After a quick trip back to Alajuela, where much admin ensued – all done by Joe, the star – including dropping our third vehicle back with not a scrape, picking up our camera charger, getting a haircut, getting money – we were all set to fly out the next morning for Tortuguero. We had chosen a hotel right by the airport, as our flight was at 6.15am. At 5.30am we were in the lobby and boarding the airport shuttle, due to be a 2 minute ride.
“Domestic or international?”
“Domestic.”
“Sansa airline?”
“No, Nature Air.”
Vigorous shaking of the head at this point. “No Nature Air here. You need taxi.”
In blind panic we jumped off the bus and thankfully saw a taxi right there. “Nature Air Airport! Vamanos! Rapido!!”
We communicated enough to find out it was at least twenty kilometres, through the city. Our flight was due to LEAVE in 40 minutes. Well, a frenetic seat of your pants ride and a big tip later, we pulled into the airport (OK, we pulled up next to the hut) 15 minutes before our flight left. We were in fits of giggles. This is what makes travel fun.
And then of course the inevitable happened, the conditions weren’t right for take off, and so we left late anyway. The pilot walked us out onto the runway where we found our 16 seater, twin prop plane, hand painted and a little bit rusty. We climbed in, with one other guy, and took seats right behind to the pilot. The co pilot did his pre flight spiel “are you wearing your seatbelts?” by turning his head round and talking to us. I looked down the airstrip, covered in cracks and growing clumps of grass, and thought of those little rubber tires we’d just seen. But 2 minutes later we were up in the air, and it was fabulous. Smoothe, low, unpressurized, with all the cockpit instruments right in front of us, watching fascinated – torn between the incredible views and watching the pilots. We flew between the volcanoes, and then out into the jungle beyond. No roads, just trees (or broccoli, as Jen insisted) for miles and miles. There was simply no human habitation there. 25 minutes later we made a smoothe as silk landing at an even smaller airstrip, where a couple more people got on. Then we flew low along the shore, seeing the Caribbean waves, the dense jungle and the canals for which Tortuguero is famous. Ten minutes later, we landed with enormous grins on our faces. Local Victor Barrantes was there to meet us, and we walked off the airstrip and into his flat bottomed boat. We hared along the water, me losing my shades in the process, with heavy jungle either side, to the tiny, isolated village of Tortuguero, wedged on a strip of land between the Caribbean and the canals. It was not always so – a massive earthquake in the 80s hauled the Caribbean sea bed up, destroyed the railway, and made the canals unpassable to larger vessels. And so Tortuguero was effectively cut off from the rest of Costa Rica, and that probably aint no bad thing, certainly as far as the wildlife is concerned. Much of the jungle is secondary, clawing its way back after the plantations, but the canal ecosystem is unique. Our home for a couple of days was with another fascinating Canadian, Darryl, and his lovely family. Darryl is an incredibly knowledgeable botanist and conservationist who runs Casa Marbella (named after his daughter), brings up his two lovely kids, Gabriel being 4 years old with his wife, takes a multitude of courses from identifying trees to ethics, and runs tours. If we thought Samara Main Street was a small backwater, it had nothing on Tortuguero. A small dirt path winds its way between a few sodas (small restaurants) and brightly painted houses, along with a beautiful, tiny church. Kids play in the dirt and dogs roam everywhere. The sea is always just a few feet away, and there are, of course no roads and no cars. Everything is done by boat on the canals. It was beautiful, slightly shabby, and we really felt far from home – in a good way. After a much needed breakfast and it still only being 9.30am, we donned rubber boots and entered the reserve itself. We picked up a dog somehow, whom we christened Wetty, aptly. He decided to be our guide for the day. It was hot, and humid, and hard going in wellies. Rowan found leaf cutter ants in the jungle which the kids watched fascinated, and huge blue butterflies fluttered around us. The path leads to a wild, miles long beach. This however is not a place for swimming. One of the reasons Tortuguero is so special is that giant leatherback and green turtles nest here each year from April to October, and their hatching babies are like a free for all buffet for the sharks and barracudas. Add to that the massive riptides and currents, and we weren’t all that tempted. Still, the kids decided to join Gabriel and his mate jumping in the canal, over and over again, collecting berries and communicating with little common language, having a whale of a time. Of course, we watched pretty closely, as we knew what was in the water …
Bull sharks and crocodiles, both man eaters, and we saw the latter. Darryl took us out in his boat early the following morning (every morning here seems to start about 5am, probably as daylight ends at 5pm) and we truly discovered the wonders of this place. We didn’t spot manatees but saw where they had been grazing; saw crocodiles, lurking with their eyes just above the waterline, three types of toucan, massive iguanas and basilisks, the two toed sloth, so lazy she lets herself get covered in moss. We heard and then found howler monkeys, really close to, then capuchin and spider monkeys. Rhys is rightly proud that he spotted the capuchin. We pulled right into the overhanging palm leaves and sat about 2 foot away, watching a family feeding and swinging through the trees, several carrying tiny babies. The sun beat down, it was otherworldly, and unique.
