San Jo-see you later

Our last morning in Drake Bay was leisurely. We had a quick dip in the ocean before breakfast, then sipped our coffee as we tried to imprint the view onto our psyches. Even at 8am, the air was already sticking to us like a thick paste. Once we’d packed our bags, Karen the superhero drove us over a rubbly track (I wouldn’t go so far as “road”) to Drake Bay airport. Even “airport” might give a wrong impression. We entered a single room with pallid yellow walls and five industrial fans whizzing overhead. No one was there except another couple.

After a time, someone arrived to check us in to our flight (very old school – we hadn’t been able to do this online). We duly weighed our hold luggage…and then we got on the scale ourselves while holding our hand luggage. This was an indication that we were not getting on a standard plane, and my skin began to prickle. About twenty minutes after our scheduled departure time, two tiny twelve-seater propellor planes skidded down the air strip.

The man who had checked us in loaded up our bags on a trolley, and wheeled it out to the planes. He then opened the underside of one of them, much as you would for a coach, and popped the bags in. Slightly apprehensively, we walked towards our fate. Being at the front of the queue, I squeezed myself through to the front row of seats (Danny got the window). Twelve of us somehow managed to fit in, some looking more comfortable than others. Once we were settled, two more people tried to squeeze on. “Excuse me!” They apologised as they made their way past. They were the pilots. With my heart in my mouth and having said my goodbyes to Danny, we prepared for take off.

I didn’t notice as we left the ground – we seemed to glide effortlessly off the runway and hover above the sea. We climbed higher, so that the blues and greens of the waves shimmered in a pattern stitched with white foam. We stayed fairly low – we could pick out the beach we’d lingered on in Manuel Antonio a few days before. We soon turned inland and skimmed the green peaks. After forty-five minutes, the sprawl of San Jose came into view, nestled in a basin between gloomy mountains and volcanoes. At this point, things got a bit bumpy. I had a very clear view of the dials and screens, and was slightly alarmed by a yellow sign which was flashing “low fuel”. Thankfully we soon came into land. The whole cabin breathed a collective sigh of relief. Grateful to have solid ground beneath our feet, we caught an Uber downtown (successfully avoiding the taxi faff we’d had on our first arrival into San Jose airport).

After a quick bite to eat we wandered around to get our bearings. We walked down a pedestrianised road which was like Oxford Street but worse, with music blaring from all cardinal directions and storefronts selling bags, stationery, and general knick-knacks. We perused the Mercado Central, which sold everything edible including fruit, vegetables, herbs, meat, ceviche and more. We passed the Museo del Jade and the Museo Nacional de Costa Rica. We then headed north-east to the trendy Calle 33 and Barrio Escalante – an area near the university with bars, restaurants, and good vibes. We had an Italian meal (just to break up the ubiquitous rice and beans), then took an Uber back to the hostel.

We had a troubled night as Danny was severely glutened. So far we’ve been fortunate as a lot of the food here is naturally gluten free, but there was some suspected cross-contaminated oil which had significant repercussions. We had a slow morning, then with a brave face (and a lot of positive assurances that he was ok), Danny and I took a slow meander back into the centre. We met Caro, a young opera singer, who led us through the streets with the benefit of a local’s perspective, on a free walking tour. We always like to do these in a new city, as the guides provide so much history and cultural context. Caro was extremely knowledgeable and gave us a history of the city, and explained the social and political “weather” as well as showing us some key sights, like the National Theatre, Parliament, Chinatown, and the museums. She explained how colonisers had tended to live in the north, which is where the fancy houses are. The south tends to be cheaper and a bit rougher around the edges. She also explained how most people live in the suburbs, and there’s now a big drive to get people living in the city itself, so that more people are around in the evenings and it becomes more buzzy, vibrant and safe.

After the tour we headed back to the hostel for the hottest part of the day. We then paid a visit to the National Museum of Costa Rica to learn more about the country’s history. We marvelled at pre -Columbian stone carvings, and learned about the indigenous peoples, and the suffering endured after the Europeans arrived. We also learned about more recent history, including the social liberalism which led to the nation abolishing its army and funding education and healthcare. After filling our brains we found a vegan, gluten-free cafe which made nourishing homemade soup (a very safe option), then headed back to the hostel for our final night.

Costa Rica has been a sublime riot of rainforests, mountains, beaches and rivers. We could never have imagined how much wildlife we would experience here, or how immersive the different ecological environments would be. It’s impossible to pick out our favourite places or activities – there have been so many moments where we’ve been filled with awe and wonder. This trip has been everything I’d dreamed, and most satisfyingly, I’ve been able to reconnect with a sense of adventure and the unknown, which has been harder to find as I settle (sometimes too comfortably) into my life. The most precious part of this experience has been sharing it with Danny, who is the most amenable companion. He’s very good at carrying bags, navigating maps, and making sure we have snacks on hand. He also constantly makes me laugh, and helps me to connect with a sense of appreciation for love, the world and for life itself that I wouldn’t have without him. Our next adventure is probably a long while away, but the memories of this one will be etched into happy little hearts.

