to visit with some family. Our first stop was to visit Brother-in-law Larry, his wife Kattia and their new baby, Emily in San Jose. But it was getting late so we elected to take a little side trip to Playa del Coco on the Pacific ocean.

My first concern when driving in Costa Rica is all the police with those pesky radar guns. It's almost as bad as the States and from what I hear almost as expensive too. Come to think of it, one of the most rewarding things a motorcyclist can do is to ride in Latin America. There are none of those anal retentive rules that you have to follow back home. Here anything goes. You can use sidewalks, emergency lanes, actually anything paved or unpaved, for that matter. It's wonderfully liberating. The way I look at it, it is basically a reward for risking life and limb by riding a motorcycle in the chaotic traffic. And the drivers down here are 1000% better than those back home too. In America everybody drives with liability on their minds, first and foremost, and then they may think about safety and traffic flow and other inconsequential things like that. They are, in my opinion, the most beligerent drivers in the world. God forbid if you happen to split a lane (California excluded) and pass a car or truck in heavy traffic. I've had people open their doors, swerve to block my path, throw things at me and yell not very nice things. Here, when a motorcycle splits a lane to get to the front of a light or passes in between cars, it's just the natural order of things. No big deal. We're smaller and can fit in smaller places. The same holds true when cars pass us. They only give us as much room as we need. So we are constantly in close proximity with cars all the time. But the big difference is that, here, they are consciencious and not vindictive like those big bullies in their SUV's back home (I know I shouldn't always pick on the SUV's all the time. I happen to have an 88 GMC Jimmy - but it gets 26 mpg and is tiny compared to today's models). Come on people, can't you just accept the fact that if someone is on a motorcycle they're probably going to get to where their going faster than you, so just let it happen...but I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, Costa Rica.

We cruised along at the posted speed limits, usually 80 to 90 kilometers an hour until we reached Liberia. A town that has grown exponentially since I was here 3 years ago. This town is the jumping off point to such cool locales as the Pacific ocean, Volcano Arenal and the Cloud Forest of Monteverde. But we were just coming to use the ATM machines. A luxury sorely missed since the States. All the other countries had ATM's but none of them worked. But that's another big difference between Costa Rica and the rest of Central America. Aside from the crappy roads, the infrastructure here has been nurtured by a society that hasn't had a standing army for over 40 years. It makes you wonder why the roads are so bad. More likely than not, it's because the government here is just as corrupt as all the Latin American governments. The politicions down here are not just power hungry they are also money hungry. They just skim a little leche off the cafe, if you know what I mean. It makes me try to visualize what America would do if we didn't have a standing army. Assuming that Canada wouldn't immediately attack, what would we do with all the money? First off the Republicans would want to eliminate all taxes and rebate all taxes paid in the past, with compounded interest. That way they could build bigger homes with state of the art security systems to keep the dregs of society at bay. Then the Democrats would want to provide an extensive welfare system that would effectively remove all motivation to work or improve oneself. We would become a nation of reclusive Republicans tucked safely away in their 8,000 square foot fortresses and Jerry Springer watching, ding-dong eating Democrats; all the while the national fabric of our country would rapidly unravel. So let's just give thanks that we spend $6 trillion a year on the military! Without them we'd be lost...but I digress. Where was I, oh yeah Liberia.

We collected some cash and steamed towards the Pacific Ocean and Playa del Coco. The first thing we noticed about the area was that all the billboards were in English and there were oodles of gringos behind the wheel of a fleet of rental cars. By the time we got to the tiny little hamlet we were ready for a little R&R. It found us immediately in the form of a French ex-pat who pulled up in his Suzuki Samari and asked if we wanted a place to stay, on the beach, for $15 per night. We bit and within a half hour we were unpacked and walking along the beautiful bay towards town to buy some dinner food and call Larry. As Linda went to look in the markets and call her brother, I hit the local watering hole for happy hour. I was mildly astounded by the sheer number of American and Canadian retirees flocking to the bar. They were everywhere drinking liberally, laughing hysterically and looking very relaxed. From the few that I talked to, they had all bought houses and are spending their golden years in a whirlwind of drinking, fishing, sailing and what not, not necessarily in that order. These cool cats know where it's at. By the time Linda came back we ran into our Nicaraguan ferry friend from Mexico, Luis. He just got off the bus so we invited him back to our place for a little home cooked Italian meal, complete with Chilean wine, at the 4 room hotel owned by a French Playboy, that fronts the Pacific Ocean in Costa Rica. The only thing missing were the Germans, oops I spoke to soon, there were two German girls staying at the hotel too. We ate, we talked, we drank wine and had a wonderful time. I rode Luis back to his budget accomodation back in town and together we threw back a few more Imperials (Costa Rican national beer). All in all a very international evening. Tomorrow we would look into one of the many Scuba shops in town and maybe go for a morning dive before we left for San Jose.

