On entering Costa Rica, I found that the road was in bad shape and it soon became hilly and surrounded by dense jungle. At one of my rest stops, I spotted two monkeys swinging through the trees. With the jungle encroaching on the Highway and the mountainous terrain, it was impossible to find a decent place to camp. I set up the tent on a slight incline and spent the night fighting from rolling down the hill. The next morning, I made it to La Cruz for breakfast.

         After breakfast, I was back on the Highway which, at times, allowed views of the Pacific Ocean on one side and volcanoes on the other side. The conditions of the road did not improve but it was quite flat and with very little traffic. I had hoped to make it to Liberia that day but, without a watch or my GPS, I had no idea what time it was or how far I had to go. I finally passed a billboard advertising an Esso Station in Liberia 23 kilometers away. I decided that it was getting too late to get there so I set up camp beside the road.

         The next day, I knew I would have a short ride into Liberia so I stopped at a river for a swim. As I was making my way down to the water, I spotted a Howler monkey. He grunted at me as much as to say, "this is my territory." I hurried back to the bike and grabbed my video camera. When I returned, I realized that there were two monkeys. They played around in the trees for awhile and then headed off into the forest.

         In Liberia, I stopped in a park for lunch when the usual crowd gathered around. One of the on-lookers spoke some English and he told me where to find an internet service and some cheap hotels. I stayed in Liberia for two days catching up on my laundry, shopping, writing my diary and studying Spanish. Listening to the BBC on my short-wave radio, I heard that the sniper in the U.S.A. had been captured and hostages had been taken in a theatre in Moscow. "The insanity continues!"

         On October 26, I was out on the Highway again and I covered the first 25 kilometers quickly. I stopped for lunch at a bus shelter and the usual crowd gathered. After lunch, the rolling hills started. That night, I camped under a bridge with the bats and the sound of the howler moneys bellowing out their calls across the jungle.

         The next day, the hills continued and the traffic increased as I was getting nearer San Jose. My aim was to reach Caldera on the Pacific coast and check out the surfing scene there. I passed through a lot of industrial areas and shanty towns. People were walking down the Highway returning from a Sunday afternoon at Dola Ana Beach. Caldera looked like a large place on the map but, when I reached the town, I found that there was only a couple restaurants and hotels and a port where ships unloaded their cargo. There was definitely no surfing! I checked out a couple hotels but found that they were too expensive. I decided to camp on the beach after the people left for home. By that time it had started to rain and, as I was setting up my tent, one of the tent poles broke. By this time, everything was soaking wet so I decided to forget about camping. Back on the Highway, I went to turn on my rear flashing light only to discover that it had been stolen! I checked into one of the hotels, washed some clothes and watched Mrs. Doubtfire and The Sixth Sense in Spanish.

         On October 28, I stopped in Orotina for lunch when it started to rain. I waited for the rain to subside and then carried on to San Mateo where it started to pour. I waited awhile but the rain did not ease up so I continued. The road became more winding and hilly and it was starting to get dark so I decided to set up camp in the rain. It was too wet to make supper so I just crawled into the tent for the night.

         The next morning, I packed up my wet tent, making the load heavier, as I headed onto the worst stretch on Highway on the trip. The road was narrow and winding with no where to pull over. At times, it was so steep, I had to get off the bike and push and the constant stream of traffic in both directions made it very dangerous. After about 10 kilometers, I pulled over to the side of the road completely exhausted. Someone in a pick-up truck pulled up and offered me a ride. I was hesitant at first but, when he stated that it was still a long way to the top, I swallowed my pride and took up his offer. We loaded the bike in the back and I jumped in with him. It was the right decision as the climb continued for a long way and I doubt if I would have made it to the top alive. After a roller coaster ride back down the other side, the truck driver dropped me off in Atenas just as it started to pour.

         After lunch in Atenas, I continued downhill for awhile and then came out into a river valley. I knew that there was another big climb out of this valley so I set up camp for the night by the side of the road. The traffic was endless in both directions and it had to stop at the bottom of the hill before crossing a single lane bridge so, as they waited to cross the bridge, they all watched me setting up camp. I settled in for a very uncomfortable night in my wet sleeping bag as it continued to drizzle outside.

         On October 30, I started the climb again and soon had to start pushing the bike up. After awhile, the road leveled off as I passed through Garita and came back onto the Pan American Highway. This section of the Highway was in better shape complete with a shoulder to ride on. I stopped at a store and met some Americans who were driving a rental vehicle. They were heading down to the coast on the road from hell that I had just come down.