March 25, 2006
--The bold dates are the dates I am writing on--

--- I’m sitting under a tree, and am quit distressed. I feel a little
hopeless. We have been driving for three days now while on our way to
Witch’s Rock, a surf spot north of Malpais up near the Nicaraguan border.
Why am I upset; because I am tried and stressed about my truck, money, and
life in general. It seems no matter how perfect I think things are, they
always seem to fall apart. It shows me that by no means am I perfect, and
under no circumstance will I ever have full control of what happens. I am in
the hands of God, and with enough faith and trust I can gain that sweet
peace that only he can provide. It is trying times that I am going through,
but maybe I will succeed and gain freedom from my own frantic doubts.

--- Ok back to the surf trip stuff. I’m sitting under a tree here at Witch’s
Rock. How did I get here? Well I drove. Simple. Not really. I’ll start at
the beginning and give you the juicy details of how it came to pass, and how
I found this tree to sit under. Mind you, it is 8pm, and I just finished
eating a big bowl of Ramen Noodles…. I might run off course a bit while
telling of our spontaneous and unique travels.

---It was Wednesday night, and we were going to Malpais “Surf Camp” to jam.
On Wednesday nights they have open mic night and anyone can jump on stage
and jam for a while. Not always the wisest thing to allow; the music more or
less ends up being noise made by heavily intoxicated drunks who don’t have a
clue as to what music and bands should sound like. They get up on stage,
stumbling while they walk, pick up a guitar or get behind the drums, start
strum’n strings and yelling into the mic. They are always off key, out of
tune, and off beat. Its just noise! But that’s ok. The crowd that is
gathered there is drunk as well, and really aren’t paying much attention to
who is playing, or just beating the drums. To them if it has a beat, it
works. Also, if by some chance someone starts playing a good cover song, and
sings the lyrics, well then the crowd goes nuts, just a cover, not even a
good one.

Well so here is what happened when we showed up. Nothing! I wasn’t in the mood
yet to jam, and Ryan was content with chilling for a while and watching the
crowd. We grabbed a table next to the stage and watched the noise unfold. An
hour later or so, a chance opened up for Ryan to grab the drums. He did, and
Allen the Argentinean jumped up and grabbed the guitar. Ryan began laying
down this totally PHAT beat, I mean it really was tight. It got me going, I
wanted to grab the bass and run with it. But NO, couldn’t do that. There was
already Mr. Jazzy Blues, that’s the name I’ll give him, up there playing the
bass. He was good as Jazz runs and scales, but had no vision. He played the
same jazz riff over and over again, and when Ryan began playing….Well, he
continued playing the Jazz riff. It didn’t fit. Ryan had this thing going
with Allen; very surfer, kinda punk style… Fast, three chord progression.
Nothing fancy, just in your face tight. I was loving it! I don’t like punk
bass lines, but this one had some room for me to add a little Raymond Sines
flare to it. But there was Mr. Jazzy Blues playing his scale with all the
wrong notes. I think out of his scale, he would constantly hit one note
right. He would start on the right note, then progress in the wrong
direction. I think Allen was playing a Minor, and he was playing a major.
Maybe the other way around, all I know is that after the first line, I had
it down and was ready to jam! I never did though. I sat there and let Mr.
Jazzy Blues play, and when they were done, I groveled at Ryan’s feet for
forgiveness. He wasn’t too happy about Mr. Jazzy Blues either. I tried
getting him to go on with me later, but it never happened. Why didn’t I go
on when he did? Because I was nervous, I wanted to feel the music, I wanted
to be inspired to play!

Well from there we just chilled. We walked around, observed the wildlife,
i.e.… The locals wasting away at the watering hole; amusing, Yes, but a
complete waste of time. So, why were we there you might wonder….. Well God
had a plan I believe.

The day before Ryan and I had gone with Joben, Amanda, and their friends
Erv, Coney, and Matt up to the waterfalls of Montezuma. On the way back Ryan
and I had picked up three hitchhikers and driven them up to Cobano, the city
halfway to Malpais from Montezuma. There were two guys and a girl. The girl
was very cute! Anyways, we gave them a ride and they thought the truck was
cool.

Ok, how God placed us at Surf Camp…. After watching the locals get wasted,
we watched them get tossed by the mechanical bull. Yep, they have those down
here as well. One by one they would climb on to it’s back only to have the
operator spin you round slow, then when the crowd was focused he would speed
it up and hurl you to the ground below. It was a comical event for us, being
sober. For us we could understand how pathetic it was to see weak skinny
girls climb on this machines back only knowing they wouldn’t last long, and
that it was going to be a long ride down to the ground when the operator was
ready for a new challenge. We watched for a while, until Joben grabbed my
arm. He said, “Ray, this guy over here fell off the bull and cut his knee on
its horn, maybe you can stitch him up.” I followed Joben over to see what
was up. Well could you believe it, it was the same guy who I had picked up
in Montezuma the day before. Wow, and the gash on his knee! It was almost
four inches across and deep, all the way through the flesh. The cute girl
was there too. I asked Joben to see if the guy wanted me to stitch up his
knee for him. Joben asked him and the guy said yes. I told Joben to hold
them there and I would go and bring the truck around. As I turned to get the
truck, the guy turned and snorted a line of Coke. Well I thought, this is
going to make things interesting, I have a patient that’s tweaking out on
coke and I don’t think I have any medical gloves at the house. No gloves! A
guy who uses drugs, no gloves, what am I going to do? Ahh, the first aid kit
Ariel’s mom gave me, it has a set of gloves in it. Now all I have to do is
not stick myself with a needle.

----EXPLANATION
A person who uses drugs is more likely to carry a blood born disease than a
non-user; hence the importance of the glove and not sticking myself. It’s
not a stereotype, just a precaution of what is a possible reality.

We got the guy into bed of the truck, along with Allen, Phillipe, Jared,
Ryan, Oliver, and Joben; then headed for the house, ten minutes away. Well
if you thought that was a lot of people, we then picked up three girls, and
carried them on the roof rack all the way to their dwelling as well. How
many was that, 11 if you count Amanda and I up in the cab. It’s cool though,
the more the better.

