We made the short journey from Manuel Antonio to Sierpe in less than two hours. We knew that there wasn’t much to do in Sierpe – it’s mainly used by travellers to take the boat to Drake Bay. We hadn’t realised that it would have been very easy to make it to Drake Bay in one day from Manuel Antonio. Anyway, we had a hotel with a pool, so spent the hottest hours swinging in hammocks and reading dozily – appreciating a bit of chill time.
In the late afternoon, we wandered down to the town (which is basically a small park and a restaurant), and met Simone. Simone was not what we expected – a tall, tanned Dutchwoman who has been living in the Osa peninsula for twenty-two years. She explained that it’s not uncommon for people to expect her mangrove tours to be led by a Costa Rican man. I felt contrite in my assumptions. Danny and I boarded a boat, captained by Herman (who was a Costa Rican man), and the four of us set out into the Mangrove. Sierpe is located at the confluence of the mighty River Sierpe, and the Estero Azul – a smaller tributary. Simone pointed out three types of mangroves that are located in the area – the red, the black and the grey. The long grey fingers of their roots dipped into the brackish water, creating lots of nooks for creatures to hide in. We began our tour just as dusk was falling. We saw a boa constrictor, capuchins, and dozens of birds coming in to roost for the night, including herons, egrets, kingfishers, an owl, scarlet macaws, and a very well camouflaged Potoo (otherwise known as a stick bird, for reasons which became obvious once we’d located it with the binoculars). As the birds drifted to sleep and the night awakened, we saw different forms of life emerge. Gaggles of inquisitive raccoons watched us from the banks. A shy kinkajou peeped out from a tree. We saw bats clinging to the underside of a bridge, flitting from their perches as the light passed over them. Most disconcertingly, we caught glimpses of yellow eyes watching us from the surface of the water…crocodiles and caimans (which we were soon able to tell apart). Thankfully, many of them were babies, but we did see some larger specimens.
Three hours later, bewildered, exhilarated and slightly alarmed at the number of baby crocodiles, we disembarked. Although initially we’d had fairly low expectations for our time in Sierpe, we found ourselves incredulous at the amount of life we’d been privileged enough to witness on the water, and agreed that it had been one of the best tours we’d done since arriving in Costa Rica.
We left our hotel in the late morning, and started walking down to the dock where would meet our boat for Drake Bay. A few minutes down the road, a red pick-up truck slowed to a halt. It was a taxi, and there was a local lady sitting shotgun who couldn’t bear to see us dragging ourselves down the road under the the weight of our backpacks. We hopped in, thanked both driver and passenger profusely (to which they replied “Pura Vida, Pura Vida”), and soon found ourselves at the dock. After some controlled chaos we were sat in a boat, heading down the river. Our captain took some nail-biting corners, nearly tipping the boat as we veered along. We passed the mangroves at lightning speed, and occasionally glimpsed a solitary dwelling through the greenness. At one point we saw someone at a distance in a balsa wood boat – I wondered if it was one of the local indigenous people. After a time, we reached the mouth of the river, and found ourselves on the open water of the ocean. Our captain hurled us over the surf, catching gut-wrenching moments of air as we bounced from wave to wave. It was with some relief that our destination came into view. We jumped off the boat into the shallow water, and waded up to the beach. There we were met by Karen, who took us up to our accomodation. She revived us with fruit and juice, and then gave us some tips about the area.
After a quick bite to eat, we headed into the jungle. A rustling cacophony filled our ears, it was almost as if the sound was coming from inside our heads. We stumbled over tree roots and clambered over rocks. We carried on along the path for half an hour, crossing a couple of rickety bridges and occasionally passing some fancy accomodation, or people waddling in soggy swimwear. After a while, we emerged on to Cocalito Beach. Edged with volcanic rocks and dense jungle, it was perfect. But there were a few people there, so we carried on. At the next beach (Paquena), we were alone except for three elderly French people enjoying a dip. We bathed in the warm waters until the sun dipped behind the trees.
At that point, we decided to go a little further round the coast, to see if we could catch more sun. The next beach didn’t have a name, and was completely empty except for us and our footprints. We watched the sun go down and the sky turn pink. The jungle began to emit a heady perfume, sweet and enticing. We stayed until the light began to fade.
The next morning, we were up before sunrise. We ate a quick breakfast (thanks to Karen and her daughter) then trotted off to the beach. We boarded a boat (which again, involved wading), and zoomed around the bay. The sun rose as we passed acres and acres of rainforest that never seemed to end. After an hour we arrived at Corcovado National Park – one of the most remote parts of the peninsula. As we entered the rainforest, the air seemed to become more humid with each breath we took. Sweat ran down our backs in rivulets, and steam evaporated from the ground. To begin with, we had a moderate amount of success, spotting a pair of toucans, a black iguana, some herons amd some spider monkeys, but the game changer was a tapir. These are one of Costa Rica’s largest mammals (and are much bigger than I thought they were, kind of like a large pig or a small hippo). We found one snoozing in the mud, keeping cool in the midday heat. We also saw a friendly herd of peccaries, carrying on with their snuffly business quite happily as we watched. We had lunch at the ranger’s station, and then just as we were leaving the park (as always seems to be the case), we saw our most exciting animal of all. Clinging to a branch 20 metres high was an anteater. He opened a lazy eye, then shifted his position and fell back into his snooze. He was very cute. Reluctantly we boarded our boat to go back to Drake Bay. We spent the rest of the afternoon chilling at the hotel. I can confirm that hammocks are a form of timewarp, and it’s quite easy to lie in one for two hours without noticing.
Our time in Drake Bay has been filled with adventure and wildlife, as well as calm and solitude (apart from each other). Being in such a remote place, it’s easier to appreciate the majesty of nature, and grant her the respect she deserves.
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