What I Learned About Fear and Teamwork When I Almost Died in Costa Rica
True wisdom comes from experience, here was mine.
“Holy shit, we just lost our locking diffs.”
Jeremiah said as we were off-roading over a vertical ridge trying to make it to civilization over an unknown mountain between Jaco and La Fortuna, Costa Rica.
“Are you serious?!”
I was frantic, truly.
I can say that I’ve skydived, I’ve broken bones, totaled a car, and marathoned until I thought my heart would give out, but I’ve never been so terrified as I was in this moment.
It was a test of will, of strength, of character, but more than all — and what I didn’t know at the time — it was a test of compassion and teamwork.
It was a test to see how we cope with the pressure, if we would fall back to retaliation, to dissonance, and despair, or if we would latch together, embrace each-other’s strengths, and work as a cohesive team to overcome what we thought would never end.
Less than 72 hours ago we boarded a plane from Fort Lauderdale, Florida to San Jose, Costa Rica, an industrial capital of unbridled movement.
It was actually incredible to see such an un-developed infrastructure being driven by such a surge of ambition. Cabbies shuttling people from the airport to the rental car ports, four people on dirt-bikes in business suits moving through traffic in what would be considered normal for a single car length of space in normal State’s traffic.
People were moving, they just “got it” — they knew they had to overcome, to push ahead, they were inspirational, but regardless of this fact that I came to know and love, I was petrified.
I had culture shock upon landing. I don’t like to admit it, it makes me feel ridiculous to have felt that way, like a spoiled American who thought an un-planned, spontaneous, and adventurous journey through Costa Rica would be anything short of different from my day-to-day norm. It was, but I had no idea the wisdom and love that I would gain in the following seven days.
I was soon to learn.
We flew in on a red-eye flight, so the buzz and motors came in the morning, the initial scare was at night, when none of the cabbies were out, when there weren’t any rental cars to purchase, when everything was shut down. The city looked like a ghost town, an undeveloped, foreign, un-known ghost town.
“Thank god for smart phones, right?” Jeremiah and I thought as he pulled out his iPhone and looked up the closest hotel in walking distance.
About a mile from the airport stood a Marriot Hotel, unbeknownst to us it would be our saving grace not 2 days in the future.
We set out walking, down a long road with a few lights. Instantly we saw a massive Marriot, truly a diamond in the rough I thought at the time. We passed what appeared to be a post apocalyptic building, with guard towers, heavily fenced in parking, and bared up windows in a building that I surely thought was a state embassy.
We checked in to our hotel, planned our path for the next morning and got some much needed sleep.
We woke up running the next morning, our plan was to walk back up to the Airport, rent an off-road worthy truck or SUV and head to Jaco, a beach town we had heard is world renowned for its surfing.
Upon walking back up to the Airport, we notice something.
“Wait, that shady, odd, crazy building from last night was a Walmart?”
This place is insane I thought. How bad does it have to be that you have manned, armed guard towers, rails, and bared up windows on a Walmart? We soon learned, at the airport, that the number one crime in Costa Rica was burglary, not armed, but just straight up snatch-and-grab, second being sex trafficking.
Lovely, right?
We got to the Airport only to discover the only “off-road worthy vehicle” they had was a Hyundai Tucson, truly world-renowned for it’s ability to sit in suburban house-wife’s garages, and carry multiple, devilish children to Soccer practice.
We were a bit worried, to be honest. But since the couple to our right decided to elect for a tiny Kia Rio, and they were going for a sky-forest trek to La Fortuna, we thought “Meh, it will work.”
We set out for Jaco, driving through some of the most hilariously un-managed infrastructure we had ever seen. “This looks like South Georgia” I laughingly said, only because South Georgia has the worst roads I had ever seen up to that point.
The traffic was insane, the people were moving like they were training for the World Rally Championship, in real-world conditions. Four dirt-bikes pack in to a single lane, with a van moving through from a right-connector, barely missing them as horns blared.
