The next three days saw us hanging out at Jerry’s house and the surrounding area. We spent our time swimming in the pool, lounging in hammocks, howling at the monkeys, going to the town of Samara to eat at restaurants on the beach, swimming at Playa Carrillo, and driving down the coast to enjoy the fancy resort pool at Punta Islita. All of the usual stuff. All of it good. I was also reunited with the surfboard I keep at Jerry’s house and got to surf a few hours every morning, which is always a big part of the draw for me. After four nights at Jerry’s, we began our trek to Pavones, which is about as far south as you can go on the Pacific side before hitting Panama – the end of the road.
Here are a bunch of pics from our time at El Rancho Deluxe:
And some pics taken at other places (various beaches and “in town”) near Jerry’s:
Kids at La Vella Latina in Samara
Our intended route was to follow the coast down the Nicoya peninsula, around the southern tip, and then take a ferry across from Paquera to the mainland. Our plans changed after we heard rumors from two different sources of banditos robbing/carjacking people at one of the river crossings along that route. There are no bridges at these rivers, and you become an easy target if you get out to check the depth of the river before driving through, which is always a wise thing to do. With that in mind, we instead headed inland through Hojancha and on to Naranjo, where we caught a ferry across to Puntarenas. Jerry and his girlfriend Monica decided to come with us. Jerry hadn’t been to Pavones since the early 80’s and he wanted to see it again. Pavones is home to the second-longest left in the world, so it wasn’t purely for nostalgia’s sake that Jerry wanted to come. The ferry ride doesn’t really save you any time, but it’s a beautiful ride across the Gulf of Nicoya and is fun break from driving. The kids had a great time dancing to the music while we enjoyed empanadas and beers from the onboard snack bar.
Once we got off the ferry, we continued working our way south. We stopped at the Backyard Bar and Hotel in Playa Hermosa for lunch and to see my friend Ana, who works there. I met Ana on a guys’ trip to CR years ago and had seen her a few times since. I wanted her to meet Jennifer and the kids; I wanted to show-off my family. After lunch, we kept heading south, eventually stopping for the night in Dominical. We again checked out a few hotels until we found one that worked for us. Jerry and Monica got a room there, too, and we all enjoyed an evening cocktail before walking through town to find a place to eat. We ended up at Tortilla Flats, an open-air bar and restaurant right on the beach. Jennifer and I then headed back with the kids, while Jerry and Monica went looking for a drink somewhere. Jerry and I scored good, clean, and powerful surf in the morning, but had to paddle nonstop due to the drift.
With Dominical in the rearview, we again put in a long day of driving. We went through Palma Sur (miles and miles of oil palm plantations), Piedras Blancas, and then down a dirt road to come into Golfito from the north. Before we turned down this road, we stopped at a little store at the intersection to grab a beer and some snacks. An older lady was set up outside with a big bowl of some kind of food with a towel draped over it to keep the bugs off. What she had was fried chunks of pork that she squeezed a little lime juice over. It was exceptionally good for being so simple. Jennifer still talks about how delicious it was, and that is NOT at all the type of food she typically goes for.
In Golfito, we stopped at a grocery store to buy some things for our time in Pavones. We rolled into Pavones in the late afternoon and found two rooms to rent above one of the restaurants in town. When I say “town,” one has to understand that Pavones consists of a grocery store, a surf shop, three restaurants, a few of hotels, a recently-constructed police shack, and a soccer field that takes up half of the town. We all ate together at the Soda Doña Dora, which is by far the most happening place. We also walked over to check out the beach, which is on the other side of the soccer field, only to find that the surf was nearly flat. Bummer. All good though, we were happy to be there.
The next morning, Jerry and I drove 10 minutes down the beach to a tiny village called Punta Banco. The surf there was said to be breaking better, which it was. We surfed a few hours with some young local kids, and then enjoyed a few beers and some ceviche from the store that we parked in front of. Like a lot of the little stores in Costa Rica, this one doubled as a home. In this case, the home of the kids that we were surfing with and their parents. Once back in Pavones, I took a turn watching Cooper and Brooks for a while so that Jennifer could exercise down by the beach. She enjoyed the time to herself exercising while watching a few free-roaming horses play in the sand. She says that this is the best beach she’s ever been to. This wandering trip was turning out just fine. At some point that afternoon we took the kids to play at the beach. We ate dinner at Tico Mex and checked out what was left of the cantina “La Esquina del Mar” that used to be right on the water. In 2011, the local government decided that its location was in violation of the maritime zone and it had to be demolished. It had been there since Dan Fowlie (more on him below) built it in 1976. The night before it was set to close, it mysteriously burned to the ground.
