What Water?

For several days before Christmas, it rained. It rained and it rained, as much as 30 hours straight before taking a four-hour break and starting again. Dark clouds floated alongside our mountaintop and brought a soft mist that turned to a gentle rain and then an outright downpour. The amount of water was mind-blowing, especially in comparison to that in Fossil where it rains an average of 11” per year.

The rainy season in Costa Rica extends from mid-May through mid-December. Rainfall totals can exceed 19 feet. We have come early, ahead of the many tourist gringos who flock to the coastal areas far below our mountain range. Since our arrival, it had rained lightly for an hour or two at most in the late afternoon and not necessarily every day. This new stretch of wet weather was unlike any precipitation either of us had seen before.

The rain continued without a break or even a slow-down. Our muddy road became bright orange clay with a mud-sucking glossy surface that was nearly impassable on foot and fully impossible by vehicle. I put on my blue rain slicker with its hat tied tight and went for a walk in the pouring rain. At the edges of the road there were deep, narrow gullies of swift-moving orange water. I used my machete to break the miniature dams that were building from stones carried by the fast-moving currents.

Down by the sloping concrete bridge near the village, the creek’s bouncing waters had receded to just a few inches below the surface of the bridge. Leaves and sticks hung like assorted laundry from a nearby strand of barbed wire that hung over the creek, showing that the rushing waters had risen several inches over the bridge during the night. As I headed back up the hill, the rain was nearly blinding. My jeans were saturated below the raincoat. Rivers of rain fell from my sleeves. I was glad to have my tall rubber boots. An old, old man came walking along, wearing a clean short-sleeved white shirt, baggy pants and tall boots. He carried a raggedy umbrella with a large hole in the top center, where the rain poured in and ran down the sides of his head as we chatted for a few minutes. “Mucho agua!” I told him. He looked around and seemed surprised, unsure of what water I was talking about. Yes, the rain, I signaled. It seemed to be a lot, at least to me. 