After doing extensive research we decided that the Scuba diving was too expensive and too regimented. The cost was $70 for a two tank dive and they wouldn't take us anywhere cool until we exhibited the capacity to float and breathe from compressed air to their liking. Apparantly they weren't very impressed by our recent certification as advanced scuba divers. So we elected to go for a walk along the beach and go for a half hour swim in the bay. We were packed up and on the road by 10:30 a.m. We headed down the Nicoya peninsula in a strong cross wind. The peninsula is a beautiful place with rolling hills and nicely paved roads. We had lunch in the town of Nicoya and were at the ferry terminal by 1:30 for the 30 minute ride accross Nicoya bay. The ferry was loaded with gringos heading back to San Jose in their 4 wheel drive rent-a-cars. When we all disembarked it was like the start of the Indianapolis 500. Everyone was racing through the dilapidated streets towards Central America's jugular vein, the Pan American Highway. By the time we hit the PAH we had passed all but a few of the racecar drivers. The narrow ribbon of uneven asphault was chocked with traffic. Large tractor trailers going 70 mph, tiny 3 cylinder Yugoslavian cars going 40 mph, whole families riding tiny mopeds going 20 mph and numerous cops brandishing radar guns all competed for our attention. It was mayhem at its finest. We climbed the continental divide, picking off all who would challenge our position as top of the Pan American Highway food chain. The best thing about these tiny 650's is that they are light enough to scamper up any grade hill and nimble enough to maneuver in tight spaces. I could tell Linda was progressing to a true motorcyclist 'cause when we stopped for a Coca Cola break she said, "Boy was that an adrenilin rush or what!" That's my girl. We weaved our way through the maze that is San Jose's big city traffic as I was trying to remember how to get to Larry's house. The last time I was here was three years ago so my internal tracking system had to access some brain cells that had long since been archived or killed off. After a few wrong turns we had arrived. And wouldn't you know it - just 15 minutes later the whole family pulled into the driveway. It was a happy reunion and little Emily was as cute as a baby could be. We decided to stay in and order pizza that night since everybody was recovering from the flu. It was to be the beginning of a pesky bug that would haunt me for weeks.

The next day I awoke to an itchy nose and sore throat. It was the beginning of a nasty head cold. Oh well, not too bad because Larry had cable, 5 movie channels and 4 sports channels in all. If I had to be sick this was the place to be. So while Linda bonded with the baby I bonded with the remote. There was still the nasty business of washing all of our clothes. We hadn't done this in weeks and we didn't have a stitch of clothes that we hadn't worn at least twice. So we doubled up on TGH and off we sped in search of a self service laundry. We are trying to avoid the full service places because we always end up 'losing' a couple articles of clothing each time. We found one in San Pedro and after a couple of hours and $8 we were back home comfortably in front of the telly. I was feeling worse as the day wore on, but miraculously Linda was feeling fine. Females are such amazing specimens. They rarely ever get really sick, they can respond to various stimuli with both sides of their brains and can know everything there is to know about a person in 5 minutes. Us males on the other hand, when we get sick, we get really sick, we can only use one side of our brains at a time and I have acquaintences that I've known for years and all I know about them is the kind of beer they prefer and who their favorite teams are. By nightfall I was sick as a dog and getting ready to do some serious veging.

The next day Linda's sister Deanne and niece Indiana came into San Jose for a visit. Indiana is such a beautiful little girl and it was amazing to hear her switch from speaking Spanish to English with all the ease of changing a channel. The key to languages is definitely to learn it young. Indiana proves that the younger the better. There I was talking to Indiana when I came to the realization that my Spanish is only a little better than a bilingual 3 year old. It was with great humility that I realized that maybe I wouldn't become fluent on this trip.

