Costa Rica

Up bright and early for my tour as I was being collected from my hostel at 7am. I was first on the schedule so spent about half an hour driving through La Fortuna gradually filling the mini-van. Then we were off up the mountain. I hadn’t had coffee so was pretty happy we stopped off for some en-route. Then, it was driving along spectacular jungle clad roads that wound their way up through the mountains. We got to the dam wall of Lago de Arenal where a large family of about 30 coatemundies were congregating. One of the more senior males of the group wandered over to check us out and ensure we were of no threat to the others.

We all piled back in the van and continued on to our first official stop of the tour. Místico Park Hanging Bridges is a private slice of tropical rainforest with 16 bridges, including 6 hanging bridges. The tightly controlled (only 15 people at a time) suspension bridges span distances of up to 40m in length and allow visitors opportunity to experience the forest canopy. Concrete paths neatly wound around the side of the mountain leading to the next bridge to be crossed.

The park was so beautiful; an incredible natural garden with magnificent vistas at every twist and turn. The soundscape of cicada, frog and birdsong made it an enticing journey which invited the traveller to take one’s time and enjoy. However, that was not to be the case for us. We happened to have a tour guide who was less about the chill Tico vibe and more about German efficiency. We were frog marched from point to point as he tried to find animals for us to see through his telescope. Even pausing for a quick photo meant getting left behind and having to catch up with the group.

Still, it was stunning and even though we only saw a quetzal and a lizard, I enjoyed the visit. I had already seen a lot of native animals in Costa Tica so was able to just enjoy the park for its natural beauty. The hanging bridges were amazing and it would have been nice to have been able to spend a bit more time on them. But with a 15 person limit and other tour groups waiting, one felt obliged to just walk across so as to not hold others up. Evidently we were there at the ‘quiet time’. I wouldn’t have wanted to been there when it was busy.

Back in our mini-van, we drove to our next stop where we had fresh pineapple before driving further on to do our ‘volcano hike’. Our guide drew a mud-map of the area in the dirt and gave us a brief history lesson about Volcán Arenal’s activities. Looming above us in the not so distance was the great volcano itself cloaked in a shawl of cloud cover.

We started our ‘hike’ from the car park and walked a few hundred metres to the bottom of a small hill. There, the trail become steeper and a bit more challenging. Our guide charged on up to the top and we paused for photos of the beautiful panoramic vista. Expecting to continue on, we were surprised to learn that that was the extent of our ‘volcano hike’ and we disappointedly trekked back down to the car park.

Next on the agenda was lunch, and we drove down to a roadside restaurant and went in to order. Again, our not-so chill tour guide hurried us along and I was still eating when told I had five minutes before we had to leave to go to the Hot Springs. There were three of us who hadn’t booked the waterfall component of the tour so we were going to the Hot Springs while the rest of the group continued on. We were checked in and wristbands issued before our guide told us to be waiting at 3.30pm to be taken back to our accommodation.

The Hot Springs were a series of nine man-made pools nestled in amongst gorgeous landscaped gardens. You started from the first pool which was about 40 degrees Celsius and made your way down the property where the temperature of the water decreased slightly as well. There was also a cold water pool to reinvigorate oneself and make you want to jump straight back into the most scalding of the pools to warm up again. We had couple of hours at the property and were changed and ready when our guide and van turned up dead on time.

The main tour group went into the Hot Springs and we were driven back to our accommodation. I had a short time to organise beer before setting up for a Zoom meeting on the hostel co-working space deck which went until 11pm. All in all, a long, busy day in Costa Rica.

I had planned a couple of days in La Fortuna which meant I had time to do the weekly wash. Travelling so lightweight means I’m only travelling with bare minimum in the way of clothing so need to get by with hand washing in the shower and a good soak in laundry powder when time and necessity arise. And necessity had arisen. With the aid of hostel hound, Nala, we got it sorted. Then, I headed out for a stroll around town.

