Pura Vida! Costa Rica

Pura Vida! Costa Rica’s official tagline is not only descriptive of the natural beauty found in every nook and cranny of the country, but is a phrase that appropriately describes the people of this small nation. Pure Life is what people live by. It’s in their attitude, in their music, in their food, and can even be found on the grubbiest street in the poorest area. For decades Costa Rica has grasped the imaginations of foreigners as an exotic and somewhat mystical place. After an unforgettable visit I am pleased to say that this is not only true, but is probably the most conservative way to describe this incredible country.

A nature lover’s paradise, Monteverde was my first stop. A unique ecosystem where the high altitude throws an almost constant mist blanket over the jungle covered mountains, and where the rainfall is a generous 3000ml per annum. Monteverde’s European-style town of Santa Elena was cold and misty, a welcome change after the almost unbearable humidity of Nicaragua. World famous ziplining is what attracts the crowds here, but I opted to spend my time hiking in the unique rainforest reserves surrounding the small town.

The tall Kapok and giant Ceiba trees reach over 40 meters in height, and stretch out their leafy canopy where countless birds, small mammals, and insects venture unnoticed. The tree’s towering trunks are layered in various types of colourful mosses, ferns, and orchids, creating further smaller ecosystems within the already unique rainforest. Only when you crane your neck back and teeter on the edge of your heels can you appreciate the immense spread of the canopy above you. Patterns and silhouettes flow into one another and form an almost impenetrable roof above the damp forest. This world was a new experience for me, and can only be compared to something one would find in the enchanted forests of fairy books or perhaps Jurassic Park, which unsurprisingly, was filmed in Costa Rica.

The otherworldly paradise of Monteverde is home to sloths, giant tarantulas, monkeys, and tree porcupines, all of which I was privileged to see in the wild.

One of Costa Rica’s biggest attractions is Manuel Antonio National Park on the Pacific coast, ‘not to be missed’ in my guidebook. The park is indeed beautiful, but a bit of a let-down after seeing Monteverde. The beaten path in Manuel Antonio can more accurately be described as sunken thanks to the average size of the American tourists that frequent the area. The beaches, however, are something worth writing home about. Curving bays of white powdery sand and leaning palms fringe the edge of the azure ocean – a welcomed sight after being on so many black volcanic beaches where temperatures soar to uncomfortable levels. Raccoons and capuchin monkeys taunt the visitors and a lazy sloth provided me with several hours of entertainment as I watched it move above me from branch to branch with effortless ease, stretching out its long limbs and grabbing leaves in perfect slow motion. 

The thing I wanted to see most in Costa Rica was the Corcovado National Park. The remote reserve lies on the edge of the Osa Penninsula in the country’s most southwest corner. The Park is said to be a gem of biodiversity and has been described as the most biologically intense place on earth by National Geographic magazine. The lure was too much to ignore and so began the long and painful journey of discovery into Corcovado. 

Day 1

I met my guide, Nito, and his friend, an American botonist named John, at the local bakery at 4am, armed with small backpacks full of supplies for the next 3 days. We drove through farmlands and rainforest for two hours before eventually reaching the start of the hike. I peered out the window and watched as the blue sky slowly turned to grey and a soft drizzle began to fall. At 6am we reached La Palma, the start of our hike.

After a strong cup of coffee Nito suggested we get a move-on as we needed to make it to the Sirena ranger station – 25km’s away - before the rain swelled the rivers too much – 5 in total – resulting in us not being able to cross them, and camping the night next to a raging torrent with no shelter. There were far too many scary details in his blasé statement and I avoided asking any further questions in case he had to confirm that yes, in fact we were about to hike 25 kilometers through dense tropical rainforest and cross five rivers before the sun sets.

Not even ten minutes into the hike and I was already drenched. It was as if the sky literally opened up and poured a giant bucket of water over our heads, only the bucket was neverending. The rain fell harder and harder, and got louder and louder as each minute passed. My futile attempt to hop, skip and jump onto vegetation and stones to avoid the mud came to an abrupt end when I slipped down the path and landed in ankle deep black mud. My toes squelched in my socks and the rain poured off my nose. Our relief from mud-soaked shoes came from crossing several furious streams that reacted immediately to the downpour thanks to their close proximity to the ocean. 

Nito had a great idea - we would take a shortcut to the Los Patos station (having already decided it was too dangerous to hike all the way to the Sirena station).

