The US contingent returned with a solid haul of fish from their all day aquatic adventure. Combine that with about 10 red snapper we had already bought and there was enough food to sink a ship. There’s no such thing as too much fish, but no joke mackerels, snappers and jacks just kept coming off the grill like a production line.
News of a solid swell had us on a bus for Playa Hermosa. Even though the trip was only 3 hours, nap time set in across the board. Bad idea. Ricky’s bag got taxed while he snoozed with everything in it - including passport. Stoked levels plummeted while the Policia wrote a report, only thing we could do is get to Hermosa stat and treat ourselves to waves.
Cool set up at Hermosa, all the houses and surf hostels are right on the beach - metres away from barrels. Playa Hermosa stretches for about 10km with tones of peaks the whole way up the beach. The more south you go, the more swell it picks up. Crowds aren’t really an issue - if a peak starts to get a few on it, just paddle or walk to the next one. The place has a pretty chilled out vibe but with a mix of locals, seppos who have settled in the place and traveling surfers inhabiting the coastline.
We had 3 stops in San Jose as we transited to different surf spots - epic to party, but the place is pretty full on. As with the rest of Costa Rica, San Jose has a huge US influence from musical tastes, fashion to fast food outlets. Good in a way, as you’re assured of any supplies/ gear you need. Bad in that things are shit expensive (sometimes more expensive than the US) and the western influence largely diluted any traditional culture.
So in transit we pretty much sussed out upcoming swells for our next destination on the net and partied hard. We hit up El Puablo a couple of times - a full on local Tico’s nightspot. First time we were there there was not another gringo in the entire complex (15 bars and nightclubs). Again our shady Espanoil came into play as we worked with what little we had to make the local ladies smile. Midway through the night Jim had lost his face and most control of what he was doing. As he was the only white boy in the entire place and super loose, I had to step up and become his personal security detail. Seems like a regular occurrence on this tour. Cutting some rug and hammering a few more beers, we set off for the Blue Marlin Casino - a special place which Goldy had urged us to check out.
Upon entering the massive woodern doors we cast our eyes around the gaming floor. The place is thriving with amazing bootylicious Tica girls. I saw a Jessica Alba Tica, an Angelina Jolie Tica. Turns out every single girl in the place is on the job, feeding on gringo success. After a few beers and a few wholesome conversations with the nice ladies, Jim and I got down to business on the black jack table. We were killing the hands for a while before the dealer started to get up on us. He was an angry little bastard so I felt quite good when I cleaned him out and bailed without throwing a tip. Nice.
Sleep is amazing. I’m glad I got 3 hours this morning. Big shoulders Lawrence got the ball rolling at 8am to go and do an island tour by boat. With varying levels of enthusiasm and a few swearwords, we were on the boat on setting of. Even though I was crazy tired from the 2 day fiesta, I’m glad I got out of our crack den of a room.
Checking out one of the reefs. Teeming with fish and crazy looking coral.
Red frog beach - rock jumps, burger huts by the beach and crystal clear water to recharge the batteries.
I slept for no more than an hour before I had 6 bright eyed possums on my bed excited about the days developments. “We’re a bike gang, we just hired a heap of lowrider bikes” “We doing to Tour de Bocas!” Before setting off we needed our Bocas continental breakfast - Beers and Caprihenia’s, jammed packed with nutrients - perfect way to start the day. The locals say the best way to see the island is by bike, so instead of laying in bed with a hangover, we were loose by 8am and set off along to coastline to Bluff Beach.
Arriving at Bluff we spent the day chilling - swimming crystal Caribbean waters, sipping on Caribbean rum and navigating the ‘Survivor Panama’ gear they had erected for the new series. Next to were we had set up camp, these amazing looking ladies were outstretched taking in some rays. Looking definitely like latino girls (who go mad over an Aussie accent), I got over there to see how things would pan out. Turns out they’re Israeli girls - sure why not. They spoke okay english and we chatted for a good 20mins, pretty stoked on each other. Realising we hadn’t actually exchanged names we went ahead. “My name’s Jamil...” to which on of the girls replied “Thats an Arabic name yes?”. Turns out they’re all Hebrew. The mood suddenly went cold. Game over.
We spit into teams for the last leg home - England V Australia. Stopping at a bar overlooking one of the beaching, we topped off energy levels and strategised. At this point a few bit of trash talking was going on - led by Taylor, I’ve never heard someone talk up and be so confident about his riding. Such emotion. Such passion. Pity he had a chain blowout 1km into the race. Luckily the rasta dude we hired bikes off was worried about us, and rode around the island to make sure we hadn’t gotten lost/ kidnapped/ sold the bikes for beers. Eventually getting back to the hostel, it was time to prep up for fiesta and do it all over again.