La Fortuna is famous for being the only village in the vicinity that didn’t get buried beneath tones of volcanic debris when Volcán Arenal erupted in 1968. Locals didn’t even realise it was a volcano, referring to it as a hill. That all changed when Arenal blew it’s top (literally and violently), destroying all in its path. Now awakened, Arenal decided to let locals know who was boss and kept them on their toes for over 40 years. Until it got bored. And stopped. Although still considered active, Arenal is mostly impersonating sloths these days and is pretty docile.

I found a nice little restaurant overlooking the town plaza and settled down to survey the scene over something to eat and a couple of icy cervezas. La Fortuna is definitely a tourist time and there is no escaping the fact. Everywhere you look is brightly painted murals of Costa Rica’s ‘Big 5’ (sloth, monkey, toucan, hummingbird and red-eyed tree frog); though to be fair none of these are likely to kill you unless you come across a rabid specimen. Fortunately, there is an almost complete lack of street hawkers which means you can still stroll the streets unmolested.

After checking on my washing, I continued my wandering around town. I was wanting to get out to Volcán Arenal to hike around the trails there but couldn’t find any reliable information about buses. I instead decided to book a tour which included the volcano, as well as a private reserve with a number of suspension bridges high in the jungle canopy, and a visit to some hot springs. There was an option for adding on a waterfall visit as well but I needed to be back by mid afternoon for a Zoom meeting so discounted that.

Then it was back to the hostel to chill in one of the hammocks. Rio Danta Hostel is a lovely little property surrounded on two sides by a small stream. There is a beautiful little deck overlooking the stream as well as hammocks in a garden alongside it. It was as good a place as any to stretch out and soak up the serenity.

It was lovely falling asleep to the sound of the river gently cascading over rocks, but not so lovely being roused at dawn by the on-site caretaker beginning his noisy chores. Still, it gave me opportunity to get organised for the day well in truly in time for my tour. I wandered down to a nearby little open-air roadside restaurant and breakfasted on chicken empanada washed down with good coffee. By the time I returned, the rest of my tour group had arrived and we were shuttled into an awaiting mini-van.

After picking up an English family en-route, we drove alongside the Rio Sarapiqui for several kilometres; eventually turning down a narrow, windy road which lead to our launch point. Our rafts and guides were all ready for us so after kitting up and receiving the obligatory safety brief, we jumped in and started our way back down the river.

Whilst not the most exciting of rivers to raft down in terms of heart stopping rapids, there was still sufficient whitewater action to make it thoroughly enjoyable. Especially when other rivers cascaded into a cascade of the main river you were traversing down. The river wound it’s way past jungle clad embankments, teaming with birds and other wildlife. During the sections we were drifting in the current, it was magical to just look up at the passing jungle canopy and soak up the tranquillity. We stopped off at one stage to jump off an embankment into the current and drift down to our waiting rafts which had pulled up on the rocks with fresh tropical fruit awaiting us.

All too soon, we came to the end of our rafting trip and pulled up back at the Hostel. I had left my belongings in my room so had my own private bathroom to shower and change. Joining the others, we sat down in the outdoor pavilion overlooking the river to a delicious, typical Costa Rican lunch complete with fresh tamarind juice.

I enquired as to buses to La Fortuna where I was heading next and found the next one was in a couple of hours. I was happy to wait and chill in the beautiful gardens of the hostel and catch up on my blog. I looked up at one stage to find a large iguana sunning itself not far from where I was sitting. That was until the caretaker’s little dog decided it was an unwanted guest and noisily encouraged it to scramble back under the thorny bush it had emerged from.

My wait time was up, so I gathered my pack and walked up to the bus stop. Turning my back for half a moment, my bus careened around a corner 10 minutes early and sped off down the road. Caught off-guard, I tried hailing it but was too late. It was gone. And the next bus wasn’t until 7pm. I weighed up my options and decided to try hitching a ride into San Carlos where I needed to catch the bus to La Fortuna.

