Corcovado Adieu

It had to happen. A beautiful national park being dragged into the modern-day era of adventure tourism with a promise of fine wine at the end of each evening and brilliant sunsets at no extra cost. I really can’t complain. Costa Rica, like so many other Central American countries, is simply trying to cash in on the beauty of this treasured piece of God’s handiwork.

I was fortunate enough to have been there at the beginning. Back in the early eighties, the park had been carved out of thousands of acres of pristine jungle on the Osa Peninsula in south-western Costa Rica. National Geographic has called it “the most biologically intense place on Earth in terms of biodiversity.”

Adventure tourism has gotten in bed (literally and figuratively) with health and wellness eco-tourism to form a new brand of travel. Exotic locations are now the scenes of breathtaking views, fine accommodations, health and wellness curriculum; all in a jungle environment. It had to happen even to a true jungle wilderness.

Some describe this new kind of travel tourism as a kind of wellness utopia where thermal bathing blends in naturally with family-friendly water-based activities. Most of these new health resorts and lodgings feature both ancient and contemporary treatments – from acupuncture to IV vitamin cocktails along with a ready mix of well-being practitioners, fitness trainers, and health coaches, all promising personalized care for mind, body and spirit. From that perspective, Costa Rican planners got it right. The Corcovado landscape is gob-smack in the middle of paradise.

The landscape was always that way even back in my time. It just didn’t offer up high-count Egyptian sheets and fine wine at sunset. In fact, my first view of Corcovado National Park was the sight of a crashed aircraft at the end of our rough grassy runway. At that time, 1983, the only way in and out of the huge park was by flying in on small aircraft, four passengers each.

The park had just been created by the National Department of Tourism. That agency was anxious to get the word out on the wonders and beauty of the park. They focused on journalists from around the United States, especially those associated with local public television outlets. My boss was contacted by them and I was given that assignment; to tell the story of Corcovado National Park.

Gathering up at the airport in San Jose, I could see it was an odd collection of photographers, journalists, newspaper veterans and a few old well-seasoned salts thrown in for flavor and intrigue.

Our accommodations were primitive at best. We were each assigned tents and sleeping pads and mosquito netting if we were lucky. Sleeping in tents, no ground pads, took several days to adjust to the hard ground surface.

Every morning after breakfast, we hiked a different route through the jungle. The rules of jungle hiking are really quite simple. First, jungle terrain is seldom flat. That only happens in Tarzan movies. It’s usually hilly, rugged and laced with jungle vines that can send you sprawling down a slope in nothing flat. Caution was the word.

Our guide told us right up front there were a wide variety of ways to get killed in the jungle. In our case, that could have come in the form of six different varieties of poisonous snakes, anyone of which could have killed us with just one small nick of their fangs. Yet on we trudged through the nearly impenetrable jungle in search of some great cinematic shots, which unfortunately, we never got.

Secondly, we were told to watch out for spider monkeys. They love to pee on you as you pass underneath. Howler monkeys just yell a lot. Most frogs are poisonous so don’t touch.

The third rule is also pretty simple. Snakes will kill you if they can. Watch where you step or be prepared to die. Never step over a log or object on the ground. Never lean up against a tree. Always step on top of the log then step over to the other side. Look at the tree first before you lean against it or sit next to it.

There were many species of venomous snakes in the park. The Fer-de-Lance and Bushmaster were tops in their game. One bite…thirty minutes…hello, heaven. Even the poison dart frog could do you in.

I can still hear them, almost 40 years later, scrambling above us and howling at our presence down below. It’s like a musical refrain cemented in my brain; haunting yet so familiar. The jungle can do that to you. It can enlighten, threaten and even kill you in a heartbeat.

On the first day of a long hike, I casually asked our guide if he had snake bite serum with him after he described the numerous poison snakes that abounded in Corcovado. He said no, he’d left it back at base camp, a four-hour hike away. I guess when your time comes, it comes. We all walked a little more gingerly back to camp that day.

Foresight isn’t my forte. Yet, even as I was trudging through the jungle, I knew this was the chance of a lifetime. I tried to soak up as much of the atmosphere as I could. That included the stifling heat, humidity, insects, poisonous snakes, sharks in the rivers, strange sounds day and night, sleeping on rocks, listening to the barking of the Howler Monkeys, and drinking warm beer.

Those three weeks in Corcovado produced many wonderful experiences and great memories with some fascinating folks. I should be so lucky to hear those howling monkeys ever again.

Now, fast-forward forty plus years and Brian’s family just returned from a wonderful vacation trip to Costa Rica. While, they didn’t visit Corcovado they did get a true taste of a Costa Rican jungle and beach front fun.

As the saying goes, time changes all things. Even that impenetrable jungle finally fell to the joyful sounds of kids just having a good time. Not quite my experiences there but still a wonderful feeling for all. Corcovado has a brand-new audience to savor its charms and enjoy spectacular sunsets.