ALL FOR A BIRD
MY rental 4x4 SUV glided down the narrow dirt road and seemed to keep descending even when I put my foot on the brake. I had read the last nine kilometers were rough (why I’d gotten the 4x4), and it felt as if I was going straight down a mountain cliff. Every few minutes, the straight down also involved a blind corner switchback, and it seemed around every corner was a driver headed up and out of the valley with far more confidence and speed than I had. And many times, there would be almost nowhere for either of us to go — with a rock wall to my right and sheer drop-off on theirs.
Each time, I would just stop as far to the side as I could and let them deal with it. I wished equally that I had a GoPro mounted on the dash to record this dangerous road or that I’d just paid for a driver to deliver me (safely and stress free) to my hotel in San Gerardo de Dota. I couldn’t even entertain the thought that at some point, I was going to have to drive back out of the valley and up this stressful road.
I kept returning to one thought, though: “I can’t believe I’m doing this all for a bird.”
The bird I had suddenly become obsessed with was the Resplendent Quetzal. But I must tell you, I’m not a birder. I don’t even like birds. I like fish. My reason for being in Costa
