COSTA RICA
Roughing it for the fun of it
By TARA DOOLEY Copyright 2009 Houston Chronicle
April 22, 2009, 11:41AM
DRAKE BAY, Costa Rica — The initial reactions from friends and family were not encouraging.
“You are dragging a New Jersey lawyer to a tent in the jungle of Costa Rica,” was more the lament than the question from my best friend.
“No hot water. That’s my idea of hell, not a vacation,” was my sister’s take on the plan.
Not that I could blame them. My trip to the Osa Peninsula, a remote part of southern Costa Rica, was out of character. My foreign travels had been in pursuit of art, history and education.
Sure, I like nature. I am widely admired for my ability, from a distance of more than 100 feet, to accurately distinguish between the squirrel and the tree. But my survival skills are pretty much limited to strategic mall parking, navigating the grids of large cities and deciphering the patterns of underground public transportation.
Indeed I was dragging a Jersey lawyer with a stress level measured by the beeps of his Blackberry into the rain forest of Costa Rica.
Costa Rica was his idea. The tent in the rain forest was mine. Mostly I wanted to take a deep breath get away from everything. And everything included crowds of tourists.
The area around Corcovado National Park, which takes up most of the peninsula, is known for its wildlife and wilderness. It promised unpopulated beaches. What better way to experience all that isolated nature than four nights at the Corcovado Adventures Tent Camp, I figured. Plus, canvas covering sounded like rent I could afford.
One of the major differences between the Corcovado park and a tourist beach town is the commitment required to get there.
At Tobías Bolaños International Airport in the Pavas district of San Jose, Jersey Boy and I boarded a plane so small we could touch the co-pilot from the front seat as he chatted with us about safety features.
After flying over a green canopy covering mountains, we landed in the Drake Bay Airport at the park’s northern border. Any fear that I would find myself surrounded by oiled beachcombers disappeared with my first glimpse of the livestock grazing behind the airport’s terminal, which resembled a lean-to.
With no questions asked — or answered — we were stuffed into a van and driven off on a mostly dirt road, over hill and plank bridge, to Drake Bay and the tiny town of Agujitas.
No more than 1,000 residents live in and around the town, which consists mainly of a dirt road, a dusty beachfront market, an elementary school, a clinic, a couple of one-room stores and at least one restaurant.
Banks, buses and traffic lights were conspicuously absent. Dirt bikes, donkeys and SUVs populated the road, though most traffic traveled by foot along an oceanfront path.
Even in the dry season, when dust had settled on the palms and hibiscus growing by the road, the air was moist and the forest pressed against the sides of the town.
“It smells like earth and vegetation and just loveliness,” said Lisa Emigh, formerly of Oregon, who manages a hotel on the bay. “You can feel it, there is a lot of oxygen; there is a lot of life here.”
We tumbled out of the van at the beach, rolled up our jeans and waded into the Pacific to board a boat for the final leg of our journey.
Hopping into a 22-foot swaying boat became a maneuver I would fail to perfect during my visit. Beginner’s luck meant I didn’t fall on my fanny on the first try. I had plenty more opportunities for that.
The boat ride along the Pacific coast felt like a vacation in itself.
The view from one side was of a thick wad of forest shaped like the edge of a green cotton cloud. On the other side was the vast ocean and Caño Island, a nature preserve known for the fabulous fish in its waters.
After about 15 minutes of warm air, cool spray and the slapping of the boat against the water, the driver steered toward the shore.
As the boat heaved, I lurched onto the beach where I hopped on tender, freshly pedicured feet over hot sand and into a stream before reaching the tent I would call home.
It was everything this city slicker could want out of a tent: a platform, two beds, clean sheets and a candle for a night light.
Larry Hustler, a former Californian who arrived in Costa Rica when he was 18 and never really left, owns the camp. He bought the property 25 years ago and for the past 15 years has operated the outdoor lodge.
He picked the spot because of the creek that runs through it and because it is wonderfully free of bugs. Biting bugs, that is. There are plenty of the other kind. He also liked that it was remote.
“I like the isolation of not having cars,” Hustler said. “There is no car access and there never will be.”
Electricity is expected, though — sometime soonish, he said.
In the meantime, the communal bathrooms and the rancho, or mess hall, are powered by a diesel generator. Late at night the low-level light comes from batteries.
The camp has 24 tents and a capacity of about 50 people. When I was there, about 12 were in residence, a great number when getting away is the goal.
