TIC-TOC: it sounds like a made-up land, possibly out of Peter Pan, but, although “out-of-this-world” on the coolness scale, it happens to be a real-life place. On Wednesday, we headed south from Pumalin, flying over miles of mountainous forests, myriads of waterfalls slipping over exposed sections of granite, and dozens of gravelly valley rivers. After throwing a note-and-carrot-in-a-bag out the window for the caretaker at the remote conservation project, we set off for Tic-Toc. Tucked in next to the enormous Corcovado National Park is this beautiful little watch post and guest house: Manuel, the caretaker, lives by himself, in the middle of hundreds of thousands of acres of snow-capped mountains, sand dunes, and black sand beaches, next to the Pacific Ocean.
We found it a surreal experience: flying over vast areas of rugged, unexplored backcountry and then dropping into this quaint outpost of civilization (albeit of a rustic sort), where a gorgeous little house had its fire lit, awaiting our arrival. Jo and I scampered around like small children, exploring the upstairs sleeping loft, where, we decided, the twenty-foot expanse of bed-area would be perfect for a slumber party gossip session. Then, since sunset only happens around 9 pm now, I headed off for a late-day run along the beach.
Pleased as punch with my spectacular and deserted surroundings, I was trotting merrily along, when I saw a yellow NRS cooler-bag sort of thing halfway buried in the sand. For some reason, I tromped off and steeled myself for the grand open-up. Rotting bits of salami made the process less delightful, but non-decomposing components of the treasure chest proved enticing: an unopened bottle of wine, two wine glasses, a gourmet picnic set, complete with a white tablecloth, and a stylish apron. Unsure what to do with these items, I continued on with my run, only to find another, slightly smaller cooler-item 100 yards further down the beach. Opening this one up, I found four large thermoses, filled with now-cold coffee, as well as sodden sugar packets. Still mystified, I once again resumed my run, only to encounter a third cooler-item further down the beach.
This one contained nothing less than six bottles of wine, two bottles of champagne, and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label scotch. Despite equating scotch with aged dirt, I took this third booty-filled bag as a sign from the adventure-gods that I was meant to retrieve this alluring flot/jetsam (Side note: “flotsam” is the material washed up from a wrecked ship, while “jetsam” is that thrown overboard to lighten a ship’s load, in bad weather, etc; which category my goods fall into is debatable). Still a few miles from the cozy cottage of Tic-Toc, I fashioned myself a backpack out of the largest cooler, piled the rest on top, and began the trek home.
All the while, I kept wondering: what is the story behind these mysterious objects—and am I a thief for claiming them? Given that virtually no one visits this beach, there weren’t a whole lot of possible explanations. As far as I could tell, although a lovely place for a picnic, the beach does not see many people beyond a few local fishermen. Luxury yachts occasionally sail into the bay, but the unbroken wine glasses made it harder to believe that these coolers had traveled a long distance by sea. In any case, the state of the aforementioned salami made it clear that whatever picnic had been planned was not of a very recent date.
The mystery remains as to the origins of my bounty, while the picnic supplies remain in my possession. Given that “extreme picnicking” has always been a hobby of mine, I’ve decided to take this serendipitous discovery as encouragement for future high-class culinary excursions. Whoever missed out on their (alcohol-heavy) lunch certainly knew how to dine in style, so I’ll take a page out of their book—and a white tablecloth out of their stash—and see where it lands me.
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