10/11/15,
“The Last Two”
Altamira,
Costa Rica (La Amistad International Park, Altamira Station)
There are 1516 World Heritage Sites in Central America.
Panama had 34, El Salvador 1, Guatemala 3, Honduras 2, Nicaragua 2,
Belize 1, and Costa Rica 2. The 1516th
WHS, the one where I am sitting right now, that is shared between Panama
and Costa Rica. I have now been to all
1516 of them. Some have been easier than
others. The two I visted today, the last
two were among the most challenging. It
was no easy feat to locate either of them, though, miraculously, after I
finished my extensive research, they turned out to be exactly where I expected
them to be, or close enough to follow the signs from my GPS destination. Was this view worth the harrowing drive up
the dirt road in the raid and the even more harrowing drive that will be awaiting
me as I drive back down the mountain.
Perhaps not. Saying that I’ve
been to every WHS in Central America is absolutely worth it, assuming I get
back to my hotel with me and the car each in one piece. I am not looking forward to that drive, but
it looks like I should be able to get back on the highway by dark. As soon as I take my ceremonial picture at
the National Assembly tomorrow morning, I’ll be able to say “Central America
Complete,” have a celebratory cigar, and fly home.
Breakfast was even more disappointing than
yesterday, and I was in rush to prolong the process, wanting to get as early of
a start as possible. I stopped for gas
along before I left the city and lit up a Padron. The GPS said the coastal route was faster,
but I had my doubts. Wouldn’t it be
filled with people going to the beach on Sunday morning?
It was. I really had no idea where I was going. All I had were the latitude and longitude that were listed on the inscription page. I entered that into Google Maps, and it said there was something a hundred meters or so away called the Finca 6 Museum Site. That sounded promising. My GPS didn’t recognize it, but I was able to point to the location on the map. It did find the Finca 6 School, which was nearby.
I stopped for some snacks for
the car on the way, and I listened to the radio because my phone was going
through some updates. It probably wasn’t
the smartest idea to run the updates while I was travelling, in case anything
went wrong. No phone, no ceremonial
pictures, no status updates, no checks-in.
It all worked out in the end, and I lit up a Joya de Nicaragua after my
snack. It was a little before noon by
the time I got to the destination my GPS had for me. There was a soccer field there. Hmm.
I
had two options. I could ask someone in
Spanish, “Dondé está el museo?” or I could try Google Maps. I went with Google Maps. It said it was a little further down the
road. I continued down the road, my
hopes not exactly up. I had a feeling I
was going to be taking a ceremonial picture in some field and saying,
“Pre-Columbian Humans built stuff here 1000 years ago. Now it’s a school.” Then I saw it. The entrance gate with the WHS logo. I almost cried. I lit up a Romeo y Julieta and took some
ceremonial pictures at the gate.
There
was a small museum, which was worthless, but they had an actual archaeological
site with the famous stone spheres. I
walked around with the rest of my cigar and took lots of pictures. These spheres were a millennium, old, and
they were only recently unearthed. The
site was only inscribed in 2014. One
area reminded me of the stone trolls from “Frozen.” I texted my friend to that effect, and she
concurred. I then went back to the
car.
I was looking for something called
“Estación Altamira,” which served as park headquarters. Even if I couldn’t set foot in the protected
area, going to park headquarters and finding a good view would suffice. It’s what I did in Panama with my first
Central American WHS, so it would be fitting to do the last one in such a
manner. I had no idea how to find
it. I put in one possibility into my
phone, another into my GPS. Either way,
I’d be doing quite a few klicks on unpaved roads, nothing new, but not my
favorite thing to do, either, especially in the rain (Cf. “Alaska – To Hell and
Back” entry dated 7/14/15). The rain
seems to have let up now, so that’s good.
I stopped at a tent by the soccer game for lunch (grilled meat on a stick),
which was good, cheap, and quick. It
then started to pour. As soon as I got
back on the highway, I saw signs for La Amistad International Park and Altamira
Station. Actually, it was pretty easy to
follow the signs all the way, only stopping a few times to confirm the
direction. I lit up a Partagas while I
was on the highway, and I ditched it when I got on the dirt road. Before long, I was at Altamira station. As I drove, I tried to remember a worse road
I had driven on? The road to the
biosphere in Honduras? The awful road in
Bosnia? This might have won the prize,
the rain making it worse, but I was in an SUV this time, so that helped.
Altamira Station was clearly what it was
meant to be, and there was an entrance to the park, but I was not about to walk
two klicks to the park proper. There
were great views here, and the ranger said I was in the park. That was good enough for me. I lit up a Punch and walked around a bit on
the trail, taking some ceremonial pictures.
I said the words that I had been waiting to say: “15 down, 0 to
go.” I then went back to the car and got
my laptop. I sat down at the viewpoint,
where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can try
to get back to the hotel at a reasonable hour.