A beach of one’s own

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.

Mooching in Manuel Antonio

After a magical (but at times slightly windy/wet) time in Monteverde we needed something a bit more tropical, so we headed south towards the Pacific. Over the four and a half hour journey (and two minibuses), we descended from the lofty green peaks to sea-level. When we arrived in Manuel Antonio, we were greeted with warm sun on our skin. We did a quick change at the hostel, then hopped on a bus downtown. We then walked down a winding road past luxury hotels and fancy restaurants. Capuchins crossed over our heads using the telephone wires as tightropes. Eventually we turned off down a rocky path through the jungle. Five minutes later we emerged at Playa Biesanz, a hidden beach preferred by locals. We eagerly plunged into the sea. Danny and I have never been to the beach together (excluding chilly dips at Brighton and Findhorn), so it was a new experience to share. The hours melted away in a dreamy haze of coconuts and novels.

The next morning we watched a pair of Scarlet Macaws swooping against the blue horizon as we ate our breakfast. We hopped back on the bus, and wended down to Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio. We decided not to go for a tour this time, but instead made our own way along the trails, and stopped when we saw crowds of people gawping at something. We saw iguanas, a snake, a toucan, agoutis, squirrel monkeys, sloths, more capuchins – the jungle was bustling with life, reverberating with a steady hum occasionally accompanied by the soothing sound of waves. At a couple of viewpoints the shady jungle opened out to the ocean below.

Once we’d walked enough, we headed through the jungle to one of the two beaches located within the park. Platinum sand was bordered by emerald palms, and a glistening azure ocean. The beach was surprisingly quiet (most people stopped at the other beach, a bit closer to the main path). We relaxed on the sand – well, as much was as possible while warding off nosy capuchins who had the antisocial habit of rifling through unattended bags. We had to be dragged off the beach by a patient ranger, who blew his whistle and tapped his watch to let us know it was time to leave. Just as we were about to pass through the main gate, we noticed a large group huddled beneath a tree. We looked up and saw our first howler monkeys, munching leaves and emitting their eponymous gutteral groans. Feeling satiated with wildlife and beach, we took our leave.

Manuel Antonio has been very different to our experience of Costa Rica so far. The tropical temperatures and freshness of the Pacific breeze has eased us into a new phase of this trip. As well as experiencing the wildlife, we’ve also taken more time to relax. Our London place has slowed to a gentle mooch, and as a result we’re more aware of the life around us.

The mysteries of Monteverde

A minibus picked us up from our hostel, and drove us through the persistent drizzle to the edge of Lake Arenal. From there we boarded a boat with worn tarpaulins to protect us against the rain. We sat right at the back, next to the roaring engine which emitted a nauseating smell of petrol, and watched the mountains rising and falling through a fine mist as we chuntered past. Eventually, we reached the other side of the lake, and got in another minibus which drove us past small farms. Calves nestled together in shady corners, horses flapped their tails, and hens scratched the ground, accompanied by herds of fluffy chicks. The sun began to emerge.

As we stepped off the minibus, the winds of Monteverde tore through our bodies and whipped through our hair. We hastily added a layer, before checking in to our hostel, which boasted an expansive vista of the valley, right down to the Pacific ocean.

Shortly after, we were picked up by another minibus, which drove us up a gravelly ‘short-cut’ with an alarming gradient, to Cafe Monteverde, a coffee growing cooperative of 20 families who have a mission of growing and producing delicious coffee, and educating students from the world about sustainable agriculture. Guillermo was an older gentleman but very lithe, and had a vibrant light that danced behind his blue eyes. He was born in Monteverde, moved to the central valley for education where he studied forestry, then returned to his hometown and picked coffee with his family for twenty years before becoming a guide. He led us through the plantation showing us the fruits of the coffee plants, and taught us about how the plantation is configured, with corridors of forest to protect the coffee plants from the wind. At one point, Danny was volunteered to collect some of the fruits. Guillermo told us about the economy of coffee, from how much the pickers are paid, to how it reaches a heady mark-up in coffee shops. He also showed us how biological fertiliser is made, and how the coffee is washed and roasted. The tour culminated in a taste test between three different roasts, and two different processes (washed or natural). We left the tour imbued with knowledge and caffeine.

As a fiery sunset descended we made our way to the Ragnario – Frog Ponds. Costa Rica is home to over 200 species of frog, many of which are housed here. After initially trying to spot them on our own (without much luck), we joined forces with Pedro who provided us with froggy facts and a well-trained eye. The little creatures were surprisingly delightful, and it was difficult to tear ourselves away from their sticky toe pads.

