Ain't No Mountain High Enough

I got kicked out of my hostel last week. I had been there for a few days and had mostly kept to myself. The couple who owned the place was extremely friendly and helpful. The hostel was ecologically designed, constructed, and run. The mountainous jungle location was an ideal escape from the humid waterfront heat from which I had arrived. I'm sure I would have stayed for at least a week. An American girl was there doing a work exchange. She ran the check-ins and manned the fort when the owners were away. She was nice enough, but was the type of person with whom casual conversation flowed like toothpaste -- a little effort and it was fine, until the end when you know you probably could get more out of it but decide it's not worth it. Part of the problem may have been that I had very little interest in most of the things she had to say. Still, I appreciated having someone consistent to chat with.

In the few days I had been there, several guests had come and left. The tiny town mostly just serves as a landing pad for travellers wanting to hike Cerro Chirripo, the tallest peak in Costa Rica at 12,533 ft. Supposedly, a permit is required to enter Chirripo National Park. The hike to the top is roughly 12.5 miles with an altitude change of over 8,000 feet. It's strongly recommended that you do this in two days. There's a base camp around kilometer 14, which is the only place on the mountain that visitors are allowed to sleep. Unfortunately, only ten overnight park permits are given per day at this town's Ranger station. In order to get one, you have to either camp out in front to "secure" your spot, or be there at two or three in the morning. I showed up around 8 a.m. a couple days in a row, just to make sure, and left empty handed.  I was a little irritated at the system but my open reluctance to play their game won over my frustration in the ensuing battle of reason that played out in my head. I laid it to rest since I had no time restraint to speak of, not to mention I was perfectly content with where I was.

On my third day at the hostel, after my second half-assed attempt to land an overnight permit, I took the bus into San Isidro to get some cash at the ATM and stock up on groceries for the next few days. I got all that I needed, took the 2 p.m. bus back to San Gerardo, and made the half hour trek up the rest of the dirt road to the hostel. As I walked in the front door, I was confronted by the owner. His raised eyebrows told me that he had been waiting. I said hi and looked at him quizzically as I made my way towards the kitchen.

Nonchalantly, he cut to the chase. "I think it's time for you to leave."

I stumbled for my words in the aftermath of what he had said. In my brief, unsuccessful attempt to pick apart his blank expression, all I came up with was, "OK."

Apparently unsatisfied with this response, he just stood there returning my intent analytical gaze. After another unsuccessful attempt to gather something, anything, from his body language, I finally managed to force out a, "wh-what happened? What did I do?"

Still showing no sign of emotion, he gave me some short and vague explanation to the tune of, "you made someone uncomfortable. To protect this person, I really can't tell you any more. You need to leave."

Ignoring the look of utter confusion on my face, he went on, "all your things are at the Ranger station."

My heart dropped, only slightly less than my jaw, and the possible implications of this flashed through my head. Still having no idea what it was all about, all I could say was, "are they going to tell me what's going on?"

He shrugged off the question as if he didn't even know the answer, then turned away to let me know that the conversation was over. As he walked off, he kindly reminded me that the Ranger station closes at 4:30. It was 3:50. My mind was too preoccupied to put together that that left me just barely enough time to get there. I spent what seemed like the next hour, drunk off emotion, stumbling clumsily around the kitchen gathering the few items of food that I had left around over the last couple days. I became aware of a couple people in the adjoined seating area peering over their books at me. I thought, oh good, that's a nice touch.  Meanwhile, the owner hovered in and out of sight, acting busy, but obviously doing nothing more than monitoring my departure.

Within a few minutes -- after less than 15 minutes of having returned from my errands -- I was back out the front door. But not before I could ask to have one last word with the owner. He agreed, quite pleasantly, and followed me out. I asked him if he could give me any information to help easy my mind. Again, his answer was vague. However, he threw in a couple extra details about how this person felt that they couldn't even sleep while I was in the hostel. The only thing more absurd than what he was saying, was his insistence on not using any gender-specific subjects when referring to the poor soul. Still, these small bits of information confirmed my suspicion of the identity of the plaintiff. For lack of anything else to say, I thanked him, then hurried off towards the Ranger station.

