Travel Journal
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COSTA RICA: Coming Face to Face with the Natural World
Part II
October 2021
At the end of Part I, Sandra and Joanne were wondering how their friend Meg, who would soon join them, would react to the many exotic animal species — especially those exciting fear in some tourists.
By Sandra Bertrand
Rain, rain, go away, come again another day. The old nursery rhyme kept ringing in our ears as we spent our last day in Manuel San Antonio sprawled out in the lobby of Hotel Villabosque, sharing beers with Freddy, the resident waiter. A downpour in the lexicon of most Americans hardly describes the earth itself turned inside out into a liquid universe.
By evening, we’d learned more than enough about Freddy’s brother in Miami and how life was better here on $6,000 a year — rain or no rain. A short taxi ride to pick up our week-old laundry and dinner at Mar Y Luna (his fave) followed, where we enjoyed grilled mahi-mahi and a post-monsoon ocean view, just shy of paradisical.
Our three-and-a-half-hour bus ride back to San Jose the next morning gave us time to read up on our coming trek to the Caribbean side of the country, the “Miskito” Coast (in Spanish, Mosquito). Part of the Limon Province, it sweeps south from Nicaragua to Panama with dense jungles to the north.
By evening, we’d learned more than enough about Freddy’s brother in Miami and how life was better here on $6,000 a year — rain or no rain. A short taxi ride to pick up our week-old laundry and dinner at Mar Y Luna (his fave) followed, where we enjoyed grilled mahi-mahi and a post-monsoon ocean view, just shy of paradisical.
Our three-and-a-half-hour bus ride back to San Jose the next morning gave us time to read up on our coming trek to the Caribbean side of the country, the “Miskito” Coast (in Spanish, Mosquito). Part of the Limon Province, it sweeps south from Nicaragua to Panama with dense jungles to the north.
Clic Clic Boat to Tortuguero
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Declining the expensive tour packages from San Jose, we’d opted for an independent stay in Tortuguero village. Through a series of faxes with the manager of Casa Marbella, a Canadian environmentalist familiar to the region, we arranged directions by bus and lanchas — the shallow bottomed boats that go up and down the Tortuguero Canal. An ambitious decision and one that necessitated a return trip to the irresistible Grano de Oro for a filet mignon dinner with chocolate sauce before turning in.
Patience is the byword at the Gran Caribe bus station, which we learned while navigating the right ticket window, the right bus, a watchful eye on the luggage hold before boarding, and finally, simply getting a seat. At Cariari, an even more frenzied lineup for the second bus ensued, with a quick trip juggling the proper coinage for the ladies’ bathroom. Once aboard, a bevy of locals and uniformed schoolgirls filled the aisles, throwing curious glances our way. Bumping and swaying the remaining distance to La Pavona, we hastily dragged our bags to the dock for the once daily Clic Clic Company’s boat trip to Tortuguero. |
Tortuguero
Tortuguero (turtle-catcher in Spanish) is one of the world’s most important nesting sites from July to October for the green sea turtle. Prized for its meat, these marine turtles, along with the hawksbill, were headed for extinction from poachers. Thankfully, the region’s 190 square kilometers became a national park in 1975, with rigid adherence to regulations upheld.
Tortuguero (turtle-catcher in Spanish) is one of the world’s most important nesting sites from July to October for the green sea turtle. Prized for its meat, these marine turtles, along with the hawksbill, were headed for extinction from poachers. Thankfully, the region’s 190 square kilometers became a national park in 1975, with rigid adherence to regulations upheld.
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Our covered lancha landed us within yards of our yellow, wood-frame guesthouse, directly opposite a tiny chapel of similar color. Ambling along the dirt-strewn main artery, we passed zinc-roofed homes on stilts, with wisteria, oleander and stands of palm skirting the canal embankment. Mirabella’s host had advised a cash-only policy for this spit of tropical heaven. We were in the heart of Costa Rica’s Amazon.
As mentioned before, knowledgeable guides are vital to the country’s well-being, and Carla was no exception. An attractive, briskly intelligent Caribbean woman, we were raptly respectful as she shared the sounds, sights, smells and spirit of the river. Gliding into narrow glades, I relinquished my paddle to Joanne in order to snap what I could. Alas, I missed for posterity a rarely seen anteater in the marshes. My disappointment was short-lived as we’d signed up for a late evening walk to one of the nearby beaches where, under the cover of night, the turtles make their egg-nests in the sand. It was this event that became the highlight of our entire trip. |
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We were given strict instructions to wear only dark clothing, all cameras and flashlights forbidden. A few minutes later, safely huddled in a circle of beach above the high-tide mark, we waited for a single mother to appear, making her way to a chosen spot for the egg-laying. Sworn to silence, we observed Carla snap on her infrared light, then wait, frozen, for the turtle’s approach. Blind to our presence, the creature began a frenzied digging of her flippers over a designated spot until a hole was deep enough to encase as many as eighty eggs. We watched, hearts caught in our throats, as she deposited her prize and covered them safely within the damp sand; then she turned, exhausted, as she headed back to the sea.
