Quepos Costa Rica 1977

StoneBearTracks ROF Costa Rica journey

Quepos, Costa Rica 1977 pronounced K- po- s

UofAla independent study summer 1977

Coraz'on Loco in the Quepos surf.

One of the 1st side trips out of the capitol of San Jose was to the town of Quepos on the Pacific coast. Ah... to swim in the blue Pacific... walk on the warm, sunny, sandy beach... maybe some good seafood at Costa Rica prices. We are so ready for this beach break weekend.

As the crow flies it looked about 50 miles south of San Jose. Just one problem, the Andes mountains are in between San Jose and Quepos and there is no straight road there. we'll have to take a charter bus that goes over the Andes mountains... the mountain chain that runs from Argentina to Alaska... on a road that gives real meaning to the phrase adventurous travel.

Looking at the map I thought about a 2+ hour distance... that was the direct line road map liniage calculation. Of course I wasn't thinking about going up and down the mountain passes of the Andes... also... the map shows a road that looks the same as the Pan American Highway ... = to US interstates. It looked somewhat doable without much effort. Oh, but you forget,... I must be exhausted after months in Latin America, this is traveling in the 3rd world.

Left San Jose about 8 in the morning. The Latino hustle and bustle of the Capitol is unique as we head southwest out of town. You see all the uniquely individual decorated mass transit busses. San Jose has a mass transit bus system that really does work great. I've ridden public transportation busses all summer and interlined/ changed busses/ connections and never had any serious delays. Although one time Susan and I would up in the natural springs resort town of Orosi by wrong translation.

This is a charter bus as there is no regular transit bus to Quepos. In the first 10 miles we pass through small towns of Saltrillos and San Ignacio,.... then it's wilderness, green, and I mean green nothing rainforest growth forever. Oh,... and guess what?... it's been dirt road since leaving 2 miles outside of San Jose.

Heading due West now and am climbing/ inclining a general ascention, then down into valleys / gaps, and switchbacking back up the next mountain. We were at 3,840' elev when we left San Jose. We're already getting up into cloud layers at times.

Above the clouds in the Costa Rican Andes.

Going over some of the mountain peaks the vista overlooks of the Costa Rica mountains and valleys are uninhabited pristine. The air is so thick and pure/ clean you feel like you gain a couple pounds when you breath in. We've got to be up 5,000'elev by now. the air is thinner, but clean and getting cooler.

Beautiful overlooks in the Costa Rican Andes.

The roads now have graduated to "mountain" status.... winding around mountain ledges, often narrowing down to one lane. NO guardrails on mountainside cliffs. A couple places you could see a rusted out old car or truck that went off the mountain cliff; no way to retrieve it/ tow it... and that's the ones we could still see that the rain forrest jungle hadn't swallowed up under the vines and growth.

There has been no road scraper on this road in several years. some of the potholes are the size of the bus and a bumpy foot deep often with a mud puddle. Some mud ruts are a foot deep and we creep through slowly but with enough momentum to not get stuck. Some turns have a mud puddle 20+ feet wide. All while going up, then down on these curvy mountain switchbacks.

This road is so rough that the speed is 20 to 25 mph - tops ! It's almost like riding a horse it's so bumpy and rocking left and right. Hell, I think a horse would almost be better. Every incline up, then down through the bumpy road hazards is like riding an emotional roller coaster via the bus. You creep up the hill holding your breath, then want to scream on the downside. It's like a perpetual 20mph space mountain.

Every now and then you'd see some form of a dwelling, shack, hut, ... some primitive living abode out in the middle of nowhere. I guess they live like they did a thousand years ago. I saw several Costa Rican oxcarts and primitive cooking ovens on this trip.

One place we had to stop while a rancher moved his cattle herd across the road. That was maybe one of the more normal things that happened today.

A brief stop for cattle crossing the road.

Ascending up constantly we've got to be around 10,000'+ elev. Somewhere over in this range of peaks tops out about 11,500' elev. This bus with about 25 passengers is having a hernia getting up some of these hill climbs. ... and we come to a crawl. Steam is fogging up on the front wind shield; we're overheating. The driver stops the 1st place there is a wide enough spot.

We all get out to stretch while the driver has the hood up with steam pouring out. This is Latin America at it's best. We're on this road to hell... a hell dirt road hell of potholes and ruts. It's already past noon and we're nowhere near Quepos. Right now,... not even sure there is a Quepos with a beautiful Pacific ocean to swim in and walk on a nice warm sunny beach... the parade of that dream is being rainded on now- with dark clouds.

