Welcome to Costa Rica
I usually try to write these trip reports more-or-less real time, though final publication always seems to lag until we're nearly done with the next country. The problem is, consolidating photos from two smart phones and my camera, selecting the best images, editing them, and putting together the "story" takes an inordinate amount of time. To make matters worse, when we're moving every other day, it's extremely hard to find the time to write! I don't know how those so-called "digital nomads" actually "work" from the road--I could never do it.
Without further ado, weeks after leaving Costa Rica, here's our perception: in a nutshell, it is a beautiful country with friendly people, overachieves on the natural beauty and wildlife front, but it seems to be missing some of the "cultural soul" we have found in other places.
OK, I know, Costa Rica is the land of "Pura Vida!"--how can anyone miss that? Still, to us, the greeting, which means "the simple life" and a carefree, come-what may attitude, felt more like a tag line from a tourist agency than something organic and from the heart. I'm likely not too far off the mark on that--given that Pura Vida is emblazoned on nearly every coffee cup and t-shirt, but after a while, like Hawaii's "shaka", the phrase seems to have become a commodity. Are the locals really that glad to see us foreigners traipsing through their forests and swarming their beaches? No doubt the money is welcome, but when every other person you meet is a gringo, how can the local culture not feel diluted or displaced?
Or maybe my impression was impacted by the first person who welcomed us with "Pura Vida"--a crack-head at Matapalo beach--who snuck back in the middle of the night to steal my sandals. How's that for a heartfelt welcome?! Whatever the cause, Karen and I both agreed that, signature catch phrase notwithstanding, Costa Rica left us feeling a bit empty and unfulfilled.
Rafiki Jungle Lodge
Sandal thief-welcome behind us, we made our way south along the coast and turned inland just beyond Quepos. We had arranged to meet up with our friends Kevin and Arlene at the Rafiki Safari Lodge, a wonderful (and popular) eco-retreat on the Rio Savegre.
The lodge was based on an African safari lodge concept (the owners were from South Africa), with luxury tent-camps for the guests and a beautiful log-framed commons area where everyone could gather for meals.
After months of eating our own cooking or dining at rather pedestrian restaurants, the Rafiki's kitchen was a welcome surprise. Other than a few high-end establishments in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, I don't think we've sampled a better menu at any point during our trip.
The lodge also arranged eco-tours, and we took advantage of the nearby Rio Savegre to join Kevin and Arlene for a day of rafting.
With the rainy season just beginning, the river flow was up just enough for a fun, splash-and-play paddle, with minimal white water to contend with.
Although the river lacked heart-in-throat drops and scream-inducing rapids, it did supply us with a fun-filled day, including the obligatory swim in a waterfall pond.
By the time we left Rafiki two days later, I had all but forgotten about being robbed on the beach, and our attitude toward Costa Rica had improved considerably.
House Sitting in the Coronado Hills
Next up was a three-month house sit not far from Uvita, a bit further down the coast. When we signed up for the gig, we had imagined being able to hang out in the beach towns, tour the local area, and enjoy more of Costa Rica's famous scenery.
Arriving at our assignment, we discovered the home was thirty minutes up a four wheel drive road, perched on the edge of a jungle-draped canyon. To access the home, we had to walk down a switchback driveway which exceeded 30 percent grade in places.
The home had a nice swimming pool, and we would come to appreciate that, in spite of its remoteness (or perhaps because of it?), it wasn't a bad place to hang out. If only we were a bit closer in, though!
The owners, a German couple, had selected the lot primarily for it's location, which gave them a full-on view of a ninety foot waterfall, right from the back deck.
With the rainy season yet to arrive, the waterfall was barely a whisper. A steep path led down to the base of the falls, and a clear pool offered a chance for a cool-off swim before the hot hike back up to the house.
Once the rains picked up, the stream's flow increased and we could appreciate the waterfall's attraction for the owners.
The length of our stay meant a great opportunity for others to visit, and the first (and only) couple to take advantage of our situation were our long-time friends, Dan and Carrol.
Of course we had to take them down to the falls, which, after a few days of rainy weather, had grown to a sizable cascade.
