So after our respective cold beverages, we bounced up the dirt road to EE-25. With the trees cleaned back, one could get a better sense of the view that was going to be obtainable. From the road, one could see a straight shot to the beach to the west, and again all the way down to the hotel playa de nosara. One could even see a slice of Pelada peeling away to the north.

Now, there was not much to be seen to the west, at least not at street level. This is because Howie's house blocks the view. Hoiwe's house blocks the view because of an impressive earth moving project he must have done years ago. When I bought my land, I thought that Howie had a land on the spine of the mountain. now I realize that spine is man made, specifically bulldozer made. Howie, or the previous owner, must have built a massive retaining wall, and then pushed dirt down the hill to fill it up. The result is a million dollar view for Howie, and an obscured view for me.

Guillermo pointed out what had been done, and what nearly every property owner might do in my place: Build a retaining wall on the western border of my property and then fill it all in and build two stories on top. Nope. Not going to do it. We walked my property. There are exotic hardwoods all over it. There are gullies, and a season creek. The The land has a personality, one that I will preserve. I may be seen as leaving money on the table, but I think that someone will see what I see in the land. Its not enough to hope that your neighbor is responsible and leaves his property green for you to enjoy. It must be your commitment. I will show people that one can have their view, and leave the land unspoiled. That said, the thought of the view obtainable with land fill did make my mouth water a bit. I will freely admit that. Not to be tempted would be an ignorance of another type. I cannot think of a home in the area that did not do substantial land moving to improve their view. I have a feeling that will not be necessary for me though. Or at least this is a measure that I am unwilling to consider. Oh, this will mean no infinity pool, no flat lawn, but when you see what it will look like, a house peeking out from under a canopy of hardwoods, it will be worth the time and effort to preserve the land and its signature on my building.

On to the bad news.

Despite two strongly worded instruction e-mails from me, one more from Alex, and a phone conversation with Alex, Ashley White's husband, who I paid to clean my land, failed to follow instructions. We were clear to the point of rudeness that no tree, with a trunk over 8 inches, was to be cut down. Alex worked with him over the phone and was adamant. Yet when we visited the land, next to a pile of Imperial beer cans, we found a cocobolo tree, nearly 2 feet in diameter, cut down, and sawed into logs.





Here is that tree. You can see the unique dark interior rings of the mature tree.

"Cocobolo is a hardwood from Central America yielded by two to four closely related species of the genus Dalbergia. The best known and probably the species contributing most of the wood in the trade is Dalbergia retusa, a fair-sized tree, reported to reach 20-25 m in height. Because of its great beauty and high value, this species has been heavily exploited and the tree is now in danger of extinction outside of national parks, reserves and plantations."

Extinction.

I am upset and angry. There was no reason to cut this tree. The directions were clear and simple. It actually took more effort to kill it than it did to leave it alone, yet the chainsaws mowed through it all the same.

I dont think of myself as a tree hugger, but the needless destruction of hardwood trees is inexcusable. And this was needless. I wanted the tree. I was willing to pivot my house in whatever way necessary to preserve it. Wendy and I and the Datum Zero team were all effected and gathered around the tree. It must have taken minutes to cut. I wonder how long to grow another one.




When I asked Ashley White about the tree, when she was calling for payment for her husband's work, she told me that he told her that the tree had fallen. Fallen. Apparently in Costa Rica, trees generate a lot of saw dust when they fall. They fall even when completely healthy. Sometimes, it seems, when the fall they break off at sharp and straight lines.

And the worst part? He did this three times. Three trees. Three trees "fell" in this peculiar Costa Rican fashion with piles of beer cans and saw dust surrounding them. Three cocobolo trees.

Lord I am sounding like a hippie right now, but I had a project and a vision. My dream was to prove on did not need to insult the land to live on it. I am building a three bedrooms home. But I have no intention of displacing other living things homes to do that. I can sound like a capitalist also if you prefer...those were my trees. I owned them and paid to have them preservered. They made the land more valuable, as anyone can flatten land and put a concrete pad in, but hardwoods take time and care, and I expect to one day sell my land to someone who values these things.

This was hard to see, and is still hard. Guillermo declared that the cocobolo would be worked into the final design of the house. In this way, it will not be wasted. It was not my first choice...but three cut trees are now what I have. We talked about making them into handrails for a walk through the garden. Maybe furniture. I don't know. This, however, seems to be symbolic of the mangling that walks hand in hand with rampant development, something I hope to confront, even if just on my one acre in the hills of Nosara.