Let’s just add it to the long list of daunting challenges we are facing these days…

clipped from www.nytimes.com “These jellyfish near shore are a message the sea is sending us saying, ‘Look how badly you are treating me,’” said Dr. Josep-Mara Gili, a leading jellyfish expert, who has studied them at the Institute of Marine Sciences of the Spanish National Research Council in Barcelona for more than 20 years. The explosion of jellyfish populations, scientists say, reflects a combination of severe overfishing of natural predators, like tuna, sharks and swordfish; rising sea temperatures caused in part by global warming; and pollution that has depleted oxygen levels in coastal shallows.

I was amazed how well drafting really works. It’s one thing to see professional bike racers do it, and I understood the physics behind it, but when you actually get it working for yourself — especially when you are desperately tired and really need a break — it’s almost miraculous.

Then there was the hike up to see numerous waterfalls. There’s a really nice reward waiting at each waterfall, and I don’t mean the photo opportunities: air conditioning. When you get close to the falls, the temperature drops considerably, and for a tired hiker the change is most welcomed.

The last leg of our journey was whitewater rafting… except the river was so low that there wasn’t much water that was white. That’s okay, as we had a very pleasant float interspersed with a handful of rapids. Not wanting to be denied my fun, I provided my own sound effects as we went through them, to heighten the experience. For some reason, this amused my fellow paddlers.

Brian, CJ, Captain Mickey and I manned one raft. We stayed right with our trip leader, and while the other rafts engaged in splash wars with buckets, we stayed dry, avoided getting stuck on rocks, and led the way through all the rapids for the first portion of the trip. Yes, as Brian put it, we were the brown-nose raft.

Unfortunately, when the other rafts had all soaked each other and saw we were still dry,  three of them conspired to gang up on us and thoroughly douse us with buckets of water. Led by the machine-like Bucket Bomber, Steve, they drowned us in a tidal wave of water. It turned out that our skill in maneuvering our raft was far greater than our ability to launch bucketfuls of water. We really sucked at that. Luckily, it was a very hot day, and the water felt really good. But after that we never really regained our prominence, and Mickey’s dream of finishing first was thwarted. Poor Mickey.

In addition to leading us on this full day of adventures, our outfitter also fed us breakfast, lunch and dinner. By the end of the day, we were sated. With muscles tired, stomachs full, and somewhat toasted skin, more than half of us retired to our campsite to relax around a blazing fire. A really blazing hot fire, thanks to Dave and Mickey’s respective pyromaniac tendencies.

I do think a highlight of our camping experience (as opposed to the Official Big Day Out activities), was the loudmouthed fellow in the next campsite.  He must have been hard of hearing, or thought everyone else was. We heard everything he said, and he opined that “Debbie Does Dallas” was one of his favorite movies. In fact, he offered this opinion on both nights that we camped. Quite the cultured fellow!

We really loafed on the camping part, for once. We didn’t cook at all, except for Mickey and Dave making eggs and bacon on Sunday morning. But I think Steve, Jennifer, Jenn and I got the best of the bargain, though, as we went into town and had wonderful premium coffee, omelets and homemade bread at a little cafe. We also had the distinct pleasure of a full twenty minute seranade of church bells. We decided the church-goers in Jim Thorpe must need lots of encouragement to attend.

The really strange thing about the trip was how little we saw of Maureen. You know, I hardly even noticed her all weekend so I’ve nicknamed her “The Phantom.”

Steve put together the whole trip and it was a great time. Once again, Get Out Philadelphia Adventurers hit a homerun. I’m proud to be part of that group, and look forward to our next adventure.

Young urbanites, learning that dirt can also be soil, are using their Carhartts as originally intended.

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Truly our trip to Costa Rica would not have been the same and surely would not have been as much fun without the light-hearted and adventure-loving Kimsan. His blog reflects those same qualities and I recommend it to you!

So this NYT headline caught my eye: “Chinook Salmon Vanish Without a Trace.” Here’s the synopsis:

The Chinook salmon that swim upstream to spawn in the fall, the most robust run in the Sacramento River, have disappeared. The almost complete collapse of the richest and most dependable source of Chinook salmon south of Alaska left gloomy fisheries experts struggling for reliable explanations — and coming up dry.

