Water slide with the "necessary security equipment" . . .

(This is longer then that other long blog but when you have an "Adventure Combo" your day can be quiet exciting. So strap in, grit your teeth and dive in, I hear it is a rush to read!)

If someone told you there was this amazing water slide that ran down a mountain in the rainforest and was "400 meters of pure adventure and excitement" wouldn't you want to try it? Water slides always conjure up childhood memories of water-parks, near drownings, sliding mats, and hours of sun-burnt fun. Then they mention "Oh, and all necessary security equipment is included." Security equipment? "Yeah, you know helmets." Helmets? By this point I'm hesitating about what exactly a Costa Rican water slide must look like. Obviously if you need such equipment its not going to be your run of the mill plastic tube with sealed together segments that leave red track marks down your legs at the end of the day. Was I willing to run this risk? . . . . . . . . You bet, bring it on!!!

So let me lay the scene for this wet adventure so you can picture it just as it happened. My family came down for a visit, their first time in Costa Rica, and we wanted to show them a good time. So after a few days of beach bathing, good food and visiting it was time for an adventure! Natalie did her research and found this great lodge only an hour and a half from here that offered anything a tourist could want. What won out for me was the description of a mountain water slide and the mention of "necessary security equipment." I had to see what that was.

Driving up a steep incline that was partial pavement and half rock slide, we crested the mountain top near the volcano Rincon de la Vieja. The literal translation is "the corner of old lady" and is attributed to the indigenous people of the Guastuso tribe living on the eastern side of the volcano who believed that an old witch lived on top of the mountain and would send columns of smoke into the air whenever she got annoyed. We had reached our destination of Buena Vista Lodge. So yet again I find myself heading towards a volcano trying to get closer and wondering what sort of mental instability I suffer from. "Run away!" all common sense yells, far away from lava and fire, but instead we pull up at the hotel in our rented Yaris (with bumper to bumper coverage thank goodness) and sigh with relief. We've arrived.

Having placed a reservation ahead of time we are signed up for the Wellness Garden Hot Springs, Canopy Tour and Water Slide. A unanimous decision is made to visit the Hot Springs first so we all got ready. Mary and I chose to go by horse, while everyone else rode the tractor. Now you know your starting an adventure when you see a group of horses with tourists on their backs. Like nervous birds they chatted amongst themselves while snapping pictures and gripping the reins like a steering wheel. Most wore the inappropriate attire of sandals, shorts and sunscreen and were the poster children for every riding camps "death wish" campaign. I cringed when I saw them, hearing my riding instructor's words of "you never wear . . ." suddenly flying out the door. Since we were the last two to arrive, we were thrown onto steeds without question and shoved along to follow the already trailing away group. As I urged my mount to follow, one of the workers flagged me down so I stopped. He muttered something in Spanish and proceeded to tighten the cinch on my saddle. Meaning the one thing that kept my saddle - and me - on the horse was drunkenly lose. With my "safety equipment" adjusted, but no helmet required, I was off on the beginning of my adventure package.

Strolling along at a trail horse's pace, snatches of conversation drift through the air. "How do you get it to stop?" seemed to be a very popular topic while "I don't know, I don't speak horse," garnered a few laughs. We lumbered along a wide trail between lush green hills and trees getting closer and closer to the volcano. The horses were so relaxed and unmotivated that they kept bumping into each other and squashing riders together. I've never done so much apologizing on a horse in my life. "Oh sorry, he wanted to smash into your leg." "So sorry, my horse wants to run you off the road." "Oops, I really didn't mean to kick your foot." "My goodness, I'm dreadfully sorry about colliding with you." Half way through we thinned out into three groups. My once peppy mount suddenly turned into Slow-mo Gonzales and I was forced to accept the Costa Rican life style and just enjoy the slower than walking pace and vegetation.

