As I rode horseback up a mountain nearby a beach in Costa Rica, I stopped at some ruins to photograph the distant view. The waves crashing against the shore were visible; as was the city. From there, it didn't look like there was a lot of sand on this beach. But I assure you, there was while I was below the mountain. The lush greenery was right up against the ruins with the columns and arches. The crumbling facade was reminiscent of a time long ago. Yet the structure stood strong against many a storm. The stone of the ruins was surprisingly bleached white; possibly, from the exposure to strong sunlight at elevation above sea level. The trek down is always easier than the trek up. Even my horse felt the difference as he trotted back down carrying his load, me as a passenger, with ease. He was anxious to gallop, but I held him at bay. He seemed to be anxious to leave the ruins and I couldn't help but wonder; what had his wise eyes seen over the years that I hadn't and never would?