After about 10 minutes, an hombre by the name of Marcos picked me up in a lightweight truck. I explained what had happened and he was happy to give me a lift to Florenzia in San Carlos where he was heading. It was a pleasant drive and be dropped me off at a bus stop after placing me in the care of an awaiting passenger catching the same bus. It was then a matter of waiting about 15 minutes for the bus and I was on my way. By this stage it was dark and I couldn’t see beyond the sealed windows. We pulled up in La Fortuna and I found my hostel a short walk away.

I strolled into town to find a bakery for coffee and something to eat before heading off. I also needed to work out where to head next as Sarapiqui wasn’t quite what I was expecting. It was a small Costa Rican town who clearly wasn’t used to having westerners traipsing down its main street and I did attract a few glances. As opposed to my lovely stay in Orosi Valley, these locals were somewhat more aloof towards strangers, although I did manage a few greetings my way.

I found a reasonably priced room at a hostel in nearby Chilemate from which rafting tours were run out of, so booked that. I was wanting to do a rafting tour somewhere in Costa Rica and this seemed like a good place to do it. Next, was to find a bus to get me there. Costa Rican buses are cheap, numerous and can get you most places. Whilst by no means modern, they are state of the art compared to the monolithic ex-US school bus hand-me-downs rumbling through the rest of Central America. I wandered down to the bus terminal and waited for the next bus to Chilemate.

I had asked the driver to let me know where to get off as the property was not in town. And so found myself stepping off outside a tiny store in the middle of nowhere. Across the rural road and down a bit was my lodgings for the night. I crossed over and wandered down. A rafting tour had just finished up and the group were dispersing to the changing rooms when I arrived. I checked in and was seen to my room. To my surprise, I found out I was the only one staying the night and hence had the whole place to myself. I thought I had booked an overpriced dorm bed, but it turned out I had the whole room to myself and the adjoining bathroom was technically my ensuite.

After to attending to a few things upstairs, I wandered down after about an hour to find the place deserted. The rafting group had had their lunch and left on their private shuttles and the staff had gone home. The main lobby area was locked up and I was quite by myself. After checking out the pretty gardens and the river which flowed just below, I decided it must be time for Happy Hour and hence needed to source cerveza. I walked back to the little shop I had walked from to find they didn’t sell beer. The hombre who checked me in had said there was a bigger shop in the other direction so decided to try that one.

The thing with rural Costa Rican roads is there isn’t any verge as such which makes walking on them quite hazardous to say the least. Butting hard up next to the traffic lane is usually vegetation and/or a steeply sloping incline. I had to eyeball oncoming traffic to determine whether or not it was going to veer slightly so as to not hit me or seek appropriate evacuation route. I always erred on the side of caution when it came to bigger vehicles such as trucks and buses, finding a safeish spot to move to until it passed. All the time hoping I wasn’t going to stand on one of the extremely venomous snakes that like to sleep in such places.

After a couple of kms, I found the store I had been referred to and bought my 1L bottle of beer to take back. Deftly dodging traffic again, I made it back in time for my self-designated Happy Hour. Or hours as it turned out. An on-site caretaker eventually turned up and went straight inside his quarters. Still it was a lovely place to just chill and listen to the sounds of birds, monkeys and the rippling river.

I didn’t sleep well so when my alarm went off at 5am, I groggily dragged myself out of bed to get ready for my canal canoe tour. I waited for my guide at the designated spot and found I was being palmed off to another tour as the other tourists I was with were on a French speaking one. I walked down to the National Park boat dock and waited, hoping someone would come by and pick me up. Eventually, a canoe with guide and a German couple quietly slid into the park boat dock and I climbed aboard.