There was one moment on the ride when around the bend came a quickly trotting riderless horse heading past me. For a moment I sat up, as my horse's ears pricked up and wondered, where's the rider? What's happened? Why couldn't I get that fast horse? There were no shouts, no call to stop and then I see another riderless horse appear. Now you're really wondering what is around that bend, and can my horse even make it there? Then I hear whistles and a whole heard of horses come barreling past all without riders and I'm struck with terror. We're all being led as sacrifices to the volcano I quickly realize. Panicking I struggle to turn my horse around, to escape, yet am powerless against the determination of my steed and slowly clomp forwards to my death. Kicking and pleading I try to warn those around me but they just snicker among themselves and say "See I told you she doesn't know how to ride."

Suddenly several Vaqueros appear herding the horses and smile my way. Relief washes through my body as I blush knowing I've acted the fool, but argue "It is better to be safe then dead." Others quickly trot past me with questioning looks and I shrug. The pace of my horse remains constantly slow but when we round the bend we've reached the end of the trail. With trembling legs I slip out of the stir-ups and collapse on the ground, clutching the saddle to steady myself. One of the workers smiles my way and leads my horse away as I desperately cling to it trying to stand. In unison all the horses relieve themselves and I am awash with urine that seeps through my sneakers and assaults my nose. We've arrived at the hot springs.

After our instructional talk, (you lose the locker key you pay, bathrooms that way, please no peeing in the pools) we are pleasantly surprised to discover that we get to have a mud bath along with our soak in the hot springs. Since it is a spa there are a strict set of rules to be followed for maximum "wellness". First a 10 minute steam in the sauna, then mud application. Allow a 5 minute dry out period before the cold rinse shower and then unlimited soak time in the hot springs. Having never been in a sauna before I suddenly find myself in a boiling pot with other hot springs goers. Hesitating for a moment as the desire to breath registers in my brain, I edge through the heavy mist in the small tunneled hut and wedge myself between two swelling bodies. Focusing on not bolting as the heat swelters and cook us, I wait for the longest ten minutes of my life in that pot. And people do this for fun? Sweating like a waterfall and listening to the groaning around me, I watch as one individual constantly struggles to unfog her glasses with the edge of her bikini. Like an Indian sweat lodge, I waited for my great vision to appear, to see my animal spirit approach and show me the way I needed to go. Nothing, sweat drips off the edge of my nose and plummets to the ground. Nothing, sweat dives from my elbow and explodes on the floor. Thinking perhaps a little more research may need to be done to have a successful vision, I round up to ten minutes and leave. Cool mountain air suddenly whips around me, causing shivers.

I hesitated for a moment, unfamiliar with being cold but was quickly distracted to the mud baths by giggles and squeals. Like cavemen we danced around a pot of boiling mud, slapping the hot goo onto backs and arms. We grunted with approval as we smeared it across our faces, and grinned dumbly as we openly judged who'd done a better mud job. I think this is the only time you will see grown adults wallowing in mud like pigs. Just tell us it is good for us and we'll do it. Promise us eternal youth, energy and beauty and we'll buy it. I just wanted to smear mud on my body, who cares about the rest. When I was throughly muddied up, we were told to dry out on a platform that over looked the rushing mountain stream. As our liquid mud turned into dry dust, our dark tan fading to powder gray, we moved toward the cold showers and the next shock.

Did you know that dry mud is a pain to wash off? Especially under mountain cold showers? Well it is, and where the sauna sucked your breath away, the chilliness of the icy water socked it from your lungs. Attacked with from both the top and side, water surrounds you as you quickly scrub down wanting to escape and be free. With smooth skin tight with goose bumps you cautiously make your way across the wooden bridge, away from the cold torture, to the promised hot springs. Ranging from 80 to 104 degrees you sink into steaming goodness and feel your muscles take a vacation. A whispered sigh slips your lips as you sink up to your shoulders and float in the heated water. Only when small children not related to you decide to cannon-bomb the pool do you move on to a different temperature and laze away the time.

Too soon it is time to catch the tractor back, to try the water slide and you drag your body out of the cocooned warmth. Towel drying, leaving large brown smudges of mud that refused to budge, you quickly find a seat on the pulled cart and bounce your way back to the Lodge. Then you spot it, the end of the legendary mountain slide, and scamper towards it. Now lets see where the helmet comes in, I think.