Once at the house I began gathering my equipment together and setting up for
my stitching. Also at this time the cocaine began setting in, and my patient
began sweating and dry heaving like a beast. We gave him some ice water and
placed a fan at his face; his pupils where like giant black pearls shining
in a field of white. He calmed down though, and I was ready. I would have
given him an Advil and Tylenol mix, but didn’t know what affect it would
have with the cocaine, so no pre-med. I gave him the topical, sprayed and
cleaned the wound. Then injected to carpuls of Novocaine. For the first
carpul he felt it. I could see his I twitching with pain, but by the second
one he was good. I let him chill for a few minutes and then went to work. I
placed eight beautiful stitches across the gash. They were pretty! Cleaned
him up and got him ready to go.

March 26

---He spoke.

He gave me a giant hug and spoke. His wisdom was over taking. I couldn’t
understand him very well, but he tried to explain to me the value of what I
was doing. He told me of Costa Rica, and the importance of my mission to the
people. I sat there for twenty minutes as he explained to me how the people
were pure and simple. How I should appreciate them and enjoy their simple
life. Not to long for the cities and luxury of man. How in the small
villages the people loved each other and cared for one another like family.
It was soothing to hear his words; to listen to his passion for his people
and their lives. After our time there I took him down the road into Santa
Teresa and dropped him off with the cute girl at their destination. They
disappeared and that was the end of the night. I told them to drop back by
the house in a week when we get back from the surf trip, and that I would
remove the stitches.

As I dropped them off, He said one thing that will always remain in my head
forever…. “You have the Power!” Yes, that is what he told me. It inspired me
and made my trip out to Malpais all worth it.

I have enjoyed helping and blessing the Belgium’s, but to be able to help
this guy with a ride from Montezuma, and then to service him medically and
bless him in a way only I could; It gave me the desire to continue on
blessing in what ever way I could. God showed me the light through a guy
tweaked on coke; God is everywhere, even in the darkness where there seems
to be no hope for salvation, there is always light. Satan may try, but God
will always be there, He is a fire that cannot be put out or covered. He is
our leading Light, our Savior, Protector, and Friend in times of loneliness.

---Ok, here’s how I got the title for this surf trip. You may have been
wondering why It’s called, “It’s Ok, My Dad’s a Dentist”; here’s why. Ever
since I gave Ryan his stitches, people have been asking me if I am a
professional doctor. The reply has been, NO, but my dad’s a dentist. So the
Phrase was coined… “It’s Ok, My Dad’s a Dentist”. Just like Lloyd Christmas,
from “Dumb and Dumber”, “It’s Ok, I’m a Limo Driver”.

--- Now back to the surfing. We packed up everything Thursday morning,
getting ready for the adventure ahead. I was stoked. We got everything
packed; Jared was leaving for San Jose to help at Oscar's farm, and he got
packed as well. We picked up Amanda and Joben and headed North up along the
coast. The day was clear, the roads rough and bumpy, cover with potholes,
and all was good in the camp of “Surf Trip 20-06, Costa Rica”!

----Explanation
You say it: Twenty O’ six.

We drove for an hour and hit Rain! The second rain I’d seen since I left the
US. It was a light cool rain coming down from the mountains, drifting out to
the coast. It only lasted for a half hour or so, then it cleared up. We
drove along the coast for a ways, then jumped onto the beach. The beach is
much faster; there are no bumps, potholes, or any real major obstacles to
try and dodge while driving. We cut a lot of time off our journey by driving
on the beach. I was able to cruise at about 70mph on the sand just yards up
from the water reaching up the sand. The sand was packed and felt like a
glassy highway, begging for speed. We drove for about 20km then hit a rocky
point and turned back onto the road. I hate the road!

An hour and a half came and went and we found our first surf spot. The waves
were lame. They were closing out, and weren’t very big. The tide was out;
there was no swell coming in to make the waves stand up on the shore. We
stopped at the little “soda” bar and ordered something to eat. Fries, papas
fritas, in Spanish. They were nasty! They were badly freezer burned, over
cooked, and fried in fish oil. It was like eating little potato logs that
would burst with oil every time you bit into one, filling you mouth with
the taste of fish, saturating you mouth with a greasy mess that by no means
resembled French fries. It was quite gross.

We left the soda and continued north. It was fun at times. We would come
across these rivers, and have to ford them. Not very deep though, maybe
30in. or so, and about thirty feet across, nothing like the mighty river
crossings of the Tellico ORV. I love Tellico. Anyways, we continued driving
and passed a few more spots, but none had any surf worth wasting our time
with. We were here on a surf trip, not a… Hey, lets see if we can catch the
smallest wave in Costa Rica!

Camaronal.

--- That’s the first waves we found worth surfing. We pulled up and said
wow. It’s lowercased because it wasn’t that wow to begin with, but within an
hour of getting there, it became a WOW! The wind changed and the tide came
in. The wave quickly became small tubes breaking slowly in left and right
patterns. More or less picture perfect waves ready for the taking. Oliver
and Joben jumped right in, paddled out past the line up, and began taking
waves. Ryan and I however, never made it out pasted the line up. We found
that the whitewater was very thick and powerful. The waves were over deep
water; you walk ten feet into the surf and you couldn’t touch the bottom any
longer. This meant that the waves were huge. They were swells traveling
along the floor of the ocean and pushing up and breaking, but from the
bottom to the top they must have been 30ft. or more, big swells. We had no
chance. If I had more endurance and muscle build maybe, but as a beginner
there was no way that I was going to get passed the break. You could paddle
up to the whitewater, dive under, and then try paddling again, but if you
didn’t have the timing and strength you’d be swept back 15 ft. only to
paddle back and get swept back again. Ryan and I tried twice; both time we
fought the surf for 45mins. Only to give up with exhaustion. It was very
frustrating for me. I wanted to surf so badly, but I never got the chance to
even catch a single wave.

Info on Camaronal.

