Riding up the pacific coast of Costa Rica is perfect for a mountain biker with dirt roads, few cars and lots of beach riding and surf towns all over the place. After a few good days in the saddle I came to Tamarindo, Costa Rica’s premier beach resort which probably has 7 tourists to each local. After surfing and biking my sunday away I headed to bed at 8 as the next day I had a 10 hr ride to Nicaragua and was hoping to get an early start. All packed and in bed my plan was going well until 9 ramped up Argentinian girls checked into the hostal. Soon enough myself, 2 Swedes and a couple Kiwis were accompanying our new guests down the strip to the local dance club. Being saturday night all the clubs had 3 to 5 $ cover charges and none of us were to keen on bucking up so we hung around outside with the 9 Argentinians dancing on the street to the blaring music. One of the Kiwis must of been a bussinesman as he figured that the clubs should be paying us to go in with our dancing team and soon enough he had coaxed one of the bigger clubs in waiving the cover for our group. Inside the problems started as none of us guys were to great at dancing and next to the Argentinians we probably looked like a bunch of pee wee girls trying to play hockey with the Oilers of the 80’s. After about 3 minutes all us guys were dizzy, out of breath and tangled up in our feet but to our relief the music stopped and the light opened up on the stage. Not sure what was coming we were stoked until we realized we were in the drag queen bar. Not cool. None the less the night went on and after 4 hrs of sleep I was on my voyage to Nicaragua. A little behind schedule and not quite 100% I started looking for shortcuts. My National Geographic map showed a couple dirt roads cutting across the Guanacaste land of Costa Rica and linking onto the Panam Highway. The first road ended up being a longcut and probably doubled the time the original route wouldve taken as it climbed up and down steep dirt rutted roads and after 3 hrs I had gone just over 25 km. The second shortcut was about 4 times worse as first I ended up in a remote government camp being told to turn around but after some negotiations one of the members said I could continue on my tour through the Guanacaste agriculture land but the fact he was smiling shouldve been anough to warn me of what was to come in the next 4 hrs. Travelling 24 km across cattle pastures, through 4 locked steal gates and 9 barb wire fences and past one very sketchy house with a dead cow and a broken car outside and one kid running inside I was pretty sketched as it reminded of a scene from Texas chainsaw massacre. Putting whatever power was left in my legs I continued on with two barking dogs putting chase, one with a very bad limp and the other looking drunk and probably full of rabies. They were poor chasers though and I continued on my lost journey eventually coming to a thick clump of trees with a large river. Emerging from the brush onto the riverbank I startled the 40 to 50 costa ricans who were trying to relax there day away. One old man asked with a crazed look across his face “what the heck are you doing kid and where are you going?” Not sure of either answer I put a smirk on my face, saluted the rest of the onlookers and continued on my way to the next town where I found the closest restaurant and then a spot to relax my aching body for the night. Ending up nowhere near Nicaragua and probably having only travelled 70 or 80 km on the day I prayed for no more shortcuts and for at least one night no more Argentinians.
