Turning left at the beach
02/23/2015 37 °C
February 23, 2015
Ok, we understand that people come south during the winter for a variety of reasons and that once they arrive in paradise, they may have very different levels of activity from being somewhat like a sloth to risk-taking adventure seekers. While we enjoy ourselves in a lounge chair with a good book around one of our complex’s pools or down by the ocean at the “Beach Club” we don’t do sitting very well for extended periods of time.
We have discovered that there isn’t a lot going on around here, especially since its basically a desert resort community and almost all the day time $ excursions, with the exception of the booze cruises, leave Playas del Coco and head back up into the rainforest areas east of here.
So here is what we did today, our 2nd full day in Playas del Coco. After excellent coffee at a little place just outside our gated community, where Fred can practice his limited Spanish (he is pretty good in asking for or expressing himself in Spanish but has a pained look on his face when they answer back and he doesn’t have a clue what the hell they are saying to him), we slowly wandered down the main drag on the opposite side of the street than we did yesterday. We ducked into the little shops and tourist stores all the way to the beach.
We turned left on the beach, unlike yesterday when we turned right, and walked all the way to the end. The entire horseshoe shaped cove is approx 2 kms long. There is much less development on this end of the beach than the opposite direction and this is also where the small river drains out onto the sand and disappears. We pass a couple of abandoned buildings and cross over a rickety bridge. By now its past lunch time and we stop in this little funky restaurant and have lunch. Its really, really hot with a strong wind blowing out of the north.
Further down the beach are a bunch of boats up on the sand, some having been there for a long time and stripped of anything of value while others are simply waiting for the tide to come in.
We walk out to farthest point and turn around heading back. On the beach, close to town, is the booze cruise boat picking up folks for the 2nd run of the day. We notice the same down and out older looking gringo, who approached us at the restaurant stating that he was a former Navy Seal down on his luck and was asking for money, hitting up the folks clamoring onto the catamaran. We can’t help but wonder if his story is true, especially with all the info in the media about PTSD these days. We will probably never know the truth.