The scene looked fantastic, straight out of a Disney movie. Three glass-winged butterflies perched on a clump of goat weed. Orchids dotted the dark green forest canopy. Tiny iridescent hummingbirds swooped across the sky like fairies. Finally, at that moment, there was the Costa Rica I was looking for.
Left to right: Courtesy of Lirio Lodge; Courtesy of Jen Murphy
Since becoming a model of ecotourism in the 1990s, the country has attracted millions of visitors a year, including myself. But last summer, on my sixth visit, I heard more English than Spanish in the surf town of Nosara, and I was almost ready to write the country off as over-touristed.
Related: The Ultimate Costa Rica Packing List
This year, I made a mistake by walking the Camino de Costa Rica. Managed and promoted by the nonprofit Mar a Mar, this 280-kilometer-long trail stretches across the country, from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean, and offers an experience far from the tourist centers. The 16-stage route crosses five different microclimates and passes through isolated villages, indigenous lands, protected natural areas and more than 20 towns that, until now, have benefited little from conventional tourism. Along the way, hikers eat and sleep in local homes and family-run lodges.
Courtesy of Urritrek
Part walking safari, part culinary tour, part cultural dive, the Camino de Santiago is also a physical challenge. While travelers can technically walk it alone, it’s a good idea to hire a guide: The trail is remote and there are plenty of stinging and venomous things along the way. I also found it helpful to have someone who could answer my questions about the stunning flora and fauna.
I began my journey in Barra de Pacuare, a jungle village near the Cariari National Wetlands, a protected mangrove and marine area on the east coast. After a breakfast of eggs and gallo pinto, The Costa Rican version of rice and beans, I took a 15-minute boat ride to the remote village of Parismina, so I could symbolically dip my toe in the Caribbean. Upon arrival, as planned, a troop of white-faced capuchin monkeys began performing acrobatics in the palm trees above me, as if in a formal farewell ceremony.
Courtesy of Urritrek
It’s recommended that you complete the entire route in 16 days, but I had only five. UrriTrek, one of the many tour operators on the Camino, customized an itinerary that included multiple car transfers, so I could cover more ground. The company also connected me with Juan “Juancho” Chavarria, one of its owners. A bear-sized man with a tattoo of a red hummingbird—the route’s mascot—on his forearm. Chavarria has walked the Camino 35 times, has an encyclopedic knowledge of its biodiversity, and knows his community partners so well that he told me he considers them family.
Chavarria and I walked back to Barra de Pacuare. It was less than two miles, but in a short time I saw half of my wildlife wish list: sloths, poison dart frogs, howler monkeys, and emerald basilisk lizards. A 20-minute boat ride through thick mangroves took us to the village of Goschen; from there, we walked a few more miles to the nearest trailhead.
The hike ahead was an adventure, taking us to Tsiöbata, a village belonging to the Cabecar people, one of the most isolated indigenous tribes in the country. After an hour of walking downhill through dense jungle, we reached a roaring river full of rafts. To cross the 120-meter-wide Pacuare River, we had to squeeze into a rickety metal basket while Chavarria pulled a metal tow rope. “You always have to work to get the best parts of the Camino,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. It took us another hour of hard work up a steep, muddy hill before we reached Tsiöbata. Leo Martinez, the village's ecotourism manager, showed us the new museum and, over lunch at the local school, told us about his desire to organize craft workshops to generate income for the community.
The next day, a guide named Isabel Umaña took over from Chavarria as we traversed the Copal Reserve, a biological corridor connecting Cerro de la Muerte de Tapantí-Macizo National Park and La Amistad International Park. After listing all the species of orchids blooming around us, Umaña pointed out the glass-winged butterfly that had so fascinated me, then a giant leaf known as the “poor man’s umbrella,” then the scarlet rump of a male Passerini’s tanager. We emerged from the wilderness and entered the hamlet of Purisil, which, like many of the places we visited, was organized around a school, a church, and a soccer field.
After hiking more than 10 miles and some serious elevation gain, I was famished when we reached La Cuchara de Mariana, a humble but welcoming restaurant where the owner, Mariana Céspedes, greeted us with a warm “Good way” and cold lavender-scented towels. The feast began with a soup studded with green plantain, chayote and sweet potato, then a whole roasted trout, followed by coconut milk caramels.
The Camino’s impressive network of restaurants and lodges is the work of Mar a Mar and Conchita Espino, a retired World Bank official. She and her husband were inspired to build the trail after completing the ancient pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Espino and the members of Mar a Mar spent 10 years visiting remote villages and recruiting locals to set up services for hikers. The trail, which is only five years old, has generated not only income but also immense pride.
Over the next three days, we hiked through rainforests and jungles, passed coffee and banana plantations, and bathed in natural hot springs. I also ate some of the best food I’ve ever had in Costa Rica, including freshly made blackberry ice cream at a house in the Palo Verde Rainforest, a 1,700-acre private reserve that’s home to more than 100 species of birds.
On our last day, we hiked five miles uphill from the hamlet of Naranjillo to catch our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, then hiked two miles downhill to Esquipulas, a small town at the foot of the Brunqueña mountain range. We cooled off with a dip in a waterfall and finished with lunch at Esquipulas Rainforest, a glamping retreat and coffee plantation. As we relaxed, a cluster of hummingbirds began feeding on the flowers of a nearby banana tree. In the last few days, I’d seen more hummingbirds than people. It turned out that the Costa Rica of my imagination was real. It just took a little more effort to experience it.
16-Day Camino de Costa Rica Tours with UrriTrek from $1,950.