The horns, you see, weren’t even used out of spite, out of annoyance, or anger like they are here, they were simply used to say “I’m here, I’m coming through.” I didn’t know this at the time, so naturally I was stressed to the limit.
Once we got out of the capital city, the roads opened up, the sky cleared, the smell of industry dissipated, and the trees glimmered.
“This is incredible” we thought as we moved through the country-side on our way to what was sure to be our most incredible ocean adventure to date. Each bridge we stopped at to look over the edge at the water, filled with intimidating crocodiles, lined with massive iguanas, and covered in an immense canopy with vegetation we had never seen before.
The culture shock seemed to slip, until we got to Jaco.
We drove around looking for a place to stay in this town where we were sure everyone was staring at us. Two white kids, show up in a nice 2010 Hyundai Tucson, brand new clothes, bags, cameras, and phones, and I assumed instantly that we were now target number one for some kind of burglary.
“Let’s carry the bags”
We said to each-other as we got out of the SUV. Since we were going to try to find a place to stay on-foot, we figured not to leave things to chance and, while all eyes were on us, make sure those eyes saw there was nothing left in the car.
Eventually we found a place, paying half of what their cost was because we offered cash. We left our bags, locked the room, went straight to a surf shop, rented some boards and hit the water.
It was about 6:00pm, the sun had been setting for about 20 minutes, the horizon was red, mist covered the mountain outcrops, surrounding the cove of water with perfect sets of unbelievably surf-able waves.
We looked at each other for a brief moment and then ran full speed in to the water.
It was incredible, paddling out the water was black, but gleaming with a golden hue that covered the cove and stretched out to the open ocean. Turning back at the shore we saw the mountains in the background, the town was tiny, but was instantly appreciated for what it was. It wasn’t about the people, it wasn’t about the food (which was incredible), it wasn’t about the misguided looks or culture shock we had before hitting the water, it was about the surf.
We embraced those 30 minutes or so of ecstasy-laden waves before it got so dark we had to swim in, in fear of what could be hiding below that black water, then we went back to the hotel.
The next morning we woke up early to drive an hour through the mountains to Manuel Antonio national park, which was without doubt one of the most beautiful treks I’ve ever had in my short life. The roads were wet but not slippery, the hills were vertical car-killers, the engines had to literally be modified to deal with that kind of elevation change. This was terrible for mechanicals but incredible for the senses. The cliffs at the outcrops where the trees gave way to open spaces of unimaginable sights were spaced out just enough to tantalize your lust for these unbelievable works of nature, just before quenching them again with an even better experience.
We moved around when we got to the national park of Manuel Antonio, walking on the beaches, climbing on the igneous rocks out in the water, we were even about to wade across a calm river, before finding a sign that said “Keep out, crocodile infested” — good thing Jeremy knew and could read Spanish.
Upon experiencing all we could at this small but incredible national park we decided to set out, to La Fortuna, where we thought would be a treasure trove of experiences — which it was — but no treasure is gained without a hell of a lot of effort.
We got in our trusty Tucson at around 5:00pm with Google Maps as our guide. Little did we know at this point that Google Maps was not a well developed resource in Costa Rica, and completely ignoring our prior experience of light turning to pitch-black darkness at 6:00pm the previous day.
Our only choice to make was that of our route.
A decision that we made way too quickly, and without much honest thought, a mistake we would pay for very soon.
The decision we made was to go straight to La Fortuna, using smaller, less developed roads (we didn’t actually factor in the “less developed” part, until we were there) instead of electing to go back up the main roads to Alajuela, and out from there to our destination in comfy La Fortuna.
(Jaco is the Purple pin, La Fortuna is the Red pin, the way we should have gone is the Green trail, the way we went is the Red trail.)
Soon after leaving Manuel Antonio national park, we learned of our first mistake, we hadn’t accounted for the fact the sun would be going down soon.
By the time we got back to Jaco it was pitch-black. The only light was from our dim headlights and the sporadically placed, very un-ubiquitous lights that were scattered around the roadways.
We naively elected to not stay another night in Jaco and instead try to make this journey through the night.
