The last 18 miles of the road leading to the Monteverde Cloud Forest in Costa Rica, full of ruts and potholes by design, takes over an hour and a half to navigate. The locals like it that way. And they choose not to fix it because it would be too easy then for tourists to visit.

That may not sound all that hospitable but it illustrates the emphasis Costa Ricans place on conservation. And the Cloud Forest, which I visited prior to Covid as part of an Overseas Adventure Travel tour of Costa Rica, is indeed an ecological marvel worth saving – and seeing. But you have to really want to go there!

So what exactly is a cloud forest? Well, contrary to popular thinking, it is not where all your technological apps are stored. It is, instead, a rare kind of rain forest where plants actually grow ON TOP of trees.  The technical explanation is that “the combination of altitude, humidity and irregular topography creates a unique environmental situation where the clouds remain low for most of the year, preventing the advent of sun, locking in moisture, and creating an atmosphere where plant activity is so high that they actually cover the trees.” The non-technical explanation? Lots of clouds and rain result in every inch of the trees from bark to branch to be covered by things green and growing. These epiphytes, as the plants which grow on trees are called, cover every branch and limb, creating a dense wonderland of greenery. Fifty percent of all the vegetation in the cloud forest lives on the tops of trees.

Now I’ve been in many a rain forest before but never one so overwhelmingly green and lush, a blanket of emerald and jade and olive and lime, unrelenting and opaque. There are no empty branches, tree trunks or ground area so that the immersion in this sea of green is utterly complete. Each branch, bush, leaf is so unique in its color, design, texture, size, shape  and sheen as to more resemble an art form than a  mere fragment of foliage, in which Ellen Kaiden of Sarasota, Florida, the artist in the group, claimed to detect different emotions. “I was overwhelmed by the life force of the Costa Rican Cloud Forest. We were privileged guests in an alternative universe of the canopy. It was pure magic,” she noted.

Although our guide, Andres Herrera González, spent three hours discussing the ecological and biological implications of every plant, I was perfectly content to just let myself be absorbed into the visual immensity of my green-laden surroundings.

Equally important to the expansive plant life is the multiplicity of animal life living among it. This enormously rich ecosystem supports 7% of the world’s plant and animal diversity in only 0.1% of the earth’s surface. It’s an amazing place but was only one of several rain and tropical forests, as well as beaches, villages and farms, we visited as part of OAT’s 12-day Costa Rican adventure.

And as important as the actual itinerary may be, what sets OAT apart from many other tour companies is its emphasis on Learning and Discovery, a part of the OAT philosophy that the company takes very seriously. And with a guide like Andres, a mere botanist with two Master’s degrees in ecotourism and sustainability, it was hard not to be learning all the time. Woven into the formal activities are opportunities to learn about the people, explore local markets and towns and participate in cultural exchanges.

But what happens outside that itinerary is equally interesting. The rides from place to place can be long but not boring. Perhaps you stop for lunch and get as dessert an unexpected exhibition of resident show horses belonging to the owner of the restaurant. A bathroom break brings a surprise demonstration of sugar cane extraction in an old mill. The fact that they mixed the resulting samples with local Costa Rican rum made the experience all the more special.

Add to that a photo op of a volcano in which our eagle-eyed leader spotted a sloth in a nearby tree or a random opportunity to milk a cow at a local farm and the stops not included on the itinerary compete with those which are for excitement. And the time actually in the bus is consumed with lectures on history, geology, culture, political corruption and other controversial topics all surrounding the Costa Rican experience.

Meanwhile, back at the Cloud Forest, there was quite a bit of local color to break up the monotony of greenness. Time was spent seeking out – and reveling in – the unusual Resplendant Quetzel, a large rare and beautiful brightly colored bird that is as elusive in Costa Rica as the kiwi is in New Zealand. Traversing a series of hanging bridges provided a birds-eye view of the forest very different than that from the ground. Zip-lining across the tops of multiple trees ensured an experience in which the adrenaline rush clearly topped environmental appreciation – at least for the moment, and a visit to a hummingbird sanctuary where hundreds of the colorful little guys flapped their little wings with impossible-to-measure speed  entranced tourists who desperately tried to capture them on camera and cell phone.

