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Published: November 19th 2010
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November 18, 2010
I think I'll write about the dynamiting today. There are other things I could write about but this is fresh in my mind so I'll just try and write it quickly. So you know about that boulder that fell on the highway? There's a picture of it to the right. That boulder fell onto the highway a few days ago and the highway has been closed since. No one got squashed (as far as I know). Someone emailed me that it must be dangerous to drive in Costa Rica. I responded that the boulder would have to land on you at the precise wrong moment (for you), and, come on, what are the odds of that happening?
The boulder is now on the shoulder but the people in charge of road maintenance are afraid there will be more landslides because of another huge boulder at the top of the hill. So they closed the road (which has made it really nice for driving south). Now there is no traffic on the highway. I can drive down to Esparza without an 18-wheeler trying to pass me on a curve. And there's less chance of coming around a bend
and finding a car or truck stopped in the middle of my lane (with that 18 wheeler behind me). Ah, the simple pleasures; I can sightsee, and today I stopped and visited Fabian the cop at his drab, cement block 'oficina' right off the highway.
Fabian told me they were going to dynamite a big boulder at the top of the hill where the landslide occurred, so I showed up with camera and paper but it was postponed until 2 p.m. so I cruised on down to Esparza and ate some pizza. When I returned, they told me where to park and how much dynamite they were using and how many holes were drilled into the rock, etc. I waited. It didn't get ignited until almost four pm. So I hung out with road crews. I met the manager of Explotec, the explosives company that was hired to do the demolition. He had a young engineer from Germany with him. As we talked, the other engineer, who was wearing an orange jumpsuit, was busy up at the top of the hill, placing the dynamite into the holes. I was told the orange engineer is from Chile. Aren't there any
engineers in Costa Rica? Yes, but …., someone said. The German engineer pointed out to me several flaws in the way the Costa Ricans were handling construction of the bridge. The biggest flaw was having the terrain just outside the bridge drop vertically toward the river. They either just don't plan it out, he said, or they plan it out and then don't accomplish the plan. I don't know, he said. And he shook his head.
The orange Chilean and his workers inserted fifty sticks of dynamite into fifty, meter-deep holes drilled into and around the rock. The idea was to break apart the rock so it would come down in pieces, and not cause a big problem (like squashing someone). The German engineer explained to me that, although they meticulously plan these demolitions, the outcome could vary a lot from the plan. Anything can happen, he said. Do you think I should move my car further away, I asked. So we waited. The dynamite was wired to a push-down T-handle several hundred feet from the dynamite.
Kaboom! Dust blew from the rock and some bits blew into the air (but not many), and several moments later, in
a delayed reaction, several boulders came loose below the big rock and rolled down onto the road. That was to be expected, I had been told. There are backhoes here to move them. The big boulder remained at the top, but looked to be about half as big as before.
After the explosion, I wanted to walk over to the bridge to get some closer pictures, but no one was moving. I waited for permission to go. Finally one guy said he was going, and I said, me too. I asked what are they waiting for, and he told me there will be another explosion. When? Can we get there and back in time? Oh yes, he answered, no problem. How do you know for sure? Amigo, those men back there are not afraid of the next planned explosion. That won't be for a while. He stopped alongside the road and picked up a cardboard box and hoisted it onto his shoulder, then continued walking. They are afraid to walk with me up to the site, he said. I am carrying the explosives on my back. So don't worry, they won't explode the dynamite until I get there. He
was smiling. I read the label on the box. Explosivos. Peligrosa. Fifty kilos. I looked back at the men who were just now starting to follow us. They were laughing. Always happy, those Ticos.
So, for some, retirement is playing golf, or sailing around the world, or going to the theater and concerts, or all of the above. For me, I guess it's hanging out with the dynamite crew in a third world country and watching boulders fall to the road. I think I'll go to the beach today.
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