Tag Archives: snorkelling

Lizard Island, Part 2

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Monday 7 October 2024 – I was wondering how I would do when I faced the challenge of not making a total arse of myself on a snorkelling expedition yesterday, Sunday 6th, which was our last full day on Lizard Island. We were due to go out at 2pm on an expedition to see turtles and giant clams, so I started worrying thinking about how to prepare at, oh, I dunno, about 7am. Although I had vowed never to snorkel again, for some reason I had brought a waterproof camera with me, the rather capable Olympus Tough TG-5 that I had bought for our first major trip six years ago, when we went to South America, and it came in rather handy then. This, however, was its first serious outing since, and so I wondered whether 6 year old tech would still cut the mustard for creating photos for this blog. We’d also bought a waterproof case for Jane’s phone camera, which had not worked on its previous outing and we hoped it might be a backup in case my efforts came to naught.

There were only five punters for the outing: our American friends Susan and Michael (experienced divers both); Jane and me (experienced snorkellers one of us); and a lady called Louise who was perfectly pleasant but a bit of a chaos catalyst – she was a lady of last-minute decisions, such as would she snorkel or simply observe, and would she therefore fill out the disclaimer even if she was only going to observe, and would she provide credit card info to cover the cost and so forth.

So it was, at quite a few minutes past 2pm, we found Nemo

and set out across to Watson’s Bay, past a nice view of the resort’s main lodge.

Captain Tom briefed us on all the usual things,

like what to do if the boat caught fire, or sank, and Olla, our guide for the dive (sorry, no photo, but she’s a lot prettier than Tom) briefed us on what to do if we sank or otherwise had problems and, importantly, how to get out of the water once we’d finished.

Watson’s Bay revealed no turtles, so Tom steered us a little way out to what the resort calls the clam garden, where we could attempt to see the other half of the brief. Once there, Olla jumped in, Susan and Michael followed her example, as did Jane, and I did my best to slide gently off the boat so as not to get too much of the ocean deep into my sinuses, which I judged would have been a poor start to the activity.

My main reservation about snorkelling has been the dichotomy between being able to see (and photograph) what’s beneath me whilst still keeping up with a group; I can do one or the other, but not both. If I concentrate on looking below the water, I easily become disoriented and lose sight of the group, and then it takes me time to spot them and swim over, by which time, beneath their snorkelling masks, they’re rolling their eyes at my flailing around.  Thus you can imagine that I was a bit worried about keeping up, but Olla was towing a nice visible buoyancy ring, and I found this really helpful. I could see the group, the currents and the waves were small and so I could actually relax and spend a few of my limited mental MIPs on watching the reef below .

Which was fabulous.

For once, I was relaxed enough to be able to work out what the camera was doing and so, among the many dozens of photos I took, there are some good ones.

Blackspot Snapper and Lined Bristletooth
Colourful coral and fishes

Giant clam

Another giant clam

There are several more, which you can view at a Flickr Album I have created.

A photographic note here, since this is a photo blog as well as a travel blog.  If technical photo stuff bores you then (a) you are dead to me and (b) you may skip this bit (the next three images).

Here’s a comparison of what a photo from the Oympus looked like out of the camera, and what a bit of processing can do.

Image straight out of the camera, which means that the camera itself has made some decisions about colours and other key image characteristics

One of the things that I like about the camera is that it can capture images in RAW (sort of a digital negative format), which means two things: firstly, that every image needs some form of processing in order to be viewable; and secondly that a lot more detail can be got out of the image.  I can use my favourite processing software to gussy up the image that the camera has created from its own RAW data,

and you can see an improvement; but if I make exactly the same corrections to the RAW version, you get this:

better colours, more detail, less noise. To any people considering being serious about their photography, I present this as being why you should always make sure you have a camera which can do RAW.

OK, the rest of you can start reading again from here.

The giant clams were amazing – the colours (vivid electric greens, blues and purples) didn’t really look natural! As well as the many giants, there were much smaller clams, around 10-15cms long, embedded in the other corals (a few examples can be seen in the parrot fish picture above) which were equally brightly coloured although they tended to close up as one swam over them. To my untutored eye the coral looked to be in pretty good shape too, offering a multitude of shapes and colours. All in all the whole thing was a lot less stressful and much more rewarding than I had expected it to be.