The early morning had a freshness that took the edge off the humidity as we quietly glided across the main lagoon of Tortuguero. Other canoes, kayaks and electric powered boats dotted the edge of the lagoon and an awed hush was respected by all. The setting had a sense of surrealism about it as we gently paddled past waders investigating rafts of waterlilies and other water birds flittering above and around us.

Our guide quietly paddled alongside the bank, pointing out birds, iguanas, monkeys, sloths and caimans. I was glad to have taken the canoe instead of a single kayak as it was much easier to take photos from. At this hour of the day, the jungle was teaming with life and wonderful photo opportunities were abundant.

We paddled into little streams where one had to duck to avoid the low-growing vegetation. It was in one of these streams that we saw dozens of boat-billed heron going through their mating rituals oblivious to our presence.

Caimans could be sighted resting with their heads out of the water or swimming just under the surface. Capuchin and howler monkeys plied their theatrics high in the canopy. And sloths, bless them, slept through the lot.

Our tour came to an end and I was dropped back at the National Park boat dock. I still had an hour until check out from my hostel so decided to get some breakfast first. On the way back to the hostel, I organised the boat I would need to leave Tortuguero. I still had another hour and a half before my boat left so thought I’d check out the jungle walk in the National Park.

The only jaguar one is likely to see on the Jaguar Trail is the cartoon one on the notice board advising what to do if you do actually encounter one. Still it is a pretty jungle walk heading from the lagoon to the beach and following the coast for a couple of kms. At intervals, there are access points to the beach, which I thought was handy if one did encounter a jaguar. Evidently, that is what you are supposed to do – head to the high tide mark. One can only assume body surfing is not high on a jaguar’s bucket list. Whilst not eyeballing any jaguars, there were the usual parade of sloths, monkeys and iguanas to keep one amused during one’s wander.

It was time to leave this lively little village behind and head west. I found my boat and took my leave of Tortuguero. Zooming off towards La Pavona, most of the passengers didn’t have their life jackets on; myself included. This unfortunately drew the attention of a passing by Coast Guard boat manned with four armed, balaclava clad officers. Our boat was stopped and the captain handed over paperwork. Papers were examined, photographs taken and we were all given a stern talking to. I didn’t think it appropriate to take a photo as I wasn’t sure if I might be up for some sort of fine for not wearing a life jacket so didn’t want to push my luck. Eventually, we were allowed to continue our passage. We drove through serpentine waterways, dodging debris at intervals, until we reached La Pavona.

I was planning on catching a bus from La Pavona to Cariari, but was approached by a colectivo driver who offered a fair price and was leaving then. We drove through pretty farmland interspersed with jungle; watched by fat cattle contentedly enjoying a mid-afternoon graze. In Cariari, I caught a bus to Puerto Viajo de Sarapiqui, the other Costa Rican Puerto Viajo. I can now say I have been to both! I couldn’t book any accommodation on line for there so just decided to wing it like I normally would in Central America. Unfortunately, the ‘cheap’ accommodation I was directed to was still more than I would have like to have paid and was pretty disgusting. On opening the door, I was hit by a wall of insect spray which made me gasp for breathe. Fortunately, with the door and window open I was able to air it out a bit. It was dark and I was tired so I took it.

After a big day and night, I had a pretty chill New Years Day. After a leisurely lie in, I had coffee with some of the crew from last night at the hostel. Then it was time to have a poke around Tortuguero.

Tortuguero quite literally translates to ‘land of the turtles’ and derives its name from history. Back in the day, native inhabitants did their thing; living with nature and managing it quite nicely. Part of their diet were the turtles that came to lay their eggs on the sandy beaches of the area. Enter the Europeans who decided they wanted some of that sweet turtle action themselves and muscled in to exploit entire turtle populations. At the same time, they quite liked the idea of ripping out as many trees as they could offload which put additional pressures on habitats. The net result of both practices being some species coming close to being wiped out.