... and the driver hunts around for an empty coke can, goes over to the mud puddle in the curve, dips muddy water up and pours it into the radiator; no joke! Even the ladies knew not to do this; muddy water in a radiator to cool the engine. We are smack dab in the middle of NOwhere, I mean remote tropical rain forrest wilderness with NO traffic to speak of to rescue or send help. I'm beginning to sense what it felt like to be the first wagon at Donner Pass.

While waiting on the fate of the bus engine I took an unannounced group picture of the UofAla students. This is maybe the only group photo of the whole summer, and there are several students that were no on this trip to Quepos.

L to R: a tico kid sitting, tico in cowboy hat, Al, Alfredo Gutterrez, Becky from Mobile, Jody?, Steve Hough standing behind another Steve w/ beard and camera case, Dr. Selwyn Hollingsworth standing sideways, lady student 1?, lady student 2 ?Jan?, Bill? "Wolf" sitting, ?Louise? behind person on end in jeans.

Not pictured here; Dan Flynn, Toby?law school Toby?, Dr Richard Brough and wife ?Hazel?, Dr Edward Mosely, and there was another senior couple from ?Hattiesburg, Courtney "Coco" Glass was with us a few weeks then went on to Mexico for independent study. Bear w/ me for not remembering a name, this was 1977. 

After about 30 minutes of cooling we load up and head out. A few more ups and downs but this has got to be the plateau and then we begin trending down... but there are still some more ups. We're on level flat roads now and actually going 30mph on some stretches. The engine is still over tasked; I wonder if the mud has clogged the thermostat?

We go through tiny hole in the wall places, crosroads of a couple of buildings, one a store. All remote run down nowhere places.

The view from hotel "Maunuel Antonio cabins" lodging.  All dirt roads.

With the engine straining, brownish steam starts to deposit mud film on the lower edge of the bus windshield. We rolled into Quepos about 5pm.... too exhausted to realize how remote and isolated Quepos was. I believe we stayed in the Manuel Antonio cabins for lodging. It was a nightmare for the ladies; really primitive accommodations.

For starters If anybody had any drinking water it was gone by noon. So now we're thirsty and we were all aghast at the glass of water ordered that had sediment all in it. It was like you dipped a glass out of a stagnant barrel... a little murky brown with mosquito larve floating around the glass; don't drink the water here! So that meant drinking beer and brushing your teeth with a coca cola. Those were the only things to drink that were sterile. I think we had several beers after that ride.

Quepos, Costa Rica 1977.  Streets are dirt roads. A sheet in a window. ... before crime.

A glimpse of the beach at dusk looked good. sunset on the Pacific; I reccommend it highly, and often. I must have slept like a rock from emotional exhaustion 'cause tha last thing I remember was hearing the surf pounding as I dozed off to sleep.

Quepos, Costa Rica beach/ cove.

The next morning, the Quepos beach was beyond anything we could have dreamed of. Blue aqua green emerald Pacific ocean with 3 to 4' pounding surf waves. Over the millenia of time the surf erosion had left a few rock islands? pillars? short distances off the yellow gold sandy beach.

Most of the beaches were black sand on the Pacific coast.

The cove rounded for a few hundred yards maybe 1/2 mile. This was on a tiny jut of a peninsula and there was a trail that went through the jungle to the other side of the peninsula. This was actually Manuel Antonio National Park. On the trail I saw a foot long iguana up in the trees and there were some small like spider monkeys that kept some distance. The hotel people said the monkeys would come down and get sandwiches and coke cans left unattended.

There is a foot long iguana in this pic. ?Can you find it?

After the bus driver had drained and refilled the radiator he surfed fished and caught a few? snappers? blues?

There was nothing much in Quepos. Just a tiny Pacific village, maybe a population of 100 that catered to tourists. I wondered how remote it was and difficult to get here that this primitive outpost condition is all it would ever be. When back in San Jose I learned that every couple of weeks you could buy a ticket for $6 and fly in a WWII era DC-3 / C-47 to a couple miles from Quepos; believe I'll do that next time.

The Ticos/ Ticas, the Costa Rican people were always nice to us and very acommodating and friendly. They didn't try to hustle us as we were broke college students. The hawkers selling trinkets we'd say "quando questo"= ?how much? They'd give us a price and you could haggle a little. "Muey Caro" = too much and start to walk away and they'd give you a better price... and everything was so cheap it was still a bargain even when you paid too much; but they got the sale/ and were happy for the business.

This was an amazing journey to get to Quepos and back. Latin American style travel in 1977 ... be ready for anything.

Coraz'on Loco in the Pacific Quepos surf.

You never drink twice from the same stream!