We needed money for the turtle-viewing tour later that evening, so we were headed to Tamarindo. Martin was driving; Dakota was navigating.
That was the problem, right there.
Dakota prides himself on a special sixth sense, an infamous and supposedly flawless sense of direction. Maps? GPS? Directions from anyone or anything? Dakota eschews them all in favor of the tingling of his neck hairs, a little whispered voice inside that says, “Turn here!” and his alleged ability to tap into the earth’s magnetic field and feel his way.