A meeting  with Martha Campbell, the daughter of one of the original Quaker settlers of Monteverde in 1951, provided some historical context to the Cloud Forest community, which at that time had no plumbing, no electricity, no phone service and very few people. Though the community survived by cattle ranching initially, eventually the Quaker community discovered that a far greater good – as well as more money – could be accomplished thru conservation and the expanded tourism trade that followed.

Still she somewhat bemoans the large influx of tourists of the past two decades: “I wish there would be less development. Sure there are more job opportunities, but also more cars, maybe more crime and I just miss the simple life we used to have.” I would hazard a guess that the road leading to the Monteverde Cloud Forest isn’t going to be fixed anytime soon…

Visit Overseas Adventure Travel’s website for more information about traveling to Costa Rica. Trips are expected to resume late summer, with all the necessary CDC protocols practiced to maintain safety throughout the adventure.

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Oars up for these rafters on a quiet stretch of the Pacuare River, a classic pool-and-drop stream.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

TURRIALBA, Costa Rica – It was 6:01 a.m. when we heard them barking, insistent “huh-huh-huh-huhs” rising above the rain forest canopy. After a pause they began again, rough grunts floating through our mountain eyrie, high above the Pacuare River.

“Howler monkeys,” mumbled Steve, squinting at his watch. Then a toucan squawked, a raspy screech from the trees near the corner of our deck, 500 feet up the hill at Pacuare Lodge, in eastern Costa Rica’s Barbilla National Park. Jumping out of bed, we grabbed the binoculars and a camera and dashed outside, to be greeted by the dawn and a faint chorus of chirps and whistles.

Keel-billed toucans, bright-colored and slow-flying, are easy to spot in dense rain forests like those in the Pacuare River gorge.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

“Shhhh! Listen,” said Steve, who’d been thinking about jaguars since the evening the office manager showed us a video of a big cat prowling through the underbrush, photos captured in night-time trail-shots taken up the hill. He peered over the railing and under the deck. “Was that a growl?” Wildlife thrives in Costa Rica, in forests, backyard gardens and especially near eco-lodges, most of which are in remote parks, along rivers and in coastal jungles. From birds to monkeys, each day brings another surprise. Keep your eyes peeled when you’re out for a walk and you may be rewarded.

Each Linda Vista Suite, on stilts above the Pacuare River, has a private deck, hammocks, lounge chairs and a plunge pool.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Capuchin monkeys, sloths, coatis and birds appeared when the morning was fresh and light spread over the horizon. Butterflies, bacillus lizards (so-called “Jesus lizards” because they “walk” on water) and howler monkeys seemed to prefer full sun. By late afternoon, green frogs, tapirs, armadillos and tarantulas were active. But it wasn’t until the dark hours – after we were in bed – that Costa Rica’s six big cats – leopards, pumas, ocelots, oncillas, jaguarundis and margays – went on the climbed down from the trees for a silent prowl, crossing in front of the camera in search of prey or a mate.

Pacuare Lodge, a National Geographic-designated Unique Lodge of the World, built of local wood among rain forest trees on the Pacuare River, includes a central hall, lively bar and an indoor-outdoor dining area, with over 18 guest cottages, from thatched bungalows to luxurious suites.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

“Jaguars? Maybe, but don’t count on it,” said our travel planner Alison Carson, a Latin America expert, when she called to talk about our proposed two-week trip to Costa Rica. We’d been there before on a cruise, but the short time we spent on shore sowed the seeds for a real adventure.

We’ve always planned our own trips. But when a friend recommended Carson we decided to see what she’d suggest. After years of experience booking trips for friends, couples and families, she specializes in creating customized, personalized itineraries. And as we explained, we didn’t want to sit in a hotel or on a bus. We wanted to be outdoors. “The possibilities are endless,” she said. “But in case you wondered, we’re not booking trips to the rest of Central America, at least not yet.” Why, I asked. “Just Costa Rica,” she answered. “Because it’s the region’s only safe country.” Was it? I asked myself. Wars, poverty, and drug cartels have plagued Central America for decades. How could Costa Rica avoid entanglement in their neighbors’ problems?

