As I was coming close to the end of my trip, I had to make some hard decisions. With only days left, where was I going to spend them? After consulting the guidebook, I decided to head to Bahia Drake, deep in Costa Rica’s south. I worked out what time the bus I needed came through Uvita and was packed up with ample time to cash up and catch it. Or so I thought…
I found a more direct route to the main road which took me half the amount of time the previous day’s had. First things first, I would cash up at the ATM to get that out of the way and then I could chill somewhere until the bus arrived. I dutifully waited in line for my turn at the ATM to find it repeatedly coming up with an error message. Thinking it might be that particular ATM, I waited for the other one to be free. Same problem. I asked other people waiting and was told that the ATMs here were a little temperamental. Some people were getting cash and others weren’t. I tried both machines multiple times without success before biting the bullet and walking the kilometre back over the river to find another bank’s ATM where it worked first time.
Somewhat peeved, but relieved I had managed to get cash as I was going into a remote area, I walked back to the bus station. Once there, I tried to find information to confirm the bus schedule I had found online as I still didn’t really trust the information was correct. A bus driver from the same company confirmed the route, but said the bus would probably arrive in Uvita closer to 1.00pm than the scheduled 12.30pm. So it was just a matter of sitting around and waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Until the bus finally arrived at 1.40pm. And then had a 20 minute stopover before finally pulling out at 2pm. The boat I needed to take from Sierpe left at 4pm so I hoped there were no further delays.
The road continued hugging the coastline more or less for a time before veering off inland. Then we were passing farmland and patches of rainforest prior to turning off and heading south towards Sierpe. There, we passed palm plantations interrupted by little farmlets nestled on their outskirts.
The tiny village of Sierpe is ringed on two sides by the Rio Sierpe which is its mainstay. The bus pulled up at a boat dock where half a dozen brightly coloured boats quietly bobbed in the river. As the bus disgorged its remaining passengers, those continuing on to Bahia Drake lined up to give their details to an hombre organising passengers onto the various boats. When it was my turn and I told him where I was staying, he frowned and called over another hombre. This would be my captain. I had about half an hour before departure, so grabbed a cerveza at the adjoining dockside restaurant to wait.
Five minutes before departure time, my boat captain summoned me and I jumped on board with the other passengers going my way. It turned out this was a private group of six French tourists and their French speaking Costa Rican guide. I was just a blow-in and no one seemed in the least interested in taking my money. At exactly the allotted time, we took off downstream towards the river mouth.
After speeding down the river for a while, our captain pulled back on the throttle and we slowly cruised down a side canal where the group’s guide proceeded to give a commentary about the mangrove forest in French. I was able to pick up a few words here and there, however, that is about the extent of my French. I just enjoyed the ambiance of drifting through this beautiful part of the river.
Then, it was time to continue our journey. The river twisted past jungle-clad banks, eventually spitting us out into the ocean. At this point there must be a reef as the waves were crashing off-shore. Our captain had to manoeuvre the little boat through the swell, timing the breaks which he did impeccably. Then, we were zooming past the coastline towards our destination.
We passed the main settlement in this part of the area and continued on until reaching the little bay where our accommodation was situated. The boat reversed up to the shoreline and us passengers disembarked. Then, the luggage was pulled out from the front hold and passed out to us. It was a short walk across the sand to a tiny stream which you crossed before entering the property. Once checked in, sand washed from feet and pack dumped in the dorm, it was time for a pre-dinner cocktail at the lodge’s on-site restaurant. A perfect end to a fabulous day.
Wild Woman Wandering 