That was pretty much it for the day, apart from one little item of wildlife that Jane spotted on our balcony before we turned in for the night;

a gecko, which had picked, as its ideal resting spot for the night, the space under my drying swimming trunks.

So: today, then: the day we left Lizard Island. There was something of a timing issue at stake: a visit to the Research Station was possible this morning, but then again our flight back to Cairns also left this morning. The resort staff did a great job of ensuring that we did both, again an example of the great service that accompanies the great food there.

We had a swift breakfast, keeping a stern eye on the seagulls which were positioning themselves for a guerilla raid on our breakfast bacon if we let our attention drift,

and then we (actually the exact same people who had gone out on the boat yesterday) set out in a couple of robust trucks on the track

to the Research Station

to be welcomed by Dr Lyle Vail,

one of the co-directors of the station, an extremely knowledgeable, eloquent and engaging man. He spent some 90 minutes filling our brains to overflowing with information about the station’s 51-year history, its three missions and the area it covers.

Lizard Island was once part of the mainland, back in the Good Old Days, when the sea level was 120 metres below today’s.  This, incidentally means that the outer edge of the Great Barrier Reef was a 120-metre high cliff, since deep ocean starts there. That’s 400 feet in old money – it must have been an extraordinary sight to see the waterfalls pouring over the edge. But inland of that edge, some 20,000 years ago, it was dry land, which is how come the island has a significant aboriginal history. Sea levels rose and Lizard Island was cut off about 6,000 years ago. Lyle described (in simple terms such that we mere mortals could understand) some of the scientific research that gives the evidence for that history.

He showed us an example of the research lab space they provide

which doesn’t look like much, but then the researchers bring much of their own gear when they can.  He also showed us an example of gear the station can provide

in the form of sophisticated microscopes, which are a bit tricky for researchers and students to bring for themselves. The centre also provides accommodation for up to 37 visiting scientists and students and boats for them to do their expeditions to the reef for research.

The station was in a quiet time, research-wise, so Lyle wasn’t able to show us much activity in the aquarium section of the station; but there was some work going on concerning the crown of thorns starfish, or COTS.

which (a) has to be handled very carefully on account of the spines being able to inject a very nasty venom

and (b) is causing great concern because of its ability to inflict terminal damage to coral reefs by extruding its stomach (at the centre underneath it) over sections of coral

and digesting the coral polyps. They graze back and forth, basically killing areas of reef.  Again, in the Good Old Days before humans started dicking about with the world’s climate systems, this was not a problem; but the warmer waters that arise from climate change make it easier for the COTS to multiply, in turn threatening the reef. The female can produce millions of eggs; the survival rates of the subsequent larvae are boosted by warmer water temperatures (and higher nutrient levels due to agricultural runoff).

Lyle also talked us through bleaching (another probable consequence of climate change)

and showed us a tank where a controlled temperature is being maintained

in order to make specific observations. The tank, by the way, contained quite a sizeable clam.

It would have been fascinating to spend several more hours there listening to Lyle and appreciating his knowledge, passion and ability to explain stuff. But we had to leave, a departure made slightly more tense by Louise’s indecisiveness a out buying a Research Station T-shirt.  For our part, we made a small contribution to the station in the form of a nice new hat for Jane, swiftly chosen

and then had to take our leave for the airport to start our journey home.

So: is that it? Is That All There Is?

Not quite. We started our journey home as soon as the good old Cessna took off, but getting back to cold, wet, thundery Blighty was a two-day exercise, and I’ll write about that in the next post, which will be the closing entry for this trip.

 

A Brief Excursion to Exmouth

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Wednesday 7 August 2024 – The next segment of our trip was a short, sharp trip some 500km north in order to spend just one day in Exmouth, which is almost, but not quite, exactly the westernmost point of Western Australia.  Look, we were supposed to stop in at Exmouth for two days en route to our next destination (which you will be able to read about, but all in good time); but airline schedules were against us, so we had to do a quick scramble up to Exmouth for two nights/one day and then back to Perth for one night before moving on again. Jane doesn’t think this is hectic, but then she’s not the one writing this guff.

To get to Exmouth, we were due to catch a flight to Learmonth and thence a 30-minute shuttle to our accommodation, the exotically-named Mantarays resort at the very Australian-sounding Sunrise Beach on Ningaloo Reef. To catch the flight, we had to get to Terminal 4 at Perth Airport, which is rather like Terminal 4 or 5 at London Heathrow – bloody miles from anywhere. For those considering public transport, Perth has an Airport Central station, which leaves the traveller with a short stroll to Terminals 1 or 2. To get thence to Terminals 3 or 4 takes a 15-minute shuttle bus ride. An alternative would be to get off a stop early at Redcliffe. And then have a 15-minute walk to Terminal 3 or 4.