We kept our eyes fastened on her, the moon glistening on her giant back until her shell had all but disappeared under the foamy surf. I was certain there wasn’t a dry eye in our group as we turned to leave the scene.
We kept our eyes fastened on her, the moon glistening on her giant back until her shell had all but disappeared under the foamy surf. I was certain there wasn’t a dry eye in our group as we turned to leave the scene.
The incubation may take several weeks until the hatchlings emerge, returning to their ocean home under the light of the moon. Predators are plentiful — besides human poachers, vultures, raccoons, coati, barracuda, sharks and even the giant leatherback turtles. Still, the hatchlings may have a less than a sixty percent chance of survival.
Our last evening called for a feast at Miss Junie’s, Carla’s mother’s Creole restaurant. Red beans, jerk chicken, rice, and the standout of rundown, a fish or meat stew with plantains cooked for hours in coconut milk. We had to fortify ourselves well, as our lancha was scheduled to leave at 6 a.m. the following morning.
Our last evening called for a feast at Miss Junie’s, Carla’s mother’s Creole restaurant. Red beans, jerk chicken, rice, and the standout of rundown, a fish or meat stew with plantains cooked for hours in coconut milk. We had to fortify ourselves well, as our lancha was scheduled to leave at 6 a.m. the following morning.
Road Sign
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We woke to a repeat downpour, thankful for enough plastic bags to hold everything from an unused straw hat, bottled water, two yellow ponchos and a half-eaten bag of chips — anything that wouldn’t fit in our two carry-on bags. The Clic Clic lancha was on time, knocking insistently against the loading dock below. The rain we were prepared for, but what we couldn’t have anticipated was the obstruction of tree limbs and the rising level of the river. What followed was a hair-raising ride through vine-clogged channels. At one point, we were told by our captain to disembark, cross a brown puddle to the far embankment which would then lead us to one of the return buses. After considerable exasperation, wet boots, and a few four-letter words later, our tiny band of passengers were allowed back on the boat while we tried again to reach shore. “Do you know the way to San Jose? I’m going back to find some peace of mind.” Dionne Warwick never knew how prophetic those words were, even if she did mean a town in California. A seat at the back of the bus never looked so good. |
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Alajuela
Seven hours later, we arranged a taxi to the province of Alajuela, just twenty minutes northwest from the city. The charming and relatively secluded Orquideas (orchid) Inn was heaven-sent. As we settled ourselves down in the Marilyn Monroe bar, even the rude squawks from a resident parrot couldn’t dampen our spirits. Marilyn was everywhere — posters, cocktail glasses, even the owner’s so-named female canine memorialized the star. After picking up Meg (our friend from New York City) from the airport the next morning, we spent the rest of the day lounging by the pool, making friends with Marilyn the Lab and planning our outing to Parque Nacional Volcán Poás. Yes, another volcano! This one has been spouting ash and sulfurous gasses for almost eleven million years by some estimates but hasn’t had a major blowout since 1910. It’s an impressive crater, even more for the temperate green walking trails that surround it. We just had to convince Meg, who prefers sleep-ins while vacationing, that Poás was worth seeing before the clouds rolled in. |
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Oxcart at Doka Coffee Estate
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The excursion was a success, largely due to Luis, the guide we’d arranged from the hotel. English proficient, within minutes he fell into an easy rapport with his babbling trio of consorts. After staring into the mouth of geysers below, the turquoise lagoon only partially obscured, we were ready for the downhill hike. The ground cover was less stunted than at the crater rim, and we were serenaded by a series of birds on our gentle descent.
After a lunch of cascada (meat, rice and plantains) at a local restaurant, we toured the Doka Estate, a premier coffee farm, where I raked a few sample beans during the tour while my companions went in search of the canteen — a good idea, as we were growing sleepy from our abundant almuerzo (lunch) and still had a visit to the butterfly farm at Guacima. It’s a wonderfully colorful site, founded in 1984 by a Peace Corp volunteer and his wife. We’d planned a return to Miguel San Antonio Park with Meg while Luis was able to arrange his schedule for the several hour drive. Mountains then valleys appeared, with angular cows unlike our own fatted calves, dotting the landscape. |
Note: In the fifties, the Panama Disease wiped out the banana farms, causing United Fruit Company to pull out. The palm oil plantations we passed helped to resuscitate the area.
We paused for a Coca Cola break, the market directly opposite a small creek where rows of crocodiles napped in the sun. More picture snapping ensued before we arrived in Quepos, a tiny sports fishing outpost a few miles from the Park. Grilled Dorado was on the menu at nearby El Gran Escape, and we said our hasta luego farewells to Luis, who offered to drive us back to Orquideas Inn in a fortnight.