One of the nice things about Pavones is that it is largely untouched by development, which can’t be said about most coastal Costa Rican towns that have surf. The lack of development is also what makes the area where Jerry’s house is at so nice. Towns like Tamarindo, Jaco, Quepos, and Manuel Antonio aren’t the Costa Rica I want to visit; they have the same fast-food joints and high-rise condo complexes, and are nearly as paved over as the beach towns here at home. Pavones has been spared from the same fate, partially due to how far south it is, but also because of it’s colorful history and resulting property ownership disputes. The story goes that a Californian named Danny “Mack” Fowlie bought thousands of acres of coastal property (15 miles of coast) back in the early 70’s and owned nearly all of what was Pavones at the time. He moved his family there, brought in equipment by boat (no roads to get there), employed the locals, cut roads, built bridges, planted crops, built a school, carved out a runway, etc. He funded his personal paradise by being one of the largest marijuana smugglers at the time. Pavones was often called “Dannyland” and he was known as the “King of Pavones”. Ego-inflating titles aside, it’s hard to say what the area would look like today without his influence during that period. It all came crashing down when he was busted by the Feds in the US and extradited from his just-across-the-border house in Mexico. They never found any substantial physical evidence, but he still got nailed with a 30-year prison sentence for drug trafficking thanks to many of his trusted cohorts ratting him out in exchange for lighter sentences. While he was locked up, his lands in Pavones were sold and resold by those who either did or didn’t have legal title to do so, depending on who you ask. Needless to say, buying property down there isn’t without risk. A gringo developer got his hands on one of the most valuable pieces of Dan’s properties: the ocean-front parcel just south of the river mouth, which sits directly in front of the famed surf break. They have started construction on an 80-unit condo complex, which will forever change the town. Dan Fowlie maintains his innocence and got out of jail after serving 18 years. Now 82, he is living in a shack in Mexico, still fighting in Costa Rica’s courts to get his lands in Pavones back. As for the Pavones Point project, some locals are for it in hopes it brings more tourism, money, and jobs; others are against it. Not that I get a vote, but I hope it end up like the Esquina del Mar – a smoking hole in the ground.
Jerry and I again surfed Punta Banco the next morning. It’s the kind of place that when you look back at the shoreline from the lineup, you can’t help but crack a smile in awe. The salty mist from the surf hangs over the beach and village, slowly climbing its way up into the lush green hills where it lingers for a while before settling into the canopy. Scarlet macaws fly overhead, temporarily disrupting the surreal peace of the place with their incredible shrieking caws. Not many words are spoken aside from the occasional and obligatory acknowledgement of a well-ridden wave: “Nice one…” the “dude” part goes unsaid. No, just two gringos and some local kids quietly bobbing in the ocean, patiently waiting for it to deliver a little wave and with it a shot of dopamine – on the house. You sit, you look around, your thoughts wander – then turn off all together for a while only to come back with a completely new subject – then, hey, this wave is shaping up nice . . . and you go. You paddle back out knowing that there is no place you’d rather be in that exact moment. And then you smile in acknowledgment as someone calls out “good one.” And it really was.
With wet hair and refreshed minds, we headed back to Pavones to meet up with the girls and kids. The town got busy while we were gone; a soccer tournament was about to begin. Players and their families from all of the small towns in the area descended on Pavones for the day. The women were busy making food to sell in the community’s kitchen, while other vendors sold snacks out of the backs of their cars: pipa fries (chilled coconuts), empandadas, tamales, skinny plastic tubes of roasted cashews, and mamón fruit by the kilo. We again hung out at the beach for a while, this time with a bag full of mamón, which are really just rambutan given a local name. It was the start of an crack-like addiction with the spiky red fruit.
After watching a little bit of the soccer tournament from our balconies, we decided to take Monica, Jennifer, and the kids down to Punta Banco to check out the scenery. We beached it for a while and seized the rare opportunity to bowl for buzzards. We then got back into the car to explore further south; this was an adventure, after all. The road followed the beach for a little while before turning inland up into the hills. We came across a few houses and then another tiny village before running out of road and turning around. I can’t imagine living in a place so remote – literally, the end of the road – but, when there are generations of one’s family there and it’s all they’ve known, it is simply “home”.
Back in Pavones, the soccer games were over, but the party continued late into the night. As the alcohol continued to flow, things got a little rowdy. A guy and his wife began loudly arguing, then fighting. People were trying to hold her back, but there was no stopping this girl, who was 3x the size of Jennifer in every way. She managed to get within arms reach and open-hand smacked this guy as hard as you could possibly hit someone. The sound was piercing, and she followed that up with a stomping kick to the crotch, which wasn’t as loud, but equally cringe-worthy. It was not a good night for that guy. Adding insult to injury, the police eventually showed up and took him away. Things quieted down after that; just the faint clinking of bottles and calm voices as the women finished cleaning up the kitchen. Pavones seemed ready to call it a night; we followed her lead and went to bed.
On to the next places…