--- It is a giant basin that is a national marine park for ocean life. It has
the highest shark and sea snake content of Costa Rica. Yep, Bull sharks,
Hammerhead, White tips, and Tiger Sharks all thrive in those waster. As well
as the very deadly Sea snakes. I talked to a surfer guy while walking up
the beach getting ready to paddle out again, and he said that he saw two sea
snakes just before he rode his last wave in. A Sea snake will kill you
within an hour easily, if bitten; but due too their very small mouths, the
only thing they can bite is fingers, toes, and ears. So if you see one, head
the other direction slowly and don’t piss them off! Sharks, well they eat
fish and Sea Lions mainly; but Costa Rica doesn’t have any Sea Lions, so
they eat fish; at least that is what this book said that I was reading. I
don’t understand it though, No Sea lions, wouldn’t that mean that they would
look for alternative food sources? I guess not, because there has never been
a reported shark attack in Costa Rica. Sounds good, but I’d hate to be the
first one!

Back to surfing at Camaronal. The guys finished up and we started collecting
Driftwood for a big bonfire. So we thought… One of the park ranger guys came
over to us just as we got the fire built, but not lit, and said we could
only have a fire until 7pm. It was already 6:30pm and what was the point of
starting a bonfire to have to put it out in thirty minutes. He said that the
light would distract the Sea Turtles from coming on shore and laying their
eggs. Whatever, we were at least a hundred yards from the water, behind
trees and on top of a hill. Besides, the same park ranger kept his house
lights on until 10pm, no trees or cover to hide them. Anyways, no bonfire,
and I wasn’t happy.

---We set up camp, I started cooking. I had no light to cook with, which made
cutting the potato’s difficult. With potatoes, it very important that you cut
them all the same size; very small cubes, it makes cooking them faster and
more constant. I cut them all different sizes and most of them quite large.
Cooking them was very frustrating. I had to cook them slowly and covered,
making sure not to burn them, and to cook them all the way through..
Needless to say, my night was stressful and very discouraging. It took an
hour of cooking in the dark to finally get everything finished. Oh yeah, I
kicked over the pot of cooked rice, and had to start it over. I wasn’t happy
at all. I just wanted to eat, and go to bed. I finished cooking, ate and went
to bed, enough said!

---My sleeping… It was bad. It was hot in the tent! I was naked, by myself,
laying on my sleeping bag baking like a potato in an oven. Then Ryan’s
camelback sprung a leak and urinated all over my sleeping bag; it was
water, not real urine. My bag was soaked, and there was a puddle in the
middle of the tent. The ground was not even, and I never could find a
comfortable spot to lay. I tossed and turned all night long. My shoulders
where sore from all the paddling, and when I woke up in the morning, I felt
horrible! I was stiff and angry. I hated this surf trip! No waves, No sleep,
No Bonfire, No happiness for me! I got over it though. I made some really
good Coconut Pineapple oatmeal. Umm it was good and tasty. It gave me new
hope that this trip would be good.

The log that caught fire without a match.

--- We were sitting there by the truck, avoiding the sun, waiting for
something. Then all of a sudden we noticed a log burning. It was one of the
small logs that we had placed in a circle around the jug of water. It had
spontaneously caught fire. Yes, it was burning. The sun was hot enough to
randomly catch a log on fire and start burning. Cool! We poured some water
on it an left.

---We drove north about thirty minutes to the town of Samara. There we found
Internet and sent off a few quick e-mails. Oliver had to e-mail Gilles about
where he had hidden the key for the house back in Malpais. From the Internet
place we decided to find some food. We stopped at this really nice
Pizza/Italian restaurant. We ordered three pizzas; one for Oliver, one for
Joben and Amanda, and one for Ryan and me. I also ordered a Mozzarella Alla
Caprese salad. Umm, was it good. Yes Mom, they have those down here. This
was my second one to eat while in Costa Rica, and yes, they both were very
good. Not as good as the Mac Shacks, but still very good. The one in Samara
had very fresh basil and super soft Mozzarella cheese; perfect!

We left Samara and headed north towards Ostinal. Along the way we stopped at
every Playa, beach, to check out the surf. None of the beaches had anything
worth stopping for, it was more or less a waste of time to even take a look.
But with stopping at Playa Pelada, we found a beautiful four-door Mercedes
Uni-Mog for sale. I took pictures of course, and dreamed of how useful this
truck could be to our mission. A guy popped up from around the corner and
said that his friend was bringing three more into Costa Rica soon and would
have them for sale as well. He called the guy up and I talked with him about
the possibility of getting one. Maybe, but it was just talk, I’ll see what
happens. I told the guy about our trip and he was stoked about what we were
doing. We’ll definitely stay in contact. I don’t know if I’d really want a
Uni-mog though, I think a M.A.N. truck would be way cooler! Maybe in South
Africa.

---Anyways, we hit the road again and drove up to up to Ostinal; and this
is were the off-roading adventure starts…. And stops.

---We pulled into the beach to check out the surf, flat, nothing really
happening yet. It was 3pm and if it was going to get good it would happen in
a hour and a half. We decided to find a place to camp. We drove up the coast
another few miles looking for some place to pitch a tent. We came across a
pretty dry river, and I said; “Hey, how about we drive down this river and
see if we hit the beach. We can camp there, and maybe there will be some
good surf as well.” Sounded like a good idea, was a good idea, but it didn’t
work.

