Snakes and Other Deadly Critters
It’s hot. It’s humid. I’m drenched with sweat, hiking up a mountain for a night in the jungle. Welcome to coastal Costa Rica. The beaches are gorgeous; miles and miles of wide, sand beaches broken occasionally by lovely, forested headlands.
After leaving Turrialba in the morning, I have to negotiate the unsigned streets of San Jose once again. It’s frustrating. The maps clearly show Ruta 2 ending on the outskirts of the city. What they don’t show is the highway disappearing into a warren of city streets. Oh well. Once again, my navigational skills get us through the city with only a couple of wrong turns and a little backtracking.
Passing the airport, we stop in at Tricolor, the car rental agency, to talk with them about the broken window and insurance. They’re very congenial and easy to work with. They’ve obviously dealt with this many times.
Our goal today is to return to Hacienda Barú with time in the afternoon to do some hiking. With the brand new highway from San Jose to the Coastanera, it shouldn’t be a problem. All we need is to get to the highway. The guys at Tricolor draw me a map and I’m off.
Once again, I’m astounded. There is no easy way to get from the airport to the highway! You would think that because this will now be THE route for tourists to take from the airport to the beaches, and that the highway runs quite close to the airport, there would be an obvious way to reach it. But no! Finding it requires miles of driving through busy, populated areas constantly wondering if the last turn you took was the correct one.
And once again, a total lack of signs. Call me arrogant, but it’s hard to believe.
The new highway is a beautiful road. Once I find it, it’s only forty-five minutes to the Costanera. It’s a lovely drive south past Jaco and Quepos, stopping at the bridge over the Rio Tárcoles to see the congregation of large Crocodiles below. (I swear they must feed them chickens to keep them there.)
We arrive at Hacienda Barú in the late afternoon and spend three wonderful days hiking the well-maintained trails and wandering the beach. Dinner is at their very good restaurant or a restaurant in Dominical. Excellent Thai food at Coconut Spice. After flying from one treetop platform to another on their zip line, Yolanda included, I make a reservation later in the week for a Night in the Jungle and head south.
The Osa Peninsula, a large landmass jutting into the Pacific two hours south, contains Corcovado National Park, Costa Rica’s wildest and least visited. Access is difficult, lodging options limited. I want to check out logistics for the future.
The village of Sierpe is one access point. The Veragua, a lovely B&B with charming cabins on the river, is a find! Benedetto, an Italian artist, built it twenty years ago and with the help of Ester, a lovely Swiss woman, provides European hospitality amidst beautifully landscaped grounds. Scarlet Macaws rule the trees during the day; a chorus birds wake us before dawn.
Lacking enough time to do Corcovado justice, we settle for a half-day mangrove tour down the Rio Sierpe. Rafts of purple water-hyacinths float up and down the river with the tide. Monkeys, toucans, tree boas and crocodiles live among the mangroves. A walk along a gorgeous, deserted beach at the river mouth makes the trip especially rewarding.
The Las Vegas Restaurant becomes our favorite. Very good food, excellent shrimp. Their deck overlooking the river is wonderful.
After three, relaxing days, I need to return to Hacienda Barú by three PM when seven others plus two guides start up the mountain to the jungle camp. I’m quickly sweating profusely. It’s not a difficult hike, only a few miles, but it takes two hours. The guides stop frequently to explain the creatures and plants indigenous to the reserve.
It’s a wonderful experience. The forest is lush, verdant. Paths of Leaf-cutter Ants cross the trail. A sloth is sighted high up in a tree. Huge, thick-trunked trees climb to the sky. The guide points out the amazing eyebrows of a pair of Crested Owls. How they spot the them in all this density I’ll never know.
We reach the Jungle Camp spread out in a clearing at the boundary between the primary and secondary forest and relax to the sounds of cicadas, toucans and many other hidden birds.
Night descends quickly. After a typical Costa Rican dinner of fruit, rice, beans and chicken, we grab flashlights and VERY slowly move along a trail.
Somehow, the guide spots a tiny, red and green Poison Dart frog about the size of a nickel. Touch it, lick your finger, and you’ll become at least, very ill.
He leads us up a boulder-strewn creek. Big, hairy tarantulas lurk in the nooks and crannies. Spiders, five inches across perch on rocks. I joke about this being the Valley of Death; Abandon hope all ye small reptiles and mammals who enter here.
As we climb out of the stream bed, coiled next to the trail, the guide finds a Terciopelo, Costa Rica’s deadliest snake. Just then, one of our group spots something slithering amongst the tree litter ten feet away. I chant, “Red and Black, Friend of Jack. Red and Yellow, Kill a Fellow.” Sure enough, a Coral Snake! Too many creepy crawlers for me though you’re much more likely to be hit by lightening than bit by a snake.
An interesting fact: many biologists of all stripes spent over 450,000 man-hours traipsing through the extreme wilds of Costa Rica before one was finally bit. He lived.
Nevertheless, upon returning to camp, I retire to my small, well-screened hut and, before crawling between the clean sheets of the freshly-made bed, carefully, unapologetically, check EVERYWHERE!
Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging