We are now in Uvita hanging out in a storage container that’s been converted into a tiny house. The doctor in town swabbed our brains yesterday to obtain the Covid results we’ll need to cross the border into Panama. Toucans singing in the trees wake us up in the morning. I heard a ruckus in the jungle outside and found a bunch of guans, a chakalaca type bird, making their loud warbling calls. I walked over to look and there was a caracara, a small hawklike predator, sitting in a nearby palm getting everybody all worked up. Unfortunately, the water camera doesn’t take very good shots but I tried my best.

No Caracaras allowed!

It’s a beautiful little spot. The only drawback is the location falls within the boundaries of Marina Ballena national park. We’re supposed to go through a gate and pay $6.00 but there are small trails through the property that lead to the beach. We walked a path where some monkeys were howling and took a walk down the beach of Playa Colonia to the southern point. Wednesday the park is officially closed but there were a few other people strolling the sands. A man bunster with a Buddha bag and a yoga chick stretching on the beach.

We reached the point and sat for a quiet time facing the tide pools by a long log that had fallen into the sea or maybe a strong wave had brought it here from somewhere far away. PJ led us in a body scan and breathing exercise. As we sat quietly, I noticed things in the pools: crabs finding a safe place to roost, a small mudslide of sand through a crack in the rocks reminding me of an hourglass and other small creatures practicing everyday survival.

We retraced our steps and I took a well needed shower before we headed off for lunch at the main park entrance with the idea of eating at a local soda then hiking out to the end of the whale’s tale in the park. This was when we found out that the park was closed. Anyway, the lunch was awesome, fresh tuna and a bowl of ceviche. Across the street macaws were shrieking in the treetops. Some flew overhead while others got their fill of the ripe mangos that weighed down the upper branches of the trees. We drove around back roads exploring the neighborhoods and seeing how long a steel gripped grasshopper could hold onto the hood of the car.

Mango!

Mango!

Hang on, little amigo!

A camper showed up back at the compound. A Russian lady traveling solo in a small car. PJ tried talk to her but she wasn’t interested in chatting up yankees. She set up near the trees with her white German shepherd who kept a watchful eye on their camp. The leaf cutters were busy harvesting the tree outside of our window. Man, it’s amazing there are still leaves left at the rate that they are running down the trunk hauling their cargo. Luis was calmly raking the grounds, birds were singing and it was a peaceful evening on the porch.

Luis’s Choza