For living such a rural life in Montezuma, Indiana certainly has acquired a taste for presents. She excitely accepted all the gifts we brought her even though she had no idea who the hell we were. The rest of the afternoon was filled with the excited chatter of the nieces playing with their new relatives and their gifts. The following day Linda's Dad arrived from Florida hauling with him 8 very large parcels of goods. How he was able to clear customs with such a bounty is beyond my comprehension. Once again Indiana was in heaven, trying on her new clothes and showing off for all who would look. The next day was Sunday, Indiana and Deanne headed back to Montezuma, Linda's Dad and Cheryl headed out to see the sights and Larry was about to commit the act that all new parents commit; The "Let's Pack Up the Baby and Try to Recreate the Spontenaity that We Once Posessed When We Were a Childless Couple" act. It's the same old theme just replayed with a different mission and a different locale but the end result is always the same...once you have that kid you can never return to your former life no matter how hard you try. In this case Larry wanted to take us on a 'quick' trip to a nearby volcano. It would just be a simple matter of getting Emily ready and we'd be off in no time. I don't even have a kid and already I knew that this would be mission impossible. But Larry was a man on a mission. He was bound and determined to have a nice Sunday afternoon outing. Well after 4 cramped hours in the car fighting San Jose traffic and a couple stops at a couple quaint towns we arrived at the volcano only to find that there was, you guessed it, zero visability and the park was closing in 15 minutes. Oh well the 2 hour commute home was a nice closer to the afternoon. I suppose it didn't help matters much that both Emily and I were feeling pretty horrible. The next couple of days were filled with me watching over 5 movies a day and drinking plenty of fluids while Linda typed up the Nicaragua journals and played with little Emily. It was actually a nice situation because when you're visiting a couple with a little baby you can't really do anything but kind of stare at the kid and if you're lucky, they'll stare back and say something like, "ogoobobooloo!" I was half paying attention to the baby and half watching some really bad movie that I watched the night before on Cinemax, waiting impatiently to feel better. I now know that it is a very good thing that we only have basic cable at home. Since we were able to use Larry's phone line we took care of some much needed internet surfing and e-mail composing and sending. By the end of the couple days of rest, my headcold had turned into a mild form of bronchitis that I just assumed would go away on its own. But I was feeling fine so we decided to take off for Montezuma and give Linda's sister Deanne and daughter Indiana (named after Indiana Jones) a visit.