We drove about a kilometer through the water and rocks, then over a sand
bank across the water again and got stuck. Yep, I buried my rear drivers side
tire up to the axel. As I tried to get unstuck the truck shifted towards the
water, going deeper into the mud and sand. The next thing I knew was that my
front tires were up to the axels, my rear drivers side was to the top, yeah,
no more tire, just mud. The tire had completely disappeared. I blew out my
power steering line again, and was a little dumb founded at the situation.
Joben started talking about how we would never get it out, Ryan stood there
and pondered the situation, Oliver, looked at it and with his European
accent said “shit”, Amanda was like, “well lets set up camp”; and all the
while the Howler Monkeys were screaming at us in mockery. Yeah, the monkeys
where challenging us with their calls of disgust. Anyways we pulled out the
shovel and started digging out the wheels. It reminded me of Cabo, and our
trip out to Km 67 in the Dodge neon. Only this time I was driving a truck
with eight inches of lift and 33’s deflated to 12psi. I should never have
gotten stuck in the first place, but the soil was like quick sand, and it
just suck me in. We got the wheels clear and I jump back in the drivers seat
and started it up. I revved the engine up nice and loud letting the monkey’s
know that I meant business, and my roar was louder than theirs… Aslan
the beast, He will conquer all! Nope, moved two inches and buried everything
even deeper. The monkeys began howling and cheering again, to them I felt
like I was a circus act. Isn’t it usually the other way around, the monkeys
are there to entertain us? Well we dug some more, and fail once again. Then
with an idea; I unlocked the Hi-Lift jack from the rack and grabbed a 4ft.
by 6in. log. The idea that I had, I had always envisioned African safari
guys doing in desperate situations. I placed the log in the muddy soil, the
jack on top, moved the lift point to the bottom rung of the ladder point on
drivers side of my rack, and began jacking. It lifted the whole rear of the
truck at least 18in. The rear tire came free from the murky depths of the
mud, showed itself, and the truck sat level. The guys looked at me and
gasped! They jumped and started grabbing large sticks to stick under the
rear wheels. Then we really dug out all the front tires, like six feet in
front of the wheels. I jumped in and started it up. Slowly let out the
clutch, with the jack still in place. Watched the vehicle more forward while
Ryan, Joben, and Oliver pushed in the back. Once I had momentum, I punched
it and peelled up the dune and parked it on solid ground; Revved the engine
like a bull with hell’s fire, sounded the beast, and let the monkey know
that the jungle could not conquer the mighty Aslan! Ryan, well he let out
his own furry. The mighty mud had claimed a victim; his beloved Quicksilver
sandal had fallen to its deceiving depths of squalor. He raised his hands in
anguish for his fallen companion, dove in hands first and plundered its
depths till it gave free its captive. The sandal was regained, covered in
mud, but still the same, it was free. Ryan washed it and returned it to his
foot. All was good! Well, I still didn’t have any power steering, but at
least we were free. Oliver said, If we hurry we can make it back to Ostinal
and maybe catch a few wakes; that is if the surf had gotten better. We drove
back down the river and back to the road. As we neared the road there was a
crowd of people there. They were white, and bewildered at the sight of the
truck driving up the river; water splashing out the side, the wheels
articulating over the rocks and boulders, with people sitting up top on the
roof rack just chill’n. Flabbergasted! That’s the look on their face. I
think they were on a wildlife hike, only to be surprised by the beast
driving up the river. Just imagine what you’d think, and how you’d look if
you saw Aslan driving up Wolftiver creek in Collegedale while you were
sitting at the Greenway watching the birds fly between the trees. Yeah,
sick, right! You’d never imagine that happening! I loved it! I mean, I’ve
gotten looks while driving though central America, especially in Malpais
from the my fellow Americans who see the TN license plate, but none like
that of the nature tour group there at the river in Ostinal. Completely
unforgettable!

---Back in Ostinal we drove to the beach and grabbed our boards. The surf
wasn’t the greatest, but it was good enough to get in and paddle out.
Oliver, Joben and I got in. Ryan wrote in his journal, He’s more diligent
than I went it comes to staying consistent with the writing. I paddled out,
the water was shallow, no more that eight feet deep, and the waves were
breaking fast and close to shore. I got out there with the guys and sat on
my board waiting for a surf-able wave. The sun was already down and the
night was coming on fast. Oliver turned to me and said, “This water is the
most highly populated with sharks.” I was like, “thanks for telling me, it’s
dusk now and the prime time for feeding.” Whatever, there are no Sea Lions
in Costa Rica… I paddled in and rode the white water to the shore, hiked
back to the truck, jumped in and we were off, looking for a campsite. We had
seen a sign when entering Ostinal that said “Camping”; humm, why the river
adventure? We drove to the camping place, the lady there said it was $2 a
person, cool we’ll take it. They had showers, bathroom, chairs and a table
with an electric light. We set up the hammocks, tent, and began cooking.

We cooked pasta, and made an incredible sauce; fresh peppers, onions,
garlic, olive oil, tomato sauce, and seasoning. It was so tasty! Oh by the
way, Thanks Mom for the killer stove. Optimus stoves ROCK! We have three
nice MSR stoves, but my little Optimus can boil a gallon of water with
enough pasta to feed 6 in under ten minutes. The little thing is amazing, it
is super fast, super hot, and infinitely adjustable; you can cook anything
on that stove in a reasonable amount of time. It rocks! Thanks MOM!!!

After eating I did the dishes and jumped in the Hammock; no more hot oven
tents for me. I want the smooth curves of a soft hammock that will cradle me
like a newborn child in search a peaceful rest. I slept so well! I am going
to use a hammock as often as possible now. It’s the way to go.

---While I was sleeping Oliver an Joben went down to the beach and watched a
turtle release its eggs into a hole in the sand. They also watched a pack of
dogs run up and down the beach terrorizing other turtles and stealing their
eggs. They tried to run the dogs off the beach, but it was hopeless. Still
it was cool for them to see a giant Sea Turtle lay its eggs in the sand.
They said the turtle was almost three feet long, it was huge!

---We awoke late the next morning, 8am. Packed up and headed north towards
the town of Santa Cruz. I needed to find a Ferrerteria, Hardware store, so
that I could fix my power steering. It was not easy driving a big truck with
big tires rolling on 12psi for 100km, but I did it and we found a gas
station in Santa Cruz an hour and a half later that had what I needed to fix
my truck.

---Oh, quick note, in Costa Rica you can’t drive with passengers in the bed
of a pick-up truck. All the locals do, but if you not a local, and you have
a nice truck you’ll get pulled over and fined. I did! We were charged 10,000
colones….$20, and then sent on our way.

