Today has been the first full day on our family's trip to Costa Rica. This is our second trip here as a family, having been fortunate enough to visit here in February
of 2009 as well. However, it's my third time to be here--my first was in the summer of 1978.
Each time I've been to the same place, and while not much has changed in
the past 2 ½ years, it is very different than it was when I was here at the age
of twelve.
Our connection with this place, this land, is thanks to my brother
Hunter (1955-1996) and the work he did to help acquire it for H.G.
Pattillo in the late 70’s. I don’t have
many memories about exactly what he did, mainly since I had little interest in things like that when I was twelve, but I’ve been told that he was here both
to gain the trust of the Costa Rican people, and to help recommend and negotiate the transactions
that resulted in H.G. owning the hacienda that is Pinilla. The memories I have about my time here all
those years ago are more vivid. My first
experience with theft was here, when my purse was stolen from our Jeep in
downtown San Jose. One of my earliest
small-world connections occurred here when we met a group of tourists from
Macon, Georgia atop Volcan Irazu, one of Costa Rica’s still-active
volcanos. My first puka bead necklace
was purchased for $2.00 from a young tico selling them to tourists on the beach
at Tamarindo. And my first time to ride
horses on the beach was with my brother Hunter when we visited The Ranch on
that trip, back when Hacienda Pinilla was visible only in the mind and heart of
H.G. Pattillo.
The love between my brother Hunter and me ran deep. He was eleven or twelve when I was born, and
Mom said he thought of me as his own child more than he did a sibling. I adored him, in part because of the childish
silliness that he never seemed to outgrow, and in part because of his
intelligence—there was nothing that he didn’t know as far as I was
concerned. So I was eager to spend a few
hours horseback riding with him, and even more excited to ride on the beach. Also, Mom and Dad seemed quite apprehensive
about our trek, which made it all the more enticing to me at the time.
It was the rainy season then, so we had to stop at every flora and fauna spot we passed, particularly the known orchid locales. While I would love this now,
then it was less than exciting to me. I was
eager to ride on the beach, and didn’t really enjoy the winding route we took
from the barn to the water. But as was
typically the case when Hunter was involved, we did it his way, and I was thrilled to be along for the ride.
We finally made it to the beach, and had to cross what seemed like a
smallish creek at one point to continue down the shoreline. I learned then from Hunter that what we were
crossing was an estuary, which is a partially enclosed body of water along the
coast where freshwater from rivers and streams meets and mixes with salt water
from the ocean. At low tide, estuaries
are generally knee-deep with gentle currents, but at high tide, they can become
deep rivers with dangerous currents. We
crossed the estuary easily at low tide, with the horses barely kicking up
enough water to wet the hems of our jeans.
However, at my pleading, we rode farther than we should have before
turning around, so when we reached the same estuary on our return trip, the
gentle stream had become a bit of a river, at least three feet deep with
swirling currents of significant strength.
Oops.
Hunter seemed mildly concerned, which was enough to cause me great
concern since he was generally unflappable.
“Looks like we rode a bit too far, Jill.
We’ve got to cross now, though. It’s
only going to get worse since the tide is coming in. It will be fine—the horses are strong, and
they can swim.”
Into the currents we went. I
took comfort in two things: One, while
Hunter was concerned, he didn’t seem overly anxious, and two, neither horse
seemed to balk at entering the fast-flowing water. It was probably 25 to 30 feet across, and my
apprehension grew with each step as the water got deeper and deeper towards the
halfway mark. The water was at my feet,
then at my shins. At one point, I seem to recall that the horses were no longer walking, but swimming. Finally they stumbled a bit as they regained
their footing, then just like that, we’d made it past the deepest part and my
feet were no longer under water. The
horses’ gaits quickened as we reached the other side and their strong legs were
no longer fighting the harsh current. Their
gait was, I might add, in negative correlation to my heart rate, which had
begun to slow down once it seemed the danger was past.
“Let’s not mention this part of our ride to Mom & Dad, okay? I don’t want them to worry after the fact, y’know?” I nodded in full agreement. One of my
favorite things about spending time with any of my three older siblings when I
was younger was that, as the adult in charge, they could make decisions about
what I could / should and could / should not do that were generally must less
stringent than what my parents would typically allow. They were cool like that.
My memories of that estuary-crossing all those years ago reminded me
that Hunter had both a confidence about him and a way of believing in me that
was unique only to him. Those that knew
him well can attest to that. As I wandered
around the Langosta Estuary this morning on my walk and reminisced about that
dangerous crossing, which was admittedly probably not as dangerous then as it
is in my memory, I reveled in the inner confidence that memory brought forth in
me. I vowed to call up that confidence
in the days and weeks ahead as we continue this crossing upon which we have
embarked—from the place we’ve loved and called home for almost ten years now to
a new and different place, with new faces and new challenges.
Later this afternoon, Daniel and I walked from the Beach Club to the
estuary at Avellanas, which was most likely the estuary that I crossed with
Hunter all those years ago. The tide was
receding, and we thought we might be able to cross it, but after
only a few steps in, I realized how strong the current was and insisted that we
play it safe and turn back.
My general tendency is often to play it safe and turn back. And so today
in particular, I thank God for the memory of the estuary, for the bold
confidence of my beloved brother, and for the faith that I know he still has in
me, despite the fact that he left this life almost sixteen years ago. As our family approaches the halfway
point of THIS crossing, my prayer is that all five of us will find solid footing along the way, and that our confidence both in ourselves and in each other will remain strong as we venture through the strongest currents of change, looking forward to the new adventures that lie ahead!
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