Costa Rica Sketch Journal ~ July 9, 2008

The Day of the Sloth. This was a "slothful" day. It started off with a hike with Dan'l down the trail used by Gerardo to take rappelers to the waterfalls. Most people don't hike this trail because it's pretty steep coming back up ~ the rappelers only go down it. But I'd gotten a taste of it in February on my last visit, and I wanted to see where it went.


Watching carefully for snakes (just as one would watch for rattlesnakes in the desert), we moseyed down the switchbacks to the lovely stream at the bottom of the ravine, which is on the south side of the ridge our cabina is built on. At the bottom I sat down to sketch a vine winding its way up a tree while Dan explored along the stream.


Dim light filtered down greenly, and I was glad I had my little sitter pad because the ground was spongey wet. I had a pretty nice likeness of the vine by the time Dan splashed back up the stream. He had hoped to return with me back up the path and trot down to the beach for a nice soak in the tidepools, but I persuaded him to return without me because I had spied a wonderful buttressed tree I wanted to draw. Sitting on a log in the middle of the stream (on my sitter pad, for sure!) I spent the next forty-five minutes drawing the sinewy, sinuous, sensual roots.


Then, at a very leisurely pace, I wandered up the steep trail. I hardly registered how steep it was because I was going so slowly, photographing mushrooms, leaves, seeds, and putting my hand down right next to ..... a beautiful sloth skull! My jaw dropped. What's the likelihood of finding a sloth skull right beside the trail, at waist level, perfectly preserved with all its teeth, completely bare as though someone had scientifically prepared it for display?! It was gorgeous! (Confession: I have been a skull collector since I was a little girl ~ by high school I had more than 60 skulls in my bedroom-museum.)

Carefully packing a plastic bag around it (I keep plastic tote bags in the bottom of my carrybag so that if I set the carrybag down on a wet surface only the plastic bags will get wet, not my sketchbook edge), I tucked it into my bag to take back to the lodge and identify, and continued up the trail past a huge monkey ladder vine, and around the next switchback (in case you don't hike in steep places, a switchback is where a climbing trail "switches back" on itself to continue to another level). There, directly above where I'd found the skull, on the downhill side of the trail, was the rest of the sloth skeleton, nearly invisible as it consisted of tan bones scattered among tan leaves and sticks. The skull being smooth and cylindrical, had rolled down to the next level spot. Squatting down, I poked at them a bit to see what I could see and discovered a claw, nearly three inches long. I tucked that into my bag, too.

I sat quietly on a log awhile, further up the trail, to watch a mixed flock of birds chatter through all around me, totally ignoring me. They were foraging, and I watched a black-hooded antshrike (identified later) feed SOME kind of huge spidery thing to its companion. I looked around me at the log, at the leaf litter, at the sprawling vines and foliage, wondering what I was missing from my human viewpoint. Lots, apparently!


That afternoon, relaxing with Dan'l on our terrazo, I went up to check out the swimming pool for a possible dip and discovered .....well, read about it on the journal page here. It was very exciting! And here's a photo I took through the lens of the spotting scope Gerardo set up for us to look through. I sketched the journal page from a photo that he took, closer to the pair, with my camera.


Like I said, it was a slothful day.


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Yesterday I said I'd try to include a scan of the painting I'm doing for the cover of The Southern Swamp Explorer. I've included it here.

By way of explanation: nothing is finished yet. While I have added color to many areas, I will probably go back and add/change/darken/lighten colors to get the effects I want.

In the alligator area, I've done quite a bit on the mama gator, and I'm now working on the vegetation mass which has sheltered the eggs. The vegetation is old, rotting, and will be darker, but at the moment I am coloring it. On the right I have applied the watercolor pencil, while on the left some of it has been watered already. It's not dark enough, but this underlayment of color will make the darkening look realistic.

Beach and Waterfall Massage

4/28

10:30am This morning Dan and I started down to the beach at seven, reveling in the pounding surf, skeins of brown pelicans patrolling the waves, and the fringe of palms, kapok, and beach almond trees fringing the beach. Crumpled papery eggshells littered the soft gray sand where a turtle nest had been raided overnight by a pizote.

We meandered south to the tidepools to bask in warm pools shadowed yet awhile by the cliffs. I lay in the pool floating weightlessly as the occasional incoming wave washed almost-hot water from more distant pools into mine, then surged across the pool to meet a similar frothy wave coming around the rocks at the other end, gently, gently. Sheer bliss.

We visited Dan's favorite wave-catching spot and let the rising tide froth around us. One largish wave broadsided us and swept me, giggling, ten feet up the sloping beach. We played and talked for hours in the shade of the cliff, hoping to avoid a tropical burn although since this is nearly on the Equator it’s possible to get quite a burn even on overcast days. Reflections off the sea can burn, too.

I’m off down the beach to the waterfall lagoon up a narrow canyon. Dan’s following at his own pace. He wanted to nap and I want to sketch, so away I go. We’ve seen twenty pelicans and a frigate bird, we watched a pod of humpbacked whales swimming south, and Dan saw flying fish rising and splashing back into the sea. (Later: Irené says the flying fish were probably mating manta rays!)

I’m sketching sprouting coconuts in the lagoon, and flowers with a most incredible gardenia scent. Gerardo just descended out of the narrow canyon, escorting an athletic group who just finished rappelling the waterfall. He says this is a flower from the guayaba plant. (Later: a tea made from the leaves of this plant is sometimes offered to guests who are suffering from upset stomachs.)