From Santa Cruz we continued north to Liberia on a paved road. I was able to
drive about 55mph the whole way: but that was to fast. Joben’s ground pad
blew off the top of the rack twice and became destroyed! His surfboard that
was under it, and flew off as well, but was caught by the tail and hung off
the back of the rack like the tail of a cocker spaniel, all pointed… I don’t
know where I was going with that illistration, but I guess you get the idea.
Driving fast doesn’t mix well with lightweight ground pads and surfboards;
just for future reference to all you traveling surfs out there.

---We made it into Liberia around 1pm, lunchtime. We stopped at the food
multiplex; Burger King, Papa Johns, and oh yes, Churches Chicken. I said
heck no, and walked a ¼ mile down to the Subway, were I had a wonderful
sandwich. Not the greatest ever, but at least there were free drink refills.
The rest all ate Papa Johns and Burger King. After my sub, I walked back to
the Multiplex, and ordered a Much grande’ Papas Fritas; King size fries. It
cost less than $2 and I was content, I was beginning to feel less depressed,
and a bit happier. From there we drove to the “Maxi Bodega” the name of the
store humored Ryan and I. Have you seen the Movie “Half Baked”, the word
Bodega refers to a place that sells weed, no not lawn pests, but Marijuana.
So this store was a giant Weed store; not really, just a giant super market…
a mini Sam’s club. There we needed to get instant coffee and sugar for
Oliver, bug spray for Amanda an Joben, and more pasta and sauce for all. We
bought the items and left. No we did not steal them, we bought them.

---We drove up north up the Pan American Highway towards Nicaragua. We came
within about twenty miles of the border, then turned into the Santa Rosa
national park. Paid $6 a person plus $2 per person per night to camp, and
drove off into the wilderness. The road was poor, not to bad though. Similar
to the trail up at Prentice Cooper, on Signal Mt.. Eric has gone up there
with me to go four wheeling, its easy, you have to look hard if you want to
find something challenging to tackle. They say though in the wet season, not
to attempt the drive even with a hummer. I can believe it; especially after
the incident with the river and the deep sucking mud. Anyways the ride was a
piece of cake. Every time we would come up to something that might get
technical, I would say, “this might be fun”, then Oli, would question, “can
we make it?” I’d drive over the boulders, rocks, and dried out mud pits
letting Aslan really articulate, barely giving him any gas, crawling slowly
and turn to Oli and say, “Piece pf cake”. Then tell him a stories of Tellico
and the terrain up there. Aslan would love Tellico, but he’ll have to wait
awhile before he sees that terrain. For now we’ll enjoy the simple terrain,
maybe a bit more technical in South America, but never like Tellico.
Tellico is just so much fun! Dad, when I get back, you, Eric and I are going
to Tellico, no questions about it, we are going!

We made our way down the trail for 20km and found the camping area. The
camping area is a couple hundred yards from the beach, and a 2km walk to
Witch’s Rock. We parked, got our boards ready and headed for the beach.

---The thing about Witch’s Rock is this, it takes a swell to create good
surf, No swell, no surf, period. We walked out on the beach and things
looked pretty flat. So we made a right and walked 2 km up the beach to
Witch’s Rock just to see what it was. From the main beach you can see the
huge volcanic rock sticking high above of the water just off the shore. It’s
huge! It stands about 200 meters above the water and was thrown there by a
volcano many years back; several hundred years back. The waves weren’t all
flat, but not really surf-able. It was a lot like Cabo, there at Km 91,
Todos Santos, except flat. The water was shallow, less that five feet where
the waves where breaking, and the beach long and with a subtle incline. We
didn’t get in, we just sat there, observed the scenery and took pictures.
After the sunset, we hiked back to the truck set up camp and cooked dinner.
I made Ramen Noodles, then we ate.

Ryan

Oli, Joben, Ray

This is where I started last night under the tree, I have now caught you to
date on our “Surf Trip 20-06” journey.

Intermission---

Back to Witch’s Rock, “Surf Trip 20-06 Costa Rica, It’s Ok My Dad’s a
Dentist”.

---I slept in a hammock. The insects feasted on my flesh, and I awoke
feeling refreshed. Odd eah? Well it was ok. I ‘m just glad that we have
finally made to Witch’s Rock, the pinnacle of our journey north to the
ravishing surf grounds of the wild pacific.

When I awoke there wasn’t much going on, just the sleepy sounds of the
rest awakening to the heat and presents of the sun. It was already high
overhead, and scorching us with its rays. I arose and looked for shelter; a
place to escape to and continue writing of our adventures. I found a tree
and began typing. It lasted for an hour or so, then it was time to eat. I
cooked some more of that Pineapple Oatmeal, except without the coconut this
time. We were out of coconut. This time though, I added some brown sugar
that we had bought at the Maxi Bodega. The Oatmeal was good and my stomach
was full. Well there’s more to the story….

The Iguana’s….

---Yes, there were Iguana’s roaming freely over the terrain in search of
battle. They meander through the brush taunting those they pass. They raise
their heads and bob as to say: “Ok Joe, Ok, lets see what you got!” “Bring
it on buddy, You think you tuff, come on, let’s see it.” Crazy! Then they
continue walking, but if one gets to close they charge. Its like they are
playing chicken, because as they charge at each other, at the last moment
they turn away and just glance past. Amusing to watch, but not fun to
participate in.

I was sitting on the side of my truck, eating my oatmeal, thinking about
what I was going to write about next. When Kendra, the giant Iguana came up
and sat beside me. Yes, right beside me. I was like Hello, and who or what
do you think your going to do. The thing was like three feet long and just
chill’n there right beside me. Kendra then decided that “it” wanted to eat
my oatmeal. Yeah, started eating it right out of my bowl. Not cool! I picked
up Amanda’s bathing suit bottom and put it on Kendra’s head. Didn’t phase
the sucker, just kept eating my oatmeal. I picked up a stick and started
smacking Kendra on the head, still “it” just turned and looked at me, then
slowly sauntered off. Crazy! Iguana’s, oatmeal, bathing suits, everything
was just a little out of place. In total we had about four or five iguana’s
that were hanging out around our camp. Kendra was the biggest though.

The day continued on, and we sat around the camp.

---We played “Farkell” a game played with dice. I’m going to inform you on
how you play.

