The final frontier - Tom McColm crosses from Coast to Coast with Zulu Three

Staying close to home has its advantages: Zulu Three pass within a whisker of Fieldbase so we get to see them more often than most: crossing the continent from the Caribbean Coast, they practically meander past our front door before pottering down to the foaming shores of the Pacific. In previous blogs we've documented their first few days and our photographer Ollie has captured the group in action, but you're probably wondering what happened next... luckily our quick-stepping acquainance Tom gave us all the juicy details in his end of trek report:

Our inauguration ceremony to the jungle consisted of crossing two rivers and navigating one maliciously muddy steep path- so wet feet then, right from the start. Damn tough. Swiftly, a battle for the most outrageous fall ensued, which Jonny probably won with a truly special sideways slip, although Hannah came a close second as she managed to somehow fall over without her backpack on. Joints creaked and strained as they grew accustomed to lumping rucksacks up this strange and unpleasant new concept of a hill, something we had only recently been introduced to on Coast-to-Coast. We had delicious salami’s, although it was probably for the better that we discovered they were maggot infested after they had been eaten. Extra protein as they say! Over the next few days, as we crossed Barbilla National park, we had some interesting experiences with the wildlife. We were proud witnesses of piglet octuplets being born, our carefully laid-out breakfast was obliterated by semi-feral dogs, cats left their delightful scent on our sleeping mats and the ubiquitous cockerels made it their ambition to wake us at the most un-Godly hour possible, the wretched creatures. And turkeys - don’t even go there.

A few clearings brought the reward of truly special, breathtaking vistas out into the untouched green wilderness. The jungle became less dense as we steadily climbed; the plant species grew accordingly more varied, and the paths thankfully became more like paths. As the days past, I felt we bonded particularly well as a group. Games of werewolf, truth or lie, conversations about music and travel (especially Africa) and inevitably the whole intensity of our shared experiences brought about this cohesion. On the seventh morning in Valle Escondido the pearlescent mist seemed to suspend the suns rays and flooded the valley with light and energy. If you will excuse the pun, this was a particular highlight. Others enjoyed the panoramas as we emerged from the jungle later that day, which were likened to the vineyards of the lower French Alps. Having never been to France I can’t comment, but to my eyes the scenery reminded me of a tropical version of the English Lake District. The sharp downhill slopes were at least as sore on the legs as the up, so at the bottom and across a rusty, creaking suspension bridge we made the most of a well deserved break. On the sandy shore the turquoise-teal Rio Picuare, with our eyes closed, we could have almost been at the Pacific already. That night we stayed with the “cutest man in Costa Rica” a high pitched elderly gentleman who greatly impressed us with the size of his portable radio, complete with extendable antenna. Make of that what you will, but he let us 15 smelly, tired and singularly uninvited trekkers sleep in his living room free of charge, so I won’t hear a bad word against him!

By the end of day nine we had made excellent progress, passing within a stones throw of Fieldbase, enjoying the fine weather and a brief encounter with tarmac, before turning south, back onto the dusty tracks towards Atirro. We stayed here in a particular mansion next to a sugar processing plant that the last group had raved about. The smell of Victoria sponge was redolent in the air as Fieldbase arrived with our second food drop - check out Ollie’s video on the last Coast-to-Coast blog for more on the mansion. This enormous house was kept up by the groundskeepers (and what grounds!) for the mostly vacant owner. As a result, it was almost completely unfurnished and more importantly certainly not free. So it was that, that night, we found ourselves showering, sleeping in beds and reading ‘National Geographic’ magazines from the previous decade, after a hearty dinner. It was all a bit odd and surreal - when you’re on trek you do think about home comforts, but you train yourself to live without them. It sort of threw me when we suddenly got them just over one week into this amazing trek. Perhaps that is one of the very best things about Coast-to-Coast: you just never know what is coming next.

A quick summary of the top moments of our trek:
We had a bin bag fancy dress party at the community centre in Taus. Also the werewolves killed all the villagers without any casualties of their own (bear in mind this is a card game, all you worried friends and family out there.)

An athletic little kitten - white with ginger spots - followed us for a while, but thankfully left. If it had stayed we would have had to give it into an animal sanctuary and probably take it away from its home

We stayed behind a pulperia (tuck shop) in Puriscil and has the BEST meal ever- hamburger, chips, salad and hot chocolate. Yum!

Some of us got the chance to visit a coffee plant nursery.

Pylon day was fun - the weather was amazing (in other words it didn’t rain), as we ascended to over 2,000 metres for the first time.

We crossed a proper Indiana Jones style of suspension bridge, complete with missing planks and slippy moss.

Our highest point was a bit of an anti-climax, since it was surrounded by forest on all sides and was marked by a pile of wood at the side of the track.

Esperanza’s slightly luxury community centre was ours for a very reasonable price, thanks to Aida’s haggling.

Hannah refused to go back to Fieldbase when they arrived with the third food drop. Her determination to complete the trek, despite her heath issues was an inspiration to us all.

Another great meal was devoured at a wonderful service area at the end of our stretch of the ‘Interamericana’ or ‘Pan-American Highway’.

Much of the scenery reminded us of both Scotland and England - there were pine trees, marshes, buttercups and dandelions. Best of all, we spotted real fine grass, not the chunky crab-like stuff that usually grows in Costa Rica. It’s amazing what you can miss from home!

We passed through a large quarry atop a hill with astounding views, which left the boys pining for dirt bikes and BMX’s to try out some of the awesome ramps and jumps. On a related note, later that day a dodgy looking biker offered to put us up for the night for an unspecified price. We politely declined.

We climbed Cerro Dragon in record time then promptly got lost on the way back down, only just getting back to camp at the bottom before nightfall. Then we pushed on for an extra 3km. This was our ‘rest’ day. Whilst we were up the hill, the cows tried to attack our camp. This was Ollie Carmichael’s birthday and he received many wonderful and chocolatey treats.

The last few days were NOT gentle downhill to the Pacific, and had some killer hills in store. Thanks to this, our obsession with pulperia’s reached epidemic levels. At the top of the second last (large) climb we chanced to meet a very cool old guy with a guitar, who played us a few chords. At the top of the last rise, a blood red sunset shed light on the last 30km towards the Pacific, over soft, undulating countryside, misty blue in the fading light. This gave us the mental equivalent of a deep-fried Mars bar’s worth of energy. Set up camp out behind the back of a house in an outbuilding. Jamie was lucky enough to discover an enormous wolf spider although since he was as tired as the rest of us he slept like a sloth on horse tranquilizers.

The last day. Sad, in a way. We absolutely powered through the 21km and alighted on the beautiful Pacific beach of Playa Palo Seco at 1.30pm. That day we passed through endless coconut plantations, met Julian and Ali (lots of butter biscuits and photos), and marched the last 4km (some of the very hardest due to last minute malicious blisters). Then, at the end of Zulu Three’s Coast-to-Coast trek, we all hugged, and ran into the ocean together, clothes and all, without a care in the world. I think I can confidently write for each and every one of us that this was easily one of the best moments of our lives. We didn’t just cross a continent- we crossed a continent in style. Long live Zulu Three - the Champagne Trek!