Before leaving for Montezuma, Kattia and I had called for the ferry schedule from Puntarenas. We planned to take the 10:50 boat so we wanted to leave by about 8:00 to be safe. We got off about 8:15 and were fortunate to have good weather. We had been having pretty cold and rainy weather in San Jose every day other than the day we arrived, which was also a beautiful day. We took off through the morning traffic, sans panniers, getting the equivalent of the morning coffee caffeine rush from zig-zagging through the traffic. As we got out of town, the traffic thinned and we headed downhill to Puntarenas, where we had to catch a ferry across to the Southern Nicoya peninsula. We stopped for gas there and headed to the termninal. The ferry was loading as we arrived. Perfect timing I thought when I went up to purchase the tickets. When I returned, Jeff had been talking to some guy who said that this ferry was for a place called Narango, not Paquera like we wanted. Apparantly, when Kattia and I had called we had gotten the schedule for Naranjo, a town about 15 miles from Paquera. We opted not to wait on the 12:30 boat to Paquera, thinking we could ride 15 miles quicker anyway. After about an hour's peaceful boat trip, we were in Naranjo. While on board, we talked to a fellow motorcyclist whom informed us that the road we were about to take was terrible - unpaved. Marvy. My favorite. So, off the boat we rolled and headed down the rocky, dusty, twisty road. Since we had just filled up with gas, my tank was very full. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I didn't have a tube connected to the hole in my gas cap. Every bump caused gas to spray out of the cap and into my face. Ummm... I love the taste and smell of gas and the burning sensation in my eyes. I wasn't loving the road but it wasn't really as bad as our friend had told us. About two thirds of the way down the road, we spied a pool down below the road. A bit more down, was an entry road to the little resort. It was lunchtime and we were hungry so we decided to stop. It was a pretty little woodsy place on the water and had a big palapa covered restaurant. There was an older American guy there which we figured was the proprietor. We talked with him as he finished his lunch and then ordered. Wow, pricey menu. I had a bowl of soup and water and Jeff had chicken, rice, veggies and lemonade and the bill came to $14. They really have you cornered in these remote resorts where you can't buy your own food. Oh well. Back on the bikes we went for the final section of road. Another 7 or 8 kilometers and we were in Paquera. We had 43 kilometers to get to Montezuma and half was to be paved. We sped on down the pavement until we hit Tambor, where the pavement ends. This was to be my fourth visit to Montezuma and I remembered the road past Tambor as being pretty nasty but we were in luck. They had recently grated the road and although unpaved, it was very good. About 15 kilometers down the road is a town called Cobano. My sister actually lives midway between Cobano and Montezuma. We stopped there to visit Deanne's friend, Bill. Bill is one of the many entrepeneurial Canadians living in the area and Deanne bought property from him to build her house. So after a quick hello and a reminder on directions, we headed off to Deanne's house. The road that she lives on is made of clay and is unbelievably terrible during the rainy season. It was dry though and passable. It was pretty wild though. There were tire ruts in the hardpacked clay as deep as our footpegs and just wide enough to pass through without scraping the pegs. You had to be really careful because a slight lean to either side meant catching the peg and tossing you on your side. We were successful though. Finally we rolled down Deanne's similar driveway to find her, her friend Netty and Indiana shoeing horses. It was getting close to 4:00 and we were hot, dirty and tired and very happy to see my family. We unpacked our small backpacks and Jeff rode the bikes into the back of the house - which has an open air kitchen and patio.

After taking some time to relax in the hammocks that are strung on the porch, we went down to Netty's house to get a mattress for the bed frame that had just been built for our use. We were my sister's first over night visitor's since finishing the house. Netty is the caretaker of Jacob's house, another friend, who is from Denmark. He lives in a very cool three story house, also open air - as most houses down there are. Anyway, we hauled the mattress back on the roof of the car while Deanne took her newly shod horses back to the grazing pasture. Later that evening, we made some dinner at home. Deanne got a beeper message indicating that there were tourists that wanted to go horseback riding the next day (she has a horse business). We couldn't get the cell phone to work so we headed into Montezuma to get everything worked out and later went to visit Deanne's friend Jason, whom lives right on the beach. Around 10:00 we finally returned home to sleep to the sounds of the jungle.

While over at Jason's house the night before, Jeff had been informed that there was a golf course in Tambor, the town halfway to Paquera. Knowing that my Dad and Cheryl would be coming in at 1:30 that day, he "volunteered" to go play golf in the morning and then pick them up in Paquera. Deanne had also gotten Netty to guide the horse ride. However, she still got up at 5:00, rounded the horses up, brought them back to the house and brushed and saddled them. This usually takes about 3 hours. Meanwhile, Indiana and I were cleaning the house. Living in an open air house in the middle of the Costa Rican jungle invites all kinds of things in to dirty the house. Not to mention the fact that Deanne has 5 dogs, 3 cats, a squirrel that visits occasionally and about a dozen horses that can sometimes be found in the yard. What an awesome place for a kid! Anyway, it wasn't long before lunch time rolled around and shortly thereafter, Netty was back with the horses. That meant it was time to unsaddle, rinse down and feed the horses. Eventually they had to be moved back to the pasture as well. Right about the time Deanne was taking the horses back, Dad, Jeff and Cheryl showed up. Deanne had also just discovered that she had to hurry into Cobano by 3:00 because today was the last day she could take care of her vehicle emissions registration. She took off with the car and we all hung out talking and being entertained by Indiana, whom is ceaselessly entertaining.