These days the whole area around Tortuguero is a National Park. The canals and beaches are closely managed by rangers to ensure the animals within its confines are protected. The local people of Tortuguero are largely involved in the burgeoning eco-tourism trade and turtle populations are encouragingly increasing. Which in turn is good for tourism. I mean, you wouldn’t want to go somewhere called ‘land of the turtles’ if there where no turtles…

I booked a canoe tour of the canals for the following day and found somewhere to chill for a couple of hours. Back at the hostel was fairly quiet so I just had some drinks with one of the travellers who was leaving the next day. Then an early night for me as I needed to be up at 5am for my tour.

I had organised with the hostel owner boat transport to Tortuguero, my next port of call. I was hoping to get on a 10am boat, but he told me the night before he could only manage to get me on a 1pm one. Hence, I had plenty of time in the morning to get to the boat dock in Moin. I looked up Google Maps to see how far it was and decided to walk the 6.5kms instead of taking a taxi. Having everything that packs into one 35L pack weighing only 10kg really makes decisions like these most manageable. I cringe when I think about my early backpacking ventures with huge 20kg packs. I certainly have whittled it all down to the essentials these days and appreciate it every time I’m on the move.

Even though it was the heat of the day, the route down to the boat dock was most picturesque. It started through Puerto Limón suburbia where I was staying which eventually transformed into fringe dwellings. More basic little casas clung to the side of the ridge I ended up walking, affording beautiful views down into steep valleys. The ridge morphed into a spur and I followed it down to the coastal plain where the main road to Moins ran.

Once I hit the main road which ran along the coast, it was very easy to see where all the money is in Puerto Limón. I ran straight into coastal high-end resort hotels, multi-rise luxury condos and gated communities. There was much in the way of development going on as well. Raucous callings of howler monkeys emanating from the tiny little National Park in its midst reminds one the vital habitats that will be destroyed when all this development is at an end.

Eventually, I reached my end point with time to spare. Cheekily, a taxi driver pulled up next to me to offer a ride to the dock a mere 100m away! I showed him off with a grin. After a short wait, the boat arrived full with passengers from Tortuguero. It would appear that the morning boat is the more popular as there were only a German couple, myself and a local hombre as passengers on the return voyage.

Reloaded, our little boat turned to make the journey back up to Tortuguero via the Tortuguero Canal system. This feat of fluvial engineering was completed in the early 1970s to join the numerous and varied waterways to make transport easier for the remote communities that relied upon it. As such, it is a labyrinth of channels spanning a large area. Signage one might expect on roadsides indicate directions and distances to settlements as I imagine it would be very easy to get lost in this aquatic maze.

Shortly into our trip we stopped to pick up a young hombre, his mother and his grandmother. It was really sweet watching him help his far from fit mother and frail grandmother onto the boat and settling them into their seats. The tiny settlement we collected them from had rustic shacks fringing the waterway; many with small fishing boats tied up in front.

Continuing on our journey, we sped along the river and passed many interconnecting waterways en route. Occasionally we came to an opening to the sea and had to circle around the intersection to continue our route. The banks were lined with dense jungle vegetation which dripped into the tannin-rich water, obscuring sight of the muddy riverbanks. Overhead at intervals ran the remains of old fruit-train bridges and one could almost imagine what it would have been like back in those days when it was only steam train, boats and animal-driven carts available to traverse the steamy, tropical jungle.

After a couple of hours, the sky clouded up and the temperature dropped. It was getting decidedly chilly on our little boat, but with spray jacket firmly tucked inside compression bag in pack I decided to just suck it up. But then it started to rain. Fortunately, the boat had plastic sides it could roll down which actually made everything much more comfortable inside. By the time we got to Tortuguero though, it was bucketing down. The boat pulled up alongside the dock and we piled out into the rain and straight into an adjacent dock-side restaurant to await our bags. I had paid the deposit for my trip to the hostel owner and handed over a 20 colones note for the remainder of the fare to the señora collecting. She said she would get change but it ended up being a shitfight with her claiming she didn’t owe me anything. I had taken a photograph of the text messages between the hostel owner and whoever he booked it with and stood my ground. It was only about AUD12 but I was determined. Eventually, she gave in and I got my change.

