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We took down the tents and packed them in their sacks, breakfasted on porridge with raisins and cinnamon, fruit, coffee and fruit juice. Helped to load the bus and left the community hall, the bats, the music, but not the trucks.
As a team of eight, everyone was cycling. Pete had recovered, joined us again a couple of days previously and was back with the team - his Spanish much improved.
Today Margarita and Beto would be cycling with us too, along with Anna, team leader, that made 12. Luisca followed us in the bus. As he was alone he played his Salsa music very loudly.
Before we started JC gave us an option, he was familiar with a mostly tarmac route on busy main roads, or we could try an off road route? However he was not so familiar with this route and would be relying on his phone and GPS. Not wanting to ride all day avoiding the trucks, and as there were very few hills we opted for 'off road'. A decision some of the team would later cuss.
GPS was the back up, JC asked for directions from anyone who was passing, whether they were walking, working or riding a moped. He even flagged down cars and trucks to ask for directions. Everyone seemed happy to offer help and acted like long lost friends. So much so that you began to think that JC knew or was related to everyone in Costa Rica.
We began on tarmac. We had not gone very far when JC stopped and pointed to a sloth in a tree top. A three toed sloth, it was the day time. Two toed sloths are nocturnal.
Off road again through the banana plantations and the typical banana worker villages. We rode avoiding the huge trucks. On and on again, banana tree, after banana tree.
We stopped for a break opposite a banana processing plant.
As a team of eight, everyone was cycling. Pete had recovered, joined us again a couple of days previously and was back with the team - his Spanish much improved.
Today Margarita and Beto would be cycling with us too, along with Anna, team leader, that made 12. Luisca followed us in the bus. As he was alone he played his Salsa music very loudly.
Before we started JC gave us an option, he was familiar with a mostly tarmac route on busy main roads, or we could try an off road route? However he was not so familiar with this route and would be relying on his phone and GPS. Not wanting to ride all day avoiding the trucks, and as there were very few hills we opted for 'off road'. A decision some of the team would later cuss.
GPS was the back up, JC asked for directions from anyone who was passing, whether they were walking, working or riding a moped. He even flagged down cars and trucks to ask for directions. Everyone seemed happy to offer help and acted like long lost friends. So much so that you began to think that JC knew or was related to everyone in Costa Rica.
We began on tarmac. We had not gone very far when JC stopped and pointed to a sloth in a tree top. A three toed sloth, it was the day time. Two toed sloths are nocturnal.
Off road again through the banana plantations and the typical banana worker villages. We rode avoiding the huge trucks. On and on again, banana tree, after banana tree.
We stopped for a break opposite a banana processing plant.
As a fruit we take bananas for granted. Always available, always cheap, marginally exotic but we are used to them.
Observing the process from tree to truck it is incredibly labour intensive, hard work and in parts dangerous.
Observing the process from tree to truck it is incredibly labour intensive, hard work and in parts dangerous.
The bananas are cut from the trees by workers in the plantations, a maze of interconnecting paths lead to the main trackway. The banana bunches hooked to a cable, are pulled through the plantations along over-head tracks by individual runners.
Each runner pulls 25 bunches at 25 kilos per bunch using a belt around his waist and pulley system over his head. The paths they run on are neither smooth, level or very wide. Using narrow 'bridges' they cross irrigation ditches 10 ft deep, wearing wellington boots or plastic shoes.
Each runner pulls 25 bunches at 25 kilos per bunch using a belt around his waist and pulley system over his head. The paths they run on are neither smooth, level or very wide. Using narrow 'bridges' they cross irrigation ditches 10 ft deep, wearing wellington boots or plastic shoes.
The bananas arrive at the processing plant to be processed.
The bunches are cut from the main stem by men who hose them and put them into large tanks of water. The bananas are sorted and packed onto trays by women, a heavy job involving lifting and twisting.
Women sort the bananas as it is said they are more gentle and take more care than the men. Any banana found with a blemish when packed will mean the whole consignment it discarded, at considerable cost. The labels on the bananas are put on by hand. The bunches are put into plastic bags also by hand.
The process is very fast, intensive and starts early. The workers smiling and happy but did not stop - they worked at a constant high speed.
Costa Rica exports 5 million boxes of bananas per year. It's worthwhile considering fair trade.
The bunches are cut from the main stem by men who hose them and put them into large tanks of water. The bananas are sorted and packed onto trays by women, a heavy job involving lifting and twisting.
Women sort the bananas as it is said they are more gentle and take more care than the men. Any banana found with a blemish when packed will mean the whole consignment it discarded, at considerable cost. The labels on the bananas are put on by hand. The bunches are put into plastic bags also by hand.
