Trapped in a Costa Rican Forest
I've never been "outdoorsy." I like the idea of it, and watch shows like Alone where people are experts on plants, animals, and know how to build huts out of dirt. But I personally have never liked the outdoors. I'm always too cold or too hot. I don't like sweating. I don't like bugs. I hate feeling dirty or that there's dirt in my shoes. I get irritated easily and just want to go back inside where everything is comfortable and dry.
My husband, in comparison, is very outdoorsy, so over the years I've been trying to warm myself up to it. Last year we took a trip to Monteverde, Costa Rica (the treacherous trip up the mountain to get there is a story of its own). The whole trip was a test of my limits because we were always outside and it rained pretty much the whole time.
But the strangest experience was when we were hiking off a trail close to our hotel. We figured it'd be an easy path since it was on the hotel grounds — plus it was the driest, sunniest day of the trip so far. So we were like, "Cool, let's just hike this quick trail, head back to the hotel, pack, and go home."
But this trail was something else.
For one, there was barely a path. Instead, we climbed over trees and bushes looking for little yellow arrows that told us if we were going the right way or towards our impending death. About ten minutes into the hike, I wanted to turn around and run out. The entire time I was thinking, "This is how horror movies start." My husband, who's usually annoyingly telling me to hurry up, was weirdly quiet and was lagging behind while I, fueled on fear and anxiety, marched ahead, looking for the exit.
We came across a lake and waterfall, which were pretty to look at, but illuminated how high up we were as we walked around a narrow edge. We took a quick picture and high-tailed it around the corner. But as we turned, we ran into two humans coming down the path. I felt so relieved to see them. Signs of life! Plus, since they were walking in the opposite direction, that meant there was an exit.
The people looked like your average tourists, but they had a strange, awkward energy around them. At first they didn't say anything until I smiled at them. Then one of them, the man, asked me if I saw any interesting birds so far. I told them we saw a cool-looking bird on the way in. They said, "Cool! Well, have a nice hike!" I responded, "You too!" And we went our separate ways.
About 15 minutes later, while following a dirt path covered in downed branches, we reached a dead end: a massive tree that got blown over. Our path was completely blocked. There was nowhere around. We attempted to skid down the hill a bit, seeing if we could walk around it, but it was too dangerous, and we had to walk back up to the trail.
Now I was furious. We had been walking for more than an hour and now had to retrace our footsteps allll the way back if we wanted to get out of this nightmare hell forest. We were exhausted, hot, and thirsty. It was absolute torture.
After another hour, we found the exit and finally got out of the forest. But with my head now clear and sane again, I realized something: Why did those people not tell us the path was blocked?
When my husband and I were back in our hotel, cleaning the mud off our shoes, I couldn't stop talking about it. If the path was blocked, where did those people come from? And if they came the same way we came and had to turn around, WHY DIDN'T THEY TELL US THE PATH WAS BLOCKED? It honestly baffled me — it still does! They had the energy to ask us what motherfucking birds we saw, but couldn't warn us that, hey, a tree is down ahead, you might want to turn around?
Back at the hotel, I saw the couple with their suitcases checking out and they kept eyeing us. I didn't know who these people were, but in my eyes they were demons. Straight demons. Why not warn your fellow homo sapiens about a downed tree, huh? Did they want us to die in that forest? Were they pissed that they had to turn around and wanted us to suffer the same fate?
I keep thinking about how the couple was weirdly quiet when we first approached them, as if they were questioning if they should tell us or not. And somehow, within those 10 seconds, after I gave them my goofy smile, they came to the conclusion, "Nah, fuck these people." 😈
I'm being slightly facetious here, but seriously, it's weird, right?