With the collapse of the fall Chinook, the questions have begun. Is our aggressive, meddling species to blame? Or were there natural causes at work? At this point, no one really knows.

Fishermen think the Sacramento River was mismanaged in 2005, when this year’s fish first migrated downriver. Perhaps, they say, federal and state water managers drained too much water or drained at the wrong time to serve the state’s powerful agricultural interests and cities in arid Southern California. The fishermen think the fish were left susceptible to disease, or to predators, or to being sucked into diversion pumps and left to die in irrigation canals.

On the other hand, capricious natural factors have also been cited:

But federal and state fishery managers and biologists point to the highly unusual ocean conditions in 2005, which may have left the fingerling salmon with little or none of the rich nourishment provided by the normal upwelling currents near the shore.

It is truly a mystery. But one thing is quite certain:

As a result, Chinook, or king salmon, the most prized species of Pacific wild salmon, will be hard to come by until the Alaskan season opens in July. Even then, wild Chinook are likely to be very expensive in markets and restaurants nationwide.

I’m hoping the Chinook rebound soon, and not because I want them served for dinner. I’m rooting for them to add another chapter to their improbable story of overcoming adversity, instead of ending suddenly in tragedy.

I recommend you check Mike’s photos out, as he’s got a good photographer’s eye and captured some spots/action that aren’t well represented in some of the other photo galleries. And his last picture is quite mysterious . . .

Another country heard from! Check out Maureen’s photographs from our Get Out Philadelphia Adventurers Costa Rica trip. Her pictures include the Volcano Irazu that she and Andrew visited when they arrived ahead of the rest of our group. Thanks for posting these, Maureen.

While Andiana Jones was the first one in the water, Big Mike proved to be the boldest pioneer among us. Not only did he discover the spot to climb up to for a fun leap out into the water, but he was the only one who went directly under the pounding cascade of the waterfall. (Ooops, found out later we weren’t supposed to go there . . . too dangerous . . . as Mike learned when the water pushed him straight down and there was no bottom that he could find.)

I happily followed both of them into the bracing cold water, which actually felt quite good after a long, sweaty, muddy hike to get there. After the initial shock, we got used to the water and played contentedly in it. Even Kimsan (El Heuvito), who is aquatically challenged, got in and splashed around.

Although my video camera started to steam up at this point in the trip, due to the high humidity in the rain forest and at the waterfall in particular, I got enough footage to put together my first Costa Rica video, with an appropriate soundtrack. Enjoy!

Andrew, who has surfed before, insisted I would be able to do it. Tina was psyched to try it, and so was Mike. Finally, I decided to take a chance and try it, why not? So what if I fell in the water a lot. Plus, even though I wanted to go on the Medicine Hike and learn about all the plants that have medicinal uses, my feet really really really did not want to do any more hiking any time soon.

When we got to Puerto Viejo we had determined the best day and time to do the surfing lesson would be the next morning, but we had nothing set up in advance. No problem, Dawn knew just who to call, and she set up our lesson with Beto, the local surfing guru from Uruguay with dreadlocks and a completely laid-back vibe. After a brief description of what the lesson included, Mark was in, too, so there were five of us.

We Meet Beto

Mike and Mark decided to check out the nightlife in Puerto Viejo, so they rolled in just a few hours before our lesson began at 8 AM and had the added challenge of a hangover. Beto picked us up in a beat up old Subaru station wagon with surfboards on the roof. “Oh, man, I didn’t know there were five of you or I would have brought my bus, man,” he said. Mark graciously crawled in the back among Beto’s miscellaneous clothes and bags, to bounce along the horrible road from our cabinas to the beach location Beto likes for teaching beginners.

Only one window in the car worked and I was afraid I had broken it when at first I couldn’t get it to roll back up again. Beto drove like someone who hasn’t a worry in the world, including any about safety. We bounced around in the back seat and Mark slid from side to side in the back.

The Surfing Lesson Begins

Once we got our boards out on the beach, Beto began explaining not only what we were going to do, but the mindset we needed to accomplish it. He knows how to communicate both the technique and the attitude required to surf successfully.

