Travel Journal
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COSTA RICA: Coming Face to Face with the Natural World
Part I
September 2021
By Sandra Bertrand
A few years before “masking up” became as ubiquitous as grabbing your house keys when departing, we decided to explore the natural world — unmasked. And what better place than Costa Rica, a bridge to biodiversity almost unimaginable to most humankind. As city dwellers, we wanted to come face to face with other species and maybe even learn a little more about our own in the process.
Eight hours by plane from New York City, Costa Rica delivered the goods. Home to more than 500,000 species, encountering a few exotic friends along the way was inevitable. With a population of iguanas, red-eyed tree frogs, agoutis (that’s a large rodent described in my Rough Guide as a hamster on steroids), white-nosed coati, two-towed sloths, quetzals, howler monkeys, and perhaps the best place in the world to observe the endangered green and leather-backed sea turtles lay their eggs, we had arrived in a modern-day Eden, or just east of it.
Such rarified environs promised encounters of another kind as well — life zones, among them cloud forests, marshes, lagoons and yes, volcanoes, the kind that spew out red streams of lava for a late-afternoon greeting.
Eight hours by plane from New York City, Costa Rica delivered the goods. Home to more than 500,000 species, encountering a few exotic friends along the way was inevitable. With a population of iguanas, red-eyed tree frogs, agoutis (that’s a large rodent described in my Rough Guide as a hamster on steroids), white-nosed coati, two-towed sloths, quetzals, howler monkeys, and perhaps the best place in the world to observe the endangered green and leather-backed sea turtles lay their eggs, we had arrived in a modern-day Eden, or just east of it.
Such rarified environs promised encounters of another kind as well — life zones, among them cloud forests, marshes, lagoons and yes, volcanoes, the kind that spew out red streams of lava for a late-afternoon greeting.
San José (Capital of Costa Rica)
Our taxi from the airport deposited us in front of Le Bergerac, a palm-clustered, French-owned boutique hotel in the quiet Los Yoses suburb — little more than a blur to sleep-deprived eyes. Enough red-eye flights had taught us to soldier on, grabbing naps on the fly and increasing our calorie intake to avoid the “cranks.” Familiarity between partners doesn’t have to breed contempt, but an ease that comes from frequent sharing of the unfamiliar.
Breakfast was coffee, then misto, a fresh fruit concoction to wake up the tastebuds, omelettes, and gallo pisto, an ample rice and bean mixture before our mile walk into town. This “paseo” is not recommended as a first impression of the capital. Bumper to bumper exhaust-belching buses with commuters nearly ran us down as we searched out the Atlantico Norte Terminal. Tickets were a must for the four-hour bus trip to La Fortuna, the waystation for visits to Volcán Arenal, the Zona Norte’s star attraction.
Congratulating ourselves on securing the next leg of our adventure, we reserved dinner at Gran de Oro, a luxurious hacienda-style restaurant with massive mahogany tables and chairs fit for a conquistador. With time to fill, we visited the Museo de Oro of Precolumbian Art. Vaster collections in Mexico and Peru exist, but this exhibit of the Diquis, ancient inhabitants of southwestern Costa Rica, was extraordinary.
We feasted on filet mignon stuffed with tropical fruits with a dark chocolate sauce on the side, gorgonzola, avocado and spinach salad, and a pina colada cheesecake (or tiramisu) for dessert. I no longer remember which one I devoured.
Our taxi from the airport deposited us in front of Le Bergerac, a palm-clustered, French-owned boutique hotel in the quiet Los Yoses suburb — little more than a blur to sleep-deprived eyes. Enough red-eye flights had taught us to soldier on, grabbing naps on the fly and increasing our calorie intake to avoid the “cranks.” Familiarity between partners doesn’t have to breed contempt, but an ease that comes from frequent sharing of the unfamiliar.
Breakfast was coffee, then misto, a fresh fruit concoction to wake up the tastebuds, omelettes, and gallo pisto, an ample rice and bean mixture before our mile walk into town. This “paseo” is not recommended as a first impression of the capital. Bumper to bumper exhaust-belching buses with commuters nearly ran us down as we searched out the Atlantico Norte Terminal. Tickets were a must for the four-hour bus trip to La Fortuna, the waystation for visits to Volcán Arenal, the Zona Norte’s star attraction.
Congratulating ourselves on securing the next leg of our adventure, we reserved dinner at Gran de Oro, a luxurious hacienda-style restaurant with massive mahogany tables and chairs fit for a conquistador. With time to fill, we visited the Museo de Oro of Precolumbian Art. Vaster collections in Mexico and Peru exist, but this exhibit of the Diquis, ancient inhabitants of southwestern Costa Rica, was extraordinary.
We feasted on filet mignon stuffed with tropical fruits with a dark chocolate sauce on the side, gorgonzola, avocado and spinach salad, and a pina colada cheesecake (or tiramisu) for dessert. I no longer remember which one I devoured.