Meals are served family style. There is no menu, though the camp attempts to accommodate dietary requirements. On my visit, the guests seemed to be an eat-what-is-placed-in-front-of-you kind of crowd.
The vibe was sort of summer camp for adults, a sense underscored every time the conch shell sounded to announce meals.
Like summer camp, dinner companions were important. I met an engaging group of adventure vacationers that included couples from Switzerland and Canada’s arctic, a French family and two transplants from Canada and the United States who now make their home in Costa Rica.
The first activity involved a short walk through the forest to an empty beach. Though the sand was brownish and silty, the water was clear, warm and soft.
That afternoon, time was marked by the tide and sunset. After a cold shower and a cold beer, sitting in front of the tent listening to the sounds of the rain forest and the pulse of the Pacific 20 steps away made dragging a New Jersey lawyer to a tent in the jungle seem like a good idea after all.
Look, but don’t touch in national park
CORCOVADO NATIONAL PARK, Costa Rica — First was a warning: Don’t touch the thorny green tentacles on trees or plants. They could make you sick. Then was the introduction to spider webs. Finally the suggestions that we not step on anything moving or anything that seems suspicious. Also hazardous to the health.
The warnings came from Adrian Barboza Alvarado, the 26-year-old guide from the Corcovado Tent Camp who was in charge of navigating a field trip of grown-ups through the Pacific coastline rain forest of Corcovado National Park.
We entered the park at the San Pedrillo ranger station, which we reached by boat. For the next few hours we head a nature-hike view of what seemed to me magical creatures: Sloths lounged in trees, turkeylike birds shuffled through the forest and monkeys kept a safe distance from the tourists.
As we emerged from the forest, we were treated to a display of scarlet macaws in the trees marking a line between forest and ocean.
After lunch, our field trip came to an end with a reward: a swim under a waterfall nestled in the rain forest.
A new cast of characters underwater
CAÑO ISLAND, Costa Rica —Swimming with the fishes has always had a sinister ring to me. But after three hours in snorkeling gear with my head under water and my backside getting burned in the spots without sunscreen, my opinion changed.
The boat delivered us to the waters near Caño Island, a biological reserve. Wearing life vests, we jumped in and looked down into another world. I’m no expert, but the marine biologist on the excursion said the variety of species was astounding.
We saw manta rays, sting rays, bull sharks, sea turtles and a rainbow of other sorts of swimming creatures. My favorite was a fish that looked like a yellow submarine.
IF YOU GO
The first stop is getting to Costa Rica. Continental and most major airlines have flights daily to San Jose. Getting to the Drake Bay area requires commitment.
• Fly in: This is by far the easiest way. SANSA, www.flysansa.com, and Nature Air, www.natureair.com, fly to Drake Bay. My Nature Air ticket cost $120 round-trip.
• Be adventurous: Buses run to Sierpe or Palmar Sur and boats are available for hire to Drake Bay. From there it is a path through the rain forest to hotels and the Corcovado Adventures Tent Camp. It’s about a two-hour walk from Drake Bay to the tent camp.
WHERE TO STAY
If a tent in the rain forest with shared bathrooms and no hot water isn’t your idea of fun the area also offers eco-lodging, some of it pretty upscale.
• Corcovado Adventures Tent Camp: Many of the tents are paces from the Pacific Ocean. Surprisingly bug free, they sit on platforms and are covered with A-frame tarp. Each has two beds with sheets. Some electricity. No hot water. Sometimes the adventure is getting to the communal restroom at night. Surrounding wildlife ranges from howler monkeys and toucans in the trees to frogs, lizards and other crawly things everywhere else. Four nights including meals, transportation from Drake Bay and guided tours of Corcovado National Park and Caño Island cost $535. www.corcovado.com
• Hotel Jinetes de Osa: This small hotel has nine rooms, a dining room and small bar tucked into the forest and right off the main drag — a pedestrian path — into "downtown" Drake Bay. It is managed by Lisa Emigh from Oregon. Meals are family style and the hotel specializes in organizing scuba diving trips. Rates range from $55 to $115 a night depending on the season, but trip packages are the most economical. www.jinetesdeosa.com
• Aguila De Osa Inn: This place counts as downright fancy with hot water, private bathrooms and 24-hour electricity. It is also remote, tucked into a green hill and has luxuries like a dock. Room rates range from $460 to $648 for two nights, depending on the season. www.aguiladeosa.com
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