After our gold mining tour and delightful lunch with Juan and his family at Finca Las Minas de Oro, we got back in the car and headed to our next adventure, a tour of a traditional sugar cane mill. Sugarcane grows easily throughout most of Costa Rica given its plentiful amount of rain, warm sunshine and rich fertile soil. It also is one of the top agricultural products in the country after bananas, pineapples and coffee. However, traditional sugarcane milling is on its way out as more sugar is being processed by machines and not by hand.
I had never visited a sugar mill before and honestly had no idea how sugar was processed or that it could make so many different kinds of products. Our afternoon tour of the Trapiche Don Carmen in Rancho Quemado would be another fascinating experience into an art and tradition that may not be around in another ten or twenty years.
En route to Tapiche Don Carmen
The air was thick with humidity and the dark clouds of a potential rain shower were rolling in. So far the weather had been hot and humid yet without rain and I was hoping my luck would last for the rest of my visit.
We arrived at Trapiche Don Carmen a little after three to thick, bellowing smoke snaking up into the sky. There was a burning sweetness to the air which I would soon discover was the brewing sugarcane juice. Eytan introduced me to Johnny Rodriguez and his wife Noemy who were tending a large caldron of sugarcane juice. It had been brewing for over three hours now and was almost ready to be processed. We had arrived just in time!
Johnny tends to the the sugarcane juice which is boiling hard
“Our goal is to place a human face on this world event and meaning to the term refugee. This ongoing crisis is changing the world. We believe there is an urgent need to educate and offer an opportunity for people to connect to the human side of this tragedy.” – Robin and Robert Jones
It was a typical warm April evening on the Greek Island of Lesbos when the first raft arrived that would change this island community and the world forever. Santa Barbara-based couple Robin and Robert Jones had been living part-time in the small, beautiful village of Molyvos on Lesbos for the past 42 years and had witnessed the town develop from a fishing and agricultural community to one dependent on tourism.
View from Robin and Robert Jones house. Photo credit: Robin Shanti Jones
They were dining with friends at their beautiful home when they looked out the window and off in the distance approaching perilously in the sea was an inflatable raft filled over capacity with people wearing bright orange life vests. There were mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, babies and grandparents. It would be the first of many rafts to come ashore to their tiny town of 1,000 people.
For these refugees, Lesbos was a beacon of hope from the dark, cruel world of war and death that they were escaping in Syria and other parts of the world. Despite the dangerous, treacherous passing across the sea, reaching Lesbos represented a promise of safety and hope for a better life.
Map of Lesbos, Greece.
Coming ashore. Photo credit: Robin Shanti Jones
Refugees arriving by raft. Photo credit: Robin Shanti Jones
In 2015 Lesbos became an epicenter for the refugee crisis sweeping across Europe and Asia. At the beginning, fewer than 150 refugees a week were landing on the island. By the time the Jones returned to the US in November, 3,000 desperate people were pouring onto their beaches every day after having made the dangerous crossing from Turkey. They arrived wet, cold, scared and hungry yet filled with hope.
For the first several months as the rafts began trickling in, there was no organized help set up. The town and the world were completely taken by surprise and unprepared at how to provide aid and services to all the refugees. Thankfully, a large group of volunteers took over and helped the refugees by providing food, water, and whatever help they could. Tragically this was only the beginning of their long mass exodus to safety.
The Jones’s joined other volunteers to help the refugees, over half of whom were women and children. Until buses started in the fall they had to walk 60 kilometers over mountain roads in sweltering heat to cross the island to the official Registration centers. Picking up refugees in personal cars was illegal but many people like the Jones helped transport refugee families.
The long walk to the registration center. Photo credit: Robin Shanti Jones
At a rest stop set up for the refugees, Robin, an art teacher, provided paper, colored pens and a blue and white checkered Greek tablecloth she spread on the ground to give the children a place to draw. They sketched tanks and guns but also flowers and homes. Streaks of blue represented the water they had just crossed. The kids were at first a little shy but then they began to draw. And as more and more children got involved, an amazing scene developed. The activity offered a moment of relief to the many children arriving on the beach or entering the temporary chaos of the transit camps.