Finally Deanne returned and we all climbed in the car and headed the 5 kilometers downhill to Montezuma to get Dad and Cheryl into their room. Deanne had found a house for them on the beach. We walked down the beach to find a beautifully landscaped pool and yard and what appeared to be a beautiful house. They were supposed to be staying in the cabina, which was a two story, wooden smaller house. It looked great from outside but inside was very rustic. In fact, it looked like the kind of place Jeff and I stay in except that they wanted $75 a night. I told Jeff I thought $20 was a fair price (and of course, on the high side of our accomodations budget). We were informed that he could stay at the big house for $100. We all went over to check it out and found it to be much, much nicer. Still not a $100 per night room except for that the pool, porch and barbeque were awesome and he would be right on the beach. Oh well. We all walked back to town to grab some dinner and went to a nice outdoor Italian restaurant. Jeff and I got the whole fish for two. It was the biggest fish I've ever seen, on a plate that is. After dinner we called it a night and Deanne, Jeff, Indiana and I headed home.

The next morning Deanne and Dad had to go into Cobano to visit the attorney to work out some complications with the land purchase. Meanwhile, Jeff, Indiana and I went over to the beach house to hang out with Cheryl at the pool and beach. We took Indiana swimming in the pool and she had an awesome time. I suppose we had a pretty good time too. Later, "Uncle Jeff" went body surfing while Indiana and I made sand castles. Ya know, a hard day. Deanne and Dad came back with sandwiches and then Deanne, Indiana and I headed into town to check out the road work being done on her road and driveway (remember the crummy road?) and then we were on a mission to buy fresh fish to cook out on our very cool grill. We returned later to find Cheryl and Jeff in a hot game of Scrabble. Jeff was pressing the rules, of course. We had an awesome dinner of grilled fish and lobster later. It made the 100 bucks a night all worth while. Or at least we thought so.

The next day we all planned to go horseback riding. Bright and early, Deanne headed off to get the horses. When she came back, I helped her brush the horses while she saddled them. Somehow, Uncle Jeff and Indiana got to sleep in. Anyway, the three of us drove into town while Deanne rode in with the horses to all meet at Dad's place. We went for our awesome four hour ride down the beautiful beaches of Montezuma. Midway, we stopped at a fresh water waterfall for swimming and some watermelon. I'm not sure about Cheryl and Dad, but we had an awesome time. We returned to the house for some more swimming with Indiana while Deanne rode the horses back. We agreed to meet up in town later for dinner as I needed to get back to Deanne's to help with getting the horses "showered" and fed. Somehow, Jeff and Indiana got to sleep in the hammock again. Hmmm... We decided that we would "go out" that night and left Indiana with Netty. We headed into town for dinner and afterwards Deanne, Jeff and I hit Chico's bar for some hot night life. We drank one or two beers and played a few games of foosball. Jeff and I danced to our song, Mambo #5, and then we headed home. Wow, we were surely living it up now.