By this time, I was soaked so decided just to walk straight to the hostel in the pouring rain. With water cascading off me, I found reception and checked in. The dorm I was staying in was a nine bed one but very roomy with fairly good amenities. Peter, who I had met in Cahuita and travelled to Puerto Limón was staying there as well so was good to catch up and swap stories. I straight away organised my roomies for a New Years celebration, then had a much needed shower and put on some dry clothes.

We met up with some Uruguayan girls staying at the hostel in a private room and they joined us for drinks in the common area. It was a great evening swapping life and travel stories and generally having a laugh. Come 12.00am, we did the usual Happy New Year and continued the party over the road at the local nightclub. The music had been pumping all night and now it was notched up. With a killer light show and energetic DJ, it certainly got the punters moving. I left with the last of my party peeps at 2.15am after a pretty big day.

I was a bit excited to get out and explore Puerto Limón today as a refreshing change from the tourist hotspots I had been basing myself at recently. This is an authentic port city with hints of its colonial past sprinkled throughout. That said, it has all the grit and grime one might expect from a city of this nature in the region.

Suitably caffeinated up, I headed off back down the hill I was now so familiar with. I had read in the guidebook you could take a public boat to the little island out in the bay and was keen to check it out. I wasn’t exactly sure where to go as the LP has of course stripped all that useful information out if it’s latest editions… So I asked a señora at the entrance to the port facility. She informed me it wasn’t possible and a charming and well spoken Afro-Caribbean man stepped in to assure me that was indeed the case. However, he could organise a private tour for me. I told him I wasn’t interested in a tour and went to walk off after politely taking his card ‘in case I changed my mind’ when another hombre approached me to tell a different story. I found out that you definitely can get a boat out to the island and he gave me directions on how to get to the boat dock.

Dodging the hectic Puerto Limón traffic to make the necessary road crossings, I walked around the port facility to a small river where a couple of passenger boats were tied up. I asked what ended up being a somewhat inebriated hombre about boats to the island and he directed me inside the adjacent building where I found a lovely hombre by the name of Eduardo who was keen to provide assistance.

Eduardo gave me the name and number of a boat operator to contact. I spoke to him for a couple of minutes but it seemed if I wanted to go out by myself it would be more than I was willing to pay. That was when Eduardo intervened and spoke to the hombre to come to an arrangement. I would join another pre-booked group leaving in 15 minutes and only have to pay AUD4. A great deal that I immediately jumped on to. Eduardo showed me where to wait and explained to another hombre on the dock what was happening so he could ensure I got picked up.

My little boat came along and I jumped aboard. We putted past tiny, wooden fishing shacks lining the banks of the river and the Costa Rican Coast Guard (another never-ending branch of the CR Police), before reaching the mouth of the river. When we got there, I realised there was a gigantic cruise ship in port I hadn’t been able to see from the other side. I didn’t see any tourists in town so I’m assuming visiting passengers were bussed off to different parts of the country for day trips. It did explain the small array of tourist trappings surrounding the port though, in case some poor passengers dared to venture out on their own.

After passing the cruise ship, we headed straight out to the island. Isla Quiribri (or Uvita as it is locally known) is quite significant in Costa Rica’s history as Christopher Columbus anchored there in 1502 on his final trip to the Americas. We pulled up at a boat dock which was in a state of great disrepair and jumped off.

I quickly found and followed the narrow little track leading off into the jungle. This trail wound its way alongside the coastline, climbing little rises to provide its trampers with stunning vistas of its surrounding terrain. On the far end of the island were the remains on an 1886 hospital run by nuns for patients with incurable diseases and further around, the remains of the monastery attached to the operation. There was also a lookout tower built by the US military during WWII.