Robin brought table cloths, pads of paper and colored pens to give the children, who had just made the horrendous sea crossing a few hour before, the opportunity to draw pictures and give them a sense of normalcy in the chaotic environment. Photo credit: Robin Shanti Jones
I woke to the sounds of the jungle in my open-air cabin at Amazonita Lodge in Dos Brazos de Rio Tigre. I felt amazingly refreshed and quite invigorated for another adventurous day ahead in the Osa Peninsula. Our gracious host Zulay made us a wonderful Costa Rican breakfast in her house before we headed out for our next tour. The beauty of rural tourism is that besides the tours and sightseeing, you also receive an intimate experience with the local community. You are welcomed into their homes for conversation, friendship and delightful home-cooked meals. It truly is an incredible experience that you miss when simply staying at a regular hotel or doing mainstream tourism.
It was time for us to say our goodbye to our friends in Dos Brazos de Rio Tigre and head to a new rural community called Rancho Quemado which is the least-visited community in the Osa Peninsula. There we would meet Juan Cubillo and his family to learn about artisanal gold mining, a traditional way of life that is on its way out.
The drive to Rancho Quemado was about an hour and half northeast into the interior of the Osa Peninsula on bumpy roads. It was a beautiful drive through glorious lush countryside and rolling hills. We were surprised to see many dump trucks hauling debris and road work being done to repair the damage from the Hurricane Otto. Normally there are very few cars and rarely a truck on these remote dirt roads. However, two months after the storm hit there is still much clean-up to be done.
Gravel Roads
Open pastures
A very unusual tree
We arrived at Rancho Quemado around ten o’clock and of course it was already steaming hot. Juan and his lovely wife Rosa welcomed us into their home and farm at Finca Las Minas de Oro where they have lived for many years with their family of three children. We were one of Juan’s first customers for his newly launched gold mining tour, a way for him to provide income for his family without having to illegally mine for gold.
Juan’s wife Rosa painted this sign advertising their new business, gold mining tours, open to tourists.
Rancho Quemado is a small, rural town of about 300 people and has its origin in gold mining. Two gold miners settled on the site of Finca las Minas de Oro in the early 1940s when they discovered gold within the neighboring creek. One day when they were out hunting, their house burned down hence the village was named Rancho Quemado which means “Burning Ranch”. As soon as word got out there was a sizable amount of gold in the area, people came from all over Costa Rica to find their fortune and pan for gold. Juan and Rosa also moved to the community searching for gold and a better life for their growing family. Juan has panned for gold for years however it is difficult, backbreaking work in high heat and humidity for upwards of 8-10 hours a day and it is also technically illegal. But like most people in rural communities throughout the Osa Peninsula, gold mining is their only source of income and until more sustainable jobs are available, mining will continue.
Desperately seeking a break from a cold, dreary Minnesota winter my kids and I decided to come out to visit my parents in Tucson, Arizona for the long holiday weekend. The first few days have been absolutely spectacular however against the odds the past two days have been rainy and cold. Even stranger is the fact that we are having record warmth back in Minnesota with highs in the low 60s and sunny which is unheard of for February. Nevertheless, I’m one to look on the positive aspects of life. There is nothing we can do about the weather.
Friday was spectacular and we decided to take a three generational hike in a new part of Tucson. I have been visiting Tucson for over 23 years and have done many hikes in this gorgeous mountainous place however I had never been to the Saguaro National Park. I had passed by it several times en route to the famous Desert Museum in the western reaches of Tucson but had never stopped. Little did I know there are actually two parts of the Saguaro National Park: The Tucson Mountain District in the west of Tucson and the Rincon Mountain District in the east. We decided to check out the Saguaro National Park East as my dad had read a recent article about a beautiful hike to a waterfall.
We packed a lunch and headed out to the park a little after eleven. We were shocked to see the parking lot was full as we were really in the middle of nowhere. I am assuming the other hikers had read about the falls too.
There are several hikes inside Saguaro National Park however we chose to follow the Douglas Spring Trailhead to the waterfall, a six-mile hike roundtrip.
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.” – John Muir
There was a steady wind sweeping over the desert most likely from the oncoming storm that would bring us two days of rain. Other than the wind, it was perfect hiking weather. Not too hot and not too cold.