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La Fortuna and Arenal Volcano
What is it that draws so many to such natural phenomena as volcanoes? Arenal is Costa Rica’s youngest and most active stratovolcano (a steep, conical volcano created by thick eruption flows). Down the centuries, eruptions are a given, the most devastating but not the most recent occurring on July 29, 1968, when a sizable earthquake blew off the top. We waited patiently on our Hotel Bosco balcony for a fleeting glimpse. Cameras at the ready, it appeared, piercing like a primordial god through the cloud cover, then gone. On the dusty path to Arenal’s base later that afternoon, Eduardo was the consummate guide, never obtrusive but as knowledgeable as any expert could ever hope to be. (This was proven to be the case of every guide we were fortunate enough to encounter. In 1948, then President Figueres abolished the armed forces to preserve natural resources, limiting the political instability rampant in so many Latin American countries. “Teachers, not soldiers” became the bywords.) |
La Fortuna is the "Gateway" to Costa Rica's Arenal Volcano National Park
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My faltering attempts to converse with a couple from Barcelona came to an abrupt standstill. We had reached a cluster of blackened boulders, front row center seats for the evening show. Within minutes, a deep rumbling began under our feet. Hearts in our throats, we watched as a thin streak of red cut down Arenal’s face like a sudden knife wound. Unlike its Hawaiian cousins, this volcano did not spit out liquid lava but a rush of hot, molten rocks instead. For an instant, I wanted to bolt, but was held to the spot as if by a heavy magnet.
Afterwards, we opted for a soak in the nearby thermal baths, with luxuriant foliage and multi-tinted flood lights coloring our margaritas every shade of the rainbow. To paraphrase a Frank Loesser tune, La Fortuna was a lady that night.
Afterwards, we opted for a soak in the nearby thermal baths, with luxuriant foliage and multi-tinted flood lights coloring our margaritas every shade of the rainbow. To paraphrase a Frank Loesser tune, La Fortuna was a lady that night.
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Where was the fauna in all the flora? We were about to find out. A float trip down the Penas Blancas River was one of the first of many rain-soaked adventures when the wet season turns every “Tico” into a human amphibian. We kept our eyes peeled under the yellow hoods of our ponchos while guide Danny pointed out rows of tiny bats clinging to the bottom of a nearby log. My ears tuned to the imagined growls of an unseen predator, I almost missed a seven-foot crocodile asleep (?) on the nearby rocks.
“Quick,” he whispered. “Take your shot!” Danny angled the craft so Joanne was eye to eye with the creature. Then, just as quickly, the croc slid off his perch, disappearing under the water’s surface. A frenzy of paddling ensued, leaving me to wonder if this predator had a sweet tooth for rubber floats and other edible appendages. On the way back, we were treated to an open-air eatery with all the grilled chicken we could eat, followed by the discovery of a two-toed sloth in the upper tree branches, nestling her baby. She only descends once a week for purposes of eliminating her waste — a necessary chore for this otherwise indolent mother. |
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Monteverde Monteverde is the tourist mainstay of the Central Pacific region, largely due to its Cloud Forest Reserve, one of the last pristine examples in the Americas. In the early fifties, it existed as an outpost of the Quakers. Embracing pacifism, these farmer immigrants were drawn to the country’s abolition of an army. An easy bus ride from La Fortuna delivered us into the waiting arms of El Nuestro Sol ranch and its proprietress, Elizabeth. A large-boned, earthy Brunhilda, she introduced us to the splendors of her B&B like we were long-awaited cousins. The house is a labyrinth of hand-carved woods, primarily cypress, with bright fabrics and hammocks lining the porch. Parrots and a profusion of tropical blossoms met us at every turn and, later, an infinity pool where two iridescent dragonflies mated in mid-air. Horseback riding was available, the only drawback an occasional bee that attached itself to my charge’s chestnut colored mane. |
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On our first visit to the Reserve, our guide Jesus explained the wonders of what constitutes a cloud forest. Crossing suspended bridges, we expected Tarzan to swing into view at any moment. A dripping wetness from Caribbean trade winds envelops the high ridge of the Continental Divide — green mosses carpet the dense tree growth while vines and plants (epiphytes) live layer upon layer on top of one another.
Monteverde Twilight
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We did witness a minor miracle of sorts when Jesus spotted a perfectly camouflaged, foot-long stick insect for our inspection. Joanne discovered a furry, tailless creature on the forest floor below, later to be identified as an agouti. When I exited the shower one morning, I found a one-inch-long, yellow frog on my bath towel. I resisted the urge to touch it as some varieties can be poisonous.