The non-existent path he led us on was little more than a slight parting between dense vegetation. We trudged on through the downpour with less than 2 meters visibility. We climbed up waterfall-like banks, and down muddy ravines slipping and sliding and falling to our knees as we tried to find a place our shoes would grip. I soon found out (unintentionally) that a convenient alternative to careful footing was to simply bumslide down a muddy path and hope that a soft bush broke my fall.

Every now and then we grasped a minute of shelter under a giant palm or delicious monster leaf where occasionally Nito would point out an interesting plant or insect – all of which seemed completely oblivious to the Armageddon-like conditions befalling us. He pointed out the Malo mujer (bad lady), a vicious nettle type plant which, if you graze past its leaves or stem, will inject an acid into your skin and turn the connective tissue black before eventually killing it – something I wish Nito had mentioned prior to me indiscriminately grabbing every root, branch, and leaf in sight in order to hoist myself up the vertical trail.

After what seemed like the great flood, we eventually reached the Los Patos station and collapsed on the sheltered wooden deck. The rain was still beating down and showed no signs of letting up.

Completely drenched with a freezing body and muddy legs I couldn’t wait to have a hot shower and climb into dry clothes. Silly me. Why would there be hot water at a newly refurbished ranger station when they could use their funds for bread-makers and welcome mats instead? The cold shower spouted out a single stream of icy water. The powerful waterfall thudded onto my back and chest as I winced like a puppy with each splash, and tensed in utter discomfort as I de-mudded my dirty body. My backpack had no hope of staying dry, and all my clothes were wet through. My long pants, my dry underwear, my one and only jersey – all soaking.

I painfully pulled some wet shorts and a t-shirt onto my dry, clean body and cringed at the realization that in no way had my level of comfort improved since having dragged myself up several muddy mountainsides.

Javier was bubbly and full of enthusiasm at our arrival. It’s not often he gets overnight guests, they normally just pass through on their way to Sirena. He offered us some fantastic meaty soup, which I guzzled down as if it was the last meal on earth. The steaming liquid brought some relief to my shivering body as it slowly warmed me from the inside out. Next on the menu was some slightly suspect looking homemade pineapple brew. Javier offered it to me with such pride that I couldn’t dare disappoint him, besides, Nito said it would warm me up so no further encouragement was needed.

The chicha was actually delicious. Sweet and tangy with a strong hit of alcohol towards the end of each sip. It glided down my throat and into my stomach where it continued to stoke an oven of warmth. Before I knew it I had sipped back a beer glass of the stuff and was feeling positively light-headed – the edge had well and truly been taken off. The good feelings didn’t last long as I politely asked how the chicha was made. In a descriptive and far too detailed account of the process, Nito explained how the men in front of me (with very few teeth and definitely not the owners of toothbrushes) chew on pieces of pineapple until it’s sufficiently covered in enzymes, and then leave it in a bucket of water to ferment for a week before consuming it! Well, needless to say I instantly felt queasy and tried desperately to contain my disgust. Apparently my face told a thousand words and all the men erupted into fits of laughter as I clutched my mouth in horror. 

Day 2

My clothes were still damp and cold from the previous day’s escapades, but today I looked forward to an 8 hour hike through some of the most biodiverse rainforest in the world. The skies showed signs of parting and occasionally exposed a cornflower blue glint of hope. The first few rivers had calmed and subsided allowing us to cross at waist height. The continuous up’s and down’s of the watershed we were crossing were blanketed in the most beautiful vegetation and plant life I have ever seen. Palms of every shape, colour, and size covered the damp ground and spread their giant leaves high into the sky and stretched their roots across the trail and beyond. The immense size of tree’s trunks and the diversity of the plant and flower species at every turn were overwhelming. The utter natural beauty of our pristine surroundings was moving to say the least.

Toucans fluttered from branch to branch and Scarlet macaws screeched loudly in the distance. As the day got continuously warmer the animal life crept out the dense vegetation, finally, a chance to dry off and go in search of food. John, quite possibly the world’s most enthusiastic botanist, didn’t let a single plant go unnoticed, let alone unphotographed or unlectured about. His information was fascinating, even if a little abundant. I learnt about the walking palm (it stops and starts the growth of its roots on different sides in order to “walk” into sunnier spots); the labios de puta (the whore’s lips – a rather interesting and somewhat self descriptive little flower); and of course countless varieties of colourful and dangerous fungi.