I had happily convinced my ten-year-old daughter Sophia to join us on the hike. She had already completed two longer hikes in the past, one to the top of Eagle Mountain in northern Minnesota and another to Harney Peak, the highest peak in South Dakota. I knew she could handle a six-mile hike, I just needed to get her confidence up that she could do it. My twelve-year old son Max has already done a ton of hiking in Arizona, and then of course my dad is an avid hiker. My dad and I have hiked all around the world together. It would be the first time that Sophia got to join us so I was pretty thrilled.
The trail begins very flat until you reach the base of the Rincon Mountains and climb upwards for over an hour. The views throughout the hike are breathtaking and the topography changes quite drastically from rough rocky canyon to desert scrub and grassland. What is the most astounding of all, however, are the multitude of enormous saguaro cactus dotting the landscape, many which are hundreds of years old. Saguaros are found exclusively in the Sonoran Desert and can live upwards of 150-200 years. They are amazing plants.
I found out this fun fact from the Desert Museum: “Most of the saguaros roots are only 4-6 inches deep and radiate out as far from the plant as it is tall. There is one deep root, or tap root that extends down into the ground more than 2 feet”.
There were even some desert flowers starting to bloom
This guy is amazing. Probably a couple of hundred years old.
The Saguaro National Park was created in 1994 and encompasses two distinct areas – east and west- of over 91,445 acres. The Eastern district reaches up to 8,000 feet in elevation covering over 128 miles of trails for your pleasure. The hotter, drier Western district is much lower in elevation and the saguaros are much more densely populated across its landscape.
“The Sonoran Desert’s extreme temperatures, perennial drought, frequent lightning, banshee winds, and voracious predators keep the saguaro forever at the limit of its endurance. Odds against survival rival a lottery: Though the cactus annually produces tens of thousands of pinhead-size seeds—some 40 million over a life that may last two centuries—few ever even sprout. Even fewer seedlings achieve the grandeur of towering 50 feet and weighing up to 16,000 pounds”. – National Geographic
We followed the trail and continued to the turnoff to Bridal Wreath Falls. We had heard a week ago that the falls were pouring down after the recent snow in the mountains. We were curious to see if it was true.
I was amazed how much the landscape had changed. Now we were in the high desert grassland. There were barren trees yet still the greenery of the cactus. There were also some pretty desert flowers that I couldn’t resist photographing.
Finally, we reached a split in the trail and headed a short distance to the right where we would reach the falls. It was just a trickle now but still quite spectacular to find an oasis in the desert.
Bridal Wreath Falls
We enjoyed our lunch and the trickling falls all to ourselves. No one else was there however we had seen a lot of people hiking on the trail. What amazed me is that the water didn’t pool at the end of the falls. Instead, it ventured into the rocks and sunk somewhere down below. A mystery as to where it ended up.
Heading back down the trail.
I laughed at the fact that despite the longevity and steepness of the hike, Sophia remained strong and steady at the lead. I beamed with pride thinking that I have a future fellow hiker on my hands. How wonderful is that?
It looks like I not only found a hiking mate but a new hike in Tucson. I can hardly wait to do it again on my next visit.
“There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more”. – Lord Byron
By four o’clock, I was hot, dirty and exhausted after such a thrilling day that begin with watching the sun rise over the Osa Peninsula and ended with a six-hour remote trek through the thick jungle of the Corcovado National Park. I can’t quite remember ever having a past twenty-four hours so incredibly invigorating and succinct to Mother Nature. I’d seen sloths, a troupe of collared peccary, pizotes, a mating pair of scarlet macaws, monkeys and more. Yet best of all, it was only us and the wildlife. Not another soul had ventured into this part of the park and for that I was truly blessed.
We left Dos Brazos de Rio Tigre saying goodbye to our newly made friends and traveled the short distance down gravel roads to a locally-owned eco lodge located on the outskirts of town, surrounded by tropical rainforest jungle. I would soon discover that the Amazonita Lodge was the ultimate nature lover’s paradise. Continue reading →
After watching the spectacular sunrise over the Osa Peninsula, we returned back down to Xiña’s cabin and ate a delicious breakfast of homemade pintos, eggs, tortilla and fresh fruit. I lavishly drank several cups of freshly roasted Costa Rican coffee and prepared for our day of adventure at Costa Rica’s crown jewel, the Corcovado National Park.