The next morning we watched the milky pink sunrise unfolding beneath a hesitant half-moon. We had a generous breakfast at the hostel, then were picked up by a minibus for our next adventure. We bumped over potholes for twenty minutes or so, before arriving at Santa Elena Cloud Forest. This is one of three cloud forest reserves around Monteverde – we chose it because it’s not the most popular. We met our guide, and followed him down a path. As soon as we entered the forest, a hush seemed to fall. Everything seemed muffled, apart from the patter of rain falling through the canopy. A thin vapour made everything hazy. The vast trees were swathed in cloaks of moss, scattered with diamond droplets. Countless plants were growing on top of each other, laced with roots and iridescent spiderwebs. The sun shone in muted beams, causing the water to evaporate in steaming clouds from the ground. Our guide uncovered the secrets of the forest, from the scent of lemon berries to the hiding places of tarantulas. He pointed out jewel-clad birds, and took us to a rickety observation point from which we could watch the clouds circling below us. After a few hours we bid farewell, and thanked him for sharing his knowledge of the forest (which amazingly is only 40-50 years old, recreated as part of Costa Rica’s extensive reforestation programme). After a quick coffee, we decided to head out on our own. We chose the longest trail, making the bold assumption that we could knock an hour off the expected time and be back for the last shuttle.

Whereas the morning had been spent navigating various other tour groups, we miraculously found that we had the trail to ourselves. We plunged along the muddy path (I felt very smug in my footwear choice – Danny less so), and tried to avoid stumbling over tree roots. Every so often we would stop and allow the sounds of the forest to permeate us. Suddenly, we heard something crashing through the canopy. And again. Something was dropping through the trees. Breathless, we caught a glimpse of fur. A family of spider monkeys were eating their lunch, letting the detritus (peel or husks or seeds or something) fall to the earth. We were mesmerised – the more we looked the more monkeys we saw, using their powerful prehensile tails to hang upside down and reach the juiciest fruit. Unable to believe our luck, and feeling vindicated in deciding to go it alone, we eventually carried on along the path, and comfortably made it back in time for the bus.

We spent our last day in Monteverde at Selvatura Park. Located next to primary cloud forest, it has all the atmosphere of the wilderness with some extra gimmicks. We started with the hanging bridges – a bold choice for someone who does not enjoy heights. The bridges swung slightly as we walked across, and at times we were more than 30 metres above ground, but there was something so magical about being above the canopy and seeing the swirling mandalas of ferns and the patchwork quilt of vegetation stretching beneath us, that I forgot to be afraid. What was even more magical was seeing more spider monkeys – this time a family including babies clinging to their mother’s backs. They didn’t seem to mind the gawping crowd, and continued to munch their leaves quite happily.

We then visited the sloth sanctuary – something I’d been looking forward to (and perhaps a key reason why we came here in the first place). The sloths housed there are all either orphans, or injured, such that they wouldn’t be able to survive in the wild. It was amazing to be so close to them, and to see their personalities shining through in their behaviour. I particularly related to one individual who made a bit of a misstep, and ended up crashing to the floor (from a fairly low height). She seemed fine, and sheepishly crawled through the undergrowth and up a bamboo structure at a pace that I would not have expected from such a typically sedate creature. Maybe she was trying to style it out.

Our final stop was the butterfly house. We learnt about the lifecycle of the butterflies, examined their cocoons, and wondered at the iridescent colour of the Blue Morpheus, and the yellow eyes of the Owl butterfly. We would happily have stayed longer, watching the flitting dance of colours, but if we missed the bus there wouldn’t be another one for two hours.

Monteverde has been an immersion in nature. The forests feel ancient and mysterious – it’s hard to believe that they’re largely a product of fairly recent conservation work. The beauty of this place means that we’ve had to share it with other tourists, but we have been lucky enough to have some magical moments where human chatter has melted away, and the forest has whispered her secrets.

Feeling La Fortuna-te

It’s time to embark on a long awaited adventure, and to realise a dream that has been nestled in my heart for over ten years.

Danny and I left home at the civilised hour of 08:00 (gone are the days of getting to Luton airport for 05:00), took the civilised Elizabeth Line to Heathrow, and had a civilised breakfast before boarding our flight. Being the friendly chap that he is, Danny assumed the responsibility of middle-seat-occupant, and chatted away happily to the young woman next to him about surfing, the Barbie movie, and the civil service. This allowed me to hunker down into a Harry Potter marathon, which I was very pleased about. We paused in Toronto for a couple of hours, then took a second flight over a cloud-ocean, waves cresting along an amber horizon, which turned molten ruby as an inky night began to fall. We landed beneath a pale gold moon, just starting to wane.

