I'm just back from four days on El Camino de Costa Rica with Urri Trek. Hence the silence.

Overall? Fabulous. What an interesting way to see the country. It was also tough. Although my actual fitness is definitely up to speed, I would need better conditioning, both mental and physical, if I were to do the whole route. My feet, for instance, felt hot and achy by early afternoon. Taking my boots off at the end of the day was such a relief. Then putting them up on a wall for fifteen minutes miraculously relieved much of the inflammation and discomfort.

I started at stage 3, joining two people who had begun at the Caribbean coast, so I was a little unsure how it would play out. Oddly enough they were both doctors, but strangers to each other, so it was fine. Ed is British, born in Wales and was working in London at two separate medical centres before deciding to spend two months in Costa Rica. He’s a GP, 35 years old, seemingly single and working to improve his Spanish which he’d begun learning during an internship in Mexico. 

The other doctor, Juan José but known as JJ, is a Costa Rican 70-year old retired audiologist. For his last fifteen years he worked at the Children’s Hospital whilst also running a private practice and doing simultaneous translation for conferences (entrepreneurial, as I have mentioned before). His specialty meant he enunciated clearly and he was a pleasure to chat to, although like many men of his age and elevated social position, he did most of the talking.

For the whole four days we spoke only Spanish, which while excellent for my language skills, makes it difficult to be me. Humour is hard in a foreign language, as are emotions. So trying to share an anecdote or an opinion tends to feel wooden, chronological. 

Jairo, the guide, kept telling me the bird names in Spanish but I drew the line there. I can’t remember two different names for a new bird.

I was happy to be between the ages of Ed and JJ. If they’d both be in their 30s, they would have left me in the dust! I am like the tortoise, with one speed. Although not as slow as a reptile, and happy on the uphills, I couldn’t shift the throttle. Perhaps with some training!

El Camino de Costa Rica is an impressive venture. A woman by the name of Conchita Espino came up with the idea of walking from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean (Mar a Mar, as they say in Spanish). But more than just a hike, she wanted to support the poor rural, agricultural communities and to promote the interior of Costa Rica – most tourists head straight to the two coasts. The route stays away from major centres and hikers sleep in tiny pueblos or remote communal centres. It felt as if we are meeting the soul of Costa Rica. Every person we talked to, had food from, or who set us up in our sleeping arrangements was warm and friendly and excited to share their community with us.

They also fed us well, and not just rice and beans (although there was a lot of that)! Eggs, chorizo, tortillas, pinto for breakfast. Soup, quesadillas, potatoes and fish, spinach salad with hamburger, piccadillo perhaps and often rice and beans in different forms. We had three large meals a day: breakfast around 6 am and lunch often not until 2 o’clock or even later. Dinner would be at 6:30 and I don’t think we ever stayed up past 8 pm. Top meal? The packed lunch we picked up from Rita in a bus stop in Pacayitas. A banana-wrapped tortilla loaded with piccadillo, beans, rice, chicken, carrots and salad. As a bonus, we even ate the plate! 

Words don’t really do justice to the hiking over many different terrains. The first day we went through an Indigenous reserve, with Lorenza, our rather laconic guide who walked the whole 13 kms in wellies, waiting patiently while we struggled up or down steep river side trails thick with mud and rock. It was the most challenging walking of the Camino, and JJ fell, or rather slipped, seven times (we kept score: JJ “won” 7-1-0-0, with my slip being the only other number on the scoreboard).

Ed, stopping to tie a bootlace, spotted a fer-de-lance (terciopelo in Spanish) curled up in a patch of sun on some dried leaves at the bottom of a large tree. Beautiful, if deadly. Towards the end of that day, we crossed the Pacuare river on a hanging bridge, using a metal “basket” rather like an old-time gondola, with ropes to pull us after the swoop down to the midway point of the river. 

That first night, sleeping in a small cabin on my own, I should have been disturbed by the number of large transport trucks using their air brakes on the nearby road. But almost nothing could wake me after my 3 am start from San Jose and so many kilometres on foot. 

In the next place, again in my own personal cabin, this time an A-frame with a spectacular view over a dammed lake and Turrialba far off in the distance, I left open the doors to the balcony when I climbed into bed figuring I would be safe in my tree-top home. Soon, though, I heard a lot of rustling, and then a thump. Tired as I was, I decided I would sleep better with the door closed, and I’m glad I did as I continued to hear scrambling and thuds. I suspect they were zarigüyas (possums) or perhaps mapaches (raccoons) but didn’t want them making themselves at home inside, even if I was sleeping up in the mezzanine!

The first few hours of each day were the best for spotting birds, and I added some new ones to my life list: Collared aracari, chachalacas, scarlet-rumped tanagers, the pale-billed woodpecker, an American Kestrel and the crested guan, amongst many, many others. Perhaps I have a little ADHD as I’m much happier hiking when I have something else to do, such as searching for birds. I felt the same with diving which I embraced more whole-heartedly when I took along an underwater camera.

Cold showers marked our arrival at each new place, which is certainly a good divider between the sweat and effort of hiking, and the welcome relief of sandals and clean clothes. Temperature-wise, it was fresh in the evenings, although the most I needed was a light fleece. A bit of grit was needed to get under the cold water, but once in it felt great, and afterwards, I felt so invigorated! No wonder I slept well!

On my last night we each had a tent on the second floor of a wall-less cabin. I could NOT get comfortable at first. The mattress was thin and the pillow just a small blow-up pad. I dozed for about 20 minutes and then got twitchy. Eventually I wandered downstairs to the bathroom, then lay in the nearby hammock for almost half an hour, wondering if I should spend the night here. But I would have needed a blanket, so eventually I went back upstairs to my tent, and I’m happy I did so as I slept like a log for the rest of the night. I woke a number of times and had to rearrange myself to get back to sleep (shift onto the other side, ensuring the pillow was still wrapped in my t-shirt and clothes, then rearrange my scarf around my shoulders to protect me from the smell and feel of the cheap, polyester blankets) but each time fell deeply asleep again. Nothing like hard physical exercise to ensure good sleeping in a tent on a wooden floor. The sound of the nearby Humo river rushing along no doubt helped.

The last day’s walk was the longest – 25 kms – but the one I most enjoyed. We began with a 13-kilometre steady upward climb on a dirt road, which became more of a track and towards the summit petered out to a trail. The other side was shorter and steeper, and led into a cultivated valley lined with cloud-forest. Being a Saturday, we saw half a dozen mountain bikers. Experienced, obviously, as this was not a route for the faint-hearted.

After a delicious lunch, we walked the last five kilometres to the lodge where my fellow hikers would stay, and I was picked up for the return to San José. Thoughts of continuing on to the Pacific Ocean had crossed my mind several times over the four days, but by the end I was happy to climb into the car.

Would I do the whole route? It takes sixteen days, and I’ve only done four, but yes. I’m already making plans for 2024. Get in touch if you’re interested!