So we elected to catch a cab.

The hotel staff were sure that there would be a taxi available on the rank just outside the doors, and, as I looked out of the window at checkout time, there seemed to be a few taxis there. As we walked out of the hotel, there were two; someone took the front taxi, which left just the one on the rank for us. It was, however, devoid of a driver, and continued to be so for several minutes. Eventually, just at the point where I had gone back to ask the hotel staff to be more specific in whistling up a conveyance with an actual driver, a chap appeared clutching a large coffee cup and professing to be prepared to take us to the airport in the otherwise deserted car.

Once there, since we had checked in online, the process was admirably well-organised and swift – print baggage label, attach to bag, wave bag goodbye at the drop-off point, go through security, get coffee. The security system didn’t require us to get electronics out of the bags, which is a blessing; and the coffee was pretty good.

With half an hour to go before our flight, and the screens showing “Boarding soon”, we headed to the gate and the first slight hiccup in the otherwise smooth progress of the day, as no boarding action happened until the actual scheduled departure time.  However, at that point, some smartly-dressed people and a couple of chaps wearing big hats turned up, so we were reassured that at least we had a driver and a conductor.  We boarded reasonably soon after they turned up – not a formal process by group number or any such modern thing; the staff just said “come on, then”, and, since we were sitting close by, we were among the first to get on the aircraft, which was one of them Fokkers.

The rest of the journey proceeded uneventfully, with a views of Perth as we ascended showing how rectilinear its suburbs are.

Clouds obscured the view for the rest of the journey until we were very close to our destination, at which point it became apparent how much the terrain had changed.

At Learmonth, which is a combined military (RAAF) and civil aviation facility, we had the usual, slightly fretful, wait until our bags appeared, during which time Jane established that we did actually have a booking on the Exmouth shuttle bus; and once everyone had loaded their bags on the bus luggage trailer we were off.  Our accommodation

was the second stop, and, reassuringly had a bar by the reception desk.

Even more reassuring was the supply of tea in our room.

It’s not Twinings Finest, but it’ll do.

There was some confusion about the opening hours of the restaurant, which means we missed lunch, but the place redeemed itself by offering a complimentary guest laundry, of whose services I availed myself quite swiftly. These things are important, you know.

Mantarays is a small but decent resort, with, as well as the laundry, all the mod cons one might expect – swimming pool, gym, restaurant and bar.  There are some engaging sculptures about the place.

Having settled in, it was just a case of getting to the bar for pre-dinner drinks and then, well, dinner, before retiring for the night, with an early start planned for the activities on the one day we had here before returning to Perth.

Thursday 8 August 2024 – Early meant an 0530 alarm call so we could take a swift bite of breakfast as the restaurant opened at 0630 and still be ready to be collected at 0700. On the way to breakfast, we could confirm that the “Sunrise Beach” moniker is not a misnomer.

Prompt at 0700, a bus turned up, but it wasn’t for us; it was for the other three who were in the hotel reception at the time. But a few seconds after they’d left, another bus came along and this was ours. The objective of the day was to go snorkelling (part 1) and, if possible, to swim with whale sharks (part 2), something that Jane has been very eager to do for quite some time, now.  Me? Well, I’m in favour of the principle, but since the practice involves messing around with wetsuits, snorkel tubes, masks and flippers, I have strong reservations about my ability not to make an utter klutz of myself. For that reason, I had been conflicted about this activity pretty much from the start; and I could easily have stayed in bed and had a lazy day of it.  I went along, though, because I knew I’d curse myself if I didn’t; and I packed as if I might have a go at the snorkelling part of the day, even though the whale sharking bit was fully-booked.

Our bus, which was staffed and driven by friendly, enthusiastic and very fit-looking girls, stopped off and picked up several more people, each of whom seemed younger, fitter and more ready to go snorkelling than I felt. Our end point was on the west coast of the headland, exactly opposite where we started, on the east coast of it, but to get there, we had to drive right round the top of the cape. One of the girls used the time to explain that we were circumnavigating a US military facility, to brief us on the day and also to get us to sign waiver forms.