San Jose,
Costa Rica
Reader, see
that building in the picture here? The
same building I have shown each of the past three nights now? It seems such an insignificant building, so
why I have paid homage to it, writing my entry from this very same seat,
staring at each night, while carefully avoiding to take any selfies with
it? Well, reader, it is the last piece
of the puzzle. The Costa Rican National
Legilsative Assembly. It is all that
stands between me and saying, “Central America Complete.” After my breakfast, I will walk back to this
spot, take my ceremonial picture in the daylight, make my little announcement,
and light up my celebratory cigar before I come back to this seat and write the
beginning of the final entry of this trip.
Yes, I have switched to the earlier flight, so I expect to be back at my
apartment by 1 AM tomorrow night. So,
what has happened since I last wrote?
Not much actually, other than one of the scariest drives of my life, top
five for sure, and a great dinner.
Before I recall those, a minor point of order. There are actually 16 WHSs in Central America,
not 15. I had forgotten that Panama City
itself was a WHS, the only proper city WHS in Central America, in fact. No matter, I’ve still been to all 16 of
them.
After I closed, I went to the car,
first asking the ranger if he thought it was safe to drive on the wet
road. He assured me it was. That was not even close to the hardest part
of the drive. It was bumpy and steep,
but I never once felt scared or unsure of my survival. The same cannot be said of my drive along the
mountain pass of the Pan-American Highway.
I stopped once I got back on the paved road to situate myself and make
preparations for the five-hour or so drive back to the hotel, which I planned
to do as a straight shot. I had plenty
of gas according to the fuel gauge, and I had smokes and snacks galore in the
car. I lit up a Camacho and put on
Fearless. Five hours as a straight shot
was nothing for me. Or, I suppose I
should say, it would be if the road was anywhere close to decent.
The road was not. The rain was on and off, but there was no
real problem until dark. My GPS was
giving me a ridiculous calculation, saying that I should be averaging 40-50
km/h (25-30 mph) for the drive. That
couldn’t be right. This was supposed to
be a great road. How could it possibly
be 40-50 km/h? Either there was traffic
it was calculating, or something was seriously wrong. It was not long before I discovered the
issue. I came to the mountain pass. I lit up my Avo and switched to Les Mis. It was dark and raining. It had hairpin curves. There were no lamps. Reader, do you see where I’m going with
this?
All the sudden, 40 km/h made
sense. Even 40 km/h seemed kind of
dangerous for parts of the drive. Then I
hit the fog. That made things even more
challenging. Then the reflectors disappeared
from the road, along with the lane lines.
It was next to impossible to see the black road in the dark and the
rain. The only saving grace was that
oncoming traffic clearly announced itself with the headlights, so there was
less of a danger of hitting a car than just falling off the road or running
into a cliff. Either one would have
ruined the trip. I checked my gas, and
it said I had about 50 km more of gas than I needed to get to the hotel, but it
seemed to be depleting too rapidly.
I
ran some calculations and monitored the gauge.
It was using up 2 klicks of gas for every klick that I drove. By that math, I’d run out of gas about 3
klicks before I got back to civilization.
I was petrified. This was not how
I wanted to die. I’d have much rather
died in the place of someone I loved.
(Yay, Bella!) What were my
options? I had none. I just had to drive carefully, watch the road
best I could, and stop at the first gas station I saw. Then it occurred to me. Something was seriously off.
I was driving downhill, getting most of my
kinetic energy from gravity, not combustion.
Why the fuck was it using so much gas?
Was it possible that the fuel gauge was miscalculating from being sloped
downward? I thought modern cars had
overcome that flaw. Well, as soon as I
leveled out, the gauge started using less than a klick for every klick I
travelled. I probably could have made it
back to the hotel, but I didn’t want to chance it. Shortly after I left the mountain pass, I
found a gas station. I gassed up, it
being full service, I was still in the car the whole time.
It was 9 PM by the time I got to the hotel,
which was great, since I had figured I would get back to the hotel sometime
between 10 PM and midnight. I asked
about the parking lot, since my usual parking spot was taken and about
dinner. He told me where the parking lot
was (a block away) and recommended an Argentinian steakhouse, which was ranked
at #5 of Tripadvisor and just another block from the parking lot.
The meal was excellent. I got a beer, chorizo, an empanada,
churrasco, flan, and coffee. I don’t
think I could have picked out a more Argentine meal if Eva Peron herself had
sat down next to me and ordered for me.
After dinner, I headed back to my usual spot, where I lit up my Ardor
and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish
and get to sleep. I can actually sleep
in a little if I want tomorrow. I just
need to be on the road by 9 AM, and I only have one thing to do before
then. My ceremonial picture with this
building and the celebratory cigar to follow.
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