The process is very fast, intensive and starts early. The workers smiling and happy but did not stop - they worked at a constant high speed.
Costa Rica exports 5 million boxes of bananas per year. It's worthwhile considering fair trade.
More cycling through banana plantations. At a fork in the road the faster riders, Michael, Daren, Pete, Matt, Mark went on ahead, the wrong way. We branched off and arrived at the lunch venue.
Once again we were ahead of schedule, lunch at 10.30 in a bar, on the corner of nowhere, in the middle of a plantation. There is something to be said for being relative tortoises. Luisca was dispatched in the bus to find the hares. While we waited we went looking for butterflies.
Lunch was served, fish or chicken, rice, beans and salad. The faster riders arrived 30 minutes later, after taking an eight km wrong turn. Not good if your saddle is feeling sore!
Once again we were ahead of schedule, lunch at 10.30 in a bar, on the corner of nowhere, in the middle of a plantation. There is something to be said for being relative tortoises. Luisca was dispatched in the bus to find the hares. While we waited we went looking for butterflies.
Lunch was served, fish or chicken, rice, beans and salad. The faster riders arrived 30 minutes later, after taking an eight km wrong turn. Not good if your saddle is feeling sore!
We followed lunch with the first of today's three river crossings. Number one, by boat.
You had to hail the boat by whistling or calling to the house at the top of the bank. The ferry master, a young women and an under five year old boy.
You had to hail the boat by whistling or calling to the house at the top of the bank. The ferry master, a young women and an under five year old boy.
She made several trips to transport bikes and riders to the opposite side where we scrambled up the bank, pushing our bikes into a lush and shady glade.
Next a narrow 'bridge'crossing, strips of rusting iron over a deep drainage ditch linking one glade to another. The 'bridge' was beginning to shows signs of age and wear and tear, the gaps covered with a rough piece of soggy plywood.
Next a narrow 'bridge'crossing, strips of rusting iron over a deep drainage ditch linking one glade to another. The 'bridge' was beginning to shows signs of age and wear and tear, the gaps covered with a rough piece of soggy plywood.
The next bridge was newer and better maintained. Pete structurally tested the iron work and gantry, declared the bridge sound and fit for crossing.
We had all crossed before him - he was the last.
On again through more plantations. A stop at a small shop and a short wait to meet Jonathan, plantation manager. He was to be our guide riding through a plantation. We would actually be riding the paths the banana runners take. They would still be running them too. We needed to be aware when cycling, the runners can not stop, so we would need to get out of their way.
We had all crossed before him - he was the last.
On again through more plantations. A stop at a small shop and a short wait to meet Jonathan, plantation manager. He was to be our guide riding through a plantation. We would actually be riding the paths the banana runners take. They would still be running them too. We needed to be aware when cycling, the runners can not stop, so we would need to get out of their way.
Banana bunches grow from a single flower, forming at the top of the bud in small 'fingers'. There is no season to banana harvest, the plants are cropped and chopped in rotation so there is a constant supply.
In truth inside the plantations are a little creepy. They are humid places and it's very easy, if you venture off the paths to get lost. They are quite dense and the trees creak and groan. While we were in there it rained heavily increasing the humidity.
Fortunately we were spared a drenching, that would come later, but the rain drops bounce loudly off the broad leaves.
The paths were narrow - concrete lintel type structures - in places occasionally two or three would join making a continuous path, but mostly they were uneven, gaping or just missing. You had to watch carefully, as it would have been easy to do a personal launch over the handlebars.
The bridges across the drainage ditches were narrow, while it was possible to ride them, if you were confident, the paths did not always finish at the bridge or start at the other side. So we carried the bikes across.
We finally emerged into the daylight disoriented and grubby. An interesting experience but strange; it was as if time had stood still. We had no idea how long we had been in there or how far we had travelled or indeed where we were.
A short ride along the dirt track at the top to a subtle break in the thick vegetation and the next river crossing; boat ride number two.
In truth inside the plantations are a little creepy. They are humid places and it's very easy, if you venture off the paths to get lost. They are quite dense and the trees creak and groan. While we were in there it rained heavily increasing the humidity.
Fortunately we were spared a drenching, that would come later, but the rain drops bounce loudly off the broad leaves.
The paths were narrow - concrete lintel type structures - in places occasionally two or three would join making a continuous path, but mostly they were uneven, gaping or just missing. You had to watch carefully, as it would have been easy to do a personal launch over the handlebars.
The bridges across the drainage ditches were narrow, while it was possible to ride them, if you were confident, the paths did not always finish at the bridge or start at the other side. So we carried the bikes across.
We finally emerged into the daylight disoriented and grubby. An interesting experience but strange; it was as if time had stood still. We had no idea how long we had been in there or how far we had travelled or indeed where we were.
