Highlands to lowlands, and into the Blue Zone. October 23 to 28th 2018

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The plan before leaving Monteverde was to add in a second natural reserve dedicated to conservation as was Curi Cancha. Unlike before, the alarms got set for a slightly later time to take our shuttle bus.



Ascending several 100m from Santa Elena town, we climbed for a good fifteen minutes up a bumpy gravel road, with several works in progress trying to recuperate it with the imminent wet season. The mainly European tourists aboard joined the bus bit by bit, but fortunately, being the off season, the chances of entering were greater than it could’ve been.



A beautiful lush scene of dense rainforest lay before us, and in minutes we’d parted with $25NZDpp to enter this paradise. Of the 48km of trails laid here, we’d time for a fraction choosing the ‘de bajo’ and ‘encantadora’ in parts to make a two hour loop more or less



Wildlife was mixed compared to Curi Cancha and opportunities in this denser vegetation, for us, were a little harder to spot. Several small rivers weave through the reserve though, creating some relief to the thick bushy scenery, and even though we saw fewer birds it was a tranquil walk in the forest. Nature photography and luck often don’t quite combine.



Back in town, we popped in to Beso espresso, to support the local café scene, which a humble little shop with a massive grinder inside. That fortified our trek home over typical rough roads. Too, generously, the cabana owners allowed us a late departure, with what we’d discovered to be very low occupancy in accommodations throughout the country.



More time to wander around of course spotting wildlife and collecting guavas.



Come 2pm, with clean washing in hand (and a far cheaper rate in cólones to launder based on señors matemáticas), Freddy from Desafio would take us onwards along another bone shaker road to Tilarán and eventually Cañas



Our shortest trip yet, we pulled just off a wide highway, passed the security point, and into the lodge. Eagerly, I anticipated the next two nights not cooking / washing up, and near a large pool.



Out of the scrub came bambi and their ciervo friends, an agouti, and while a large lagartija reclined on the stone reception wall. Once clocked in and paid up, unusually before not after our stay, we made for the oasis of that hoped for large pool.



Stepping over the ant carretera outside our room, and accompanied only by birdsong from the thick canopy overhead, the relief of arriving on a 34C day was palpable - we had air conditioning!



P2s research again led us to a lesser visited site the next morning. Palo verde is a large wetland area near Cañas and we’d arranged for Issys tours, a local company, to take us. The conservative hour of 8.30am was set, and Harold Arias, a local, despite his English name, met us for what then transpired as a private tour for a few hundred dollars.



Getting housekeeping out of the way, as in, how can I pay for this without carrying a wad load of cash in my pocket, eventually was sorted. We could proceed.



A short drive of around 45 minutes in his 4WD at a slow pace took us to a riverside village. Life here and buildings were extremely modest and simple.



On to the boat, Walter, another local with an English name, used his hawk eyes to spot and manoeuvre the vessel, deftly enough to get safely close to all types of river life. Harold had great eyes too, informing us on the major iguanas in Costa Rica, birds, lizards, crocodiles, and some of which were rarely sighted.



Green kingfisher, wood stork and jabiru (the two biggest birds), various styles and sizes of green iguana, bats (so we learned to be vital for mosquito control and pollination to the ecosystem), egrets, ibis,

grey blue heron and the sand piper all made their appearance. The smallest of them all seemed to have the hardest job - the sandpiper, a dentist of the crocodile. “I’ll clean your teeth if you don’t eat me”. Interesting symbiosis that is.



Walter and his Costa Rican láser pointer (a mirror reflecting the sun) got a lot of use, until nearly midday, when we motored back up the river, bladders heaving with relief after hours on water



A pool was the only comfortable place to be, if not in air conditioning, or with fluids in hand. The quiet hacienda literally was ours, and that of wildlife. While mama spider monkey hung out on her branch, with baby on her back, bambi lingered in the scrub eyeing up my hiking boots to try on, and the ant carretera traffic hit a peak at dusk. As thousands of leaf fragments were hauled A to B, you could see that other life exists.



Not many kiwis make it to this part of the world we learned. With humour, both regular wait staff, Gabriella and Johan, were entertained by our Spanish during mealtimes. The food was generous and good, even if interrupted by my gramatical queries (and corrected/ converted to local terminology!)



Perhaps why wildlife thrived at Hacienda Pacifica was the proximity of the lodge to a rescue centre for animals and birds.



Squawks and howls met us at El Centro de Rescate, only after we escaped señor-hard-sell at the road entrance, who was trying desperately to sell us a rafting tour with our few hours remaining



If creatures are your love, you might just have tears in your eyes reading the stories of how the animals and birds of this centre came to be. But on the upside, the philosophy of the place, apparent throughout (it is reliant heavily on donations) and care given, undoubtedly was giving back life, even if not a wild life. Personally named, there was Rafa the jaguar, Bruno the big cat (a puma), and Cuco and Coco the tucans, with the noisiest being the macaws.



