In October 2020, it seemed like COVID was settling in for the winter. So I packed my bags and headed to one place that didn’t have any travel restrictions – Costa Rica.
When I landed in SJO on a rainy November evening, it dawned on me – I forgot to check the weather forecast. Low and behold, I was catching Costa Rica at the tail end of rainy season. Despite the grim outlook, I was bound to make it work.
San Jose isn’t much to look at, but it is one of the two main hubs a visitor must pass though on their way to the heart of the country. To make this stopover more interesting, I skipped the standard airport hotel and opted, instead, for Hotel Pibi Boreal. The website boasted “private cloud forest reserve flanked between two rivers” – seemed a little more intriguing than the Courtyard Marriott. The view from my balcony didn’t disappoint.
The next morning, a man named Moritz dropped off my rental car. When I told him my plan to drive to Nosara, he laughed. “Its rainy season! Don’t go there.” Instead, he suggested I go east to the Caribbean coast. He also told me the cardinal rules of driving in Costa Rica:
- Never to drive after sunset
- Do not park under coconut tress
- Know how to change a tire
With no hotel booked, I threw “Puerto Viejo” into my GPS and started the long and tedious drive to the Caribbean coast.
After leaving drab San Jose, I drove through the spectacular Braulio Carrillo National Park. Waterfalls, massive blue butterflies and jungle flanked this winding mountain highway. I was in awe – just yesterday my view was of suburban South Carolina, and today, I was surrounded by the most vivid colours I’d ever seen.
The drive was long, really long, and the sun set early and fast. It was dark and I was still forty minutes away from my destination. Already I was breaking one of Mortiz’s rules! My phone was dead but I remembered the map and somehow found my way to the Hotel Selena in Puerto Viejo. This chain of hotels suitable for 20-somethings, but I didn’t care. Being in Toronto during COVID had felt like living in a convent, so being kept awake by partygoers seemed like a novelty.
The next morning, I biked down to the Refugio Nacional Gandoca-Manzanillo. The road was a gentle twelve kilometers from my hotel, and littered with signs warning about “Banditos”. But all went according to plan and I arrived to a sprawling preserve with beaches and wetlands, protecting a vast coral reef. The beauty of this rugged coastline was unlike anything I’d seen. This was only day two of my trip, and I already knew Costa Rica held a special place in my heart.
After a few days of sun and surf in Puerto Viejo, it was time to move inland. I had read about the small town of La Fortuna, the gateway to Arenal Volcano National Park. I’d read that hot springs dot the foot of the volcano and a massive waterfall and swimmable rivers. I jumped on AirBNB and found an elevated bungalow touting a private swimming hole. Perfection.
If driving in Costa Rica has taught me one thing, its that when GPS says five hours, it actually means eight. After a long day on the road, I ordered Uber Eats (yes, that exists even on the edge of a jungle) and turned in for the night ahead of my horseback riding adventure to La Fortuna.
The next day, I headed to El Salto for a morning swim, and then onwards to Arenal Mundo Aventura Parque Ecologico Tropical for a horseback ride into the jungle. We rode an hour in, up a gentle slope. We dismounted, crossed a bridge and climbed down to immaculate roaring La Fortuna waterfall.
Between the hot springs, the spectacular rainforest, the quirky coffee shops and swimming holes, I could have stayed in La Fortuna for a month. But my trip was half over, and I had the entire West coast to conquer in a week. But I promised myself I’d be back someday.