1st… You need six die, a pad of paper, pen, and something to roll on.

The object of play:

The goal is to reach 10,000 points before anyone else. As well, if you pass
10,000 points you want to go as far passed as possible, because once you
pass it, everyone else gets on turn to catch up and pass your points
position.
Points… The dice are broken down into points, a little confusing, but very
straight forward.

1… 100 points
5… 50 points
3 of a kind… the number on the dice multiplied by 100….
---Example: 3, threes, would equal 300.
4 of a kind… the number on the dice multiplied by 100, add forth dice as the
value of the three together…
---Example: 4, fours, would equal 800.
5 & 6 of a kind… the number on the dice multiplied by 100, add the fourth,
fifth and sixth dice as the value’s of the first three together…
---Example: 5, fives would equal 1500, and 6, six’s would equal 2400.
3 “1’s”… 1000
3 pairs… equals 1500
Straight… 1500

How the game is played…
You need four players to play. One player rolls all the dice at once. He
looks to see what point he has rolled. If there are no points rolled he has
“Farkell’d”. If points are rolled, he pulls the out and sets them aside. He
then takes the remaining dice and rolls again. If he gains more points he
pulls them out and continues.

At any time he has the option of stopping and keeping his points.

He can continue on rolling the dice until he either “Farkell’s” or rolls all
points. Remember you must take out some points dice before you can roll
again. It you roll all the dice and you have taken out all the points, and
there are no more dice to roll, you pick up all the dice and continue your
turn with all six dice again. Your turn continues as long as you roll
points.

To ENTER the game you must roll 650 points. After that point you can keep as
much or as little points as you desire.

Giving a present… If you roll, say 1250 points, and you still have two dice
left that aren’t points, but you want to keep your points; you hold your
points and pass the dice to the next person. They then have the option of
rolling the two dice in hoping to roll a point. If they roll a point the
gain the 1250 plus the points that they just rolled as well. If they don’t
roll a point, their turn is over, and they Farkell’d.

REMEMBER, you can continue rolling as many times as you dare, so long as you
keep rolling points and taking at least one out every roll. Once you’ve
removed all six dice you count your points, then roll all six again and
continue the same game play.

---Back to our Game Play---

We played several games a Farkell, they usually lasted about an hour each.
We wasted away our time just chill’n under the tarp playing this game,
wishing that the waves would get better and that a swell would come through.
Ryan won the first game. Joben won the second, and Oliver won the next. We
stopped playing after that.

---I cooked a stew. I wanted it to be a stew, but it turned into a goolosh
of some kind. A mix of black beans, carrots, potatoes, red onions, yellow
onions, ramen, garlic, and spices. I let it all soak for two to three hours,
then brought it to a fast boil, then turned the heat really low and let it
steam while covered. I was hoping that it would become a stew, but all it
did was absorb all the water and become a black tasty mix. It was good, but
Oliver hates beans. He didn’t eat any. We finished half the pot and saved
the rest for the next day.

--- The diary of a mad black lady. Yes, we put it in and watched this
strange comedy that had some very “sappy” sections and, well just strange
concerning points that left you pondering if there was really a place like
that beyond the jungle walls we were camping in. We needed a testosterone
boost. RAMBO!!! We popped in Rambo II and the night was good. We got pumped
up and ready for battle…. Battle was coming, we just didn’t know it yet.

---THIS IS NOT A HOLIDAY!!!---

I am now finally back at the house of the Belgium’s. It’s Wednesday night,
6:45pm; I’m hot tired, dirty, and coming down from a aggressive state of
frustration and anger. I am calm now. That is a good thing, there have been
points with in the last few days that I was ready to scream out loud, then
start thrashing around destroying everything in sight. I calm now.

---I’ll return to Rocca Bruja, ie.. Witch’s Rock now. After watching the two
movies we went to bed; and then awoke to the wilderness creeping into our
place of dwelling. YES there were little masked beings sneaking into our
midst and ravaging our supplies… our eggs! Little fuzzy, friendly, Raccoons;
the kind you want to say hi to and hug, like in the movie Elf. The raccoons
had invaded our camp, climbed up our stacked food bins, yes they were sealed
and lock, and from on top reached the eggs hanging from the rope in the
middle of the camp. They eat about 6-8 out of our dozen and half eggs. We
were going to have omelets in the morning, but with the lack of eggs, we
didn’t. I was like, WHATEVER; I rarely get outwardly distressed in public.

---The morning came and went, Farkell was our choice of occupation, and we
didn’t move until 12pm that afternoon. At that we made the 45min walk down
the beach, through the sand that would swallow your leg half way up to your
knee with every step; through the windy bursts of the offshore wind blowing
at you with speeds of 30mph or more and trying not to burn your bare feet on
the scorching sand. Yes, it was a great task and undertaking to hike up the
beach to Witch’s Rock. The waves were sad, they would be nice if there was
a large south swell coming through, but there wasn’t any swell, and the sea
was standing up and rolling over like a infant child trying to walk then
falling on its face. I jumped in the water, it was cold. Yes it was Costa
Rica, but the water was cold and my body resented being induce to the cold,
after being in the hot sun for so long. All I know is “I better catch a
wave, and more so, I better be able to paddle out.” Well no competition, the
waves were small, paddling was easy, and I caught some waves. I enjoyed the
time I was surfing there, but the time was deceiving. Since there was such a
strong offshore wind the problem was if you didn’t continually paddle
towards shore, you’d get blown out to sea. I didn’t continually paddle, and
I got blown out to sea; and that was a blast to paddle in from. I spend an
hour trying to paddle back into shore. I was so tired, my arms hurt, and
every time I would stop to rest, I would get blown back out to sea, it was
such a task. After paddling and paddling I finally made it into shore and
almost fainted at the realization of the walk I would have to endure in
order to make it back to camp. I trudged on through the scorching sand over
the sucking sand and fought the mighty wind, it was as though I was being
filmed for the next Lord of the Rings, just in a more tropical setting. You
know, the scene when they are all trudging over and through the giant snow
covered mountain peaks of New Zealand. Anyways back to the torturous trek
across the beach. I made it and was ready for a good shower and nap. I
ditched my surfboard, grabbed my soap, and headed for the showers. I turned
on the water, got wet, soaped up, and OH NO you DIDN”T!!! The water quit!
Yes the water stopped running just as I was ready to rinse off. I stood
there in shock for minutes on end, waiting for the water to start flowing
again. It never did. I had to walk back to the ocean and rinsed off. Yes in
the saltwater. Not the typical idea of a refreshing shower. The point of a
shower is to rinse the SALT of your body, not to soap up and rinse off in
saltwater and once again be covered by salt. Needless to say this was not a
Holiday. The stress only continued to build from there. I was already
beginning to separate myself from the group and seek my own refuge away from
the aggravation of certain individuals. I just needed to escape, you know,
take a holiday, ie.. vacation.

