Journey To Talamanca – Ken Beedle travels to the Talamanca area. Part II.

The building was full of volunteers, piles of donations and muddy floors. Diego asked several times where I planned to sleep. As darkness settled on us I made plans to sleep in the Xterra.

I finally understood that he wanted the Xterra but there was room for only one. He slept in a Range Rover with a tent on its roof. The rain finally ended about 7:30pm. It was party time.

Each year the group has its annual Christmas party in this remote area. With a few Indians peering in through the open windows music played, people danced and others just sat and watched. They had even brought fireworks!

We stood outside and watched while fireworks crew went about entertaining us. The deep mud and water were cold. About 9pm I wandered out into the darkness and slipped into the sleeping bag clothes and all. I pulled my parka up around my ears and fell asleep occasionally waking because my sock covered feet were cold.

Sunday

The morning was clear and cool. Smoke from campfires drifting through the valley. I wandered into the outpost for a breakfast of scrambled eggs, rice and beans then set about doing my job. I wanted to show the compound from one of surrounding hills so I made the climb not realizing that I had left the 300mm lens in another bag. I made the return trip and once again climbed to the top. Indians were coming from all directions. I got the photo I wanted and returned to the Xterra to organize for the return trip later that day.

Since I was removed from the rest of the group and on the edge of the jungle I had the chance to observe things most closely. The Indians materialized out of the jungle like ghosts through a wall. If they made sounds I did not hear them. One second I would glance down at my cleaning and the next second someone would walk by me. I turned around and sat on the bumper and watched. Where they came from and where they went is something I want to learn about in the future.

One stunning young woman came down the hill and stood on a rock and watched me. Compared to others she was well-dressed, had jewelry and looked to be 15 years old. From her confident stature she must be part of an important family. A mother and baby appeared on a path next to the river. She cradled the baby in her arms. How far had she come? The hem of her colorful skirt was muddy. She was too far away to use a flash to brighten her face but I took the shot anyway.

At this point we had hundreds of people standing in the mud waiting for the gift-giving. I worked my way through the crowd taking photos. They were surprisingly quiet. I love photography because I can always see what my mind remembers. Indelibly imprinted in my mind is the photo of two young girls maybe 12 years old with swollen bellies. They were pregnant.

Volunteers began organizing them according sex and age then bringing each group into the building for presents; children first, then mothers with babies, older children, then men and finally women without children. It was so organized that everything went as planned. By 12 noon nothing remained and the Indians began returning to where they came. Saturday’s terrible weather conditions made walking difficult on Sunday.

Even so there were 565 people found their way to the outpost. As we loaded the 4x4s I wondered how all these vehicles would make the trip back up the hill. A crew with shovels and picks had been working to make the trail wider. I was less concerned because I had chains on my fat Michelin LTX tires but…

When it was my turn to go, I gingerly crossed the river. I could feel each rock and every slip. The river was flowing clear and the level had dropped but if I did not take the right path I could have a flooded car. Volunteers and Indians had been walking out and were standing on the edges watching. It looked like a scene out of a road race on ESPN. With two of the three students in the back and Diego in the suicide seat saying slowly I floored it.

The engine roared, the chains dug in and up the hill we went. We got through the widened gap and past the onlookers who were clapping hit the flatter stretch then up again. We made it to the bridge and on to the road. I was elated. The girls in back were cheering and Diego must have thought he had a stunt man on his team.

I got out of the Xterra; two thirds of it was covered in mud but I did not see any dents or scratches. The chains worked beautifully. In all, two cars needed to be towed out and another broke its front axle. I was proud of the X but I need to remember that the next time I may not be as lucky.

You can read part I of Ken Beedles’ adventure to Talamanca here.

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Written by Ken Beedle who is a landscape photographer and retired Television Sales/Marketing Executive. Ken first visited Costa Rica in 1998 and later lived here for a few years, married a Tica and returned to the USA to take advantage of a business opportunity however, he promised to come back to Costa Rica and now he and his wife live in Cartago.

Andrew Makarik

to@welovecostarica.com

Andrew Makarik is the main editor of WeLoveCostaRica, a fan of this sunny country. He is also a loving husband and a has a lovely daughter. By being a devoted family man and the biggest Costa Rica fan, he wants to make more people feel at home there. WeLoveCostaRica unites people and helps them find new home or a new travel destination. This website is a friendly community where everyone can find not only information, but also new friends and travel pals. Andrew is also passionate about IT and programming, so he himself maintains a friendly atmosphere in this cozy environment of WeLoveCostaRica.com.