The steep two kilometer descent with stuffed grocery bags in each hand was effortless in comparison to the sorting of thoughts in my mind. I decided since I was hardly given any information that I couldn't possibly be in much trouble. But the fact that I couldn't think of anything I had done to merit the boot meant that there must have been some sort of misunderstanding or mistake. This was enough to maintain my distress about how things might play out at the Ranger station.

I thought of a story that the helper girl at the hostel had told me about a guy she had met in another town. Knowing from their conversations that she was there, he had contacted her and told he was coming up to Chirripo to visit the park. For whatever reason, she was unnerved by this and told him that she would mostly likely be busy with the hostel. I didn't know the details of their encounter so I just assumed something that had happened made her question his intentions. But then she told me how he had come, visited the area, and left. No problem. Nothing weird. End of story.

Another thing, just that morning, I said good morning and asked how she had slept. She said, "OK, but not enough." I had given her my Kindle the day before so that she could read Ender's Game. She had stayed up reading it until the wee hours, but when she finally put it down and tried to sleep, she couldn't. She kept hearing noises in the jungle and could have sworn someone was creeping around her room. She finally decided to read some more until she could no longer keep her eyes open. I didn't understand how she could still be so paranoid about the noises after having been in Costa Rica for so long, but I know how strange and close some of the jungle sounds are around here so I didn't think much of it.

Now though, this and all the other strange little details of our conversations fit right into place with that last bit of insight that the owner of the hostel gave me. Still, there were some loose ends. Like how she had asked me to get mangoes for her in town just that morning. And how she had eagerly borrowed my Kindle and talked with me about the book. I could put together that she lacked confidence and had a few bats in the belfry, but I had not once felt any tension or animosity between us. She had addressed me no differently than any other guest. If anything, the owners were unusually reserved in my presence. I couldn't be sure though, so the thoughts kept churning, exacerbated by the fact that someone's impression of me in one of my most solitary states was so scanty that it had led to this.

I got to the Ranger station a few minutes before closing time and picked up my things. There was nothing to it. I asked if a bag had been brought in. With only a nod, a guy led me to the main office where it was sitting in the corner along side a black garbage bag. The masking tape across the front with my name and passport number let me know that I didn't have to look inside. I figured that whoever had packed my bag simply didn't want to take the time to work all my things into place so that the zipper would close. The makeshift label also added insult to injury. The situation had obviously been handled with so much precaution; it's as if they were convinced that I would flip my shit and bite someone's head off.

I took my things, thanked them, and left. It was clear that nobody there knew any more than I did. Plus, I was in no mood for conversation, much less in broken Spanish. I found a hostel nearby and collapsed onto my bed for a while. Drained by the same events that made it impossible for me to rest, I decided to write the kind owners of Casa Mariposa an email. I wasn't sure exactly what I expected from this, but it was all I could think of to help ease my mind.

As it took form, I realised that the single most upsetting thing was that someone had felt so impossibly threatened by me. I've been told and reminded of how irritating, stubborn, and obnoxiously sarcastic I am; but menacing? This was a first, and it wasn't a credible accusation given the circumstances. If nothing else, I wanted to make them think twice about their reaction to me. That seemed like a reasonable task. Plus, I don't believe in leaving burnt bridges in my wake, however insignificant they may seem. Here's how it went:

John and Jill, 

I am sending you my deepest apologies for having caused any discomfort to you, your staff, and/or your patrons. I aim to take responsibility for my actions, so here is what I will do and have done to limit the damage, given the information you provided me. Since I came to the area to hike Chirripo and explore Cloud Forrest, and have yet to do so, I will be staying at El Descanso for the next two nights, and most likely again on Friday. I will avoid coming anywhere near Casa Mariposa when at all possible until I leave, which will be some time this weekend. Also, I have deleted all the contacts that I obtained in the few days that I stayed with you. 

I appreciate the discretion and respect with which you handled the situation. Despite the unfortunate turn of events, I hold you and your establishment in high regard. I will strongly recommend you to anyone considering heading this way. 

Again, I apologize for the trouble. I am not one to question anyone's judge of character, and I have no reason to believe that this issue stemmed from anything but that and some obvious miscommunication. You can trust that I am taking it upon myself to reanalyze my demeanor and dialogue in the presence of those who don't know me well. Thank you for your kind honesty.

Ten minutes later, I had my response:

Thank you, Sacha.  We understand that communication with others whom
we don't know well may not always be as conscious and clear as we
presume it to be. We do understand this. 