Before long the heavens broke out in another almighty storm. The downpour was almost immediate and fell with relentless anger. Crashing through palms and flooding the trails immediately, we spent the better part of the next 6 hours hiking hastily through ankle deep mud and fast-swelling rivers.

Three hours later my shoulders ached, my hip joints burned, and my feet were raw. There would be no respite from the raging elements and there was no choice but to keep on moving. We had to make it to Sirena before the rivers became impassable. I was utterly miserable. My body was worn out and my shoes kept getting stuck in the thick mud, forcing me to pull them off and on every ten minutes. There was no wildlife or plant viewing, just a direct march to the next station. Five minutes of treacherous walking lasted half an hour in my mind and I had little motivation left to keep me going the next 5 hours.

Nito was fully aware of my discomfort and misery and with a big grin turned and reminded me that Julie, it’s not a rainforest without any rain!

My body collapsed on the hard floor as soon as we arrived at the Sirena station. I didn’t care that there was no mattress or tent. My legs turned stiff immediately and my body was too weak to roll over. It was 4pm and I turned in for the night. A million miles away, and what seemed like an age later, Nito shook me awake and pointed out my tent with a soft foamy mattress and a steaming cup of coffee. I rolled my lead body into the tent and fell into a dead sleep. 

Day 3

The sound of dinosaurs bellowing in the trees around the station at a crisp and eerie 4am was not a welcomed wake up call. Howler monkeys have a unique howling call to mark their territory and show dominance over their’s and other troops – and they insist on doing this at the most inconvenient of times. I rolled my stiff body over and noticed Nito looking far too lively in the small kitchen next to my tent. He has the stamina of an ox, and quite evidently, can survive on the least amount of sleep required to stay alive.

This was our last day. The last push home – another 9 hour hike along the edge of the rainforest, a beautiful strip of wildlife rich jungle that straddles the pacific ocean and its dramatic beaches. I rose with surprising strength and put my damp clothes and shoes back on – all steadily beginning to smell like dirty tennis socks.

We were treated to some amazing wildlife as we walked along the flat trail that weaved in and out of the rainforest and onto the beach. The mesmerizing Scarlet macaws are as common as crows on this specific strip of coastline, and squawked from high up in the Indian almonds that bordered the beach. Their primary colours fluttered and flashed through the bright green foliage, and a sighting of more than 15 in a single tree never managed to dull the senses.

Howler, spider, squirrel, and capuchin monkeys swung from vines and branches and put on a tremendous show for the strange onlookers. The rainforest came alive all around us and everywhere we looked possums, raccoons, agouti’s, bush pigs, frogs, insects, and even a beautiful Baird’s Tapir roamed the trails around us and were seemingly unperturbed by our close presence.

The sun and sand wore out our tired bodies and minds, and the brief ventures into the shady rainforest brought much relief, and a little more motivation to complete the hike. My excitement at reaching Carate ranger station was indescribable. We had finished the hike! I couldn’t quite believe it. I tore off my shoes and socks and lay in the shade, fighting my eyes to stay open and not drift into a deep sleep. What are you doing? A concerned Nito called out. We’re finished, aren’t we? Replied a worried voice. No, we still have 4km’s of beach to walk down.

I almost burst into tears. How could I possibly walk another 4km’s IN THE SAND?

After much comforting and persuasion, Nito eventually got me to pull my shoes back on and follow him along the scorching beach for another hour and a half. The hardest and most painful ninety minutes of my life. My backpack rubbed giant chafe marks into my shoulders and I struggled to pull one leg in front of the other. I was now utterly miserable and wanted nothing more that to collapse in a giant heap and die on that unforgiving, never-ending beach.

John and Nito continued on with heavy feet and hanging heads. I had no choice but to finish this epic experience. Words cannot describe my utter relief at the sight of our finish line. A small shack in the shade of several giant almonds. Bob sold cold cokes and cold beers. Without a single hesitation the three of us ordered an ice cold beer and collapsed onto the floor… 

Speechless, exhausted, brain-dead.

Without a doubt, one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

So many more amazing places were seen and experiences had in Costa Rica, and this unique country will always have a special place in my adventurous heart :)

I am currently in Colombia with my gorgeous sister… So much still to come from this extraordinary country!!