A short ride along the dirt track at the top to a subtle break in the thick vegetation and the next river crossing; boat ride number two.
The river was down a steep bank and while we waited for the boat to get into position it rained. Penny attempted to make a makeshift umbrella with a nearby 'Penny sized' banana leaf. No one had a machete to hand and the leaf was not going to be peeled from the trunk.
Like the rest of us, she got wet.
Like the rest of us, she got wet.
As the rain fell, we waited. A look down the muddy bank to the river below, where we were to man-handle our bikes, put me in mind of a David Attenborough, natural history programme featuring the annual wildebeest migration in Tanzania.
The slope was quite steep with almost no bank to speak of at the bottom - just the river. My train of though was interrupted as JC said "bikes first"; so much for women and children then.
The bikes were duly loaded and taken across the river leaving JC and Beto on the far bank.
The slope was quite steep with almost no bank to speak of at the bottom - just the river. My train of though was interrupted as JC said "bikes first"; so much for women and children then.
The bikes were duly loaded and taken across the river leaving JC and Beto on the far bank.
As we all climbed smiling into the gently rocking boat my thoughts returned to Africa, too late. I had forgotten to ask JC if there were crocodiles in the river and .....
.....why was he smiling at us, but from the far side?
We set off again over cobbles this time and back into the banana plantations. I kid you not, Costa Rica must be covered in banana trees and we rode past every single plantation, including some plantations we didn't mean to cycle past.
The plantations are so vast and the work so labour hungry that the companies built 'villages' for the workers. Some workers are now able to buy their houses and a few have done so, however a few have fallen into disrepair as the workers choose alternative accommodation elsewhere.
The plantations are so vast and the work so labour hungry that the companies built 'villages' for the workers. Some workers are now able to buy their houses and a few have done so, however a few have fallen into disrepair as the workers choose alternative accommodation elsewhere.
At a road junction we happened upon an old plantation worker. He was very chatty, we had no idea what about, and posed willingly for a photograph.
Then charged us 50 colones for the pleasure. He was worth it.
Then charged us 50 colones for the pleasure. He was worth it.
It had been threatening to rain all day and as we turned from tarmac to, off road again the heavens opened. You are never sure when cycling in the rain; is it glasses off or glasses on? No matter what you try; glasses on they steam up and water droplets obscure your view, or, glasses off and the spray goes in your eyes, there just doesn't seem to be a solution.
We got soaked. Absolutely soaked through.
And yet more banana plantations. I have mentioned before that JC was not familiar with the route and although he had done this section previously the vegetation had grown! We had reached a dead end at a processing plant.
We rode our bikes for four km, back the way we had come - muttering.
We got soaked. Absolutely soaked through.
And yet more banana plantations. I have mentioned before that JC was not familiar with the route and although he had done this section previously the vegetation had grown! We had reached a dead end at a processing plant.
We rode our bikes for four km, back the way we had come - muttering.
At a junction JC turned left onto a track made of something 'much bigger than cobbles'. We were nearing the end of a long day and exceedingly tired. A rough surface to tired arms, legs, saddles and minds was demoralising.
Over head a small plane, buzzed us as we bumped along - muttering and cussing, we were digging deep.
Suddenly JC launched himself into the tall, dense vegetation!! GPS missed a beat? No!
We followed and cycled literally making a path with our bikes. The ground was rutted and uneven and because of the ground cover you couldn't really see what was 'under wheel' so the potential for a fall was huge. If you fell, Penny tried it, you couldn't fall off, there was nowhere to go. A fall meant you lost your balance and lent heavily on the surrounding vegetation in a semi upright posture. Hilariously funny but difficult to get out of, making it even funnier.
Finally we burst through like pioneers, onto a river bank. Our third and final river crossing of the day. This time wading.
We were shown how to pick up our bikes, hoist them on our shoulder and carry them efficiently.
In a long crocodile, I've mentioned those before, we waded across the river. Stepping in, the water wasn't cold as we had expected, but pleasantly warm. However the river bed of boulders and cobbles was extremely slippery. The bikes were heavy and altered your centre of balance and the current was swift. It took a lot of strength to combine, carrying your bike, wading across the cobbles and staying up right.
Penny and I had neither the strength nor capacity to manage just picking up the bike let alone the additional elements I have mentioned.
So grabbing my arm JC carried mine, Beto carried Penny's and Anna managed to carry her own and wade across - she's a tough cookie.
Over head a small plane, buzzed us as we bumped along - muttering and cussing, we were digging deep.
Suddenly JC launched himself into the tall, dense vegetation!! GPS missed a beat? No!
