The Dumbest Thing I’ve Ever Done Part III

If you are just finding these articles, this is Part III of III. You might want to start the series by clicking the following links: Part I || Part II
After sitting there for awhile in that post-terror state, I decided to walk around. Opening the door I stepped down into the water and found that it came up to just above my knee. My cell phone has a flash light in it, so I put that on and began to walk upstream. The night was gorgeous. Now that I was away from the lights of the car, the blackness seemed to lift slightly and there was a glow from the sliver moon, and the countless stars. Then I had my second scariest moment, but this one was entirely from the contents of my mind.

As I waded along through the river, looking for the outlet of the road on this side of the river, the thought occurred to me: “Ben, you’re in Samara Costa Rica, in the middle of nowhere. It’s a rather wild place. Mightn’t there be some crocodiles about these parts?” Suddenly, all of the floating river debris, of which there was quite a bit, suddenly became crocodiles stalking this lost gringo. It didn’t last long, but there for a moment I felt the presence of one of these behemoths in the water and sent an additional dose of adrenaline through the system, just sort of as aperitif to the main course. After that I just simply decided that there weren’t any crocodiles, since I really had no choice with respect to being in the water there, and I calmed down a bit.

Finally I found the out-ramp, about 25 meters upstream from where my car sat burbling. In my natural chemical induced state of giddiness I started to think about my predicament. The car was stuck, and not just a little bit. You know how when your car gets stuck and you put it in gear to try and coax it forward, or you put it in reverse to ease it out of its stuckedness? You can kinda feel the car lurch forward and backward. Well, my car felt like it was in neutral even though all four wheels were in motion. There was no motion whatsoever. So I was what I would call, stuckisimo. This means that I would need to get some help. The problem with this conclusion was that I was 6 kilometers from the nearest resort, and I had no cell reception. And even when I found someone, what were they going to be able to do to help? No one else would be able to get out there to my car. So I felt just a little consternated by the situation. So I did what any red blooded, lost gringo male would do in this situation. I walked aimlessly around. This seemingly aimless activity yielded some pretty good fruitage. I found a signal area for my cell phone. I was able to call my family and let them know of my predicament. They in turn were able to notify the resort people of my situation, who in turn, responded as I had: they ran around, without really knowing what to do. So I signed off hoping that the situation would change and that somehow magically, my car would get out of the river.

The area that I was in was affected by the tide of the ocean. The tide was, as luck would have it, high at the moment of my crossing attempt. Now the tide was starting to recede and I noticed that the muffler sound was no longer a blub-blub-blub-blub, but a normal, muffler-in-the-air sound. This, I felt, had to be good. So, lacking a clear purpose, I waded back down to my car and decided to sit there.

After some time, jungle up above the out-ramp showed some illumination as a car passed along, illuminating the trees with dancing shadows. The fellow arrived at the river and wisely stopped. He noticed my car’s headlights shining askew down in the part of the river where a car ought not be and did what any red-blooded Tico male would do, he honked. So I waded back up to him. He had a coupe that had no hope of crossing this high-ish tide waterway. So he asked me if I was stuck, to which I replied, in my still chemically induced silly-state: “oh no, everything is fine. I thought it would be a nice time of night to cruise the river and see whats up.” He did not grasp that I was joking and so ignored my comment. So I attempted to sober up and admitted that I was indeed stuck.

Well, so at this point, I am deciding to make a long story short. He took my cell number, drove back up into the jungle to another crossing that he knew about that was shallow and crossable (Why hadn’t he just gone there to begin with? I don’t know, nor do I care, and actually, I'm glad he didn't.) He got to the nearest establishment where lo and behold, there was a back hoe that was able and willing to come to the river and pull me out for a fee of 10,000 colones ($20.00 US). I have here attached a photo that didn’t turn out so well but they do give an idea of what it all looked like.

The process of getting pulled out of the river was enhanced by the usual Tico (Costa Rican) friendliness and the conversation was vibrant as the recently arrived resort staff member joined in the festivities of me getting pulled out and all was fine. I paid the 10,000 plus a 5,000 colon tip and the staff member led the way to the resort where the festivities were under way in what is an extraordinarily beautiful beachside resort. The area was lit up with just the right sort of torch lights, illuminating the dance floor and the outdoor tables and buffet that they were putting away when I arrived. I was late, but it wasn’t over, so I guess you could say that I made it. (The staff was extremely attentive and had made a plate for me which they insisted I sit and eat, and fussed extensively about making sure that I was OK)

I hadn’t seen my entire family together in nearly a year. My two daughters, my son, my two grandkids (I know, I’m not old enough to be a granddad, but my daughters each have a child of four years, so apparently I am), my wife whom I hadn’t seen in months as well, and some dear old friends from Colorado that I had not seen for some 9 years. The oddly silly effect of the trauma had diminished some but had not disappeared entirely, and so now gave way to the wonderful human emotion of extreme appreciation for the simple fact of being alive, and having so much. My heart welled with emotion as I got numerous hugs and concern was expressed. I told and retold my tale, while hearing of the hub-bub of running about that my situation had caused to the goings on there, with everyone trying to locate someone that could help me out and, was I alright, and so on.

The lesson that I have learned from this is “Dumbest Thing That I Have Ever Done” is: the next time that I encounter a river at night, the bottom of which I cannot see, and that I have never driven across, I’ll not drive into it. Oh, and next time I’ll use a map.