Handed a yellow helmet and inner tube you are pointed up a path and barefoot you trek your way through the jungle. No one ever told me you could walk barefoot through the rainforest, but I did. Stepping over tangled roots and around large twisted trunks we followed the foot path through the vegetation hearing the occasional scream followed by sloshing water. We'd freeze, like deer, waiting. Eyes twitching and straining our necks to hear more, there is silence and we move on. We only walk along the water slide a couple times. The rest of the time we can hear it, but not see it. Once or twice you'd see a flash of a yellow helmet, a call of help, or an uttered prayer, but nothing more. Natalie got the special diaper for her ride down the slide since the rest of us wore shorts. That's what its called too, no joke. They handed it to her and said, "Put the diaper on at the top." Is no new experience unrelated to childhood? It was a strip of leather shaped like a folded out diaper that you tied together over your hips. Helmets and diapers, what sort of slide was this?

After a timed seven minute climb we reached the beginning of the adventure, and the start of the water slide. Having diverted some of the water from the stream, a cement slide wound its way down the mountain till it reached the base and the flowed into a pool. Going one at a time, Natalie first, you'd watch as they dropped the door to the shoot and dam the water so the slide was dry. Climbing down into it, your inner tube around your waist, you'd wait until the gate was lifted and the water released from prison would flood out and shove you down the open shoot. When it was my turn I climbed into the shoot and cried "Listo!!" The water wrangler gripped the handle on the gate release and with a gleam in his eye pulled the door open. The water bull roared forward and charged with me down the slide. Like a human luge I shoot down the slide, so tight that it is shoulder width apart, so fast that that my bathing suit threatens to tear from my body. Twists and turns rocketed me up the sides of the wall, and I wondered if they'd padded any of the trees for sudden pop outs from the slide. Water spraying into my face blinded me and gripping the inner tube for protection I sped down the slide, over bumps and down the dark end tunnel till I was vomited out with such force I was shocked to realized I'd stopped moving. Wow, what a ride! Scrambling out of the pool before I was tackled by the next tuber, I watched as others were launched out. Collecting on the deck of the pool we all nervously laughed in surprise that we were still alive and decided to do it again. Come on how often do you do a water slide that requires a helmet!

After we'd made our second run, it was on to the Canopy tour and our final adventure. The air slide in the sky. Having subjected our bodies to being soaked, steamed, chilled, projected, and marinated in mud, now it was time to soar them over the tops of trees and dry the water from our suits with the wind in the air. Canopy tours are zip lines that carry you through the rain forest at tree height. With a harness much like rock climbing, your are clipped in and handed a pair of gloves. There are two rules to remember. First, never put your hand in front of the zip wheel that carries you on the line (or you will never be able to count to ten again). Second, waving of the hands downward means stop (not come faster or I'll catch you). Remember these two rules and you'll survive. Forget and you'll suffer. Nothing like a little pep talk to get you motivated. With ten lines to tour through, you start at one and are shoved off over the tree tops, the sound of your speed buzzing in your ear as you accelerate. To slow you pull down, not grip, the cable. A strange sensation builds up in your glove as you slow and it suddenly dawns that you're cooking your glove, your speed slowing with great friction. Like knowingly sticking your hand into a hot oven, you pull on the cable, feel the heat but it never burns through to your skin.

From cable to cable you glide among the trees, the closest to monkeys you'll ever be, buzzing like bees as your wheel zips along. Reaching the last line and touching ground, a smile is plastered on my face, and I glance back to see others gliding by. It is over too fast, too soon I've returned but I've floated through the air with the greatest of ease. I've ridden and soaked, rocketed and zipped. I've flown and landed. It's been a complete day. As we pack up and ride home, our conversations whirl around all that we've experienced and everyone is thoroughly exhausted but happy. It's been a great Adventure day!

The website for Buena Vista Lodge is http://www.buenavistalodgecr.com/ - check it out if you're going to be in the area!!