Costa Rica Part 2

The plane* that took us from San Jose to Tortuga was small. Actually, that's quite an understatement. You know those planes that Horizon uses to do commuter flights? The ones with the two props? Those are small. This plane was several sizes down, and would best be described as frighteningly tiny. In fact, the only way to find a smaller aircraft would probably be to get an ultra-light or maybe a hang glider.

When we first arrived at the private airfield early in the morning, we saw many small planes around and made all sorts of guesses about which one would be ours. In fact, our plane was nowhere in sight until the last minute when we were asked to walk out onto the runway. There it was in all its four-seater glory, the smallest airplane I'd ever seen up close.

Needless to say, there wasn't any jet way or even a set of roll-away stairs. There was only one small door. The pilot actually had to fold his seat forward to let us get in the back, and we were asked to pitch our luggage in the narrow space behind our seats. It smelled like the inside of a 1968 Dodge Dart.

The pilot climbed in (I could have reached up and tapped him on the shoulder we were so close) and began his pre-flight check. All of a sudden there was a yell, and the pilot opened his door again to admit a last-minute passenger. This person actually climbed over the pilot in order to take the co-pilot's seat. He handed back his backpack for stowage, and we were off.

I know I should have been scared by the whole situation, but sometimes, when I know I can't do anything to impact the things, I just stop worrying. This meant that I was actually able to enjoy the flight quite a bit. It was fun watching the city disappear, giving way to farms, and then nothing but mile upon mile of jungle. We remained low enough to see much more detail than on the average flight.

By the end of the 25 minutes, we could see the island on which we would land including the grass/dirt landing strip. It was truly like something out of Indiana Jones to climb out of that tiny plane and see nothing but jungle and river beyond the airstrip. And the humidity, did I mention the humidity? It slaps you like a wet towel and reminds you once more that you are not, in fact, still in Seattle.

We'd arrived safely on the island of Tortuguero.

*Plane in first pic is obviously not our actual one. How the heck would I take that pic?