a little slice of paradise

We always decide to do hikes that are never planned out and rarely easy. In a little town named Manzanillo, about 100 potholes away from Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast, we decided to hike into the rainforest to discover some hidden beaches where we heard the snorkeling was awesome and the reefs still thrived. Okay, we thought, so we grab some food and head into the jungle on a hot balmy afternoon. I had sunscreen, snorkel gear, food and a bathing suit. I wore flip flops and I thought it would be a quick jaunt to a beach but I realized I should have opted for real shoes once I climbed the first of many steep hills on this jungle path to no wheres. I did remember to pack our trekking poles and they saved my ass, literally. We hiked for about an hour and a half on steep difficult terrain covered with huge spiders webs and roots of trees that looked like they could come alive at any moment, grab you and fling you to the sea. We knew going into the Manzanillo Wildlife Refuge that there were no marked trails and we were told just to follow the foot path that had been worn with time. As we walked we past barefoot surfers and managed to hike past a group of 70 year olds (no offense dad) on a guided tour. I thought that it was a good sign that perhaps we were close to our destination and that the terrain may be easy after all. One hour and forty almost -break-a-bone moments later, we arrived in a cove on the Caribbean coast that can only be described as perfect. Perfecto. We had heard when the surf was up that the snorkeling was no good. We had stopped once on the trail and found a perfect beach break that Jamey vowed he would come back to to surf once we had fulfilled our desire to see the reef below. It appeared that the surf was indeed up and we wondered if we would be able to see a thing. Luckily this little cove was protected and seemingly calm so we slathered on the sunscreen and dove in. This area is notorious for its rip tides which we were warned about several times. As soon as we dove in we could feel the intense pull and with some muscle were able to swim around and discover the reef underneath. The beach was deserted. Only us and the fishies. What a gem. A true piece of paradise. We swam and swam until the salt sucked the water out of us and our hands were pruned like when we were kids and played in the tub for too long. I didn't even notice the time pass. The beauty above and below had me so enraptured.

I had read a bit about the reefs in this area. In the 90´s an earthquake devastated most of the reef when the seafloor rose up about a meter above the sea level. Much of the reef was destroyed. Walking along the jungle trail you can see the remnants of the reef, the carcass of brain coral nestled in the rich dark earth. Another part of the story is found in the interior in the many banana fincas splattered all over the land. The banana trade has brought a lot of income to these families but has brought an incredible amount of deforestation and degradation to the rainforest. As the land is cleared for the banana finca, the stabilizing force for the soil is wiped away. During the rainy season the soil is washed out to sea from the mountainsides and much of it ended up on the reefs, clogging and killing the sensitive life that existed. The banana farms have had their impact in so many ways. As we passed the farms on the drive across the country we saw all of these blue bags that covered the bananas as they grew from the tree. I found out that the bags keep away the pests and protect the bananas so they can grow, then harvested and eventually end up in your fruit salad in August (no guilt there, wink, wink). And the blue bags? Oh they go out to sea. They float down the mountain side and many end up floating on into oblivion. I had asked a local about what they are doing about the bags and he said that he had heard in an effort to control the bag litter that the farms were now gathering the bags and taking them out to see on a ship and burning them in massive piles. I personally don't know if I believe that. It sounds nice, I guess, that they are attempting to solve the problem by burning them but I cant help but get the feeling that there is a graveyard of blue banana bags at the bottom of the Caribbean somewhere. It is this struggle between economic survival and environmental protection that is so vivid when traveling in Central America. I kept having "wow" moments when confronted with the staggering poverty on the Caribbean coast. Moments when I could not see the beauty past the shack falling into the sea where a family cooks, laughs, cries and tries to survive. Is this truly a slice of paradise? In many ways yes but with 37% of a population in poverty it makes you think twice.
I´m thankful for the time we spent in Puerto Viejo and when we ventured on to Bocas Del Toro Panama we were equally as amazed with the beautiful lush scenery. That is perhaps chapter two...
oh yes, and if I can figure out how to say "harddrive" and "upload" in spanish I will be able to post my pictures. We´ll see.