"You'll have to ride with me when I go to the airport so you can see the road, Winter" Leo says.
As we drive I can understand why.
A dense foliage encases us, slowly reaching up and becoming denser and taller until it reaches over the top of us.
As if a tunnel were cut out of the center for us to drive.
It is dark and the road is endless and rocky,
Small indents on the sides indicate cross roads.
The GPS, to our amazement, knows they are roads but not their names.
Dry river beds, I'm told, are usually gushing but the season has not yielded much rain.
So most are nothing more then dry rock and an impression of a past watery pathway.
We reach a maze of twisted road with small signs and gated off entrances.
The men laugh at their own disorientation.
"I think it's this way? Wait no, backup, this way!"
"When did we get a new gate?"
"No wait, it's the next one."
The last rocky road leads to a dark wooden open house.
The posts and boards still in the form of natural tree shape.
Beautiful and tropical.
Surrounded by tropical trees, plants and the roar of the wild sea."
Excerpt from my Costa Rica journal
the road may be rocky
but the journey is well worth the ruts