All around the island, was thick jungle running straight down to the rocky coastline. Birds circled high overhead and flittered through the jungle canopy. On the ground, leaf-cutter ants created orderly causeways through the jungle floor. And always, the sound of the powerful surf, permeated the cicadas and bird song.

After a couple of hours, I returned back to the start and decided to go for a swim while I waited for the boat to return. Suitably refreshed, I then found a perch to wait. The boat arrived at the designated time, but the party I had crossed over with had no intention of getting in board at that stage. As I was well and truly ready to go back, I wandered over and the young boys manning the boat were happy to take me and return later for the others. I jumped on board and we zoomed back to the mainland.

Back at the boat dock, I went in and thanked Eduardo for his assistance, then walked back into town. I wanted to wander around a bit more and see some of the old, colonial buildings. I found the city markets which had been in operation since 1893, and had a poke down its narrow warren of gangways.

Eventually, I made it back up to a little restaurant I had passed several times on my way to and from the hostel. Restaurante Linda Vista certainly lived up to its name and the city lights twinkled below as I had something to eat and wash it down with an ice-cold cerveza.

It was time to bid this sweet little town adios, but first our small gang of the previous evening went to see a tree where one of the group was pretty sure a sloth was living. We were certainly rewarded for our early morning efforts as not so high in the massive cinnamon tree was a sleepy sloth. After we unwittingly disturbed it from its slumber, it stretched a bit, then made itself comfortable and went right back to sleep. We left it be then and continued on our way.

One of the guys had booked a surf lesson and the rest of us went with him to find some breakfast close to his meet point. Pickings looked slim, but then we spotted an hombre sitting out the front of a hotel with a coffee so asked if the hotel restaurant was open for breakfast. It turned out that this particular hombre was the hotel owner down for a few days to attend to some business. French-Canadian, Jean, was particularly chatty and very entertaining as he explained how he came to purchase a piece of rocky land by the beach in the 1970s and transformed it into the beautiful little hotel it is today. He invited us to look over the property after we had had our breakfast and we ended up spending a couple of hours there chatting with him and getting the low down on Cahuita’s more recent history.

Back to the hostel to check out and collect packs for three of the five of us. I decided a farewell cerveza was in order so we went back to my favourite beach-front hotel for a brief bevvie before parting. Then it was to the bus station and boarding buses in two different directions.

Peter was heading to Tortuguero so caught the same bus as me as he had to pass through Puerto Limon to get there. After about half an hour of the bus rumbling along the main coastal road, stopping to pick up and drop off passengers, it started to rain. Heavily. Windows were slammed and the temperature inside the bus climbed steadily. Rivulets of water streamed past and the road was quickly inundated. As we approached Puerto Limon, thunder and lightning began to make itself known as the rain intensified.

Once at the bus station, I organised a taxi for Peter to take him to the boat he needed to get to Tortuguero as he didn’t speak any Spanish. I then checked how far away my hostel was. According to Google Maps it was only 2.5kms away and the rain seemed to be easing. I figured I could probably make my way there in between showers so started making my way in the light drizzle. Unfortunately, the drizzle ended up becoming a bit heavier and the route became quite interesting. Costa Rican footpaths (if one can bring oneself to refer to them as such…) are a mishmash of steeply sloping driveways, narrow steps, broken and uneven paths of concrete and/or tiles, and narrow, grassy tracks. Hazardous enough in the dry, they become almost suicidal in the wet. To top things off, shortly after setting off, the route began to climb a particularly steep hill. I remained committed and eventually reached my destination in a somewhat less than tidy condition.

