My first day in Costa Rica’s famed Manuel Antonio National Park was, surprisingly, underwhelming. We set out to find sloths and Technicolor birds, but instead we were greeted by dense vegetation, a few spiders, and crowded beaches, with sand too hot to walk on. We left, not understanding what all of the hype was about—much like the first time I went to Yellowstone National Park and didn’t see a bison.
As we sat by the pool that evening, watching our resident toucans and listening to the cicadas, I realized I needed a dose of the pura vida attitude that permeates the nation. That’s Spanish for “pure life.” In Costa Rica it means everything from “take it easy” and “enjoy” to “hello” and “goodbye.” Here time slows down, with an appealing, relaxed vibe.
I’d mistakenly tried to take in this tropical country’s smallest national park at my normal sprint, which works for touring vast U.S. parks where rock formations are the size of apartment buildings and the animals are as big as cars. In the rainforest, though, I’d completely missed the subtle discoveries that keep this place on visitors’ must-see lists: creatures that meld into their environment, screeches from the treetops, and the flash of tropical color.
I decided I needed to go back.
Day two in Manuel Antonio revealed a landscape literally crawling with life, and all it took was a meandering pace with a reasonably priced, knowledgeable naturalist.
“When you hire one guide, you hire us all,” said Maurico Godinez Mesén, the owner of Costa Rica Green Experience.
I understood what he meant once I noticed the network of men and women texting, phoning, and whispering about the land crabs hidden among dead leaves, the lesser white-lined bats clustered on a tree trunk, and even a stick bird’s egg in a nest. It’s a world that I’d just walked right past during my first visit.
Take a look at any promotional information about the park and you’ll see inviting beaches, white-faced monkeys, and reclining sloths. The warm Pacific water draws crowds of sun-seekers, yet other visitors wander the network of trails in hopes of seeing the area’s elusive wildlife. Protected in 1972 and expanded in 2000, Manuel Antonio is a 7.6-square-mile paradise roughly one-sixth the size of Walt Disney World. The theme of this park, though, is primary and secondary forest with lagoons, beaches, mangrove swamps, and a sprinkling of small islands. There are 144 species of mammals and 184 resident bird species, a number that grows to 278 bird during migrations.
Most wildlife enthusiasts know Costa Rica as home to two species of sloth and some of the world’s showiest birds. On our outing we found a brown-throated three-toed sloth quietly making his way across a limb. And, we were lucky to see the nocturnal Hoffman’s two-toed sloth tucked in the bend of a limb. Every animal living in the rainforest needs to be fast, venomous, out of reach, or camouflaged to survive.
I think the most fascinating of these adaptations is the ability to blend in. A motionless lesser nighthawk sat on a mottled tree branch, a perfect match for its feathers that make it hard to see even with the spotting scope. The blue morpho butterfly, iridescent in its bouncy flight, closed up its jeweled wings when it landed, revealing a speckled brown underside that helped it disappear, too. Insects that resembled leaves and statue- like lizards hid in plain sight.
The green backdrop was compelling, once I stopped to take a closer look. We smelled citronella leaves (that can be boiled for mosquito repellant) and touched waxy calathea leaves, the forest’s answer to furniture polish. A palm protected its tasty fruit with a trunk wrapped in thorns, which native people once used to make blow darts. The sap can be distilled into an intoxicating drink that produces a stomach-churning hangover.
Costa Rica tops many Best-Of lists for eco-lodges, surfing, yoga retreats, and, of course, providing shelter to an estimated 5 percent of the globe’s biodiversity. It’s also a leader in environmental sustainability, with a goal to become the first carbon-neutral country by 2021. In 2015, the country produced 99 percent of its own energy.
“A quarter of Costa Rica is preserved, and the government is still trying to conserve more,” Mauricio told me. “It’s known as the lung of the Americas.”
He also said that strong measures to protect the wildlife and landscape mean residents need permits to cut trees, even on their own land. Sport hunting is also prohibited.
“Some people complain that the entrance prices ($16 per day for visitors 13 and older) are too expensive, but we are using that money to protect the national parks,” he added. Part of the revenue from ticket sales buys land near Manuel Antonio’s borders before it’s developed. It also pays for rangers who guard against hardwood and turtle egg poaching and funds remote parks that lack significant tourist dollars.
Despite the positive conservation news, places like Manuel Antonio face numerous threats.
“We close on Mondays and control for too many people,” Mauricio said. “The park allows 600-1,000 people in, depending on the day. When people come out, others can go in.”
More than 150,000 visitors stop here annually, and rangers search backpacks to limit the amount and the type of food that passes through the gate. Junk food attracts wildlife, causing health problems for the animals that ingest it. And just like the bears in U.S. national parks, food conditioning leads to aggressiveness. Here some monkeys have lost their fear, intimidating visitors in hopes they can cop a snack.
Wandering back down the wooden boardwalk, I heard mantled howler monkeys growl from the canopy. Their haunting, guttural calls are one of the many brushes with wilderness that park guests come to experience. Mauricio not only shares moments like this from his progressive country, he also feels it’s his job to educate visitors. And that begins by slowing down and taking time for conversation. After all, this is the land of pura vida, and it’s much too hot for a fast hike.
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