I still travel in backpacker mode. As opposed to suitcases that limit you to the airplane and cabs, the backpacker moves self + baggage on foot. Far more freedom. I took this photo of Eddie Sharman, from Reading, U.K. this morning in Puerto Jiminez. It’s a common set-up: the heavy pack on your pack, the lighter one in front. All balanced.

Backpackers are the travel explorers. They get to places before the tourism industry arrives with their luxurious travelers’ appointments. I also like the randomness of not having a tight itinerary. Today I took off from Puerto Jiminez by boat across the Gulf to Golfito ands on the boat met Skip, 63-year old expat surfer who I’d met the week before. We got a cab for $6 each from Golfito to Canoas, the Panama/Costa Rica border (an hour’s ride) for $6.00 each, then a bus (with about 30 stops) from the border to David for $2 each. Skip took off for points east, and I found a hotel here and tomorrow will head for Panama City, thence (with plans hatched this morning), a train along the Panama Canal to the Caribbean, go to an island or two and then try to find a boat to Columbia. Quien sabe?

When I stepped out of the hotel earlier tonight, I loved the unknown factor. Got to find a place to eat, then an internet cafe. It’s tough some times, but there are also many times when I get into a completely unplanned wonderful experience.

My family used to go to a beautiful isolated lake in the Sierras in the ’40s. When I was 4, I fell off the pier and went under water. I still remember looking around in wonder at the underwater world. Luckily, my dad happened to be on the pier and reached down and grabbed me by my overalls. As the oft-repeated family story goes, he asked me what I was thinking about underwater. I said, “I was going to turn on my putt-putt (referring to the outboard motor on our little boat) and come up.”

I’ve had these magical moments in water. Like the day I first went bodysurfing at Ocean Beach in San Francisco. We used to have swimming meets at Fleishacker pool, a huge outdoor salt water pool and after a meet one day my teammate Jim Fisher (later a big-wave surfer) took me out into the ocean. Blue skies, blue water (no wetsuits), the big swells, I was in heaven. Under waterfalls, in clear creek pools, hot springs, warm ocean, cold river. Getting in charges you with the energy of that spot on the planet. If you’re a water person you know what I mean.

The Jesus Christo, lizard that runs on water (on its hind legs). (Sounds better in Spanish; “Hay-sue Kree-sto”

I get up at 5:30 every morning, make a cup of coffee, and walk to the beach. Yesterday I swam about a half mile, around a rocky point, and walked back on a jungle trail. A little south swell came up yesterday and this morning there were 4 of us in the water surfing at sunrise. It’s uncrowded enough to be friendly. Water 80 degrees, mon! The same as in British Columbia, I’m running across people who are real familiar with our book Shelter (1973). Seems a bunch of people here and in other tropical places used the book for inspiration.

Before I left home I had heard from my friend (Leo), who with partners owns the place where I’m staying), that their cuidadora (caretaker) Rafa was very tall. I told my wife Lesley I could see the photo, with Chilón, who is short and wide with Rafa, tall and lean, and, sure enough, here it is. Rafa is a master of the jungle, knows every plant, bird, animal and insect and is also a good surfer.

Sunrise through the jungle (beach in background)

It’s Sunday and we’ve been here three days, and I’m overwhelmed. We’ve been getting up before sunrise, making coffee and walking to the beautiful beach, sitting an a simple bench and watching the sun rise over Panama across the water. I’ve gone surfing twice and am working out the rusty skills. I go swimming at least twice a day, swimming in warm water is one of the best things in my world. The surrounding jungle is just unbelievably full of life, monkeys, birds, butterflies, mapaches (CR’s version of the raccoon), plants and trees and flowers in profusion like I’ve never seen before. Chilón turns out to be a world-class cook and has been making fantastic meals. I’ve shot about a 1000 pictures, and have a ton of stuff to show people, but for now it’s time to get a meal. We came back into town this morning to get provisions. Chilón has found out from out local maestro of the jungle Rafa of a Tico place (no gringos) to eat lunch and we’re going to do that, then get ice and groceries and head back out to paradise. In Spanish, the word for jungle in jungla (hoon-glah). Mas despues.

Both photos by Chilon

Photo by Chilón

We ended up spending 5 days in the city, going to the soccer game between Costa Rica and Honduras Wednesday night, a world cup game between two fierce rivals. We sat in the end zone, Chilon bought a crazy Tico hat, and partied with everyone within range of his voice. There were maybe 35,000 fans, of which maybe 5000 were Hondurans. I’m not a soccer fan, in fact I don’t really watch much of any sports these days, but this was an experience to be in the midst of screaming crowds. Ticos insulted Honbduras — the country and the players —all night lobg, chanting:

O-lay, O-lay, O-lay, O-lah,

Tico a Ganar

The players were in such fabulous shape. I loved watching the stretching and warmup, their grace and strength (and in the game, endurance). I like the facts that they’re not giants, like football or basketball players. They’re normal sized humans with extraordinary athletic skills. Each time CR svored, the stadium roared like a lion amplified.