Javier, Elizabeth’s son, was our guide on an eerie night walk at the Reserve. Marching single file into the damp forest thicket, we turned on our flashlights to create our own comfort zone. Advised to cut all lights, I silently quaked. We formed a tight circle, simply listening for several minutes to the rustle of a thousand unidentified sounds under the canopy of night. We did not see the region’s elusive Quetzel bird during our stay, but we encountered a blue-crowned mot mot — a silly name but, nevertheless, stunning. When I complimented Elizabeth about her paradisical getaway, she said it “came through me,” and when I admired her seed necklace, she gave it to me, saying it had fallen from her neck the day before and “it was time to say goodbye.” |
Montezuma
A raffish beach town on the tip of the Nicoya Peninsula, with access to Isla Tortuga — two tiny uninhabited islands off the southern coast — Montezuma would have satisfied the likes of any Hemingway wannabe. It’s a bit of a chore to get there, but with a full month to fill, we were game.
A raffish beach town on the tip of the Nicoya Peninsula, with access to Isla Tortuga — two tiny uninhabited islands off the southern coast — Montezuma would have satisfied the likes of any Hemingway wannabe. It’s a bit of a chore to get there, but with a full month to fill, we were game.
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Javier kindly drove us at dawn to a spot where we flagged down the bus to Puntarenas. From there the hour-long ferry (lancha) was soothing, unlike the wild toad taxi ride we opted for afterwards. We’d found a couple from Charleston, NC to share a long cab ride to our destination, our cabbie careening over potholes with the abandon of a sixties chase flick with Steve McQueen.
Amor de Mar was heaven sent. This sea-front hotel with its landscaped grounds and tidepool promised just the right blend of R&R. A short walk into town landed us at Chico’s, where we found a couple of empty stools to sample the local beer and watch aging, hippy locals out of the corner of our eyes. Ylang Ylang Resort was just up the beach and provided all the fresh seafood we could wish for. One morning we caught a canopied shuttle boat from town to Isla Tortuga, landing on the smallest spit of white sand I’ve ever set foot on. Twenty passengers and a chef were deposited, with a grilled fish lunch as part of the package. Our snorkeling adventure included a manta ray with a huge Dracula-like sweep only feet below us. |
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Manuel San Antonio
It was time to say farewell to our watery world and set our sights on Manuel San Antonio National Park back on the mainland. From a speedy but bumpy open boat to Jaco, we caught a shuttle to the Villabosque Hotel. Within walking distance of the park entrance, we slowed our pace, saving the famed white-faced squirrel monkeys for the next morning.
It was time to say farewell to our watery world and set our sights on Manuel San Antonio National Park back on the mainland. From a speedy but bumpy open boat to Jaco, we caught a shuttle to the Villabosque Hotel. Within walking distance of the park entrance, we slowed our pace, saving the famed white-faced squirrel monkeys for the next morning.
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Dinner nearby started with an excellent Chilean wine (Carmen and Gato Negro our favorites). Soon, a skinny, sixtyish-year-old man with a decided European accent settled at the neighboring table. Intent on his menu, within seconds he took a nosedive into the table, followed by a total collapse to the floor. Our waiter dismissed it all as sunstroke, commenting that Europeans drank less water than the rest of us.
The Park’s self-guided tours were the cheapest option. Cameras and binoculars at the ready, we could make our own discoveries. Highlights were high-swinging monkeys, a glittering emerald snake, a coati that resembled an emaciated raccoon mated with an anteater, and a special exhibit of hummingbirds. A hike to one of several park beaches allowed us a view of Punta Catedral, a jaw-dropping natural rock formation off the beach. El Avion was our most idiosyncratic choice for dining. We sat inside a former U.S. aircraft used in the 1980s for arms trafficking for sunset drinks. Lingering until twilight, we found the view under burgundy skies was spectacular. |
On the way home, we heard through the branches the low, bone-chilling sounds of howler monkeys, naughtily imagining how our New York City pal Meg would fare upon hearing their nightly cries.
All in all, we were living the Pura Vida.
All in all, we were living the Pura Vida.
Coming in October: Tune in to the wonders of Part II, when we travel to Tortuguero on the Caribbean side to witness a once-in-a-lifetime experience with endangered sea turtles, then to Alajuela, the northwest home to the Poás Volcano, and returning to Manuel San Antonio with more than a few aggressive iguanas in the mix.
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PLACES OF INTEREST San Jose Le Bergerac Hotel Los Yoses District Calle 35 Avenidas Street 506 2234 7850 Gran Hotel Costa Rica 2nd Avenue, 1-3 Streets San Jose, 10106, CR 506 2103 9000 La Fortuna San Bosco Inn Province de Alajuela La Fortuna, CR 506 2479 9050 |
PLACES OF INTEREST Monteverde El Sol Puntarenas Province Monteverde 505 2645 5838 Montezuma Amor de Mar Opposite entrance to Waterfalls Montezuma 60111 506 2642 0262 Ylang Ylang Beach Resort and Restaurant Montezuma 60111 506 2642 0523 |
PLACES OF INTEREST Manuel San Antonio National Park Information Center Restrictions, Hours, & things to be aware of: More Information Wildlife, Trails & Weather GUIDE El Avion Punterenas Province Aguirre, CR 506 2777 3378 Hotel Villabosque Province de Punterenas Quepos, CR 60601 506 8584 2482 |
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.