In the evenings after zoning out in the Buddha café with hammocks, watching the fish jump whilst listening to chill out music, we sat on the jetty listening to the unearthly sounds of the howler monkeys and the huge array of insects.
On our first night, we roped in a guide called Ernesto, who promised a night-time walk along the beach to find turtles. This was the very end of the egg laying season, so we knew we would have to be very lucky to see any – hey, it was going to be like the Canadian Moose once again! Ernesto also warned we might have to walk a long way. We set out, and straight away we discovered that Ernesto, though a smoker and not a spring chicken, could WALK. Joe and I ran along behind him, trying to keep up in the dark, wading through sand, and often carrying a child each. We walked for over an hour in the pitch dark, in near silence, really earning our reward. And rewarded we were. Hundreds of baby turtles were bravely making their way back to the big old blue, and at points we only just avoided stepping on a whole batch of em! We saw a gigantic mother returning to the sea, and a smaller river turtle. OK, so it wasn´t the mass migration of female turtles up the beach that happens in August-October, but it was good enough for us. To say we were all somewhat exhausted when we finally made it back would be the world´s greatest understatement. As always, the kids were unbelievably good.
Once again, its not just the place, but the people. Yet another Canadian environmentalist and tour guide stopped by to meet a great young couple from London who were staying at Casa Marbella, taking a belated honeymoon. Rhys loved them as they were almost as obsessed with capitals as he was, and even hard-to-please Jenna acknowledged “I think she’s a very nice lady.” The five of us spent an unexpected afternoon sitting on the jetty having one of those roaming, deeply philosophical conversations about life, the media, politics, children, death and ways of living life. Canadians must have an inbuilt sense of adventure and the exotic, the number we have met who have started completely new lives in seemingly totally alien places. It can’t be that they all get sick of Canada, blessed as it is with more than a fair share of space and natural beauty. We have met some incredible people with fascinating lives, and many of them are Canadian. The ticos, too, are on the whole wonderfully friendly. We were stopped on the street by a great old man and had a very faltering if lengthy conversation, parting like old friends with handshakes all round. We were greeted like family by a woman running a small soda in Tortuguero. Two lovely students thanked us profusely for doing a video interview to help them learn English. We were made to feel welcome everywhere, and never felt at risk, despite what many guidebooks say.
What’s not to like in Costa Rica? Well, you could complain about the insects which did indeed feast on us, the threat of all the seismic activity, the roads, the torrential downpours – but that would be churlish. Stunning geography, unique ecosystems, incredibly biodiversity, cool coastlines and great people. Go there, as soon as you can, but go off-season. We gather it is invaded by the North Americans in the dry season, and that could put a different perspective on it. But in October, its bliss.
All too soon it was back on the twin prop, back to Norman and Isabel’s in Alajuela for more fabulous hospitality, and then – up into the air for the mammoth day of flying to reach Ecuador.
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