Self Service: Central American-Style
Rainy season has officially started in Costa Rica. We are currently in Golfito, at the southern tip of Costa Rica. This is one of the rainiest places in Costa Rica. The Oso Peninsula, which is right across the gulf from us, gets 220 inches of rain per year- that's almost 20 feet of rain!!
We have enjoyed our time in Costa Rica; I cannot believe we have been here six weeks. We arrived in Bahia Santa Elena, the northernmost bay in Costa Rica, where we spent two days hiding from the wind (see: Old Man and the Sea). We spent a few days in Playa del Coco, where we checked in to the country, and then went on to Bahia Portrero, where the Marina Flamingo used to be.
At the site of the old Marina Flamingo, we had the most interesting fuel experience of our travels. We, along with about twenty other boats (of lesser draughts) crowded into a shallow lagoon. At 5:30 am. the fuel truck parked on the road overlooking the lagoon and pulled out his 200 meters of hose. The hose ran from the road, down the bank, and across the beach.
Someone (possibly a municipal worker?) stayed on the beach with the hose, and somehow "they" attached a few floats to the fuel hose. Somehow, probably with a panga or other small boat, somebody then led the hose out to the boats awaiting fuel.
We and our friends from Ogopogo both attempted to anchor in the midst of all the small fishing boats in the lagoon. Neither of us were successful on our first attempt at anchoring in the shallow, crowded lagoon. The difficulty lay in determining how much anchor 
rode to let out in the 20 knot winds. We couldn't let out too much or we'd bump another boat (which Ogopogo actually did), but if we didn't let out enough chain, we'd drag anchor (which we and Ogo both did) in the soft sandy bottom.
The result was a lot of rushing around, much setting and re-setting of the anchor, letting out chain, pulling in chain, checking where the other boats were, where the other anchor chains were, and where in the water the fuel hose was, lest we hit or run over any of the above. Exhausting.
Once we'd anchored, we needed to somehow get the fuel on board. Mark voted that I take the dinghy ashore- into the waves crashing on the beach- and communicate with the fuel truck that we needed exactly $200 worth of fuel. My Spanish and mathematical knowledge both came in handy, since the man did not speak English, and I had to convert liters to gallons and dollars to colones (and understand it all).
I gave the man my money 
and ran back (barefooted- I forgot to wear shoes) to the beach. Luckily, the guy on the beach helped me land my dinghy and held it for me while I was busy converting gallons, liters, colones and dollars in Spanish. I only swamped the dinghy a couple of times. And the beach guy helped me push off the beach so I could get deep enough to start the engine, so I didn't get any (more) sand in the outboard.
Somehow I made it back to the boat, avoiding running over the fuel hose, and we started fueling. We got all $200 (100,000 colones) of our 50 gallons (194 liters), minus however 
much that spilled into the water.
Ironically, Marina Flamingo was closed because they were fouling the water too much. I can't believe that the current method is cleaner than having a fuel dock. Once the fuel was shut off on land, we put the cap back on the end of the hose.
Now it was my turn to jump back into the dinghy and drag the fuel hose 
through the water so Ogopogo could have their turn and their fun. Meanwhile, Mark picked up our short anchor chain and went back out to the larger Portrero Bay to re-anchor while we got all of our fuel jugs secured on board. I dinghied out to him and we pulled up the dinghy to be on our way.
By 7:30 a.m., we were heading out of Bahia Portrero, en route with 210 gallons of diesel to the rolly anchorage of Bahia Carillo.
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