“Why cant we just do a normal holiday like normal people?” I questioned when Darren showed me the itinerary. We’d just booked a 10 day Costa Rica trip. Cool, Costa Rica has been on the bucket list for a long time! I’m thinking adorable snub-nosed slow-motion sloths and iridescent green tree frogs, along with a spot of winter sun. Darren’s thinking activity, challenge and adventure. What we’d actually signed up for was a 10 day multi-activity trip traveling across Costa Rica from the Pacific coast to the Caribbean by human power alone. So…. hiking, biking, rafting and kayaking our way across the country, indeed the continent. So much for a vacation!
Do you know the way to San Jose?
According to Google, there are 29 San Jose’s in the world. And the song was written about the one in California. Still, it didn’t stop me singing it in my head the whole time, as we spent a day and night acclimatizing in San Jose, Costa Rica.
The first day over on the west coast started well in terms of wildlife spotting, as we had the afternoon in Manuel Antonio National Park before the expedition kicked off proper. Technically we had a sloth siting, although I’m not sure a fuzzy grey ball so high up in a tree counts, certainly too far away to tell if it was two-toed or three-toed, and more comatose than slow motion. And no frogs. But we did get some winter sun. Not to mention cheeky capuchin monkeys forming a mafia to terrorize the clueless tourists; bird-sized butterflies playing tag, their wings the most wonderful Night King ice blue; lobster red land crabs playing in the mud; and beefy iguanas stalking the beach like they owned it.
Cheeky sundowner cocktails before meeting our group for dinner
Day 1: the Adventure begins
Quepos to Naranjillo, Bike: 12 miles, 1,000ft elevation gain; Hike 8.5 miles, 4,000ft elevation gain
The real trip started the next morning as we were introduced to our mountain bikes. Post-box red with streaks of grey and black, it took me right back to my childhood Grifter bike, very much put me in a Go Get ‘Em mood. (You remember the kids rescuing ET on their bikes, flying high with a full moon backdrop, bursting with hope and excitement… that was me as we set off, just a touch more wobbly). The bike had generous 29” wheels and felt nice and bouncy. Probably not the right technical term but that’s how it felt.
With just a dozen of us in the group including the guide, we took off along side roads, easy does it as we got used to the bikes. As we turned off the nice smooth paved road onto dirt peppered with gravel, I was sharply reminded of why we had mountain bikes. That bone shattering feeling of wheels on gravel left my arms more worn out than my legs, like riding a pneumatic drill. I wasn’t complaining when we switched to foot power to hike up to our first camp.
This was no triathlon-style quick change transition. Out came an array of delicious local fresh fruit, mouthwatering watermelon, pineapple and papaya, interspersed with salty snacks (yay, pringles!!!) and biscuits. Leisurely and relaxed, we changed from bike gear to hike gear, and with a quick nod of thanks to the bikes for getting us this far, we headed for the cool mountains and sparsely populated valleys of pacific Costa Rica.
What I wasn’t expecting on the hike was the rain. Of biblical proportions. Think Noah. Think drowned rats. And to be fair, it’s a long time since we walked anywhere in the rain, I mean why would you in SoCal? Not just a one and done quick shower either. Everything was soaked through, down to my pants (yes, British pants!). When my shoes started squelching, I realized I couldn’t possibly be any wetter if I was thrown in a swimming pool fully clothed.
Bedraggled specimens, we eventually rolled into camp. We were not only greeted with freshly brewed coffee, but our tents were being hastily erected for us. Result!
We’d been warned that the first camp was kind of rustic. Looking how close together our tents were, it reminded me of a British music festival camp, where space is of a premium, guy ropes are overlapping, and you can hear every move anyone makes in the night. The big difference here though was that we were inside a village community center, kind of random but importantly, it meant a roof over our heads. Quite honestly, for me, they could have stacked those tents on top of each other if it meant staying dry. Just one brave soldier opted for the space option over the shelter option, and plonked his tent on the soggy soccer field in the vast outdoors. He was happy enough, but rather him than me.
With no drip dripping on the tent to contend with overnight, a good group of new international friends to spend the evening with, and a hearty meal, maybe this trip would be ok after all.