The Dumbest Thing I’ve Ever Done Part II

If you're starting here, you might want to read Part I first . Click here for Part I :: Click here for Part III The next pause in my trip was to drive through Jaco.I wanted just to see it.We used to vacation in Jaco as a family, years ago, when it was a sleepy surf town.There was a bit of a buzz there that certainly was not felt in San Isidro de Perez Zeledon, where we lived, so it was a nice change of pace for us.I had heard that I wouldn’t recognize it.And this proved to be true.There are high rise hotels going in on the beach, and there are various malls and shops of every type.If what we experienced in the good ole days of Jaco was a buzz of activity, then what we’ve got there now is a full blown brass band on crack.The main drag was awash in tourists meandering about, shopping, and enjoying the hot weather that Jaco is famous for.And here is where we start about the dumb thing. (The photo there to the right is taken driving along the main drag in Jaco)

I stopped into a few shops looking for a Costa Rica map.Just a few shops, and evidently the wrong ones, cuz I couldn’t find one.So, failing in my half-hearted search, I called my son, who was already up in Samara and asked him how to get there.He said: “It’s easy.Just head north, following the signs to Liberia, until you see the sign to the Taiwan Bridge or El Puente La Amistad”."Ok" thought I, "no problem.I can do this".

So off I went.

Not that I have displayed any interest in editing this story to such an extent that what was a longish, carry-on sort of tale at the outset should be reduced to a gripping, fast moving adventure that leaves the reader rivetted by the anticipation of coming developments, but we here at this juncture will jump ahead to where I drive into Liberia.

I followed the directions.I know I did.The groups of signs north of Jaco all had one for Liberia.Easy.So, I assiduously examined them all for that one that would direct me to the bridge.

As I drove into Liberia, I thought that maybe I had gone too far.Fact is, I was enjoying the drive very much.My life as a realtor in the Dominical / Uvita / San Isidro area is one of lots of activity.I love it.I spend most of my life in what have to be some of the Earth’s most beautiful terrain.I see waterfall, toucans, monkeys, spiders, misty ocean views throughout the majority of my days spent in the mundane pursuit of supporting myself and family.There is also my office life which is one of refreshing harmony.Francine my friend and secretary.Rod, my associate, listing agent, and friend. Scott who is our resident tech guy and affiliate marketing expert, and friend.Then there is the steady flow of property sellers, and clients that stop in throughout the course of a normal day in the office.Going to work is for me, a genuine pleasure.

However, when I get a bit of time to myself, you know, the kind where you know that there is not going to be any sort of a deviating influence to the present path that my thoughts are moving along, no interruption to the contented browsing of the contents of my own skull and heart; I enjoy this time. Solitude would be the name for it.Oh, and then there are those amazing podcasts.If you, dear reader, don’t yet know about podcasts, and have an iPod, find out about these things, especially if you are planning to make a long drive longer by getting lost any time soon.

I called my son.“I’m in Liberia” said I. “What???!!!” said he.I had evidently overshot the turn. I had an hour and a half drive yet ahead of me, and the graduation proceedings were to begin in an hour and a half.Off I went, deciding to break the number one rule of driving safely in Costa Rica, I drove fast.It was fine actually since the road was very straight and rivaled the quality and width of that wonderful highway down south in our neck of the woods.

About 5 minutes of making great time, driving at a speed that would have no doubt gotten me to the graduation with 7 or 8 minutes to spare, I came to a screeching halt.There was some construction going on.I waited for an hour and a half with what ended up being somewhere around a hundred other people, sitting parked, in their cars, on that road.

I drove into Samara some time after the graduation ceremony, so I had missed it. But the banquet was to go on into the night. I felt more determined than ever to get there.Once in Samara I called Neil (my son) again and got directions on how to get to the resort.Samara is way out there.Well, once you get to Samara, you drive further out to an island, or point, or something like that, that is yet more remote.I was to drive to a sign that someone had spray painted a red arrow on, and follow that arrow.I did.Then when I got to the river, I was to cross and continue on another 6 kilometers. And here is where it gets really dumb.

The night was black, aided only by a fingernail moon and the Milky Way’s myriad stars.I arrived at the river’s edge and noted that this was indeed a “river” as opposed to what that word can sometimes designate here in Costa Rica, a “stream”.My headlights died about halfway across and the far bank was nothing more than a faint silhouette in the distance. The water was murky so there was no bottom to be seen. Hmmmm.Looks dangerous. In my determined state, I decided to call my son to have him describe to me the route to take to cross the river.Hoping to hear something like, “you enter the river and veer to the left curving gradually to the right where you’ll find the road again coming out of the far bank”.No signal on the cell phone. Hmmmm... the whole graduation procession must have crossed this river so it must be crossable... Blinded by my resolved determination to get to my daughter’s graduation, I drove into the river.

Well, as you might expect, I drove, not on a level plain, through the river.I instead drove down into the water, which promptly came up over the hood, diffusing the headlights as though they were those of a submarine.All four wheels continued to turn and some water reached as far as the windshield.Forward progress was slow going and I heard myself saying “oh please oh please oh please oh please”.There was a moment of a weightless floating sensation where I knew that I had lost the battle and would end up; best case scenario, floating down to the ocean but continue on alive, just needing a new car.Or, worst case scenario, dead, in which case the loss of my present car and the need to buy a new one wouldn’t bother me near as much as it would in the best case scenario, but I was still hoping to have those concerns.

My tires found purchase on the gravel river bottom and I continued ahead, trying with all my will to not gun the motor, (which for some inexplicable continued to run), thereby effectively nullifying any slight traction that I might currently be enjoying: the forward motion continued, until I bumped into the far bank, no exit in site, but my motor still running, my headlights pointing up to the bank askew and my muffler under the water making blub blub blub sounds.I sat there for a little while and realized that I was on the other side of what I now regard as “the scariest moment of my life”. I suspected that I might be in some sort of shock or something.The emotion of fear had been intense.I could feel the residue of whatever chemicals we release in such a situation still present in my veins.So I sat for a little while and began to enjoy the fact that I was still alive, and that my car was still running.

For the gripping conclusion Click here for Part III