After some mild taxi-faff, we made it to a hotel near the airport and crashed into sleep. Well, as far as was possible with the planes roaring overhead, shaking the flimsy tin roof.

Jetlagged and coffee-fuelled, we left San Jose early in a shared shuttle, driven by a good-humoured man called Jesus. We wound past plantations of sugarcane, coffee and papaya, climbing steadily. After a while, visibility (and thankfully, Jesus’s speed) reduced – we were driving through cloud, with what I could only imagine to be a perilous drop either side. The coral Bougainvilleas and amber Flame of the Forest transmuted into lush ferns draped with tendrils. We passed over rivers coursing around boulders, and past haciendas in which herds of cattle munched the plentiful vegetation. More time passed and the landscape changed again – as we descended the sun re-emerged, shining on neat ochre houses bordered with carefully tended gardens. Suddenly, Jesus stopped. “Look!”

We tentatively crossed the road and peered into the trees. A gorgeous two-toed sloth was nestled in the branches, gazing at us with a calm, wise smile. Unable to believe that I’d had the good chance to meet such a mystical being so early in the trip, and at such close quarters, the rest of the journey to La Fortuna passed in a flash, as I dwelled in the fulfilment of a dream that I’d had for so long.

Once we arrived we checked into our hostel (unfortunately unlike early flights from Luton, the days of hostels are not over), then headed to a bougie vegan cafe for our first proper meal since our civilised breakfast in London 36 hours earlier. We then made our way to the Bogarin trail, an area of conservation land bordered by farms, and conveniently located opposite our hostel. Over the next two hours, Jason led us through the forest, pointing out bats, vultures, toucans, an owl, a red-eyed frog and of course sloths. These sloths were very high up, and a bit sleepy, so weren’t quite as engaging as our chance encounter that morning. Nevertheless, the experience of being in such a tropical and diverse habitat transported me into another way of being.

The next morning we woke up early (having not quite transitioned to Tico Time), and took an Uber (oh, the convenience) to Arenal 1968, a conservation area in the shadow of Arenal Volcano which erupted in the year of its name. With low expectations, we embarked on the longest of the three hikes available (which wasn’t very long by our standards), and disappeared into the rainforest. To begin with, the path was fairly sedate, winding between the sails of ceibu roots. We then began to climb, doubling back on ourselves in tight hairpins, obscured by dense greenery. The path became a mosaic of black volcanic rocks, which would occasionally tumble out from beneath our feet. Eventually the view opened out to the blue water of Lake Arenal, and in the other direction, the volcano itself. She hid coyly behind a veil of cloud, which occasionally lifted to reveal a few more metres of her height. Her crown remained covered, but in spite of that, a silent, potent grandeur emanated from her lava heart.

We descended through more lush forest, serenaded by rasping croaks and melodic trills that seemed to come from everywhere all at once. Lines of leaf-carrying ants zig-zagged across the path, and occasionally we’d catch a blink of a butterfly, or a flash of a lizard’s tail. We circled around an inviting lake (in which we were advised not to swim due to the caimans), and rejoined the main path. Just as we were nearing the end of trail, we saw a group huddled beneath a trumpet tree. We saw a female sloth climbing higher up the tree, each graceful movement seeming to connect seamlessly to the last, as if she was swimming through the air. We concluded our hike with a cold drink and an empanada, and the smug feeling of exceeded expectations.

We then took a short Uber down the road to the “Free Hot Springs”, which is really a hole in a fence used by locals and tourists alike to reach the warm thermal waters of a natural stream. For the second time that day, we were pleasantly surprised. We floated in the warm pools for an hour or two, gazing up at the leafy canopy and immersing ourselves in the elemental experience. Danny felt very relaxed.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in a local park, reading our books and sipping coconuts beneath the shade of a tree.

For our final day in La Fortuna, we decided that we needed the full hot springs experience. We went for the mid-range option of Eco-Termales – not as pricey as Tabacon, but a step up from the free hot springs. Our Uber driver steered us down a narrow tarmac trail curling through a corridor of lush vegetation. We arrived at the reception, were offered plush white towels, and then led down another jungle path towards the pools.

Wisps of steam licked the surface of the large thermal pools, connected by tumbling waterfalls and sheltered by a canopy of ancient ferns and the broad fans of palm trees. It was surprisingly quiet, except for the occasional group of American retirees recounting golf stories and ordering Pina Coladas. The sound of the waterfalls blended with the pattering rain on the leaves. We immersed ourselves in the warm water and felt our muscles melting, as we watched hummingbirds hovering overhead.

La Fortuna has been an excellent introduction to the Pura Vida lifestyle. We’ve met the local wildlife, unwound in the thermal waters, and reconnected to a taste for adventure that had lain dormant. We’re ready to go deeper into the forest.