The road to the home continued further into the hills, and each day Karen and I would ascend the steep driveway, then continue up the road for a mile or so, gaining nearly a thousand feet in the process. We made the walk a daily event, followed by stretching and a short workout in the pool.
Although the road was mostly empty, on occasion we would meet the locals. Some of them were quite friendly.
Others, however, made me realize that flip-flops might not be the best footwear for the hike. What was that old saying about coral snakes? "Black on red, soon you're dead?" Or was it "Yellow on black, you can scratch its back" Hmmm. By the time I remembered, it would have been too late.
One day my friend Dan and I accompanied our gardener, Jose, on a trek up the gorge to inspect the water tanks and filtration system. Although a thick stick offered some defense against unwanted encounters, mostly we relied on Jose.
Soon we were scrambling along the river bed, and at times found ourselves clinging to the walls of the narrow gorge. Each bend in the river unveiled another little cascade. The narrow gorge did not seem like a good place to be caught in a flash flood.
Jose makes the trip up the gorge alone, every two weeks, and although he carries a radio to call for help, I couldn't imagine having to extract him should he become incapacitated from a fall or a snakebite. Although the hike was spectacular (and at times thrilling), I was relieved when we emerged from the jungle unscathed a couple hours later.
Exploring Puntarenas
The Puntarenas area has a lot of nice beaches. One of our favorites was Playa Tortuga, which features a broad expanse of sand at low tide.
With the tide out, the sand flats reflect the sky and one's perspective becomes skewed--are we right side down or down side up?
At the end of the beach we poked into a couple of sea caves. Mindful of the incoming tide, we beat a hasty retreat to higher ground when the waves started rolling in.
I came back on another occasion to photograph the waves swirling around the rocky point.
The most popular beach in the area is Playa Ballena, also known as the "Whale's Tail. The offshore rocks form the fin of the tail, with the connecting sand spit forming the base. Accessible only at low tide, we had to time our beach visit to enjoy the shoreward view.
The beach is lined with coconut palms, and a mangrove thicket provides habitat for crocodiles and other swamp creatures.
We followed a trail which wound through the forest and happened upon a group of a half-dozen scarlet Macaws chattering in the treetops. Shy as they were, I was unable to get close enough for a photograph, and had to settle for tame creatures.
With the rainy season now on us, we had to pick our days for making excursions up and down the coast. One spell of bright days meant an opportunity for a drive to the Osa Peninsula, just south of Palma Norte.
The popular Corcovado National park covers much of the peninsula, but because it was rainy season (and a long drive as well), we opted for a shorter back-road route which ended at a river ferry over the Rio Sierpe.
Once across the river, we parked the truck and booked passage for an afternoon jungle "cruise" through the mangroves.
Throughout our voyage we saw numerous crocodiles sunning themselves on the banks. Some of these grow to fifteen feet in length, discouraging us from dipping our toes in the water.
One of the benefits of a guided trip like this is the opportunity to see wildlife up close. Without a guide, I don't think we would have been able to spot this boa hidden in the trees.
Our guides also located a small band of squirrel monkeys, which, according to them, are pretty rare in this area of the coast.
Playa Manuel Antonio
If you really want to see monkeys up close, there's no place better than Manuel Antonio National Park, just outside Quepos. Tourists flock to this popular park, and during peak season you have to book tickets in advance. Since we were coming in at the beginning of rainy season, we didn't have to contend with the crowds.
The up-close experience was a bit like visiting a zoo, albeit a zoo where the animals run free. Still, I appreciated the chance to get a few portraits without the benefit of a long telephoto lens.
The beach at Playa Manuel Antonio was our favorite. As the waves rolled into the bay we could float effortlessly on the incoming tide, staring up at the tropical forest.
Forty years earlier I had camped on this same beach for a couple weeks. Now, hotels line the roads entering the park, and the whole place felt like Disneyland to some degree. Still, we were glad we had made the effort to visit.
On to Panama!
Three months was a long time for us to sit in one place, particularly since we had a tough drive any time we wanted to explore the nearby area. By contract, we had to be in the house every night, curtailing our ability to see more of the southern Pacific coast. Thus, when the house-sit ended, we were happy to get back on the road. And although we were glad we had spent a lot of time getting to know one place, I don't see us returning to this part of Costa Rica in the near future.