12:22pm Daniel came up from the beach and we went up to the waterfall a short distance up from the lagoon. This is a magical place, and even though five people had just rappelled it, it looked primeval, as though we were the first ones to ever see it. A wide stream of silvery water pours of a stone lip 30’ above us into a pool in a deep grotto. We stepped into the grotto and stood under the falling water, getting a breathtaking shoulder massage for as long as we could stand it.

Coming back out, we discovered a tiny poison-arrow frog, shiny black with bluish legs and a red band around its froggy outline. We found another one further downstream near a meter-long string of brilliant red flowers hanging from a sturdy heliconia plant. Termite nests like nubby black footballs perch in trees. A pizote forages on the bank above us and macaws flash in the trees above.

2.23pm Up the trail..... I have left Daniel back down on the beach again – he loves to sit and watch the waves, but Gerardo told us there was a sloth alongside the trail and I don’t want to miss it. I mean, it COULD move away. So I’ve been sitting at the edge of the trail for some time now watching through binoculars and I have spent a somnolent session sketching a sloth sleeping (say that fast three times!). Ah, movement! It has turned it’s head to look over its shoulder! And it moved its foot! Now its chin has drooped and it is sleeping whilst looking backward. The sloth is slightly below eye level, about 200’ away. It’s sort of tannish gray, and I’d never have found it on my own.

5:14pm I sat on my little sitting pad watching and sketching for about forty minutes.

The sloth began the session in one position (see the drawing with leaves) and ended in the other position (looking over its shoulder) which it held for fifteen minutes with occasional head movements. I finally left with a numb bum, tired but elated with my good fortune. Dan came along an hour later and admired it too, apparently in the same position.

Hiking the Passiflora Trail

April 27

7:04am Last night after a marvelously decorative dinner, Gerardo brought us a Bufo marinus to inspect -- a HUGE toad about 8” long and 4” wide. As Gerardo was showing us the huge glands behind its eyes which exude an irritant (to discourage predators), the toad swelled up bigger and bigger as it gulped down air. Soon it resembled a cantaloup with a face and legs. When Gerardo released it, it gradually deflated and hopped away into the shadows.

Only four frogs serenaded us from the pool during the night, but no eggs floated on the surface this morning. Perhaps the frogs gathered to reminisce about the delightful time they’d had the night before. Or perhaps the guys came back to brag while the ladies went off the recuperate. That seems more likely...

There were ten crabs in the pool this morning (two expired) but I fished out the rest with the net. These land crabs live out in the forest in holes in the ground. I saw one yesterday on the Ridge Trail popping back into its lair.

8:55am This morning I’m hiking the Passiflora Trail. Daniel drove me up to the trailhead in an El Remanso car because it’s a steep climb and I stubbed my toe yesterday (it’s a bit swollen, but I can’t miss an adventure!). At the trailhead we watched a troop of titi’s (squirrel monkeys) crossing overhead, one with a baby, tiny enough to have held in the palm of my hand, riding on her back. Then a troop of carablancas (capuchins) followed, leaping from branch to branch fearlessly. I’m working on my Spanish, and it’s fun learning new words.

Only a few steps into the shadowy trail I startled up a quail-like bird, very quiet and mousy, which I had trouble seeing in the dim light. It may have had markings, but I couldn't see any as it tip-toed furtively into the dark under some big leaves. (Later: Joel says it was probably a Little Tinamou.)

More monkeys are overhead. Titis are barking like chihuahuas and dropping hard little fruits down on me, and a bit farther away a sound like someone throwing around sheets of cardboard or heavy paper is capuchins leaping through heavy leaves in the canopy. It has begun to shower lightly – I heard its approach as a light tapping on the canopy to the southwest. I looked for the darkest bit of canopy to stand under and I’m staying dry enough to keep writing. This may last awhile.

I just sketched a young monkey ladder vine detail. I love this vine with its pockety flat lianas and split leaves. Some of the vines grow as big around as my waist at their bases on Ridge Trail. (Later: I found and photographed a really big one on this ridge, too)

The carablancas are now almost directly overhead. When they make a long leap, big water droplets come plummeting down. So far I haven’t gotten drenched.

10:40am I’m having a delightfully poky morning trying to spot creatures before they spot me. I have had success with an anole, two katydids and a giant cockroach. They blend in or hide so perfectly, they're hard to see before they leap (and it's even harder to get a crisp, clear photo in the dim light).

There are some incredible giant buttressed trees in this part of the forest. Joel recently went out with Dan and Gerardo, and they found bats, spiders and other fine things in the crevices of buttressed trees. Wish I had a flashlight!

4:19pm I'm back from my hike and it’s downpouring. Sitting on our cabina's veranda, I am dry and content to watch the natural libation. Daniel and I had planned to go down to the beach this afternoon, but we paused for a siesta and it began to rain. The downspouts are flowing, the sea is silver, the pool is rippling with dimples and the air is soft and cool. Actually, I don’t mind the enforced relaxation.

Over the roof of the restaurant I can see the red and blue flash of macaws, and there’s no missing their raucous, grating cries. They speak often to each other over their fruity lunches and as they fly two-by-two, hither and yon, over El Remanso. The toucans, with their outsize bills and brilliant markings, sing a melancholy hooting cry and fly singly, while the green parrots gabble noisily and labor mightily as they flap along.

I’ve been sketching the skulls in the skull box. I love skulls, and I've been experimenting with the various colors one can use to show "white." I did the pizote skull yesterday with lavender and yellow.

Today I'm going to try blue and black (gray, more likely) on the monkey skull, then maybe ochre for the sloth skull. The skulls are actually all a sort of grayish-white, but hey, I'm the artist here!