We learned how to paddle properly first, then to sit on the board, “so you won’t look like beginners.” Sitting on the surfboard is harder than it looks, but I found after a while that my body learned how to adjust to the waves and stay balanced pretty comfortably. Paddling was quite tiring, since I am not a swimmer and just don’t use the muscles in my arms and shoulders that way. At first I wondered how I would be able to keep this up, but surprisingly after an hour or so I started feeling stronger and was cutting through the waves more powerfully. Maybe I was excited by then about what we were doing.

We Learn “Up!”

For the fact is, all of us in our group stood up and rode waves in to shore in our first and only lesson. Andrew has surfed before, so he doesn’t really count (just joined us for the fun of it and to pick up some pointers). But the other four of us raw beginners had the thrill of jumping up, planting our feet on the board, and balancing back and forth as needed to ride the waves.

It was a great feeling! I struggled at first, though. Beto had taught us the technique of “up” on the sand. We lay down on a line dragged in the sand and went through the motions of paddling, waiting for him to shout “up” and then we were to place our hands under our chest and push ourselves up quickly, landing with our feet on the line and our knees deeply bent with our arms loosely out for balance.

Over and over we practiced until Beto was satisfied. “Up means up,” he explained, “it does not mean think about getting up. It means right now, force yourself up instantly!” Then he solemnly told us that since we all had mastered “up” on the sand, we all were now able to do it on the surfboard. “The sand and the board are the same. If you can do it here, you can do it there. Only your mind can get in your way. You must not think of anything else except ‘up’ and do exactly as you do here on the beach.”

So, when I repeatedly failed to stand up on the board in the water, I thought about what Beto said and I drew on my athletic experience and sent myself back for more practice. I went back to the beach, dragged a new line in the sand, and practiced “up” several more times, convincing my mind and body that this was simple and easy for me to do.

When I went back in the water, on the next wave I got “up” exactly when Beto yelled the word and found myself standing on the surfboard in the water, riding my first-ever wave. And after that feeling, I wanted to do it again and again, and my arms didn’t seem so tired as I paddled back out each time. Sure, I fell off after that sometimes (Beto said I had the best wipeout of the day), but I rode many more waves in and found myself a new sport to work on.

Tina was one of the first of us beginners to stand up, drawing praise from Beto. However, when she messed up, he seemed to take it personally: “Tina, why you do that? Why you not do what I tell you?” Tina was “Tina,” by the way, and the rest of were simply “Bro” for much of the lesson. Yes, Beto likes the ladies and Tina got special attention.

Beto Shares His Wisdom and Vibe

Beto truly has a way with words in his broken English. He gets the point across very effectively. He’d line us up, waiting for the right waves, and then he’d encourage us by saying, “This a really good wave. Don’t f*** it up!” I got the point — he’s passionate about surfing and he wants us to be, too. A good wave is a privilege and should not be wasted.

After the lesson, we loaded the boards back on Beto’s Subaru and then walked to a nearby cafe where we ate and relaxed, basking in our glory. We had surfed! Seems like everyone in town knows Beto, including many of the ladies. There was no shortage of visitors to our table. And while we Americans had various versions of sweet or greasy food, I noticed that Beto had a big green salad with tuna fish.

We hung out with Beto for quite a while, and tipped him very generously, too. He really is an excellent teacher, and when I go back to Puerto Viejo I want another lesson with him, and would highly recommend him as a teacher to anyone travelling there. I’ve got some great video of him talking about what he does and will post it here as soon as I get it edited. Nothing conveys what Beto is like better than seeing and hearing him for yourself, except taking a surfing lesson with him.

Beto shared some of his local culture with us, as well, and so our whole group mellowed into the surfer vibe that Beto lives most of his life in. Tired and happy, I retired to the hammock at Casa Viva and spent most of the afternoon pleasantly napping, listening to the birds and the surf, peacefully reflecting on my good fortune to be “chillaxing” in such a beautiful, fun and friendly place.

If you’re headed to Costa Rica and thinking about trying surfing, or you’re an experienced surfer headed to La Salsa Brava in Puerto Viejo and want tips about the best spots to surf, I urge you to look Beto up. His full name is Alberto Torres, and his Surf School and shop is called Legalize. Ask anyone in Puerto Viejo how to find him and they can tell you. Call him at 506-885-9688 or email him at betolocks@hotmail.com. Tell him Ted sent you!