The day we arrived in Alajuela we set our only goal for that town. We wanted to ride to Volcan Poas, which we later learned supposedly has the largest crater in the world.

Volcan Poas is 2750 meters high--about 9,000 feet high. Alajuela is about 850 meters, or 2800 feet. So that is a massive climb. That's a gain of about 7200 feet over 32k. I had wanted to do the ride the day before, when I was still feeling sick, but Eric talked me out of it.

So on the morning of Sept. 11, we got up figuring that somehow, even if it took the whole day, we would up that volcano. The guidebook says to arrive before 10 a.m., because that's when the fog rolls in and obscures the view. We knew there was no way we'd get there by 10 a.m. We thought that if we could just make it we'd be pretty happy, even if it was foggy.

We got up fairly early--around 7 a.m. But we didn't leave then, because I had a flat. Our patch job the day before hadn't held. We were running low on bike supplies, so we decided to go to a bike store and stock up. Once there, I was amazed at the prices. It cost about 1,000 colones for an inner tube--roughly $4, which is comparable to U.S. prices--but only 1,600 for a knobby tire (about $6.50), or only one third of U.S. prices. I told the guy we were planning to ride to Limon, which is on the Caribbean coast, and he suggested that I get two knobby tires.

I thought that was a good idea, but Eric said I only needed one. I decided to play it safe and get two, which of course pissed off Eric, who pointed out that I was taking a stranger's advice over his. So be it. When we left, Eric said even if we were riding the whole way over glass shards, we wouldn't need knobbies on both tires.

Finally we left Alajuela around 10 a.m. We left most of our bags in our hotel, and only took rain jackets and our handlebar bags. We rode up and up and up. There were lots of switchbacks. After about 10k, we stopped at a coffee place and chatted with the guy who runs it.

We didn't catch his name, but we had a great time talking to him. He told us about the upcoming elections (May 1998) and how none of the candidates is great. The incumbent, whose name I can't spell, so I won't try, is from a popular political family, much like the Kennedys in the U.S. So he's very popular, on the strength of his name, even though he is suspected of having met with infamous Mexican drug traffickers. The same guy, or maybe it was another guy, allegedly killed a man when he was 19 years old. By the time we got the whole rundown of candidates, they didn't sound very good.

We dallied for awhile there, not only for the conversation, but because it was pounding down rain. In Costa Rica's wet season (May through Nov.), the rain is almost predictable. It usually hits in the afternoon, starting with a few drops, and then turning within minutes into a thrashing, all out, soak-you-to-death down pour. It usually lasts less than an hour.

When it was done, we started back up the road. Our host told us that we had to ride the remaining 20k "a little fast" because the Volcan Poas park (which incidentally charges US $15 each) closes at 3:30. It was about 1:45.

On very flat roads I can ride about 20k an hour. I'm sure Eric can go much faster. But on uphills, I'm quite slow. Once when Eric and I rode around Lake Tahoe in California, I was going about 1 mile per hour and Eric asked me if I could possibly go any slower. So you get the idea.

We had basically an hour and a half to make the rest of the distance. So I tried to crank it up. We rode and rode all of 5k, when, gasping for air, I pulled us over into a little soda. NOTE: You never need to carry food or even water with you when you ride in Costa Rica, because no matter where you are, you're never more than a few kilometers from a soda, which can serve up lots of cheap food and drink fast. My favorite is batidos, or Costa Rican style milkshakes, which are basically whipped milk (no ice cream) mixed with fruit. They are very light and quite delicious.

Anyway, we took time to eat in the soda, and it became apparent that there was no way at all we could ride up Volcan Poas, at my speed, and arrive before it closed. We asked the proprietress, the only mean one we've ever met here, if she thought we could put our bikes on a bus, or leave our bikes nearby and try to hitch to the top. She just laughed at us. In a mean kind of way. I felt totally humiliated.

So we slunk out of the soda, and discussed our options. Eric thought it might be fun to ride uphill a little more even if we weren't going to make it. I thought he was crazy. He finally agreed to turn around and go back to Alajuela. I felt like a dog with its tail between its legs. We turned around and I hoped the soda duena didn't notice, because I'm sure she would have gloated.

After telling so many people about going to Volcan Poas, I felt especially embarassed. So when we rode back, we flew by the coffee place, with the nice guy who talked politics, and didn't even look or wave. I couldn't bear to tell him. It didn't take long at all to get back.

That evening we got showers, walked around town, and listened to a marimba band in the central park. Now that the Volcan Poas experience was behind us, we decided to beat it out of town the next day to San Jose.

Next: We swarm into the capitol.

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