Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, June 6, 1993 TAG: 9306060195
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: F-8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By CHRISTOPHER REYNOLDS LOS ANGELES TIMES
DATELINE: SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA LENGTH: Long
Now, after a punctual, painless voyage down the well-marked path that leads to its jungles, seashores, beasts and bugs, I'm convinced of it. This place may be too beautiful, too peaceable, too affordable, too convenient to last.
My introduction came in three stages. First, I explored the tidy, gridlocked streets of San Jose, where gracious locals patiently explain how their city came to be the cheerful sophisticate among Central America's otherwise troubled capitals. Second, I relaxed on the bougainvillea-draped slopes of a Pacific beach retreat, where a visitor in the busy dry season is surrounded by birds, iguanas and hundreds of other sun-and-sea tourists. Finally, I landed in a Caribbean coastal refuge about 150 miles from the capital, and floated with a dozen eco-travelers in a boat on a quiet stretch of green river. Above rose a lone blue morpho butterfly, luminous wings beating fast against the humidity. A fine moment.
No doubt there are plenty more of those moments to be had in places I didn't get to - the cloud forest at Monteverde, for instance, or the volcano rims at Poas or Irazu, or the fast waters of the Reventazon River, or the unpopulated, waterfall-rich island of Coco. Most North Americans spend 10 to 12 days in the country, and still don't get to all the destinations they wonder about.
In a territory slightly smaller than West Virginia, primordial, progressive Costa Rica contains: 3 million residents of mostly Spanish descent, a better than 90 percent literacy rate, 9,000 species of plants, 1,200 species of butterflies, 800-and-some species of birds, 200 or so species of reptiles, 15 national parks, four volcanic mountain ranges that often wear tiaras of wispy white clouds, two coastlines (one Pacific, one Caribbean), a northern border with Nicaragua, a southeastern border with Panama, one Nobel Peace Prize winner (former President Oscar Arias) and no army.
Something about this place compels cataloging, and among those already inclined to quantify experience with lists, Costa Rica may prompt euphoric fits. At breakfast one morning just outside the rain forest of Tortuguero National Park, I found Wayne Peterson of the Massachusetts Audubon Society with some clearly valuable papers tucked away in a pocket. His sighting list. When I asked how many bird species he'd seen so far, he beamed and bent to tally, line by line, page by page.
"Two hundred and thirty," Peterson eventually announced. In six days. He couldn't have been any happier if he were a Rockefeller counting his billions.
Quepos is a growing town of 10,000 or so on the county's west coast, directly south of San Jose. The city is an old banana shipping port, but visitors come for neighboring Manuel Antonio National Park, an ever-more-popular coastal reserve where the rain forest meets sandy beaches.
I hiked the 1,685-acre park and cataloged findings. Admission fee: about $1.50. Black birds, brown birds, blue birds. Six-inch crabs with red claws, lurking in rocky recesses.
Moss-covered logs. Hissing. Rustling. Chirping. A two-towed sloth. A four-foot iguana, motionless and sun-drenched. A sign: "Do not feed the monkeys."
There are three beaches. On Espadilla (also known as First Beach), just outside the park boundary, the tide is strong enough for tame surfing. Espadilla Sur (a.k.a. Second Beach), inside the park, is less crowded. On Manuel Antonio Beach (a.k.a. Third Beach), sheltered by fine sand and vegetation, snorkeling comes highly recommended.
The approved park path, mostly easy hiking, leads repeatedly across the exposed roots of living trees - big, burly roots, like half-submerged swimmers. But how many feet pound them in a week?
Probably too many. Costa Rica wins praise for its forward-thinking environmental policies, and affluent, aware Americans such as New Yorkers George Davitt and Lynda Ceremsak holiday here in part because, as Davitt allowed over a sunset cocktail one night, "It's a feel-good destination." But it remains a struggling small nation with only so much money to spend, facing the enormous temptation to take revenue where it can find it. Unlike some reserves, Manuel Antonio sets no limit on the number of visitors on its territory at a time.
One recent study by Costa Rican conservation groups found the number of visitors to Manuel Antonio National Park grew from 36,462 in 1982 to 152,543 in 1991. The annual budget for operating the park, according to the same study: just $130,372.
I didn't plan this trip as a gradual journey into the jungle landscape, but that's how it worked out. My last stop was Tortuguero, a roadless, carless, swamp town of 500 or so on the Caribbean Sea. Once the site of lumber and turtle-hunting businesses, it's now surrounded by national parkland, in which reside birds, monkeys, reptiles and insects beyond counting.
Though the turtles ("tortugas") are no longer hunted, they remain the centerpiece of the economy. From July to September, hundreds of green turtles arrive to nest and lay eggs on a 22-mile stretch of beach. Other types of turtles can be seen year-round.
Yet for all its remoteness, even Tortuguero was convenient. The mosquitoes and other insects, which swarm around hikers and attack rapidly in the jungle, for some reason leave waterway travelers largely alone. My Spartan room in the lodge was well-screened and bug-free. The place is easy for senior travelers, and it wasn't much trouble for one family, a German pediatrician and his wife, who brought along their 4-year-old son. Now, more disquieting numbers: In 1991, right here on the rain-soaked, carless edge of the jungle, the Tortuguero park rangers counted 47,376 visitors, nearly 90 percent of them foreigners. That adds up to a lot of outboard engines, each sending up a tiny plume of gray into the high leaves.
While our boat floated on that first afternoon in Tortuguero, the German pediatrician decided photographs of the place weren't enough. Silently, he raised his tape recorder's wire microphone overhead, and stood in his yellow slicker like a fly-fisherman about to cast. While his wife and son held their breaths, the jungle mumbled and screeched, and the rest of us admired his thinking.
I can imagine that family now, back in the old country and gathered around the dining room table, retelling tropical tales, passing around photos and recycling Costa Rican birdcalls. I hope the next generation can do the same.
For more information, contact the Costa Rican Tourism Board, P.O. Box 777-1000, San Jose, Costa Rica. Two good guidebooks are Lonely Planet's "Costa Rica," published in 1991 ($11.95), and "The New Key to Costa Rica," written by Costa Rica residents Beatrice Blake and Anne Becher (Ulysses Press; $13.95), published in 1993.
by CNB