This article is one of a series on life in the campo, or country living in Costa Rica, as my wife and I* experienced it on our visits and after moving to Costa Rica. Each is a sort of time capsule, the stories evolving with us as we have lived more experiences and delved deeper into the culture.

20 minutos más... On a recent Saturday, I brought some friends who are owners of trees from the US out into the campo to see the tree plantation and watch a fútbol (soccer) game afterward. It seems that I actually own, or perhaps sponsor, a fútbol team. I am convinced that in Costa Rica for there to be a town, they have to have a very tiny general store, a school, a church, and a fútbol field — the church seems to be optional, but there is always a fútbol field. Well, since we tend to employ a lot of the locals at one time or another, they decided that it should be the Finca Leola S.A. fútbol team. Probably because they figured I would spring for the uniforms.

This particular fútbol game was part of the big annual pilgrimage to the Rio Frio. Come to find out, there is a tradition that all of the guys get on their motorcycles and ride there. Hector even tried to convince me to purchase a moto just so that I could ride with everyone — I was sorely tempted — thankfully Amy weighed in with her opinion — which was that I am losing my mind or something to that effect. I thought I would look pretty cool on the moto — zipping down the country roads, with the wind blowing through my white hair….

Now, I am familiar with the road to Rio Frio — having attempted to fish there when we traveled to Costa Rica, before we lived here. This was during the middle of the rainy season when the road was for all practical purposes impassable. We got stuck 10 times attempting the journey — I am not exaggerating. But I was assured that at this time of year it was dry so there would be no problems.

The plan was to leave at about 1:00 pm to head out to the Rio Frio, a drive that I was told would be about 30 minutes. So, at 12:30 we all gathered at Orlando’s house to assemble and go. (Orlando is a woodworker and cousin of Hector who does our construction.)

When we arrived, it became apparent we were not leaving at 1:00 pm, because half the motos were in pieces all over the yard. I guess when they said assemble, they meant assemble the motos, not the people. And it wasn’t as though they were all being worked on simultaneously — Orlando was doing the work, and about five or six guys were advising him. So, we sat down to wait. After a bit, I noticed my guests were wondering when we would get to the party. I commented to them that the party had started. For the people in the campo, the fiesta starts when everyone gets together — no matter what they’re doing. I yelled over to Orlando that is this a “repairing of motos” fiesta and I had never attended one of those before…everyone thought that was pretty funny. Our guests relaxed and started enjoying the fiesta.

Amazingly enough, all of the motos had been resurrected by 2:30 pm, but with a significant number looking like they were still on life support. Hector told us to get going and they would catch up. Motos are much faster on the dirt roads than 4-wheel-drive vehicles. So we headed off with my guests and a few other people who weren’t brave or foolhardy enough to ride the motos, including Luis, who works on the plantation.

When we left, I asked Luis —¿Cuantos minutos?— (How many minutes will it be?) Luis responded —20 minutos.— “Interesting,” I thought. “We must be taking a different way.” We proceeded to drive toward the river. After what surely had been 20 minutes, I asked again, —¿Cuantos minutos?— Again the reply came back —20 minutos más.— “Well,” I thought, “perhaps I am driving slower than normal.” This is a reasonable thought, since the road is congealed mud that would make the meringue on a pie look smooth. Instead of cruising at 15 to 20 kilometers per hour, we were crawling at between 5 to 10 kph much of the time. During the rainy season, the trucks and tractors do their best to churn the road into a semblance of waves on the ocean — and then when the dry season comes, the waves petrify. So, we bounced slowly onward (no sign of the motos yet).

After what surely was another 20 minutes with no sign of water, I asked, “Are we getting close?” —¡Si, 20 minutes más!— About now I am starting to get worried. I really hadn’t planned on visiting Nicaragua. After another 10 minutes, we arrived at a little town — we could tell it was a town because of the pulperia and the fútbol field — no church building. Of course I looked for the river, which wasn’t there, and found out this is where we were supposed to wait for the motos for the last leg of the journey — which was to be another 20 minutes. Pretty soon Hector and the other moto enthusiasts showed up, and we headed out.

After about 30 minutes, we started getting near the river. We were seeing more and more bridges. Now, in our neck of the jungle, the bridges are good — even if most visitors want to jump out and examine the scenery while we cross. (“Wow, look at the flower — you go ahead, Fred, and we will meet you on the other side of the bridge after we take this picture….”) I’m used to suspicious-looking bridges, cross them all the time, but these bridges actually made me stop! One of them was logs laid across a ravine and loose planks scattered over the top. Of course, there was no way of telling under the loose planks if the logs were solid. I looked in the back and all of my tico passengers were laughing at me, saying it is fine. And none of them drive, or I would have jumped out and explained to them that I wanted a picture of the bridge, and I would meet them on the other side….

We survived the bridge crossing and after driving on top of a dike for a while, we stopped at something that looked like a fútbol field. The whole trip had taken just under an hour and 45 minutes. The other team was nowhere to be found. I guess we won by forfeit. After a bit, I noticed the women were going to the local trees to collect oranges. We are from an area where the soil is very rich, and because of that, the oranges aren’t that good, I am told. So, the ones here are considered better. Besides, they didn’t want the trip to be a total bust, I suppose.

At least one of the motos was in need of repair after the journey, so the team gathered around and attempted to resuscitate it. Hector suggested I try to fish the Rio Frio, fishing in Costa Rica being something that we had failed to achieve several times before. (Here’s that story: Fishing)

At the river, there is normally a man who has boats who will take you up river to fish — but I guess he was on a holiday too. So, I rigged up and started casting, not expecting to catch anything, which is what happened. Mainly because there were kids swimming in the river both up- and downstream from us, and I didn’t bring any bait.

The kids were clambering up the bank and then sliding back into the river on the slimy clay — and I always thought clay was worthless. These kids were having a great time.

After a while, we all decided to start heading back while it was still light. Hector took us back another way, saying that this way didn’t have any bridges. I am glad I didn’t know that he was concerned about the bridges before….

On the way back, we were teasing Luis about 20 minutos más. We kept asking him, about every 20 minutes, “Luis, is it 20 minutos más?” Luis would always reply, “Sí, solo 20 minutos más!” At the end, we asked what is really meant when someone says “20 minutes more.” The answer — “I have no idea how much longer; why is it important?”

*We are Fred and Amy Morgan, originally from the US. We bought a dairy farm in Costa Rica to plant trees in its pastures, then later caught a dream of turning all the land we can to permanently protected, sustainably maintained forest once the plantation trees have been harvested for profit. Along the way, we made it possible for our former partner to realize his dream of starting a business of his own in his native land. He is featured in many of the earlier stories.

To read more about Finca Leola S.A. and how you can also invest in trees and at the same time help with reforestation, go to Own Trees with Us.

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