Another Wet One

The casita we are occupying is within a development called Residencia Flores, which consists of upscale homes on irregularly spaced lots, most of which have views of the lake. This particular property does not have a lake view, unless you count standing on tip toes, looking over the trees to a patch of water. That is not a complaint, since we were not promised a lake view and did not expect one.

A three minute walk, however, takes us to a paved walking trail leading to a quasi-overlook with a very nice view. We walked that trail three times today (the last time in reverse).

Residencia Flores train in the wet morning.

In the morning we had a clear view to the other side. Even though the hills on that side were somewhat obscured, it was the best visibility we have had in a couple days. Our hopes were up, and it seemed the weather was lifting and we could have a rewarding day outside. The image of the same view from the afternoon confirms that the weather lifted, at least for a while today. But that was later.

With great enthusiasm and a song in our hearts (one song, two hearts) we headed off to the Arenal 1968 private reserve hoping to have a nice hike. As we got closer to the reserve, the weather was a bit more like this:

We arrived at the park exactly as the skies opened and an entire reservoir emptied on us. We decided that a walk in the heavy rain might be good, even though we wouldn’t see anything due to the fog. However we also decided that it wouldn’t be 35 dollars worth of good.

Since we were going to get wet if we were to leave the safety of the car, we figured we should at least be intentional about it, and headed off to a popular hot spring at Tabacon.

I wouldn’t say the springs were hot, though: the water was around 90F. I also wouldn’t call the spring a spring. It was more like a river cascading through a series of pools as the river dropped at a fifteen degree or so slope. The current was so strong we had to brace ourselves in one way or another to keep from being washed down stream. I did not take photos for fear of dropping the camera in the river. It was a nice experience for a while, but eventually became quite crowded. We plan to return.

A snapshot of the entry pool for the “hot” “spring”

All of my life I’ve had a fear of falling ( or maybe it’s a fear of jumping). I’m particularly cautious when I can’t see where I am placing my feet. This anxiety is magnified when climbing over lava in a significant current. So as I climbed carefully through the last pool as we exited, a middle aged man asked me ” are you going to make it?”, meaning, I am sure, “old man, do you need some help?” It seems that I am way to young to be treated as though I am elderly.

On the way back to our casita we stopped at a bistro that was reputed to have a great view. It wasn’t bad. Unfortunately the view itself decided to not put forth its best face.