Page 25 of Ex Marks the Spot
There’s a thirty-ish-year age gap between Padma and Bobby, the other team on our shuttle. He graduated from Stephen R. DePriest College in the mid-nineties and the ink on her diploma is still drying, making them the oldest and youngest competitors this season. Bobby joked that they should be Team Niles, as in “senile” and “juvenile,” and the name stuck.
According to the clue we got this morning—which is “safely stored” in Hartley’s dumb fanny pack—we’re looking for the four-hundred-year-old tree when we get to Arenal Volcano National Park.
That’s it. Go to the park and find the tree. It’s on us to figure out where it is and how to get there once we’re dropped off. But according to our driver, Eduardo, the park has a map and decent signage so I’m not worried.
“How’d it go last night? Was it weird rooming together?” Padma asks Hartley.
“Aside from Courtney snoring and monopolizing the bathroom, it was fine. I’m just glad we had two beds.”
That was something I hadn’t thought about until we checked into our hotel. Every team will either share a room if there are two beds or have separate rooms if there’s only one bed. I think the only thing Hartley and I can agree on right now is the hope for single occupancy tonight.
Also, she’s lying.
“I don’t snore.”
She rolls her eyes. “It must’ve been theotherannoying ex-boyfriend in our room.”
“You should get that surgery,” Bobby says, gesturing to the length of his nose. “Best thing I’ve ever done. My wife says she finally gets a full night’s sleep.”
“I don’t think he has a deviated septum. His problem is how far his head is shoved up his ass. His butt cheeks interfere with the oxygen flow.” Hartley demonstrates her point by smooshing her palms to her own cheeks (on her face, not her butt), drawing laughs from everyone but me on the shuttle.
I tune them out in favor of something far more important—gawking at the volcano coming into view out my window. When we boarded the shuttle this morning, Eduardo said the region was enjoying averanillo, which translates to “little summer,” and that we should have a full view of Arenal.
He was right.
Majestically, gloriously, holy-shit-I’m-looking-at-an-actual-volcano right.
Hartley catches on and peers out her window. “Hey, Eduardo. You said this is an active volcano?”
“Si, señorita.”
“You afraid of an eruption while we’re up there?” Bobby asks her, shifting slightly in his seat.
“No, I’m just wondering if they’ll let me throw Courtney in.”
We see three teams leaving the park when Eduardo deposits us at the reception station. Big Mike from Stone Ridge College slows his jog long enough to say, “There’s a shortcut to the tree. Don’t take the first right, take the second.”
His teammate, DeAngelo, quickly whacks him in the arm and whisper-shouts, “Why’d you tell them that?” as they continue to...somewhere. I guess we’ll figure that out soon.
“What do you think?” Padma asks as she connects the chest clip of her backpack. “Do we listen to him?”
“No,” I reply at the same time Hartley says,
“Yes.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why not?”
“I have my reasons.”None of which I want to discuss in front of another team, I add through a long blink and a pointed look.
“Whatever.” She flings her arms out and lets them slap against her legs. “Let’s go.”
She starts walking, but I take up a jog and quickly pass her. “Come on. We’ve got time to make up.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Padma says.
Hartley begrudgingly follows, and Bobby does his best to keep up with us. A few minutes later, we stop at the entrance to Sendero Las Coladas—the LasColadas trail—to study a giant wooden map of the park. I can’t help my smug smile when Hartley realizes Big Mike’s “shortcut” to Sendero El Ceibo adds at least another kilometer to our route.
“Did he think we wouldn’t see the huge tree on the huge map?”