Martin, Dakota and I waved cheerfully at our host, Marco, as he drove away, leaving us alone in the remote Costa Rican jungle.
He had driven us an hour up isolated dirt roads, bumped down tiny dirt tracks, and dumped us off on the muddy banks of this small river. It would be up to us to find our way back to the ecolodge, kayaking down this, the Cas Del Mar River, into the Tres Amigos River, and then onward to the great San Carlos. From there, we hoped to spot the take-out site for our ecolodge, buried in the dense jungle.
If we missed it, we would end up at the Nicaraguan border.