Rafting with All My Teeth

This is our last day in Arenal, but before kicking off the 4 hour drive to Guanacaste, we first need to conquer the white water of the Balsa River. Four people just died here rafting, so my fellow adventurer isn’t exactly sold on the idea, but we found the best rated group in La Fortuna and owner has used a little dog fu to put her mind at ease.

The shuttle out to the river takes about 45 minutes, with a brief stop a roadside stand to pick up some snacks. A two-toed sloth has made a comfortable home up in the rafters of the place, although it is perilously close to some wiring that looks not quite up to code and supposedly gets a wake up jolt every once in a while.

Arriving at our launch point, the guides take a moment to explain the rules, check our gear, and figure out which people will go in which raft. Since I am traveling with the most nervous person on the bus, I will be placed in the granny boat with the rest of the noobs.

The river is broken into two sections – the first with class II and III rapids where most of the action will be, and a second, calmer stretch where we’ll get to relax a bit more and look for wildlife. Despite her reservations, my trusty crew mate is a beast with an oar, powering us through the waves with abandon.

Part way through, the non-granny boat hits a rock and nearly flips, tossing nearly everyone into the river. Trailing in behind we paddle over to pick up one of the stragglers. He is grateful for the rescue, flashing a hillbilly smile as we pull him aboard from where he has landed face first on a rock and broken half of his front tooth off.

That is by far the most exciting part of the day, and after a much calmer segment spotting some animals (including a poison dart frog), we are at the end of our adventure. Fears conquered, my brave traveler looks like a new woman.

From here the day takes a much less exciting turn. For the four hours we crawl our way up and over the mountains behind a variety of trucks, tractors, and other excruciatingly slow drivers. We do pass through a large wind farm along the way, and since we are only moving at 12 miles an hour, are able to get some good pictures.

As seems to be our habit, we finally roll into the hotel after dark. It is another resort, although the road into it is easily the worst we have been on. The potholes are not for the faint of heart and once in a while we hit one so hard it feels like the wheels are going to come up through the floorboards.

We have managed to score a upgrade to the Iguana Suite which, as anyone that has travelled with my fellow adventurer knows, makes this the high point of her vacation. For all the smack she talks about roughing it in third-world countries and crapping her brains out after eating street meat, for her, they call it a Heavenly Bed for a reason. She has cocooned herself in the blankets and fallen asleep before I even have a chance to check in back home.

There are no real plans on the agenda for our time here, so over the next few days we’ll see where the winds take us. Given the road in, it’s entirely possible they may take us nowhere.