Hotel Sirena was a temporary arrangement, with closet-size rooms and a bathtub size pool for dusty backpacker arrivals. After a morning stroll through Quepos’ Saturday flea market, our decision was unanimous. Hotel Mimos would prove to be a wiser choice in the long run, providing a much larger pool with complimentary breakfast. In the short run, our stay was almost aborted due to some unexpected guests.
We paused for a Coca Cola break, the market directly opposite a small creek where rows of crocodiles napped in the sun. More picture snapping ensued before we arrived in Quepos, a tiny sports fishing outpost a few miles from the Park. Grilled Dorado was on the menu at nearby El Gran Escape, and we said our hasta luego farewells to Luis, who offered to drive us back to Orquideas Inn in a fortnight.
Hotel Sirena was a temporary arrangement, with closet-size rooms and a bathtub size pool for dusty backpacker arrivals. After a morning stroll through Quepos’ Saturday flea market, our decision was unanimous. Hotel Mimos would prove to be a wiser choice in the long run, providing a much larger pool with complimentary breakfast. In the short run, our stay was almost aborted due to some unexpected guests.
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The rear building where we were assigned en suite rooms had been vacant for several weeks during the off-season. Checking the premises, we were surprised to find three iguanas resting on the red tiled roofing below our bedroom terrace. When Meg showed up minutes later, we quickly ushered her into her room, where the rooftop was empty. Then we confessed. “Three?” she wailed. “Where there’s three, there’s six!” With flashlight in hand, we checked the closets, the hallway, even under the beds. Assured there were no more iguanas, we put the matter to rest. The visit to the Park was even more lush than our first go-around. A prodigious hike led us through some slippery sections, where Joanne uncovered a cluster of scarlet-colored crabs. Then, after navigating a muddy slope or two, the path opened to a sea vista of incredible beauty. I did spot the occasional half-concealed iguana. They are monstrous creatures, but beautiful ones. I didn’t point them out to my old friend. She was on a much-needed vacation after all. |
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On our walk to dinner that evening, we heard the low-throated growls of howler monkeys high above. Now familiar to the sound, we reassured Meg they were quite harmless. Later, passing a nervous tourist couple along the way, even Meg chimed in to quiet their newcomer fears.
When Luis showed up again to chauffeur us back to Alajuela, we felt like old hands in the wilds, ready to tackle whatever tomorrow would bring.
When Luis showed up again to chauffeur us back to Alajuela, we felt like old hands in the wilds, ready to tackle whatever tomorrow would bring.
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Only five kilometers east of the Poás Volcano, La Paz Waterfall Gardens links five waterfalls on Rio La Paz. Cushioned within this idyllic umbrella of green, the sure-footed traveler can spend a morning, ears filled with the calming rush of the falls. We luckily managed this adventure without another rainfall. The sun held fast when Luis drove us to nearby Sarchi, where village craftsmen plied wood coasters, cutting boards, serving bowls and furnishings, all tempting takeaways.
Our last adventure was to Zoo Ave (ave, bird or fowl in Spanish). Close to Luis’ environmentalist heart, it was a must-see. Established in 1995, it is a prime rescue center for the birds and mammals that need special care before their release back into the wild. We introduced ourselves to many of the feathered and furry inhabitants with only one nasty encounter. A pregnant iguana, perched on an overhead railing, was not happy with Meg’s approach. The rains showed up just in time, cutting short a mostly sweet visit. The poet Gary Snyder said, “Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.” I like to think that in Costa Rica, we came home. |
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PLACES OF INTEREST Tortuguero (The Caribbean Coast) Casa Marbella 2709 8011 Miss Junie’s 2709 7102 Quepos & Miguel San Antonio National Park Interbus Shuttle Service 283 5573 (San Jose) Hotel Sirena 777 0572 Hotel Mimos El Cerro, Puntarenos Province Quepos 60601 506 8500 2202 El Gran Escape Restaurant (On the seawall, Quepos) Mar Y Luna (Currently closed) |
PLACES OF INTEREST Alajuela Parque Nacional Volcán Poás 482 2165 or 482 2424 The Doka Estate 129, Provincia de Alajuela 1 8889-GODOKA or 506 2449 5152 La Guacima Butterfly Farm 2438 0400 La Paz Waterfall Gardens Email for La Paz Waterfall Gardens Zoo Ave Ruta 3 Provincia de Alajuela 506 2433 8989 Orquideas Inn 1 klm south of La Fortuna Town Alajuela/La Fortuna Province |
Sandra Bertrand is an award-winning playwright and painter. She is Chief Art Critic for Highbrow Magazine and a contributing writer for GALO Magazine. Prior to working for Sanctuary as our "Travel Journal" columnist, Sandra was a Featured Artist in May 2019.