Howler monkeys, kings of the rain forest canopy, are hard to see but easy to identify; listen for their loud throaty howls. Though nine species have been identified, Costa Rica is home to just one, the common mantled howler.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Unlike its Central American neighbors, Costa Rica reaches across the region from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. The Atlantic climate, rainier and more humid, supports forests, thick jungles and an endless variety of bushes, vines and flowers. In contrast, the Pacific climate, determined by a different set of wind and currents, is drier and sunnier. We’d already planned to visit friends who’d rented a house overlooking the Pacific Ocean. So Carson suggested starting with Pacuare Lodge in the east, continuing to Nayara Springs Resort, near Avenal Volcano in the center, and from there we’d go on to join our friends.

River runners rafting to Pacuare Lodge encounter easy Class 2 rapids. Beyond the Lodge, the river becomes a torrent, with Class 5 white-water rapids downstream.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

River runners rafting to Pacuare Lodge encounter easy Class 2 rapids. Beyond the Lodge,

“Pacuare Lodge is pretty special,” said Carson. “It’s off the grid, on the Pacuare River, in the middle of the forest, best reached from the river. It’s world famous for class-five white-water, but those rapids are farther east, past the lodge. The part you’ll be on is easy and short, about four miles. Guests take the rafting company’s bus to the river and rafdown from there.”

An overnight at the historic Finca Rosa Blanca, a 20-minute drive from San Jose International Airport, is a brief journey back in time to Costa Rica’s Spanish colonial era. 

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Two weeks later our itinerary arrived, with car transfers, drivers’ names, contact information, guides and hotel confirmations. Three weeks later we were on our way to the Pacuare River Lodge, with reservations to follow for Nayara Springs Resort, near the country’s signature volcano, Avenal. Since Avenal continues to puff and steam, you can’t climb closer than the observation deck, up the trail. So we hiked up to the top of another volcano, this one extinct.

With a dozen hot springs, some free and others built into commercial spas, swimming pools, gardens, restaurants, miles of walks and the town nearby, a town and nearby, it promised a change of pace. Ready to go, bags packed and flights and plans in order, all I needed to know was whether Costa Rica really was that safe.

Fully restored, Finca Rosa Blanca, a National Geographic-listed lodge 20 minutes from San Jose International Airport, perches on a hill behind an arcaded courtyard and lush gardens. Spanish colonial murals, decorative sculpture and hand-crafted furniture echo the period.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

“Is it true what they say,” I asked Abel, the driver who picked us up at Juan Santamaria International Airport, in San Jose, the capital city. “Is Costa Rica Central America’s safest country?” “We think so,” he said, catching my eyes in the rear view mirror. “And why?” he said, heading for the Finca Rosa Blanca hotel, north of the city. “Because we have no military,” he said. “The money (taxes) pays instead for schools, high school and college, and for health care and doctors. And it’s all free,” he said. “Of course, there are always people who don’t want to work and are tempted to steal,” he said. “But most people here have jobs,” he added as we reached the hotel, a restored, 14-suite Spanish Colonial house and coffee plantation, with a pool and a popular open-air restaurant.

Manolo Munoz, coffee plantation guide at the Finca Rosa Blanca Inn, 20 minutes north of San Jose, explains the coffee bean sorter during a plantation tour.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Arriving in time to join the hotel’s coffee plantation tour, we expected a sales pitch. But the two-hour uphill walk with Naturalist Manolo Munoz was as much about sustainable farming and water conservation as it was about a good cup of joe. Stepping off the trail and among the coffee trees, each planted in volcanic soil between banana and poro trees in a “mixed-species forest,” Munoz explained that these “trees add important minerals to the soil. A mix of sun and shade grows better “cherries” (coffee beans) than commercial farms planting on big flat fields,” he said. That evening, as the sun slipped between the palm fronds, Miguel, one of the hotel waiters, came around with menus. As he paused, I decided to see what he’d say about safety. “Um, Miguel, why do people say Costa Rica is Central America’s safest country?” “Because we don’t have an army,” he said. “After the civil war, in 1949, the government decided that paying for education, hospitals, culture and parks was more important than guns and soldiers.”