The roadways, however terrifying in Costa Rica, were fine for most of the journey. They didn’t really cause too much grief, they were completely inept in industrial standards compared to that of the sunshine state of Florida, but they were doing their job, until we made a mistake, a serious, stupid mistake.
“Okay, we have a decision to make.” Jeremiah said.
“We can either take this dirt road, which would probably trim an hour off our time, or we can go around on the main road, which would probably take way more time than just making this straight shot.”
We decided to take the dirt road, at night, in a country where we knew no one, alone, while in a car that we weren’t fully familiar with, had no mechanical records of, and really we just weren’t prepared to deal with.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
The small dirt road quickly turned into a hill, which not so slowly turned into a mountain.
The gravel gave way to crevices, there were giant gashes that were taken straight out of the roadway through the middle and off to the side, cutting through the road with one to two foot gulfs where there was no chance of tire contact, we would have been sitting on an axle.
The 20 foot wide road turned into a 7 or 8 foot wide alleyway, accompanied by sheer deadfalls on either side of the road. Small vegetation swiftly gave way to a black, dark abyss on either side. We got out, looked down and realized that the dim lights on either side of this hill were actually the cities on both coasts of the country.
We could see the Gulf, we could also see Jaco, the lights were dim, they were very far off, and we were very high up. We couldn’t turn around, we didn’t have enough room. If we wanted to go back we would have to back down this insane path. We had to keep going, we had to move forward.
We moved forward, inch by inch, literally, we were crawling up this mountain at snails pace. Each move was heavily articulated, each inch was used to miss these crevices that we knew if we fell in to we wouldn’t get out of, and we would have to sleep here over night, in a country that is known for their mountain lions, pumas, and leopards, until somehow finding some way to move the car in the morning.
As we crawled along, the only thing we could see is a steep incline ahead of us, and dim lights on either side, until the lights started to fade out.
“Is that a cloud? Are those lights fading out into a cloud?! Are we up that high?!”
We were. The lights suddenly disappeared, the atmosphere around us got cold, and damp, our hope and happiness that this would be a good little short-cut quickly gave way to silence, and fear.
Three hours into this short cut our patience was set on edge, it was 12am at night, we had been up since 6am, we were terrified, trying to keep awake, trying to keep focused, and if we lost focus, we would surely catch our tire in one of these crevices, potentially slide, and the only story of us would have been scattered across the side of this unknown, unmarked mountain in between Jaco and La Fortuna.
“Holy shit, we just lost our locking diffs.”
“Are you serious?!”
“Yeah, the light just came on, they’re broken.”
We’re screwed.
The only thing going for this beautiful Korean machine was the locking diffs that were keeping us from rolling backwards when we had to stop to modify our course to miss these crevices. Without these, we weren’t able to move as slowly as we needed to, we weren’t able to think as much, and if they completely went, we wouldn’t have half of the off-road capability we needed and thinking about what would come next was a losing game that was spiraling through both of our heads like a torrent of fear.
No sooner did we lose this off-road capability than when we needed it most.
Out of nowhere there was a stream of water cutting straight through our path, rushing rocks, mud, and other sediment over the edge of the right side of this cliff. It cut straight across our “road” and it needed to be crossed. With at least a foot or two of water, we knew that if the car started to move to the right, or if the road started to give way that we would have to jump out of the car, and for me, in the passenger seat, that meant some serious evasive maneuvers.
We moved through the rocks inch by inch, slowly, miraculously making it through this tiny river, as the water pushed on the side of the car, on the wheels, and threw rocks off the edge where we could only imagine they fell to.
We made it through. Thank god, we made it through.
The journey wasn’t over, but every small victory felt like the greatest in our lives. Every ounce of success meant hope for us.
As we moved closer and closer to the top, the crevices got wider, the roads got harder to manage, our tires were now wet, and with our dash-lights exploding with color we knew our poor Tucson could only handle so much more.
We moved elegantly around a crevice, only to have our left front tire slide uncontrollably directly in to another crevice only a few feet in front of us.