I was surprised to hear her optimism about seeing whale sharks. My understanding had been that we were way out of season for these magnificent beasts, and that we might have to make do with seeing manta rays and such.  

We stopped at a jetty at the south end of the Jurabi Coastal Park and were transferred to our dive boat, Blue Strike,

in two shifts

whereupon all sorts of wetsuit and snorkelling gear came out and I consequently made up my mind that I would not venture into the water.  Everybody else kitted up,

Geoff, the skipper, gave us a safety briefing,

and Ricardo gave a “how to get off and on the boat” briefing,

including a practice assembly

before everybody got their marching snorkelling orders

The first snorkelling session was close to the shore, in the lagoon behind the reef, and it gave people and staff a chance to suss out what it would be like and, for the staff, who might need help.  And then we went out past the rather magnificent surf that crashed on the reef

into the deeper waters where whale sharks might be found.  Locating them is not quite a random affair; a spotter plane buzzes about to look for them and direct the boats (for there are several in this game) towards the sharks, which spend some time near the surface and so, because they are so big, can be seen from passing aircraft.

Before anyone is allowed into the water alongside whale sharks, rules need to be set out, and everyone had a briefing on how to behave during a whale shark encounter,

which means forming a line alongside the shark and letting it swim by, swimming only on the surface, staying at least three metres away at the side and four at the rear, and never swimming under or over a shark.

The sharks never actually surface, so I never saw one, but in all our snorkellers left the boat four times to see whale sharks, and each time there was a shark for them to appreciate. Jane participated in three of the sessions and was able to get a good view of a shark on each occasion, which she found very pleasing. There was a professional photographer, Heather Doran, with each group that left the boat, and here are some of the photos she captured, along with some commentary from Jane, who was actually there.

The photographer was also the in-water spotter, so first in to the water at each sighting, to locate the fish for the groups of swimmers and also to catch some good pictures, for identification purposes as well as recording the event for the guests.

Each group had a dive guide in hi-vis pink, and we followed their instructions as to where and how to swim; on my first two swims we were each time above a shark which was gradually diving deeper into invisibility; 

for the third swim we were alongside one cruising near the surface, and I swam with the guide around behind it – past the huge tail which produced quite a significant current as it swam – to the other side, to keep pace with it for a short while.

It was a fantastic experience but I have to say I found it hard work! I haven’t done much open ocean swimming, and the swell and the choppy water made it very tiring just manoeuvring around the other swimmers and the sharks, while simultaneously watching the shark in the water, watching the dive leader on the surface, and trying not to breathe or swallow too much seawater! Not to mention getting off and on the boat every time*. So after three goes at seeing these magnificent creatures I sat out the last go, feeling thoroughly pleased with my day.

I guess I regret not seeing/photographing one of these magnificent creatures for myself, but equally I’m sure that I would have been struggling to cope, and a massive holdup for the rest of the group – even Jane, who is much more skilled at snorkelling than I (admittedly a low bar to clear, but still), found it difficult on occasions to deal with the conditions; the dive crew were very helpful, setting her up with different bits of gear to make things better for her.

Me? I just tried to get photos of the humpback whales that were occasionally to be seen in the area.

The first one we saw was quite a way away;

yes, there it is.

But others came closer

and one was good enough to do the tail fluke thing really quite close to us.

We saw a Manta Ray, sadly only swimming, not leaping; and there were a couple of occasions when a whale breached, but I was never in the right place at the right time to capture that impressive sight (unlike the marvellous sights we saw off Cape Cod last year). However, Heather, the pro photographer was; here are her shots.

Manta Ray

All the time this was going on, we were not too far from land, and quite close to the edge of the reef, which gave the chance for some quite splendid photos of surf.

Although I didn’t personally see a whale shark, I enjoyed observing the process, and Jane was really delighted with her encounters with the sharks.

So, the one day we had in the Ningaloo area was a success, and now we just had an overnight at the hotel and a flight back to Perth in order to continue our northward journey.

Friday 9 August 2024 – Before we headed to the airport, we had to go into Exmouth proper to pick up the professional’s photos, which gave us a chance to see the town.

It took us a while to find the Exmouth Dive shop where we could pick up the photos, and we actually walked right by it a few times before we spotted it (last photo above).

The flight back to Perth and the overnight there is the start of the next, and major, segment of our Australia trip, which we’re both looking forward to immensely. So keep an eye on these pages to find out what we got up to next, eh?