Arenal Volcano’s unexpected 2010 eruption reminded observers that Central Costa Rica’s most iconic feature can be unpredictable.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Local police manage local crime and a national government-supported 70-man team of “commandos,” a so-called trained “security and intervention” group, is available for emergencies, he explained. But beyond that, no army. And from then on, whomever we met, the conversation eventually turned to the importance of an education for youth, health care, and the importance of environmental awareness, all of it taught in grade school.

Howler monkeys barking overhead led to a conversation about species adaptation to the country’s 12 climate zones, ranging from sea level to the summit of the 12,533-foot volcano Cerro Chirripo. Rafting through the Pacuare River’s narrow gorge, the guide pointed out the differences between the trees along the river gorge and those on the mountain side above. Even at Nayara Springs Resort, a popular tourist destination with winding trails among gardens and trees, our dinner-time waitress paused to coo over a pair of young sloths napping in the trees nearby.

Like much in Costa Rica’s rain forest, the Pacuare Lodge’s “Canopy Adventures” zipline orientation starts up in a tree. Pacuare Lodge, Costa Rica.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Located beyond city power and water, Pacuare Lodge employees were doubly aware of the environment limits. Electricity, limited to the early evening hours, was carefully managed. At night, candles lit both floors of the lodge – the bar upstairs and the dining room and river-side deck downstairs, where all of our meals were served. Our bungalow had a single light bulb available during bedtime hours. The bungalow had a solid wall against the hillside, with stilts anchoring the floor and front deck to the hill. The front and side walls were nothing but screens, admitting light – and bird calls – and keeping mosquitos out. The lodge itself and its oldest bungalows, recently remodeled, were built at the bottom of the hill, near the river.

The luxurious Linda Vista Suites, high up in the rain forest canopy and with screened walls on three sides feels like being outdoors.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

It was a startling contrast indeed, to Nayara Springs Resort, in central Costa Rice. Approaching on a paved road near Avenal Volcano and greeted by a uniformed bell boy, we thought we’d made a wrong turn. But this popular vacation retreat only masquerades as a sophisticated hotel. Despite a few sumptuous suites – elegantly costumed and with private plunge-pools – all the rest, the swimming pools, shaded patios, bars, pubs, a spa and gym, restaurants, shops and a cafeteria were tucked away between lush greenery on a maze of serpentine paths. A five-minute walk beneath the trees – alive with resident birds and 30-odd sloths – was a stroll in the woods. And for a real stroll, guided walks toured the property and headed up toward Avenal Volcano and a dozen hot springs. Three nights was probably enough, though I could have stayed longer.

Nayara Springs Resort, near Arenal Volcano National Park, is centrally located for hiking, zip-lining, spelunking and mud bath treatments.

©Steve Haggerty/ColorWorld.

Heading west to the Pacific coast, we met our friends at Villa Manzu, a privately-owned two-story manor flanked by grassy lawns and trees, pools and patios. Intended for parties and anniversaries, it slept 24 guests and had a staff of 12 including a butler and three chefs. Located on five shady acres at the end of the road, it guaranteed privacy to deep pockets: Celebrities, tech-company CEOs, movie moguls and sports greats. We were lucky to have generous friends among them. Everything was included, from meals to fishing gear, and most important, Costa Rican hospitality.

TRIP TIPS:

THE LODGES (look for low-season discounts):
Finca Rosa Blanca – www.fincarosablanca.com/en: Double rooms start at $254 per night;
Pacuare Lodge: all-inclusive rates for three nights, for two in a bungalow start at $766;

Nayara Springs Resort: Bungalows for two start at $351;

Villa Manzu: All-inclusive rate for the entire house priced per night. Multiple guests, groups or families share the cost. Call for dates, availability and current prices.

GOING THERE: Fly into Juan Santamaria International Airport, in San Jose, the capital. For Villa Manzu, in Guanacaste Province, fly into Liberia Airport; the chauffeur does pickups.

My bio: Anne Z. Cooke writes about travel and its effect on global warming. Contact her at

tr*************@cs.com











; or Twitter at @anneontheroad.

©The Syndicator 2021, Anne Z. Cooke.

The post Costa Rica’s Big Experiment appeared first on Traveling Archive.

The hike was one of four daily activities during our 8-day adventure exploring Amazonia. Calling the Motor Yacht Tucano, an 18-passenger river yacht home, we traveled over 200 miles along the River Negro where the only other waterborne human we saw was the rare fisherman in a dugout canoe. For our daily excursions, we clamored aboard a small power launch which took us hiking, bird-watching, and village hopping, and on night-time outings that dramatized the allure of the river not experienced in any other way. But more on that later.

Souza demanded quiet during our launch rides, using all of his senses to read the forest, listening for the breaking of a branch or a flutter through the trees, sniffing for animal odors, scanning leaves above and below for motion, or the water for ripples… and alerting us at every junction of what he has discovered.  On our own, we would have heard, felt and discerned nothing.

Souza’s most amazing talent was his ability to identify the multitudes of birds traversing the river and forest, many of whose calls he could replicate precisely.  What to us was a dot on a limb was declared a green ibis. Then a snow egret, crane hawk, red-breasted blackbird, jacana, snail kite — so many I just stopped taking notes. So confidently did he identify the inhabitants, we would have believed: “That’s a green-tongued, red-beaked ibirus with one brown eye and a pimple on his right cheek…”

He could imitate more birds than the most gifted comedian can impersonate movie stars. He carried on such intimate conversations, that halfway through a lengthy discussion with a blackish gray antshrike, I think they became engaged. Then Souza, fickle male that he is, romanced a colorful azure blue-beaked Trogan perched upon a dead branch high in a tree. Birds have a surprising preference for dead tree parts. As one of my travel companions observed, “If you don’t like birds, you might as well take the next flight home.”

Back to Machete Man. Our forest walks also were a time for observation, not conversation. On a stop to view teca ants swarming over the bark, Souza wiped his hand across it, proceeding then to rub the ants over his forearms. Instant mosquito repellant — handy tool in the Amazon.

At one point, I looked down and saw a long brown twig draping a log. Souza saw a snake. I looked again and still saw a twig, albeit one that now had an eye. I stepped more gingerly.

We learned of the many medications the forest supplies to the natives; of vines for baskets and brooms; bark for strong rope; plants providing poison for arrows. As we heeded orders to be quiet, the dried leaves below screamed in protest at being trampled, the buzz of the horsefly the most persistent sound.

And then there are the leaf cutter ants! A long assembly line of tiny leaves paraded up a hill, as organized as a marching band. A closer look revealed leaf cutter ants to be the burly carriers. Hard to believe something so fragile can carry so large and unwieldy a load as much as half a mile to its colony.

Surprised at how much he learned about himself on the trip, Ritesh Beriwal, a 23-year-old worn-out Wall Street trainee, noted: “I didn’t realize how interested I’d be in the little things, like how insects such as the leaf-carrying ants build homes. Before it was just an ant; now it’s an ant with an entire life and work history.”

Each day brought new revelations and insight into our surroundings whether on land or water. Our visits to several villages only reinforced that impression.

Commonalities among villages: a dance hall where residents party once a month; a soccer field where youth exercise once a day; a school room where students of all grades learn; a clinic that caters to the medical needs of the community, 2-3 requisite churches where parishioners of different persuasions pray — and a generator. And that’s about it. But the differences are notable as well.

I found the contrast particularly interesting between one village of no more than 30 families producing one farm product and a larger “company” town in which thrives an asphalt industry. In the larger village, there is a convenience store, a small café, a bakery. Each hut has its own outhouse and there are several satellite dishes throughout the community.

The entire economy of the farm community revolves around manioc — a product made from grain that is the mainstay of the Amazonian diet. “If there is no manioc on the table, there is no meal,” explains Souza.