We heard a pop, a mechanical break.
We heard some mechanical bit of the axle give way and make a sound worse than the pop I heard in a void of silence when I broke my arm as a kid. It was something really wrong, but it had to work, it had to get out, and it had to overcome this bullshit, so we could make it, and not be left stranded, or worse.
We got out, narrowly walking around the car avoiding the edges of the cliffs to see our tire lodged in this hole, the hole was filled with rocks on the sides, the tire wasn’t all the way lodged in, it was sitting between the two sides of this crevice, with the right kind of traction it could eek its way out.
We didn’t give up hope.
Jeremy got back in the car, turned the wheel toward the right side of the road, budging on the gas he was able to slowly turn the wheel until it caught a tiny bit of traction, he turned it ever so slightly more to the right and suddenly, with a little bit of force, pushed the Tucson right back on track out of the hole, straightening back up before I could even get in the car, as he was around 6 inches from falling over the right side.
I got back in the car. We both let out a sigh of relief.
Stress was so high, the highest we had probably ever experienced, this was insane. The tension couldn’t have been cut with a chainsaw, it wouldn’t have mattered, there was no escape from this stress until there was an escape from the mountain, it was an enigma for us, we didn’t know what it meant, until we quickly realized.
“You’re doing incredible, man, truly.” I said to Jeremiah as we slowly crept forward.
“Thanks man, you have seriously no idea how much that means to me right now, I needed that.”
It took a lot to say that in that moment, not because of him, he was doing incredible, I was just so terrified that there were few things I could think about other than the fact that we were either going to die here, or be stranded far beyond our date of departure from this foreign country.
Regardless, in a moment of clarity, in a moment of togetherness and truth we were somehow able to overcome that sense of fear, and empathetically embrace each-other’s psyche, giving us the courage to carry on.
Not long after that moment did we reach the summit, and not long after reaching the summit did we cascade slowly down this mountain, axles creaking, until we reached a main road.
We were ecstatic, surprised, happy, enthralled, but exhausted. We looked at the maps, and decided, it was a good bit more of these uncharted “dirt roads” before we would reach La Fortuna, we could either go that distance with this horribly battered car, or we could take this main road back to San Jose, get a new car, and take the main roads in the morning.
It was about a 2 hour drive from where we were to San Jose, but we elected to go that distance, stay at the Marriot one more time, and wake up in the morning to get a fresh ride to carry us through the mountain roads to La Fortuna.
That was the right decision. We reached the Marriot at about 3am, slept until 10am, had the entire car detailed by 5 people for $3 that morning, and was able to exchange the Tucson for, you guessed it, another newer Tucson to complete our journey.
The rest of the trip was a hilarious, vigorous exploration of fun and joy. There was no longer culture shock. What the hell could we go through that would be worse than that night? Costa Rica had thrown its worst at us and we had won.
The next few days were spent rafting class 4 rapids on the Rio Toro river, drinking fresh sugar cane tequila that I literally ground myself at an organic farm, swimming under La Fortuna waterfall, hiking Volcan Arenal, swimming in the mouth of Cero Chato, a volcano that has been dormant for over 3,000 years where a crystal green lake has formed, and a ton of other unbelievable experiences.
We had some of the most life changing events after that experience, but nothing compared to the joy and growth that came from the time we spent on that un-known mountain between Jaco and La Fortuna.
I learned from that experience that true teamwork is about empathizing, regardless of the situation. It’s about overcoming yourself to embrace the strengths of those around you, putting down your ego, putting down your fear, putting your doubt aside, and instead focusing on what you can do in that moment to improve your situation and that of those around you. To come together, with love and compassion, and beat the odds that are mounting in front of you.
We truly were “the fortunate” ones for reaching La Fortuna in one piece, but we were truly the fortunate ones for experiencing that mountain on our journey to La Fortuna.
We should always look for an opportunity to be humbled, because when we are truly brought down to our core, we learn things about ourselves and those around us that we would never learn otherwise. We gain wisdom, and we grow closer together.
We are blessed to have our struggles.
