Text and photos by Mary L. Peachin
Vol. 27, No.7/8 May/June, 2024
I didn’t inherit the “gringa” (female tourist) nickname without earning it. While tarpon fishing, in the shark-infested waters of Costa Rica’s silty Barro Colorado River, I nearly lost my life
Let’s start from the beginning, how did I become a regular solo angler in the rainforest of Costa Rica alone? A group of my male Tucson fishing “alleged” buddies had an annual tarpon fishing trip to Barro Colorado. When I asked if I could go with them I was told, “Mary, we’ll put you on our waitlist.” After several years, I came to the conclusion that there was no waitlist, they were just putting me off. After thinking about it for awhile, I told myself, what the hell? I can make this trip by myself. I never expected that it would lead to one of my closer calls with death.
I arrived in Costa Rica’s capital city of San Jose late in the evening. I planned to spend the night then take a small single engine aircraft into the grass strip of Barro Colorado’s jungle. Soon after I checked into my San Jose airport hotel, there was a knock on my door. Assuming that it was the bellboy, I opened the door. It was a man who followed me down the hall to invite me to the bar. Slam! One of my early “traveling alone” lessons learned. Don’t open the door.
I made this an annual trip to fish for tarpon, and I was quite fond of my guide, Juan. One year he gave me a self-carved tarpon to take home. We would leave at sunrise hoping the seas were calm enough to motor from the river into the Ocean. When I could follow them in the boat, instead of having them break off on rocks or sunken tree trunks in the river, it was easier to catch and release the tarpon. The smart, prehistoric fish just headed for the ocean when rough conditions didn’t permit us to follow them.
On one trip, the weather was somewhat unstable, and feeling frustrated, the second day, I asked Juan if we could try to get outside on the ocean. I think Juan enjoyed fishing with me, plus he might have been a bit macho. He timed the incoming waves revving his engine speed until a rogue wave crashed into our panga. The engine stalled. Trying as hard as he could, he couldn’t get the motor started.
Wherever tarpon are fished, sharks gather, and it’s a feeding frenzy with the angler frequently pulling in only the head of a shark-devoured tarpon. Bill, the lodge owner, cautioned us time and again, do not get in the water for any reason. That included a tarpon jumping from a nearby angler’s rod in your boat. That actually happened to me. With lightning speed, I jumped on the seat to prevent injury from a thrashing tarpon.
As we sat disabled in the incoming waves, the boat began to fill with water. We were at the mercy of the sea. I remember the old saying “always stay with the boat.” Each wave caused more gear to fly out of the boat. We sank deeper and deeper. I had a firm grasp on each gunwale watching my gear being swept away. Swamped almost to my neck, in the distance, I saw a beach maybe less than a mile away. I could make that effort before the boat flipped and I would be swimming with the sharks anyway.
Out of nowhere, a boat appeared with two guides to rescue us. They had witnessed our predicament, dropped their anglers on a beach, and hurried to rescue us. Pulling us into their pangas, by then I had lost everything, Juan still held my rod. The two anglers on the beach had no idea what had happened. I apologized to them. Then I asked the guides to get me another boat so we could return to our fishing.
As the hours passed, many pangas motored close to take a photograph of me. I was sorely missing my sunglasses in the brightness of the equatorial sun, and I had lost my friend Mark’s camera. Each day thereafter, we combed the beach, for wrapped lures and fishing gear that washed ashore. Not only had I experienced a great fishing trip, but one close call to always remember.
Returning to Tucson, I made a call to Mark’ insurance company about the lost camera. They told me that pangas weren’t covered. I said, “What’s the difference between a cruise ship and and a panga?” The answer was size. They covered the cost of a new camera.
Perhaps a decade later, when Mark renewed his policy, he was told that a camera lost in a small boat would not be covered. Mark replied, you are talking about my lost camera?”