There are no stores in the village, no satellite dishes, and there are no outhouses. Using the woods that border their village as their toilet, it was clearly the largest bathroom facility I had ever seen. On the other hand, the men don’t have to worry about remembering to put the seat down.

Although every day was an adventure, nothing compared with the nighttime jaunts. Our post-dinner sojourns, beginning around 8 p.m., pitched Souza and his searchlight against the dark horizon, scanning shoreline and trees desperately searching for something to entertain his charges.

An all-pervasive quiet loomed, yet everything, including the sounds, seemed magnified: dolphins snorting, fish jumping, caimans slithering, monkeys howling — all vying for attention.

Eventually the flashlight, seemingly darting randomly above, below and beyond the trees, alighted (so to speak) on a caiman in the brush, his whole snout protruding for a moment before slinking away. Or perhaps instead the light reflected off a kingfisher’s eyes, temporarily blinding him so that we could drift in almost close enough to touch. Then for an encore, we watched a spider grab a dragonfly from a crack in a tree directly in front of us — and diligently devour it. Did I mention it was pitch black?

Once again, the refrain in my head: “How does Souza do that?” Either he has a seventh sense about the animals, or the Amazon Tourist Board set them up ahead of time.

Whereas during the day, the trills, tweets and twerps of the birds dominate the landscape, at night it’s the croaks, caws and throaty outpourings of the frogs and caimans.

In between our first launch at 6 a.m to our final return sometime after 9, we pretty much spend the rest of the time eating. The native foods, beautifully prepared and presented, are a surprise this far from civilization.

As much as that is a typical day, so are the exceptions. One particular day we got to sleep in until 6, still early enough to watch the sun pull itself over the forest, and late enough to feel the already oppressive heat seep into my lightweight, washable. anti-bug-treated blouse (though overall, the weather was much more comfortable than anticipated). We were going fishing.

I sat with my Tom Sawyer fishing pole thinking the Amazon’s a long way from the Mississippi. I attached the chunks of beef to the end of the line thinking this was strange bait until I remembered our prey. Watching Souza rattle the water with his pole, I remembered that being quiet was the order of the day on most fishing sojourns. Still, I followed his lead — make the quarry think there’s a wounded fish thrashing about — and within a minute I knew I had snagged the big prize: at the end of my line was the famed carnivorous predator — a 6” piranha.

Souza held it up to a tree and used it like a scissors to cut a branch in two. Just looking at its imposing teeth, we knew it came by its reputation honestly. Still, piranhas get a bad rep. The truth is unless they’re starving, or you’re bleeding, we’re really not in their food chain. Nonetheless, the fried piranhas we had that night as appetizers were scrumptious, their tiny bones crunchy and the meat flaky, proving the wise adage that more people eat piranhas than piranhas eat people — at least in Amazonia.

If You Go

I flew United, one of several airlines that go nonstop from several U.S. cities to Sao Paulo, then transferred to TAM for the hop to Manaus. American Airlines and LATAM Airlines also have daily non-stop flights from Miami to Manaus.

When to go. The January to June rainy season brings heavy but relatively brief downpours. Rivers rise dramatically — often as high as 45 feet. The high water enables small boats to reach areas inaccessible at other times of year

During dry season, roughly July to December, rivers run shallow, and while white sand beaches — excellent for a refreshing swim — appear, most of the area is more arid and less lush.   Best time to visit is April to September.

For more information, contact Latin American Escapes or call 800-510-5999.

Some Caveats

• If you’re looking to see a lot of four-legged wildlife, go on a safari.
• If taking a nightly hot shower is important, stay at a hotel (although the river water is tepid enough so as not to be too uncomfortable). There are hot water showers during the day on the vessel.
• Although we didn’t experience any, the pre-trip information warns of glitches, inconveniences and delays and advises to bring along a lot of tolerance and patience.
• Post-hike showers are required, including the need to wash out your clothes to prevent any insect mishaps.
• There is a certain sameness to the daily activities.
• There is also a 5 day/4 night option.

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