Central America,  Independent travel,  Photography,  Travel Blog,  Walking,  Wildlife

Quepos And Manuel Antonio

December 24, 2021 /

A few random and unconnected facts. One: At the last official survey, there are 932 species of bird in Costa Rica – that’s more than the whole of the USA and Canada put together, pretty impressive for such a small country!

Two: Since we began travelling together in 2011, we’ve kept a record of every place outside GB where we’ve stayed at least one night; Quepos is number 144 and the first one ever that starts in the letter “Q”. Three: This place puts the “rain” in “rainforest”. Wow, when it rains here, it really means business, we can honestly say that in all our travels we have never seen anything like the torrential rain which falls over long sustained periods here. No wonder this place is so beautifully lush and green! And this, by the way, is the dry season.

The path to our house

Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio, 6 kilometres down the road from Quepos, limits visitors per day to a maximum, not through COVID, but through a laudable desire to protect the ecology of this magnificent peninsula, actually one of a very large number of green philosophies in this enlightened country. The only way to enter the Park is by purchasing tickets on line at least 24 hours in advance – it’s about £14 per person per day – and with the entrance being at the point where the road ends, on a narrow strip of land before the peninsula opens out, it’s easy for the authorities to control.

Manuel Antonio

Approaching the gates, past the last public beach and a motley collection of restaurants and stalls selling all manner of tat, is to run the gauntlet of bogus officials in bogus uniforms, telling you where you “must park” (mostly well short of the real entrance), that you “cannot enter without an official” or simply hawking their services as a guide. Fortunately we’ve done our homework, know the pitfalls, and also got Reymar to drive us to the gate, so we fall for none of it.

Manuel Antonio

Apparently some of these guides are actually very good, but at least as many are charlatans, so the safest way is to get a recommendation and then pre-book on line or by phone. Once inside, make no mistake though – this place is an absolute paradise, and a dream for trekkers and nature lovers alike. Bounded by the Pacific on three sides, the dense, lush jungle is home to thousands of species, to entire colonies living up in the canopy, to mangrove swamps, and to several paradise beaches of soft sand and rolling surf. It’s a jaw dropping combination.

Paradise beach

For our first hiking day at Manuel Antonio we choose to go unguided, though will definitely invest in a guide in order to enhance the experience, at some point. But even unguided it’s possible to have a field day with sightings: our first day’s hike brings deer, capuchin monkeys, howler monkeys, squirrel monkeys; iguanas; sloths; a couple of coati (pronounced kwarty and similar to a large racoon); beautiful butterflies, insects by the million and even hermit crabs of many shapes and sizes skulking around the beach. 

Capuchin monkey

It is a breathtaking, beautiful tropical paradise. As we unwind from our first day walking its trails, we can scarcely believe the sheer amount of exotic flora and fauna we’ve seen first hand. We really do have to pinch ourselves. After nearly six hours hiking and wildlife spotting we take a couple of quick cooling dips in the Pacific before wearily boarding the bus back to Quepos, where, hot and tired, the draught Imperial beer at El Gran Escape (great name, huh?) is even more refreshing than usual.

  • Coati
  • Coati

So refreshing in fact that we don’t really notice the ominous dark clouds gathering over the sea, and half way home the rain hammers down once again: we are utterly drenched by the time we’ve climbed the steep hill back to the lodge. This time the whole thing goes to another level: unbelievably, incredibly heavy rain, like we’ve honestly never seen, incessant lightning, giant thunder claps, absolutely non-stop and relentless for FIFTEEN HOURS. From 5pm till 8am, the rain sheets down and the storm rages. We don’t sleep much.

By morning there is standing water everywhere, Quepos is saturated and the run-offs cascade down the mountains with force and noise. Inside the bay the Pacific is turned brown by the muddy waters of the mangrove swamp. Reymar appears at our gate as we are preparing to head out, presenting us with two delicious green coconuts but really he’s come to check that we’re OK after the night’s storms.

“This is not normal”, he says, genuinely concerned, “normally rain like this only comes in winter and finishes in October. December is dry season. My mother says first time ever in December”.

Don’t mess with me…..right!

Alberto greets us with a big outstretched hand and an equally big smile – but then big smiles are pretty commonplace in Costa Rica. Dog eared bird book in hand, his assistant Julio at the rudder, Alberto leads us off on our mangrove boat trip through the gentle waters of this remarkable area. There is something spiritually peaceful about gliding silently through the other worldly scenes of mangroves, and in this dense lush jungle, that peace is somehow even more serene.

Mangrove swamps

Within minutes we spot a tiger heron, then a kingfisher darts across our path, sandpipers put on a dance display and hawks sail overhead. Alberto explains the ecological value of the swamp, details its evolution, shows us pictures in the book to put names to the birds which we see along the way. Magically, a giant osprey sits high in a treetop, staring at the waters below for signs of food.

  • Sandpiper
  • Little Blue Heron
  • Juvenile Blue Heron
  • Tree crab

The serenity of the slow passage through still waters is fabulous, even on this cloudy, squally day. “Normally, December we have hot sun every day, all day” says Alberto, “this time, December is past half way, and summer is not here. This is not usual”.

Mangrove

We guess it’s a little bit disappointing to have missed out so far on a typical glorious Costa Rica summer, but this area and this country are stunningly beautiful. It must be an absolute paradise when the sun shines. With another five days in Quepos and another six weeks in Costa Rica, we are certain to find that out for ourselves.

Manuel Antonio village lies just outside the park gates, and is a ramble of places to stay and places to eat and drink, a palm tree lined beach of golden sands and that wonderfully cool vibe of a laid back beach town. As we take brunch there this morning, looking out at the Pacific turned almost colourless by cloud as beach attendants pack up their equipment in the rain, the owner looks up at the darkening sky and turns his palms upwards.

“This is not usual”, he says. Yes, we’re getting the picture.

And then Wednesday dawns, day 6 in Quepos and Day 9 of the trip, and as we make our way back towards the park for another early start on the hiking trails, the sky clears, the Pacific turns blue, and by 8.30am there is real heat in the sun. Swamp mud makes popping sounds as the warmth breaks through the trees and birdsong is everywhere. Summer, it seems, is coming.

Summer is coming

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