Thank you for your awareness and willingness to acknowledge.  No
damage was done, it was only an opportunity for positive growth. We
are grateful for your honesty and integrity and hope you enjoy the
rest of your trip.

I set myself up for that one. Their subtle confirmation that I was the only one at fault was unsettling; however, it seemed as though I achieved the desired effect. They must have had at least a short conversation about it. I couldn't ask for much more than that. I didn't see any further communication working to my advantage, so that was the end of it. At least as far as I was concerned with them. I still couldn't make sense of it all, and the short email exchange was another tangle in the line. On one hand I felt like there was some closure. On the other, there was that much more to consider.

Ironically, just that morning before any of this had gone down, I had been thinking about one particular philosophy I like that was strangely appropriate to this particular turn of events. I thought of how the hurdles and struggles in life set the stage for change. The attitude with which you tackle your challenges seem to dictate whether that change is "good" or "bad;" whether it creates opportunities or becomes part of a negative chain reaction.

When something throws off your groove, I've found it extremely effective to get curious, or even excited, about the resulting encounters and experiences. The anticipation, in and of itself, inspires a more positive outlook. Even if things seem to continually spiral downward, a little premonition sets the stage for appreciation later on, keeping in mind that a resolution may not be as tangible as what you initially identify as the sacrifice. Or they may turn out to be one and the same. As you accept that the past can't be changed, decisions moving forward become easier to make. When things don't work out, remind yourself that influence is the most effective and enduring form of control. In your own life, this translates to continually making decisions that inspire proactive behavior, in spite of the obstacles along the way. There is some truth to the phrase, "you choose your own destiny." What are we but characters in a real life Choose Your Own Adventure story of endless possibilities?

Once I had cleared my mind of the seemingly inevitable -- yet temporary -- vog that clouded my thinking, I decided to prep for my hike to Cerro Chirripo. My disdain for the permit system, along with the rush from the day's affairs were motivation enough for me to conquer it in one day. I tried the ignore the likelihood that I was physically unprepared for the task. This was how I chose to subscribe my proactive decision-making philosophy. Something interesting or cool was bound to happen whether I made it or not. I had heard that there were no checkpoints for permits aside from the base camp where you are required to check in to sleep. I decided to take my chances. I got my food and attire packed up and ready to go, and set the alarm for 2 a.m.

I took my time waking up, throughly stretching my legs and double-checking the contents of my day pack. I was out the door at 3 a.m. For the first two and a half hours, I had nothing but my headlamp and the glow of the clear night sky to guide my way. Although the latter was unhelpful after the first half hour once I reached the cover of jungle canopy. Throughout the entire climb, I occupied myself with a multitude of mind games to keep me going. I definitely was not prepared for the physical strain but after a while, I just felt posessed. My legs moved mechanically up the to the rhythm of my heart and breath. I decided that the fact I was alone worked to my advantage. It was an experience unlike any other I've had. At around 8 o'clock, I thought, this is a strange time of day to have already hiked 5 hours. As I neared the summit I thought of all the different reasons people would climb this mountain. There is a race up it every year. That's a good enough reason. But I passed some people who looked absolutely miserable. They were like, Alright, mountain, I challenge you to just sit there while I break my balls so that I can be higher than you for as long as it takes to catch my breath and gather the courage to break my balls again on the way down. Game on!

I reached the summit at 10 a.m, having logged about 30 minutes of breaks along the way. The fact that I didn't fully understand how I had made it was one of the most rewarding things about being there. And of course, the unobstructed view was as breathtaking as the altitude. Again, I felt grateful that I was alone. I experienced a perfect balance of pain and serenity. I basked for a while in the glory of it all, letting my thoughts go into the summit wind. Fortunately, I was unaware that hardest, most painful part was yet to come.

I finally made it back to the hostel around 5:15 p.m, knees and feet throbbing from the brutal descent. However, the discomfort paled in comparison to the awe of the experience. I was still mesmerized at how the thick clouds had eerily penetrated the forest for the majority of the hike down. I had been graced with my favorite temperature and weather conditions for the entirety the walk through my favorite scenery. It was dreamlike, only all of my senses were stimulated.

It seemed as though months had passed since the struggles of the previous day. But I knew, had I not been faced with those issues, I would never have taken on this perfect challenge on this perfect day.