Reliable as ever, Desafio driver (Torre this time) came to collect us as planned at 1pm. Bambi and friends would have to wait until next time, and the incredible pool area would be sorely missed.



Heading up the country slightly, to cross westward then descend, we took highway 18 to reach the top of the Gulf of Nicoya. From there we crossed over to highway 21 which would take us south along the coast.



At this point, the road deteriorated significantly and even our driver was surprised at a recent storm three weeks prior, and the effect on its viability. Former truck driver turned tourist bus driver and guide, we had an interesting exchange on driver behaviour and the challenges for Costa Rica.



On we wove, through multiple stop-go points, “resbaloso” signs, visible silt lines in the fronts of homes, and very uneven surfaces, the product of slips, flooding, and subsidence. The wet season throws all and sundry at this coast, but the last storm clearly did major damage



Pulling into Paquera, two lawnmowers actively working on a full length fútbol pitch, we made a brief stop at Pali supermarket. “The cheapest in Costa Rica” said Torre, and good competition for Pak n Save. A short while later, dark falling by 5:15pm, we arrived in the modest village of Pánica and our lodge for the next few days.



Fidelito ranch is at the end of a gravel road 4km inland from Tambor, the main settlement. Brigitte and Leo are world travelers, hailing from the Netherlands, whom set up this place from scratch as accommodation about a decade ago. The open air common area faces down a valley, being a perfect platform for several lightening storms that we saw over the days ahead.



A soundtrack of rain on the roof couldn’t be beaten for a sound sleep.



After deliberating over whether to spend up large again the next day, and travel up the coast to another park, it unfolded as another wildlife encounter like most other random wandering, for free. Through the bushy path, over a swing bridge, passing a man with big unknown fruit, turning towards Tambor at Budget Rental, and bang, Brigittes advice led us the scenic route to the beach. Then, ticking one item of shopping off my list, we’d hit summer onesie central.



The storm left its legacy with weed everywhere at the southwestern end. So we thought wisely of crossing the estuary with what seemed a retreating tide. On good advice the lady coming over said to expect to get wet to our waists. Duly noted and all was packed for action.



On the other side, we refitted shoes for the hard pebbled surface under our feet, and trundled off to find clearer water and sand. Approaching another small shallow river outlet, we crossed it more easily and set down in front of the Barcelo complex.



Events unfortunately took a turn for the worse after a swim, with P2 discovering a missing iPhone. Trying to retrace our steps to the last moment it was sighted, we scaled one part of the beach back n fourth, attracting attention of señor seguridad in front of Barcelo. “No” was the reply to if we could record the loss there in any shape or form, and the opportunity to cross river two to check if it was left anywhere else near the crabs P2 spotted diminishing as the tide rose.



Seeing the crab home over this river now engulfed in water, we surmised it was now in a watery grave of the Océano Pacífico. A hard lesson learned, especially with many memories lost, it was on to contingencies next. Insurance, findmyiphone, and the telecommunications company would have to be alerted, in the small chance it was stolen with briefly turned backs.



It was a long trek to get home to do it though, as if we’d taken the river two path to the highway (not permitted into resort to cut through), we could well be victim to a crocodile attack missing limbs, and not just a missing iPhone!



That evening was rather somber and consolation had to be in food, drinks and a decent sleep.



Desafio was again to collect us for our last leg to San José and to the outlying suburb of Atenas. The morning of the loss we’d been advised we would use a ferry transfer as well, and having a chance to flag to desafío before they closed up for the day of our own personal desafío (challenge!), we scheduled in a visit to the Punta Arenas police station



If there was a way to practice Spanish under pressure it was there. Señor quizzed us before even being permitted in, after which we were motioned to seats in a foyer. There we waited, whilst said señor continued to watch videos on his phone as security hombre looked on. Then señor (whom quizzed us first) moved his lofty frame to speak to us, after I asked how long roughly it’d be. His reply was non committal but knowing now we were of NZ descent, the chat turned to rugby. We capitalised on that topic to engage him, and bang, an hour later, I entered the cabina de radio with the third señor to record events, P2 being told firmly to wait outside.



Another near hour later and pain-stakingly slowly the event was recorded. So, with paper in hand, we could depart, having a good supply of fruit, nuts and muesli bar to offer some thanks to our very patient driver Maurici. “The police don’t want to work”. Es verdad!



Dense fog, familiar to the locals, covered the hills behind Atenas which we eventually rolled into after 5pm. Again, it was to a generous welcome, by a German couple this time, operating apartamentos Atenas. The slippages, road conditions and errors of our Nicoya peninsula stay are distant, and anticipation of the last leg in Mexico ahead!

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