 

* This is why I don’t get on with snorkelling

Days 26 to 29 – Tranquilised

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Thursday 16 to Sunday 19 March 2023 – I’ve been pretty quiet on these pages for a couple of days now. But all good things must come to an end. We have been at the exquisite Tranquilo Lodge for four days and it’s exactly the break from relentless tourism that we required. We have been so lazy we have been getting fan mail from sloths.

Well, there were a couple of exceptions. Principally, we went snorkelling a couple of days ago.

Caño Island is a nature reserve quite close to Drake Bay, and is a very popular snorkelling destination because of its coral reefs and sea life. Jane had made sure that this was included in the schedule that Pura Aventura had put together for us.

I have strong reservations about going snorkelling. I’m not a strong swimmer, and my previous (limited) experience doesn’t enable me to look forward to doing it again with anything other than grave suspicion,

Anyway, we set off.  Early, of course.  After all, we’re on holiday travelling.  Sebastien had arranged a breakfast box for us, so at least we had a pretty decent stab at a meal having got up at 5am.  At the appointed hour – 0645 – we walked down to the Lodge’s office, where a juvenile hawk of some sort watched us with some bafflement.

Sebastien appeared, provided us with towels and led us (a couple of chaps also staying at the Lodge, Jean-Pierre and Matthew, were part of this excursion as well as Jane and me) down the road to Pirate Cove where we were joined by a German gentleman, Rainer, and spent a little time waiting for the guy who was going to lead the snorkelling, Federico, to marshal his forces. Once things were ready we walked across the beach to where we were to board the boat.  Well, everyone else did. I managed to slip and fall into a stream which ran across the beach, and of course the towels went in as well as me. So they were going to be no use for the rest of the day.

Same like me, really.

Federico was clearly an experienced guide and snorkelling leader, as he gave us clear instructions as to how we were going to get on board and where we were to sit.  He made sure we put on life jackets and off we went, via another beach to pick up a French Canadian family who were also part of the activity.

Off we went, on a 45-minute ride to the island. We got to the first of the two snorkelling stops, and once again Federico gave us clear instructions about how he would lead the group, and what to do in the water, such as how to signal that you were drowning or whatever. And into the water we went, in my case bearing an Olympus Tough camera with which to photograph the bewildering plethora of wildlife that I was sure would be there for me to see.

I discovered, as I had feared, that the normal laws of physics which enable people to enjoy bobbing around in the water with masks, tubes and flippers on simply don’t apply anywhere near me.  The idea is that everyone should stay as a group, and Federico would tell us what we could see. I find that I can either stay with the group or take a look at what’s going on under the water. But not both at the same time.

The nadir of the experience came when Federico told me that there was a turtle to my right, but I had great difficulty knowing where to look.  In fact the bloody thing bumped into me to try to attract my attention, I think.  I managed to get a shot of it as it buggered off

but that was enough for me. I realised that I couldn’t stay with the group, I was having great difficulty seeing anything, so my best place would be on board rather than slowing things down for everyone else. So I used one of the gestures that Federico had taught us meant I needed retrieving and the boat came over to get me. Even that was embarrassing, as I couldn’t get my fucking flippers off and they had to help me with that.

After about 45 minutes, the swimmers came back on board and we went to the island’s beach, where there’s a Rangers’ Station

and a short trail

which leads past convenient conveniences up to a viewing platform.  It was actually a pretty decent view.

Sea Leopard is the farthermost boat

After a few minutes, it was time to board again, but there were lots of boats with groups of punters and so it was a bit chaotic as everyone juggled for a place in the queue to come in.

but then we were off to board the boat (that’s Federico leading the charge).

I (obvs) decided not to participate in the second snorkelling session, but Federico got everyone else organised with his usual clarity and humour.

I will let Jane take up the narrative at this point…

OK so first off, I should have thought to take Steve’s camera on the second session; but I didn’t so I can’t show you what I saw. I have included stock pictures of the main fish we encountered, though, to give you an idea…

My main problem with snorkelling is keeping my mask from fogging up (I have my own mask with prescription lenses, to allow me to actually see without risking my normal contact lenses). There are as many proposed solutions to this problem as there are snorkellers: specific anti-fog sprays, baby shampoo, dish soap, spit… Federico proffered “Monkey Spit” – a bright green biodegradable soap solution of some kind, which actually worked pretty well, and then it was off into the water.