Dad and Cheryl had to head back to San Jose the next morning. Jeff was planning to visit one of his old high school cross-country buddies, Kurt and his wife Amy who were spending their 10th anniversary in Punta Islita - a town about 40 miles away. So Deanne, Indiana and I headed off to take Dad and Cheryl to the airport. As we were headed to the airport for the 10:40 flight, we were stopped at a police check point. They wanted to see Deanne's driver's license, registration and vehicle emissions papers. No problem. She pulled everything out and the cop looked them over. Then he started writing her a ticket. What? He told us that her emissions test was out of date and that they shouldn't have given her the emissions sticker two days before. Apparantly, telling him that the mistake was not hers but the office's was not going over 'cause he gave it to her anyway. Meanwhile, it was 10:20 and we had 10 minutes to go. Dad was getting anxious in the back seat and was wondering if we could explain to the cop that he had a flight to catch. I tried explaining to him that cops in Central America don't give a rat's arse what your problem is. Apparantly, that didn't go over too well either. Finally, with all in a tizzy, we hurried off to the airport to find no plane and no ticket collector. We sat around for a half hour. Deanne decided to go and pay a visit to the house of the ticket guy. He informed her that the plane would be another half hour. So we waited. After an hour and a half, more people turned up and told us that what had really happened was that the plane had come an hour early and we had missed it and now they had to wait for the next flight. Well. Deanne was getting really frustrated because we had an appointment to see a horse she wanted to buy. So, we told Dad and Cheryl we were leaving and to call if the plane didn't ever come. They weren't too excited about that but they must've made it ok.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, I packed up a few things, studied the map and left around 8:30 am for Punta Islita. This was kind of a nebulous location because everyone I asked had never heard of it. I assumed that it must be one of those swanky, self-contained resorts, where you sip umbrella drinks by the pool all day. At this stage I certainly wasn't adverse to a little swanky. But first I had to get there. I had decided to take the coastal route, which cut about 40 kilometers off the distance, but is generally impassable during the wet season. Since we were officially just starting the dry season I decided to assume that it was passable. The road started out tame enough, graded gravel roads on gently rolling hills and a couple river crossings that came up to the axels. No big deal for The Green Hornet. After about 15 kilometers the gravel slowly deteriorated from a road to a dicey foot path. Perfect for a dualsport. It meandered along a georgeous ridgeline, at times opening into sweeping vistas of the Pacific ocean to my left and jungle to my right. Just then I was dropped into another valley and more likely than not another river crossing. But I was totally unprepared for what I encountered at the bottom of the steep and rutted path. This wasn't your typical river crossing. The river was in two sections. The first section was about 3 feet deep and only 10 yards across to a gravel sand bar with no real current to speak of. Then it was about another 40 yards of swift moving water, no telling how deep, to get across to the other side. When I looked across I could't even see where the road started again. Not sure where to aim I decided to take it one step at a time. I took a deep breath and jumped in the first section. I wasn't getting much traction but my forward momentum carried me to the sand bar. As I looked across the river I still wasn't sure where the road was so I just took a guess and started forward. I was hoping that the rest of the way was a little more shallow. It was for a while. About halfway across I couldn't keep my feet on the footpegs because of the river level. I started to lose traction and with the rear wheel spinning like a paddle wheel, the bike started drifting with the current down river to what looked like deeper water. I kept pressing on as I was trying to remember my days as a lifeguard. Would I be able to save TGH if he needed me? Finally as I approached the "shore" I regained traction and zipped to the other side. I could finally see the road continuing up the bank. I had overshot it by about 20 yards. I could see why these roads are impassable in the wet season. If the water level was half a foot higher I would have gone for a swim. Counting my blessings I zipped down the road towards the town of Coyote where I would turn left and make the climb up to Punta Islita. It was a blast trying to navigate the area because there were some roads that weren't on my map. Not once was I absolutely sure that I was on the right track. I stopped numerous times to ask directions but nobody knew for sure where Punta Islita was so I would ask for the closest alternative. Finally, in just under two hours (I'm not sure of the distance because my odometer cable jiggled loose in all the comotion) I arrived at the hillside resort with a breathtaking view of the Pacific ocean that is Punta Islita. All charged up from the offroad experience, I excitedly jump off the bike and went looking for Kurt and Amy. I was barely able to clear security - apparently they don't take too kindly to the disheveled, dreadlocked, vagabond type. I finally was able to meet up with the newlyweds at their cabina overlooking the Pacific ocean. We walked down to the beach, lounged by the pool and had lunch. But all the while in the back of my mind I knew I'd have to cross that river again.

It's always good to talk with old friends but especially so when one is traveling. It helps to reconnect with your past. The visit went by way too fast, but if I was to get back by nightfall I had to get going. On the way out to Punta Islita I was definitely the prey, but I was determined to be the predator on the return trip. My goal was to significally improve on the 2 hours it took me to get here. So off I sped trying to be as agressive as my riding ability would allow. The ruts in the road and the lose rock and gravel made for an exhilerating ride. That was until I had to face the music. So there I was, all pumped up, revving the engine and facing my nemesis - Old Man River. Without so much as a second glance I pushed off and with a wake coming off my engine guard. I zipped accross the river. This time it was actually fun. Just as I crossed the river a light rain began to fall but I was so charged up I didn't even notice until I about lost it on a steep decline to another river crossing. I was getting close to home so I eased back a bit. I had smashed the two hour barrier, official time: one hour and 35 minutes. As I lay in the hammock with an imperial and reflecting back on the days ride I couldn't think of a better way to spend a day. Except for maybe bailing hay, that is.

