Dec 12 DAY 24 CUCAO
We headed south west to the Pacific coastal town of Cucao and found some charming cabanas for rent in the woods. Soon after, Bettina and I were arranging to take some horses out with a guide. In the past, I have found it wiser not to mention I have experience riding because the expertise one claims to have seems to be directly proportional to the difficulty or orneriness of the horse one is given. Thus, I mentioned my experience was limited and was directed to a docile looking bay colored horse.
The landscape was breathtaking. Our ride took us across dunes aglow with brilliant yellow flowers, the ubiquitous nalcas (a relative to the rhubarb plant with enormous elephant ear shaped leaves on long stems), a wide dark blue river to our left and the turquoise Pacific ocean before us. Sheep and horses grazed or passed by. It was a moment of serene and overwhelming beauty. However, as we arrived on the long, flat beach the demeanor of my horse changed. I was content to do some galloping on this pristine strip of sand between land and sea but I could feel his strength and excitement mounting; soon we were in a flat out run and he didn’t indicate any desire to slow down. It took consistent determination on my side, steering him to some deeper sand, and considerable effort to bring him to a halt. When I expressed my concern to the guide, he said that this horse wasn’t usually ridden by the tourists. At this point I was happy to switch horses and my return back along the beach required markedly less effort. So much for feigning ignorance in hopes of having an easy ride.
The evening was spent walking toward the legend filled “muelle de las almas” or “pier of the souls” (an aptly named wooden structure built at the edge of a hill overlooking the sea) on a rocky undulating path with a gate, which requires a key. A farmer obliges by giving it to you for a small fee. The path follows verdant steep hills dotted with sheep offering spectacular views. At one point it seemed reaching the destination before nightfall was not feasible. But, stopping a few kilometers before the end prompted a local on horseback to ride up to Matthias and me (Bettina was resting a swollen ankle back in the car) urging us with confidence to continue on. His assessment was correct. We made it to the pier before sunset; the sight before us of sky, land and sea with streaks of sunlight emanating from the clouds took our breaths away.
Driving back in the dark we spotted a white owl perched on a road post awaiting our approach. As we neared, it flew off to another post further down the road, again to await us, then flew off into the night.