---We cooked pasta that evening, it was good, and brought my demeanor back
into check. I was slowly on the up, ever so slowly though, the darkness was
still close and my heart and mind would never be free form my doubts and
troubles. I was though becoming more content with the situation. We watched
the movie “2 for the Money” and afterwards watched “The Constant Gardener”.
The movies continued my upward climb to the seemingly unattainable though of
happiness. With finishing the last movie I was ready for bed. Not really,
because I had learned that with sleep came Mosquitoes. Mosquitoes are not
your friends. They like to drive you nuts, the twist and turn your mind,
controlling the way you feel about the place you are in. My mind was
twisted, and I was hating the place I was in. I didn’t care though, I just
wanted to sleep; the bastards continued their munching, and my back is like
a piece of 60grit sand paper, red like a tomato, and itchy as a batch of
chicken pox. I hated the place that I was in. That’s not the end though. The
raccoons came back. They attacked us. They attacked us while we were
sleeping. One climbed up the side of the truck and awoke Oliver who was
sleeping in the bed. He looked up and the first thing he saw was a raccoon,
the raccoon hissed at him and he freaked. He hit the side of the truck with
his fist, sending the raccoon flying. This awoke Joben and Amanda who were
sleeping up on the roof rack. Joben looked over with the flashlight and
yelled at me. He said, “Ray there is a Raccoon right beside you”. I was
still in an out of my sleep due to the mosquitoes, and I heard him and
rolled over to my right. There was a raccoon there alright, he growled at me
and I took the bug spray at my side and sprayed him in the face. Yeah, I
showed him. More or less, I didn’t care about the raccoons either. If they
came into the camp, whatever, so long as the food was locked up and they
didn’t disturb me. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

---the morning came and Amanda’s face was red and splotchy from all the
mosquito bites. It was not pretty. No it really wasn’t! We all came to the
conclusion that it was time to head back to Malpais. Ryan and I packed,
Oliver and Joben hiked out to Witch’s rock to surf and Amanda went
somewhere. I was aggravated! My rage was growing and I was not in a good
mood. The highs that I had felt the night before had soon disappeared. So
far on the trip I hadn’t really caught any waves, I had floated everyone,
and had had horrible sleep. The food was a step up from fecal matter, and I
smelt of fecal matter; funny, the two almost go hand in hand. I felt like a
monkey playing in my own waste; not the greatest feeling. Once packed we
waited for the surfers. When the arrived we left. Oliver couldn’t stop
talking about Papa John’s pizza, well he continually mistook it as Papa
Joes’s but still the same, it was food, and it would be good. We made the
hour drive out of the park and flew down the paved road into Liberia and
stopped back by the Food Multi-plex. I ordered a whole pizza, and can you
guess what I had on it? Mushrooms, black olives, and “MUCHO” queso, ie..
cheese. It was good. I ate almost the whole thing. I would have eaten the
whole thing, except for the fact that I wanted to save some for the ferry
ride back to Malpais.

--- We got pulled over again just outside of Punteranus. It cost us $10. We
then made it to the ferry 5 minutes before it set sail across the bay. Thank
goodness that we made it. Oliver and I found our own place on the ferry, all
by our selves, away from those who were driving us up the walks. I sat there
with the wind blowing through my hair, no shirt, just my board shorts and
sandals. I ate the rest of my pizza, drank my 2-liter Fresca, and thought to
myself; this is the most peace I have had this whole surf trip. I was glad
to be off on my own with Oliver. Oliver calmed my nerves and brought a
comatose state to my being. I was content. It lasted until my truck broke
down on the road to Malpais.

---The truck broke down! Not kidding, it was major, and how we didn’t really
screw something up; it’s all in God’s hands.

I was driving, and we had only gone about twenty minute past the ferry drop
point, and were about 40km from Malpais. All of a sudden I felt something
really wrong in the wheels. I turned off the radio, and listened. It felt
like a flat, but nothing was flat. I remembered the time when I sheered off
5 of my 6 lug nuts on one wheel back in TN, this felt similar. I pulled over
and got out with the flashlight. I checked all the wheels, all good. I
checked all the wheel balancers, all good. The lug nuts were all there. What
was wrong? I got in and was ready to drive some more. Oliver who was
standing in front said for me to turn the wheels. I did. BAMMMM!!!!! The
driver’s side lower ball joint snapped and hit the ground. WTH!! The vehicle
dropped dramatically forward and to the driver’s side. I hopped out and was
dumbfounded. I looked at my lower control arm dragging on the ground, my
tire flopping in the wind, and well, just in utter shock. Two bolts had
vibrated out, and the last two had sheered off inside the spindle, the part
that holds the wheel and axle. The truck was done. There was no fixing it
with out the right tools and parts, even then it was a shot in the dark. All
I have to say is that I am glad the final straw that broke Aslan’s back
popped up while we were stopped and on the side of the road. Please
understand, if this had happened while we where moving, the truck would have
been totaled. The driver side axel and spindle would have been ripped away.
The brake line ripped off, the cross-members and frame twisted; more or
less, the truck would have looked like my other one after the accident. It
would have been horrible. There would have been nothing to have prevented it
from happening once things were set in motion. I just glad that God had his
hands around us and protected us. Praise God!