My hostel host was particularly chatty and although desperate for a shower and dry clothes, I had coffee and a conversation with him first. I was pleased how well my Spanish held up as I haven’t really been conversing in it a great deal this trip and I’m still very rusty. However, I was able to satisfy his questions about me and Australia and passed a pleasant hour as such. Suddenly, I got a message from my Chilean friend, Maria. She had returned from Tortuguero and was now spending the night in a downtown hotel. I bit the bullet and walked back into town to meet her for dinner. It was a slow trip as playing chicken with Costa Rican traffic was hazardous enough at the best of times. It was lovely to catch up with Maria for one last time as she was leaving for home the next day. It’s one of the things I love about travelling; you are always making friends on the road. We said our final farewells and I turned to make the slow, steep trek back up the hill to my hostel.

The one thing everyone comes to Cahuita for is it’s amazing National Park. Only 10 square kms in size, this little slice of heaven packs a huge punch when it comes to local wildlife. I decided to do the whole 8.5km trail which works it’s way along the coast and around Punta Cahuita. Fuelled up on coffee and something to eat from one of the little local restaurants, I wandered over to the Ranger Station at the start of the trail to sign in.

The first couple of kms were pretty hectic as groups of local and international tourists were clumped together with guides strung out along the trail. I didn’t want to do a guided tour as I was planning on walking the whole loop, but took advantage of eavesdropping on the various groups as I wandered by. There were so many animals in that first section of trail that moving through became a slow process. I saw sloths, monkeys, raccoons, coatis, macaws, toucans, iguanas and even a couple of little snakes.

The trail twisted its way between stunning coastal rainforest and picturesque mangrove swamps; with regular little paths veering off to the palm-thronged beach. Eventually, it came to a small river crossing where it seemed most tourists turned back from. The river was easily forded however, and I continued on my journey. The trail continued past another small river crossing and on to Punto Cahuita, the tip of the little peninsula the park is primarily situated in.

At this point, the more adventurous tour groups finished up with fresh fruit in a little wooden pavilion and snorkelling tour groups congregated. In Parque Nacional Cahuita, it is illegal to snorkel without a guide, due mainly to the intense and unpredictable currents which plague this stretch of coast. I passed the little throng of people and continued along the trail.

The coastline changed as you went around the point. The rainforest was a bit more open and the beach all but disappeared. Waves gently crashed on the edge of the vegetation as the trail wound itself between tiny black sand bays strewn with exposed tree roots. There were very few people on this part of the trail so it was lovely to just soak up the tranquility.

Eventually, the beach reappears as you approach Playa Vargas. This beach has black sand where back around the point, the sand is white. Timid little hermit crabs scuttle along the track, sheltering under their shells as you approach. The surf is also rougher on this side and signs appear warning people about the hazardous currents. Despite that, I was in much need of a cooling dip so braved the conditions for a quick swim.

At this point the track spits you out at the Puerto Vargas Ranger House where there are some basic facilities to wash the sand off. This is also the start of a 2km boardwalk through mangrove forest to the Puerto Vargas park entrance. The boardwalk is relatively new and winds it’s way through stunning mangrove habitats. There are little wooden pavilions at intervals you can sit at and just soak up the tranquil environment. The gently crashing waves just beyond the mangroves set the soundscape, along with cicadas and frogs; punctuated with the distant calls of howler monkeys.

All too soon, you pop out at the Puerto Vargas entrance to the park and pass the ranger station as you walk back to the main road. I was planning on catching a local bus back to Cahuita, but accepted a lift for a few dollars from a passing shuttle bus. Back at the hostel, it was time for a much needed wash of me and everything I was wearing; hoping my clothes would dry in time for moving on in the morning. I went back to my favourite hotel overlooking the National Park and partook of more 2 for 1 daiquiris. I was updating my blog when I noticed some people looking up with their phones. There perched not far from my head, was a sloth slowly making its way along a cord strung between the table shelters.

On returning to the hostel, I met up with two of the guys I had been partying with the night before, a French girl and a young American guy. We decided to all go out for dinner at one of the local restaurants and as luck would have it, this restaurant still had its Happy Hour in full swing. Two extremely strong caipirinhas later, I had well and truly done with the cocktails for the day.