The Corcovado National Park was created in 1975 by the government to protect and conserve this amazing place which contains over 50% of Costa Rica’s biodiversity and is the last remnant of humid tropical rainforest on the Pacific Coast of Central America. The Corcovado National Park is enormous. It is the largest national park in all of Costa Rica and covers one-third of the Osa Peninsula. It is home to over 750 species of trees (1/4 of tree species in Costa Rica), 390 species of birds, 6,000 species of insects, and 140 species of mammals, and 116 species of reptiles and amphibians. It also is one of the only places in Costa Rica that has all four species of monkeys – howler, white-face, squirrel and spider, and has the largest concentration of scarlet macaws in the country. All in all, the Corcovado National Park is a pretty magnificent place and a natural treasure that is well worth protecting.
Our guide Rolando (who goes by the nickname “Toti”) was there waiting for us. Toti is from Dos Brazos de Tigre and lives just a few houses down from Xiña. He grew up in a mining family with the surrounding Corcovado National Park as his playground. After he finished school, he trained to be a certified guide for the park and began working with tourists once the new park entrance at Dos Brazos de Tigre opened a couple of years ago.
A farewell shot of Nuria, me, Xiña and our guide Toti outside of Xiña’s cabin.
Josue (the carpenter working on updating the cabin), me, Eytan and Xiña (still in her pajamas that she wore on our morning sunrise hike).
After breakfast, we packed our daypack of belongings, took a few last minute photos and said our goodbye to Xiña and her sister Nuria. We loaded up on bug spray, sunscreen and water for our six hour hike. The air was thick with humidity and I was already sweating profusely at nine am when we left Xiña’s cabin and headed back up the trail to the entrance of the park. It was going to be another adventure-packed day and I could hardly wait.
Some of the gorgeous flowers surrounding Xiña's property.
“Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow”. – Helen Keller
When I started my blog on a whim back in January 2011, I honestly had no idea what on earth I was doing. As a stay-at-home mom of two young children, I was desperately looking for a little piece of me. An outlet. A voice. A way of doing something different than changing diapers and playing with legos and dolls. I had done a lot of traveling and had kept my stories in a series of hard-covered journals stuffed in a dusty box in the back of the closet.
Yet a life-changing trip to Nepal in November 2010 was the defining moment that pushed me into action and prompted me to put away my pen and paper and do something more daring. To share my stories online for anyone to read. I typed up my first series of posts (which looking back now admittedly are not very good but I can’t delete them for nostalgic reasons) and have never stopped writing since.
Fast forward six years and my blog has become an enormous part of my life. I have shared over 1,200 stories and thousands of pictures documenting the highs and lows, adventures and misadventures of my life. I have made amazing connections with new friends from all over the world, and have experienced new opportunities that never would have come my way without my blog. It has opened doors and also has opened my own mind and heart to some of the injustices in the world.
My blog has literally changed my life in so many profound ways, and in an essence my blog has become a shadow of me.
“When walking through a valley of shadows, remember that shadows are cast by a light.” – H.K Barclay
Traveling to India in the spring of 2013 as part of Mom Bloggers for Social Good where I visited slums and saw light, darkness, pain and hope. Seeing hope and light within the dark shadows changed my life. I continued to explore this avenue of social good and advocacy work by visiting Haiti, Ethiopia, Nicaragua and Tanzania. And I hope to do more!Continue reading →
After my invigorating bath in a nearby jungle waterfall, it was time to go back to Xiña’s’ cabin and relax a little before dinner. We were going to have an early night as our alarm clock would go off at 3:30 am for a pre-dawn hike up to the top of the jungle to watch the sunrise over the Osa Peninsula.
Xiña’s’ sister Nuria prepared our meal in the rustic cabin kitchen over a wood-burning fire and served us pasta with the vegetables we brought from Puerto Jimenez. We ate by candlelight since her cabin has no electricity and then spent the rest of the evening on our own. I sat on a hammock under the canopy of darkening trees and closed my eyes and listened. I was amazed by all the changing sounds of the jungle. From the continual buzz of the cicadas to the rustling of leaves and branches somewhere high above in the trees, it was a riotous symphony of sounds.