I don’t know what the hell Satan was trying, but he was raising my stress
level and boiling my blood. I had collected most of my money for the trip,
but had no intention of spending it on repairs to my truck. I just didn’t
want to spend the money, it was all I had, and I needed it to continue on
with. “God what are you doing with me, how is this a blessing, what is your
will?”

Luckily enough for us a taxi showed up a few seconds after we pulled off the
road. We unloaded all the gear and valuables onto the taxi and headed to
Malpais. It was cramped. Three up front, three in the middle, and well me….
I wiggled my way over the back row and on top of the luggage. I was squeezed
between the ceiling and the top of the luggage. No room to move, just
bouncing against the roof and pounding my head against the window with the
turns. I was once again uncomfortable. This is not a HOLIDAY!!! We made it
back to the House of the Belgium’s, I went to bed, enough said.

--- I a woke with the sun at 7am. Got my money together, and headed for the
Internet and to rent a 4wheeler. I walked to the market, bought a Canada Dry
ginger ale. Turned around and decided to walk until I found an Internet café
open. I walked and walked and by the time it was 8am I found one that was
just opening for the day. Dropped in and got online. I wanted to regain some
hope by reading communications from the real world back home. I read my mail
and went to the allprooffroad.com site to look at their up and coming
straight axel conversion kit for the Toyota Tacoma. I NEED one of these kits
desperately! It would fix my axle problem, the squeaking and strut wear on
my passenger side, and solve the power steering issues. No more front-end
problems, all would be good, Aslan would be indestructible against all forms
of road; paved and unpaved. A straight axel is stronger, and can carry more
weight, last longer, and uses a simpler form of suspension. I need on of
those kits.

From the Internet I walked another 15min and found the 4wheeler place. You
can rent 4wheelers from almost any shop, but this one seemed to have the
nicest and newest ones. Their price was also really good. Only $50 for ten
hours. We paid $20 for one hour in Cabo San Lucas. I filled out the paper
work, they wanted my passport as a deposit… I gave them my old 1st Tennessee
bank card, and my social security number as my passport number. All was
good, they gave me the “quad” and I headed back to the house of the
Belgium’s.

From the house of the Belgium’s I left with Oliver on the Quad heading up to
Cobano to see if I could find the parts and tools needed to fix my truck. A
the hardware store we found the bolts and tools. I also went to a small auto
parts store and picked up more bolts, just slightly smaller. From there we
speeded along the roads to where Aslan lay crippled on the side of the road.
Oliver was driving, his back has issues, and the cushion seat helped his
back against the bumps and potholes. Break-neck speed. We were flying along.
All I could think about was flying off the back of the Quad sliding across
the road on my bare back; just like when I laid down my motorcycle last
summer. Me, and flying down roads on small-motorized vehicles without a
shirt or protections; just me and my board shorts and hiking boots. At least
I had my hiking boots. We found the truck and everything was there; no
windows had been smashed in, Oliver’s mattress was still in the bed, and I
still had all four tires. I was never worried about the truck, I just kept
telling myself that if God wanted my truck to be broken into, and all the
remaining items stolen… well that would be His problem.

I got my tools out and tried to get everything sorted out. It wasn’t easy. I
first had to find a way to get the sheered off bolt pieces out of the spindle
housing. There was a piece of one sheered bolt sticking out of the top of
its hole. I tired moving it. No good. I then used the hacksaw blade I had
and cut down through the top of it in order to turn it into a screw.
Hopefully with a screwdriver I would be able to budge it and get it turning.
No luck either! I was getting frustrated. I had already spent three hours
working on the thing, and there was no sight of victory yet. I decided that I
needed to remove the spindle from the axle and get a better angle on the
sheered bolt. No luck, I didn’t have 35mm socket for the axel nut and the
large crescent wrench I had wasn’t doing anything except stripping the nut.
I sent Oliver into the nearest village to see if he could find the right
axel nut socket. He set off and I took a 30min nap in the truck. He returned
and said he had found a mechanic who could help. He said the mechanic wanted
me to take my axle out and bring the axle and spindle to him together! What?
I wasn’t going to take apart my axel just to take it to some Spanish
speaking Tico mechanic, who didn’t understand my lifted USA Toyota Tacoma.
Yes, I was prejudice against the mechanic. I wanted to do it myself. I
didn’t want his help. God knew this way before my truck broke. I was in need
of a lesson in faith… faith in the people of this world, the people of God;
God’s children. I disassembled my axel, took the drivers side driveline
apart and popped it on the quad. We headed down the road again, and yes we
headed out with break neck speed!
We reached the mechanics shop. Well, it was a house with a concrete driveway,
nothing special. The guy looked at the spindle housing, shook his head and
began working on it. He did it though! Thirty minutes later we were back on
the quad heading for the truck again. When we left the shop I was feeling a
bit a relief, I thanked God for humbling me and showing me a new light of
faith. I paid the guy $10 plus a $4 tip, a total of $14. Cheap for a
mechanics help. Thank God for his blessings! I returned to the truck, and
within 45mins. It was all back together. Oliver drove the Quad, and I the
truck. All was good again.

On the way back I picked up two hitchhikers heading for Malpias. I enjoy
picking up people and helping them. It gives me a sense of blessing, like
Jesus reaching out and picking up those who are weary form their travels.

We returned the Quad. They wanted to charge me $300 for scratches to the
front luggage rack. The scratches were from the axel and spindle being
carried to the mechanic. I ended up paying them all I had left… $12. I have
no money now, and am having to borrow a few dollars from Ryan to pay for
this e-mail. Thank you Ryan, my fans will greatly appreciate it.

Well that is the Surf Trip 20-06 Costa Rica, “It’s Ok, My Dad’s a Dentist”
Journal. I hope you all have enjoyed it, and can sympathize with my
experiences and turmoil’s.

Thank you For Your Support!

------HERE IT IS, THE JOURNAL, ALL 21 PAGES OF WORD. I'M LOW ON CASH,
ACTUALLY OUT, I'LL SEND MORE E-MAILS WHEN I HAVE THE MONEY TO PAY FOR THEM.

LOVE,
RAY

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