We followed and cycled literally making a path with our bikes. The ground was rutted and uneven and because of the ground cover you couldn't really see what was 'under wheel' so the potential for a fall was huge. If you fell, Penny tried it, you couldn't fall off, there was nowhere to go. A fall meant you lost your balance and lent heavily on the surrounding vegetation in a semi upright posture. Hilariously funny but difficult to get out of, making it even funnier.
Finally we burst through like pioneers, onto a river bank. Our third and final river crossing of the day. This time wading.
We were shown how to pick up our bikes, hoist them on our shoulder and carry them efficiently.
In a long crocodile, I've mentioned those before, we waded across the river. Stepping in, the water wasn't cold as we had expected, but pleasantly warm. However the river bed of boulders and cobbles was extremely slippery. The bikes were heavy and altered your centre of balance and the current was swift. It took a lot of strength to combine, carrying your bike, wading across the cobbles and staying up right.
Penny and I had neither the strength nor capacity to manage just picking up the bike let alone the additional elements I have mentioned.
So grabbing my arm JC carried mine, Beto carried Penny's and Anna managed to carry her own and wade across - she's a tough cookie.
All the while the small light aircraft continued to fly round and round over the banana plantations and above our heads, spraying the crops!
Anna was concerned how she would write this up in the Global Challenge risk assessment of the trip.
Anna was concerned how she would write this up in the Global Challenge risk assessment of the trip.
Out of the river and up the bank we headed off.
No one had asked JC the 'are we nearly there yet' question for some while. We were soggy of foot and it had started to rain but strangely the river crossing had boosted our spirits.
We literally burst through the vegetation on to a small and quiet tarmac road.
A lane in the UK. A short cycle, the road lined with waist high, bushes edging manicured lush and green lawns.
We had arrived at the final (and most luxurious) camp of our challenge.
Distance = 80 Km, total ascent = 260 Surface = 20% paved 80% dirt.
No one had asked JC the 'are we nearly there yet' question for some while. We were soggy of foot and it had started to rain but strangely the river crossing had boosted our spirits.
We literally burst through the vegetation on to a small and quiet tarmac road.
A lane in the UK. A short cycle, the road lined with waist high, bushes edging manicured lush and green lawns.
We had arrived at the final (and most luxurious) camp of our challenge.
Distance = 80 Km, total ascent = 260 Surface = 20% paved 80% dirt.
Yes our accommodation was still tents, but tents already 'pitched', raised on stilts and with a roof.
Penny and I chose a shelter in a far quiet corner. Not the wisest of decisions but it seemed a good plan on arrival. We grabbed a beer and sat and congratulated ourselves on our good fortune.
Penny and I chose a shelter in a far quiet corner. Not the wisest of decisions but it seemed a good plan on arrival. We grabbed a beer and sat and congratulated ourselves on our good fortune.
Compared to the tents we had been sleeping in so far these were huge and there were mattresses, pillows, sheets and blankets too.
It was a beautiful campsite. They had saved the best until last. It was lush and tropical and in the grounds grew plants which you can buy in the exotic plant section in B&Q, only here they were huge and not in plastic pots.
The showers were incredible. Girls and boys separate too - such a novelty. Open to the elements but with a changing room, mirrors, benches, a separate shower section with vanity screens and tropical flowers all around and
so c-l-e-a-n. The water was still cold but we spent ages in them, and that was just the boys!
Making the most of the opportunity we rinsed our clothes, wet from the rain and hung them to dry under the tent canopy.
We returned to the main area for more drinks, nibbles, chat and supper. The crew had the night off, there were staff who did the cooking for everyone.
The showers were incredible. Girls and boys separate too - such a novelty. Open to the elements but with a changing room, mirrors, benches, a separate shower section with vanity screens and tropical flowers all around and
so c-l-e-a-n. The water was still cold but we spent ages in them, and that was just the boys!
Making the most of the opportunity we rinsed our clothes, wet from the rain and hung them to dry under the tent canopy.
We returned to the main area for more drinks, nibbles, chat and supper. The crew had the night off, there were staff who did the cooking for everyone.
We feasted well, pudding tonight too. The wine and beer flowed, then out came the Tequila slammers.
We didn't notice the heavy tropical rain until it was time to return to our tents for a good nights sleep. Never mind we had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and alcohol coursing through our veins, so we made a dash for it.
It's very dark at night in the tropics. Even wearing a head torch it's still dark. Nevertheless we made it down the winding path back to our tent and bed. It continued to rain heavily throughout the night.
We didn't notice the heavy tropical rain until it was time to return to our tents for a good nights sleep. Never mind we had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and alcohol coursing through our veins, so we made a dash for it.
It's very dark at night in the tropics. Even wearing a head torch it's still dark. Nevertheless we made it down the winding path back to our tent and bed. It continued to rain heavily throughout the night.