Back to Cobano we went to look at the horse and make apologies for being an hour late. After checking out the horse, we went in to town to buy stuff to build a new gate to replace the one that the guys fixing the road had torn down. FINALLY, we headed home for a much needed lunch. When we got home, we found piles of freshly cut hay. Deanne had paid a guy to come in and machete the stuff down. Can you imagine someone machete-ing hay in the US? Sure enough that hay had to be bailed. So a-hay-bailing we went. Just as we were hauling up the last bail, Jeff pulled in on the motorcycle. Boy, he sure has good timing. After a busy day for all of us we decided to have dinner at home and went to bed nice and early after an honest day of work.

The next day Deanne had more riders but Netty agreed to guide again. That was good because Deanne had two 10:00 appointments to 1) show her car to a potential buyer and 2) pick up the horse she had bought. But, since Netty was guiding, someone had to stay at the house he is a caretaker for. So Indiana and I went to Netty's, Netty went riding, Jeff went to Cobano to ride the horse home and Deanne went to show the car. Now is that a team effort or what?

Seeing as there aren't many toys at Netty's, Indiana and I got bored pretty quick. Especially because the big pool had been drained for cleaning and we could only go in the one foot deep pool. I decided to take her for a long walk thinking it might induce a nap. Just as we were almost finished walking, Deanne and Jeff returned and we had some lunch. Over lunch we discussed our departure plans. I had already gotten the riding bug and was anxious to do another ride before we left so we decided to ride again the next day. Seeing as it is December, Deanne gets really busy and we had eight people wanting to go. Four of us wanted to do a mountain ride but there was a family (from Bend, Oregon no less) with two teen age girls that wanted to go to the beach. So after heading in to town for decision making with the other riders, we stopped at a beachfront restaurant for dinner. We tried out the nightlife again but Indiana was tired at 9:00 so we girls headed home while Uncle Jeff decided to take on the Costa Rican contingent in a few games of pool.

The next morning we were doing the same routine of Deanne getting the horses, me waiting to brush them and Indiana and Uncle Jeff sleeping in. Apparantly Uncle Jeff didn't get in 'til late last night and he didn't look very good this morning so he needed his beauty rest. Indiana was already beautiful so I'm not sure what her excuse was. Maybe the fact that she's not quite three. Anyway, in to town we went to pick up the riders and set off for another fun horseback ride. Today I had chosen to ride Deanne's new horse which Jeff had ridden home the day before. Jeff said he had had some trouble with her being skittish and not wanting to go to a new place. When we hit the beach, I don't think she'd ever seen water because she wasn't excited about getting near it but by the end of the ride, she was doing a lot better. So after we dropped the riders off we headed home to clean and feed the horses while Jeff and Indiana played in the hammock. Is there a pattern here or what? Finally we headed in to town for some pizza and for Deanne to take care of arranging two groups of riders for the next day.

The next morning we planned to catch the 11:15 ferry in Paquera so thought we should leave by 9:30 or so. Once again, Deanne was up at 5:00 to get the horses while I packed. When she got back I helped her get the horses ready. She needed to leave about 8:30 and it was getting late so we only had time for a quick goodbye. This was probably in my best interest as I was already feeling really sad and kept having to fight the tears. I really wasn't ready to leave my big sis' and niece. So with heavy heart, we saddled up our other trusty steeds and headed down the road to Paquera.

We made good time to Paquera and hopped on board the ferry with the bikes parked down on the car deck and settled in for the 1 hour and 45 minute ferry ride to Puntarenas. The seas seemed calm enough so I didn't bother to tie down the bikes. After a while the ferry started to pitch a little and Linda noticed a big crowd leaning over the railing and pointing in the general direction of our bikes. We raced to the side expecting to see that the motos had fallen over. They hadn't but Suzi was a-rockin' to and fro. So we spent the next hour or so babysitting the bikes down below. We decided to take the scenic route back to San Jose and followed the coast for awhile before twisting our way up to the Capital. We were home in a matter of hours. Today was Larry's birthday and we were planning for a little birthday celebration.

