Costa Rica!   Saturday, 11/02/2023

San Jose, the capital, was much as I expected – uninteresting. A few old buildings, but clearly most had been pulled down at some stage, in the last sixty years I’d guess. It was very clean, however – even the rougher streets. The climate is very temperate, with cool nights, thanks to it being 1,300 metres (4,300 feet) above sea level.

The drive down to Corcovado National Park, which is on the Osa peninsula in the south, was notable for two things. First, it was incredibly slow-going, almost constantly stuck behind slow-moving lorries. It took me 7 hours’ driving to cover 380km (240 miles). Second: it was beautiful! Leaving San Jose, the road wound steadily downhill, through a landscape that reminded me much of Africa: dry brown grass, scrubby bush and what looked like thorn trees. High hills, almost mountains, and deep ravines. And then you notice that the vegetation is becoming greener, more lush, and suddenly a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. You travel along the coast, sometimes winding inland a way, crossing numerous rivers (this road is the Pan-American Highway, which runs 30,000km (19,000 miles) from northern Alaska to Ushuaia, at the tip of South America, the only break being the Darien Gap bordering Panama and Colombia, which is impassable). 

It became apparent that I wouldn’t make my destination before nightfall (which is early: sunset is about 5:45pm). Eventually I came to dirt road, with 31 kilometres (19.5 miles) to go. And the sun had just set. The dark wasn’t really a problem – full beam headlights were sufficient to see the road ahead – but the road, especially on up and downhills, was pretty rough. My little Toyota Agya car (in the UK, called the Aygo X) was not exactly built for a road like this. I was careful, and managed to make it, but that 31 kilometres took an hour and a half… If you look online, some people claim that a 4×4 is essential to get to Drake Bay – well, I think I’ve proved that it’s not! (Although of course I will have to achieve the drive back tomorrow before really being able to make that claim!).

This is an absolutely stunning coast. Heavily forested hills coming down to the sea, and many perfect little beaches. Indeed, one thing really struck me: the trail I walked on yesterday and the beaches are pristine – I didn’t see a single piece of litter. The secret is the relative isolation. The sort of people who leave their litter lying around are not going to drive a couple of hours, and then another hour and a half on a rough road, to get here. Those here have all made a pronounced effort. Age is no divider: whether you’re in your seventies or in your twenties, you’ve come here for the same reason, to see and enjoy an exceptional natural environment. And the last thing you’re going to do is chuck your litter in it. 

Sadly, it’s all too easy to see how this place could be ruined. The first step would be to tar the road. And then a large hotel will be built… and all else will follow. Hopefully – given Costa Rica’s commitment to nature – this won’t happen. But the desire for money is so strong that you wouldn’t want to bet on it. As it is now, it is great – small accommodation establishments, from little hostels to upmarket ecolodges, all privately owned. No hotel chains in sight. Everything simple, albeit with good food – most of it coming from the sea. 

Walking back towards the village yesterday, I suddenly came upon a tapir, who stood in the path looking at me, no more than ten feet away… He was large, a good six foot long – basically the size of a large pig. This was extremely good luck – I spoke to an American couple shortly after, who’d been on a guided tour into the National Park and had failed to see one (maybe not so strange, because they are largely nocturnal – the fact it was late afternoon probably helped, as I suspect did the fact that I was alone, and therefore less threatening). Looking online, what I saw was a Baird’s tapir (also known as the Central American tapir). It’s on the IUCN Red List as Endangered, although there are reasonable numbers here in Corcovado. Interestingly, it’s closest relatives are horses, donkeys, zebras and rhinoceroses, because it’s an “odd-toed ungulate” (thanks, Wikipedia!). 

Today I went on a guided trip into the National Park, leaving my accommodation at 5:40am. Joining a tour is necessary: firstly because it is largely inaccessible – the tour starts with a roughly 10-mile fast boat trip, and then wading onto the beach; secondly, because you are not permitted to enter the park without a licensed guide. It was a good tour. I was in a small group, just six of us plus the woman guide. Didn’t see a lot of animals – but then I didn’t really expect to: most animals are shy, and a group of several people is very likely to make them hide away. But it was great to be in the forest, and we saw spider monkeys, numerous bats hanging from trees and large leaves, a lot of small reptiles, brilliantly coloured macaws, and finally a family of agoutis. They are similar to guinea pigs, but much larger, about two feet long, with very long tails that they often hold straight upright. They feed like squirrels or guinea pigs, sitting on their hind legs and holding their food with their forelegs.

So, all-in-all, it’s been a successful few days so far. Tomorrow I face the long trip up to Monteverde and its cloud forest; it’s about 400km (250 miles), which I suspect will take about 8 hours! It will mean a big change in climate again: the elevation is roughly 1,500 metres (5,000 feet)…