Volcan Arenal day 2

I should have known when the guy behind the counter did the eyebrow raise/laugh to himself thing.

He had asked where I was riding the bike to. The waterfalls?

The lake.

The lake!? (Insert eyebrow raise and tiny chuckle here)

What? Is it far?

Yeah

.

(Seriously!? “Yeah.”  That’s all you have? You couldn’t give me something like “yeah, it’s 15 km” or “Yeah, it’s pretty far. Make sure you take enough water.” Nope. It was just…”yeah.” Followed by:)

Here. You’ll need a lock and a helmet.

So at 7:30 in the morning, that lovely, partly-cloudy Friday, I jumped on my Optimist mountain bike and set out toward the cloud capped volcano. (The brand of the bike made me really happy…and proved ironically appropriate about an hour later as I was cheering myself on at snail’s pace up what seemed like the millionth hill with still no lake in sight.)

I’d just like to interject that I have not owned a bike in years. I haven’t ridden a bike farther than about 2 or 3 miles in years. I haven’t ridden a bike up a significant hill in…That’s right!  Years. You can imagine the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that washed over me when I finally pulled up to the National Park (not quite the lake but cool enough) after an hour and a half of climbing (and once or twice, joyously coasting) the foothills around Volcan Arenal.

At the entrance, the ticket girl’s eyes widened to know where I had ridden from. I asked what there was there at the National Park and she showed me the map of hiking trails. She reached under the counter to grab the map of biking trails too but I assured her I had spent quite enough time on a bike for the time being.

The next hour and a half I was on cloud 9. I hadn’t gotten to really go on a hike by myself since before August when I left Durango. Sure I had hiked other volcanoes but only with a guide or other group. My heart did every cliché thing it could think of. It leaped. It soared. It pounded. I hadn’t forgotten, but I had kind of forgotten, how much being able to go hiking means to me. It wasn’t a super long or strenuous hike, but it took me right up to the base of the volcano where I could look at the panoramic of lake and tropical green.

Had you seen me, you would have thought I was crazy. Or at least a little special. I think I smiled and skipped the whole way back down the trail from the top. When I got back to my bike I thanked the girl at the entrance, bought another bottle of water for safety’s sake and set out for the grueling return.  

The funny thing about hills is, that one way they pretty much just suck, but when you are coming back the other way THEY ARE SO MUCH FUN! It took me exactly half the time to get back to the hostel and I enjoyed it twice as much. I’m reminded again of why people ride bikes.

I’m pretty sure I surprised (and maybe even impressed) the guy behind the counter when I told him I had not only made it all the way to the national park, but I had also done a hike once I got there. I was racking up the ego points that day.

I showered and got all my stuff crammed back into my backpack; then I returned my key and headed into town for pizza and a much-deserved beer before getting back on the bus for San Jose.

So I didn’t do all the touristy zip-lining, hot tub sitting, cave exploring that you’re supposed to do when you go to Arenal as an American tourist…but I did exactly what I wanted to do. And plus, I’m pretty sure the volcano was smiling down at me from underneath its soft, grey, cloudy cap.