During one of my many body surfing sessions in Montezuma I noticed that my ears had never fully drained. My hearing was severly impaired. It was as if I had my ear plugs in. I was also still stuffed up and I was coughing up a storm. Since we were going back to San Jose, I had decided to bite the bullet and go see a doctor. It turns out that Larry was also suffering from the same symptoms and had gone to his doctor that morning. So he called his doctor and I was able to see him that night. He said that I was a human host for all sorts of viruses and bacteria. I had a sinus infection coupled with bronchitis. He gave me two shots of something in my already sore from riding horses rump, prescribed a round of antibiotics and sprinkled some gold dust in my ear. The charge was $14 for the consultation and $14 for the shots. He said that since we were getting ready to head down to South America that I should come back tomorrow for another round of shots. I was sure I didn't need the extra shots but I suspected that Linda put him up to it. She seemed to derive great pleasure in seeing the shots administered. So I was chock full of drugs and I still had to take my malaria pills. I felt like a walking chemistry lab. Since I had to get more shots tomorrow, we decided to stay another day in San Jose rather than leave for Panama. We were running up against a time crunch. We were worried that the Holiday traffic would prevent us from getting into South America until after Christmas. Needless to say, Larry's birthday celebration turned out to be a trip to the doctor's office and pharmacy.

The next day we finished some journals and uploaded to the website. We did some more surfing and basically lounged around all day preparing our gear for the trip South. I ran over to the doctor's office to get my second round of shots. He said that I had a lot of congestion and that I should expect to be coughing a lot the next couple of days. He didn't know the half of it. Since Larry nor myself were fully recovered we decided to stay home on our last night in San Jose and watch the baby smile at us.

That morning we leisurely packed our things as we prepared to leave. I could tell that Linda was getting emotional from having to leave her siblings et al. Around 10:30 we finally bit the bullet, said our goodbyes and hit the open road. It was the first time we were fully loaded and heading South for over two weeks. It felt good to be on the road again. Shortly out of San Jose we connected to our old friend the PAH and climbed out of the valley directly into a very cold rain shower. The road was in good condition, much better than three years ago. The slick conditions made already slow mountain traffic even much more so. Linda and I were soon separated so I would zip ahead and wait until she caught up. We repeated this until we descended down towards the coast. Along the way we stopped at a motorcycle shop and finally bought a tube for Linda's gas cap. That'll fix the gas spilling problem. The skies cleared and we had smoothe sailing for a while. We had decided to take the scenic route to the Panamanian border via San Vito. It was a smallish blacktop road that meandered blissfully through the rural countryside peacefully devoid of traffic. Once we arrived at San Vito we decided to push on to Ciudad Nelly, 18 km from the border. The only problem was that the light rain was falling which made the blacktop a veritable ice skating rink. Add to that the steepness of the descent and we were in for a wild ride the last 20 km. At one point I wasn't paying much attention and thought I was coasting down the slippery grade in third gear. In actuallity I was in 2nd so when I downshifted the backend of the bike went a-flying. I was lucky to stay upright. Linda was nursing the bike down the hill at a much more reasonable speed. In one particularly twisty section, as I rounded a turn, I saw this smallish motorcycle come sliding around the corner with its rider sliding right along behind it. This guy obviously was unaware of the slick conditions. I stopped and asked if he needed any help but he said no and busily gathered up all the pieces of his shattered ego. We pressed on until we finally reached the dreary town right at sundown. There is absolutely nothing special about Ciudad Nelly except for the fact that it is the last city of any size before crossing into Panama. We had a quick dinner and called it a night. Linda considered today to be the toughest day of riding we've had yet. I thought the last section was easily the most hazardous conditions we've faced yet. But as they used to say, "That which does not kill you will only make you stronger." Not comforting words but words nonetheless.

The next morning we were up painfully early at 5:30. We didn't want to repeat the bus scenario from our Costa Rican entry border and had heard that it was likely here after 8:00 a.m. We were on the road by 7:00. We stopped to fill up with gas before we hit the border to use up some colones. We pulled into the office and Jeff went in to pay 250c (less than $1) each for an exit stamp. It still took about a half hour. It was about 7:45 now and we wanted to wait for the bank to open at 8:00 to see if we could exchange our colones for dollars. We got some cokes and checked back with the bank. They wouldn't change them. Uh oh. Hopefully we wouldn't be stuck with a whole bunch of colones. So we cranked up the bikes and rode the 75 feet to the next border office which was Panama. Adios Costa Rica! Adios mi familia!