At first it was difficult for me to just sit there because as an active person it is always hard for me to be still. My body and mind seem to crave movement. Yet once the lights were out for the night, it forced me to embrace the peace and tranquility of the jungle and fully, slowly unwind and relax. It was absolutely mesmerizing.
This is the platform I sat on at night
The jungle around dina’s cabin
Here is behind the cabin where the hammocks lay
After a little while, I decided to change positions and left my hammock to move to a new place. Josue placed one of his handmade wooden chairs onto a platform that launches out into the jungle. He laid the chair back for me and told me to just listen. And I did. It was a surprisingly delightful experience somewhat like a deep meditation that made every inch of my body soft and warm. I closed my eyes and let the sounds of the jungle penetrate my soul.
“Solitude is the soul’s holiday, an opportunity to stop doing for others and to surprise and delight ourselves instead”. – Katrina Kenison
As I opened my inbox this morning and saw that the topic for the Weekly Photo Challenge was solitude, I could hardly believe my eyes. Ironically, solitude is something I have been spending a great deal of time thinking about the past couple of weeks as the depths of winter carries on.
As I run around my favorite urban lake or walk the dog upon its frozen ice, I am aware of how alone I am as Minnesotans go into their traditional winter hibernation. Only the real diehards like me are out every single day in the cold, and at times it feels bittersweet.
A morning walk on the frozen ice of Lake Harriet with our aptly named dog, Winter.
Winter is our dog Winter’s favorite season. The colder the better!
I miss the movement of people, the voices, and the noise. At times I feel lonely wishing more people would be out like they are on a beautiful summer day. But then I snap out of it and realize there is beauty and strength in solitude. I just need to embrace it. I remember my favorite quote and think of winter solitude differently.
“In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer”. – Albert Camus
We slowly drove down the narrow dirt road through Dos Brazos de Tigre until we reached a grouping of small wooden homes at the edge of the vast rainforest jungle. At the end was a one-bedroom house with green and red flowered curtains. It was Xiña’s house, our host, for the next twenty-four hours in the heart of the Osa Peninsula in rural Costa Rica.
We parked the Land Cruiser, grabbed our day packs and knocked on the door. Xiña greeted us with an enormous smile and welcomed us to her home. Inside an adorable neighbor girl in pigtails was sitting shyly on the couch watching a Chinese soap opera dubbed in Spanish. I couldn’t help but laugh at the hilarity of it all. I smiled even brighter when I asked her name and she replied “Me llamo Nicole“. “Me llamo Nicole tambien” I replied.
Xiña's home in Dos Brazos de Tigre
Xiña's home in Dos Brazos de Tigre
Xiña's home in Dos Brazos de Tigre
Xiña pointed out that the tops of the rainforest trees were flowering (yellow flowers on top).
The inside of Xiña's home in Dos Brazos de Tigre
Xiña was dressed in shorts, knee-high wool socks, calf-length mud boots and a pink tank top. Her long black hair was pulled tightly back in a braid. Besides a wrist watch, the only piece of jewelry on her was a homemade necklace with a red and black seed found in the jungle. Her warm, charismatic smile made me instantly like her and feel at ease. I had no idea what was in store for me over the next day!
Xiña standing outside her home in Dos Brazos de Tigre
Xiña displays her new handmade sign for her mountain cabin open to tourists, “Descanso La Pizota”. “Descanso” means “a place of rest” and “pizota” is the indigenous word for coatimundi.
We sat down next to pequeña Nicole and drank a glass of homemade lemonade, its bittersweet tang resting pleasantly on my tongue. Xiña and Eytan conversed in rapid fire Spanish while I desperately tried to follow along. Meanwhile, Xiña’s sister Nuria gathered up our food for the next lunch, dinner and breakfast, and placed it into a rucksack. Despite only being a few years older, Nuria looked much older than her younger sister whose fit shape, sturdy legs and youthful air reflected a certain joie de vivre of life in the jungle.
Xiña and her sister Nuria who lives in Puerto Jimenez and will be our cook for the next day.
Shortly after ten, we were out the door and ready to begin our hour and a half hike up through the rainforest to Xiña’s cabin which she proudly named “Descanso El Pizote” after the infamous Coatimundi (indigenous name pizote) a raccoon-like animal that is common in the jungle. If we were lucky, we would possibly see one on our hike today. Continue reading →