I enjoy the peacefulness of snorkelling, the sensation of flying, the sound of my own breathing; it has to be said that keeping in a group with other snorkellers, including a couple of charming but excitable kids liable to suddenly kick off in any direction, is maybe not quite as peaceful as I’d like, but anyway… We followed Federico over the coral and rocks, about 2m deep on the first session; tbh the visibility was not perfect but the second session, after the stopover on the Island, was much better (and a little deeper).

We were swimming through shoals of Sergeant Major fish, their gold stripes flashing and shining in the sun, and Scissortail Damselfish curious enough to get close to check us out.

Panamic Sergeant Major Fish
Scissortail Damselfish

Hiding in the coral were shy Guineafowl puffers, black spotted, yellow and half-and half; and blue Parrotfish gnawing away at the coral with their sharp beaks at one end, and excreting a stream of fine coral sand at the other.

Guineafowl Puffer (yellow morph)
Guineafowl Puffer (black morph)
Blue-barred Parrotfish

Garden eels, lobsters, starfish… a grazing sea turtle… From time to time Federico free-dived very elegantly down to show us things of interest on the bottom.

Juvenile Rainbow Wrasse
King Angelfish
Garden eel

Despite a few minor stings from jellyfish it was all entirely delightful – but the best sight of all came towards the end. We came upon a massive shoal of Bigeye Crevalle Jack; these are fairly large fish, maybe 50cms long; in the stock picture I’ve included below they are silver when seen from the side, but when seen from above, as we were seeing them, they were an almost translucent pale dove-grey-blue. There were thousands of them, it was a living blue-grey river, flowing, branching, recombining, swirling – a mesmerising and magical sight.

Bigeye Crevalle Jack

And now back to Steve…

The return journey was, unsurprisingly, the reverse of the way out, a 45-minute (more bumpy) ride back to Drake Bay through occasional rain showers. (I took note of the skipper putting his rain jacket on and so followed suit – well, jacket – with alacrity.)

And that was our snorkelling expedition. We relapsed back into total relaxation with only one other brief flurry of activity, when we took a short boat ride out into the bay to see a phenomenon that neither of us had witnessed before – bioluminescence. The conditions, remarkably, were right – low tide and new moon. Our guide was called Abraham (a cousin of our barman Gonzalo (qv) as it turns out) and he took Jane and me and one other couple who were staying at the hotel, Sumi and Raj away from the shore and the lights of the village.  Jane and Raj went into the water (I know my limitations, so steered well clear of that prospect) and had a close-up view of the blue pinpricks of light emitted by the plankton as they moved arms and legs in the water.  The plankton emit light when stressed, Sumi and I splashed our hands in the water and were rewarded by seeing the light emitted by individual plankton swirling around our hands.  I of course tried to photograph it, but there was not enough light and so all I have for it is a series of black frames.  It was intriguing to see the phenomenon at work, though.

Those two activities aside, our time here has been spent in blissful idleness with more than a hint of overindulgence.  Tranquilo Lodge is good at that.

Sebastien and Christophe sold their very successful catering business in San Francisco and have come to Drake Bay to create an absolute jewel – modest in scale currently but with some plans for future expansion.  There are nine villas, each with rooms that are large, comfortable and very well thought-out. The attention to detail is impressive, the service is impeccable (in a relaxed and approachable kind of way) and the food is Michelin-star quality, courtesy of head chef Danny. Much of the food is home produced – they make their own bread, take fruits and vegetables from the gardens and get fish from local sources.  They even make their own honey – here is Sebastien proudly showing the latest batch.

Behind the bar is Gonzalo, who does a great job of making the sort of cocktails that Jane loves,

there’s a cat which appears to have adopted the place as his home

and there are many comforting conformations that the place simply oozes class.

I only have one complaint.  The route from our villa to the bar is really quite steep.

The restaurant and bar area is at the top of steep hill

but in extremis (e.g. with luggage) there’s a lovely new golf buggy, of which Sebastien is justly proud.

We have to leave tomorrow, which is a bit sad, but which will be good for our waistlines: we normally tend to eat just two meals a day, but Sebastien and Christophe do a good line in selling us on a third. Given the quality of the food, it’s difficult – OK, thus far, almost impossible – to resist.

We have one more destination on our schedule, Heredia, back in the centre of the country near San José. We fly there tomorrow, so please come back and find out how that all went, won’t you?