We hate backtracking on the bikes and avoid it when possible. After dropping off Carlene and Orson we retraced part of the route we previously drove. The difference this time was that we were moving at a fraction of the speed. This fact combined with the heat (95+°F / 35+°C) felt as if we were being punished, forced to watch a repeat of a bad movie in slow motion while sitting in a sauna.
One highlight was that we got to stop to see what all the fuss was about over the Tarcoles River.
Driving to and from Manuel Antonio, on the Pacific coast, we crossed a bridge where tourists had clumped together looking down into the water. During our previous two crossings we figured it was a tourist trap and did not bother to stop.
This time we rolled to a stop and were treated to a collection of large American crocodiles below. Some were sunning themselves on the muddy banks of the river while others hung out in the water, occasionally submerging below the surface for an extended period before coming back up for air.
After seeing these beasts we became a bit more cautious when we subsequently decided to take cooling dips down the road.
Another benefit of repeating the route was that we were able to scout locations for possible campsites. A few of the potential sites did not pan out but we had a spectacular find on top of a hill. A short climb up a dirt road, at the crest of the highway, yielded a flat, mowed field with a shipping container to hide us from the road below. Additionally, there was a slightly less hot breeze and views of bays on both sides of us.
We often wonder if we are the first cyclists to sleep in the places we set up camp. Today we found tell-tale signs that at least one fellow bicycle traveller had been here before.