Costa Rica

In 1992, my spouse and I flew to Costa Rica with our six year old daughter, rented a Toyota Corolla and drove on deeply rutted gravel roads uphill into the mountains to the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve. We were absolutely captivated by the combination of cool temperatures, high humidity, and lush tropical forest full of epiphyte-loaded giant trees. After a few days, we drove back downhill and south to the central Pacific coast and Manuel Antonio National Park. We swam, played on the beach, and hiked all over the Park - enchanted by its abundant wildlife. I was rapidly hooked by Costa Rica's natural beauty, its hospitality, and ease of travel. So, for the next five summers, I organized natural history workshops for other educators so that I could see more of the country. I stopped running the workshops in 1998 in order to travel and photograph in Costa Rica on my own - returning once or twice a year until we moved to Richmond, VA in 2021. My Tico friends joke that I'm secretly working on a Ph.D. in Costa Rican geography because I've traveled so extensively around the country - having adventures and making images at every stop. Here are a few of my most memorable experiences, followed by the Galleries of photographs.

My Spirit Animal

My first experience of the Costa Ballena, the Pacific coast south of Manuel Antonio, was in Uvita at La Cusinga Lodge. This award-winning lodge is a model of hospitality, conservation and sustainabilty whose origins are chronicled in "The Gringo's Hawk". From the very first moment I set food on their grounds, I felt completely at home and each of many subsequent visits connected me to that beautiful land.

The first animal I met was the Fiery-billed Aracari, in Tico Spanish "Cusinga". This medium-sized toucan is limited to the coastal forests on southern Costa Rica and northern Panama. They are not rare birds but they are only found in healthy lowland rainforests, making them an important indicator species.

I've spent countless hours watching these birds around the lodge and can certainly connect with their uniqueness, high energy, colorful nature as an icon of this bioregion.

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Photographing Southern Humpback Whales

In August 2019, my traveling companion and I booked a whale-watching trip out of Uvita. Large numbers of southern humpback whales migrate north from Antarctica along the Pacific coast of South America to winter along Southern Costa Rica. We walked through the Park to the beach of the Whale’s Tail tombolo, a narrow strip of sand connecting the mainland to an rocky area 0.8km offshore. This strip is only walkable at low tide. As the crew held the boat bow-first into the surging waves, we jumped in and headed out into the Pacific under overcast skies. Swells were 4’-6’ but long and smooth. We followed several groups of whales for an hour or so when the Captain decided to return to the beach to offload a passenger who was very seasick. I was sitting in front of the small cabin, facing toward the stern and had been shooting with a 70-300mm zoom lens on my Nikon D7200, keeping it my waist pack bag when I wasn’t shooting. We got to the beach and turned bow-first into the waves as the passenger jumped off the back. Suddenly, a large wave broke over the bow and over me – soaking me and the camera completely. I grabbed a bandana from inside my jacket and tried to dry off the camera but within a minute the power died. I wrapped it in the bandana and put it in my bag. We left the beach and motored south along the coast and around the Tres Hermanos Islands. I continued to shoot with my Olympus TG-4, a waterproof point and shoot camera until we beached the boat for the last time that trip. Fortunately, I always carry a backup camera body and used it the rest of the trip. I wiped down the 70-300 with fresh water back at our Lodge and it was fine. The D7200 was a total loss but the memory card was fine. Was seeing the whales so close in such a magnificent setting worth losing my camera? Yes, although I wish I’d asked to use one of the many dry bags the tour company had at their office. Photos of the whales are in the Fauna gallery; photos of our group are in the People in Nature gallery.

Watching Arenal Erupt for the First and Last Time

One of the last things I did on my first trip in 1992 with my spouse and our six year old daughter was to take a last afternoon tour from our hotel in San Jose to Arenal Volcano National Park in order to view the volcano erupting at night. We crossed the Cordillera Central between Volcanoes Poas and Barva and headed northwest to La Fortuna. About 45 minutes later we were at the base of the volcano. It was too cloudy to see the summit but small pockets of lava were emerging low on the norther flank. Our driver parked the van and we followed him to about 100m away from bright red-orange glowing from the rocks. Our daughter was initially spooked but we sat quietly on a flat boulder and just listened to rumbling up in the clouds and occasional belches of gases from Arenal. After about 30 minutes, she said “Can we get closer”, so we crept forward a few meters until our guide paused us. Our daughter was glad she’d overcome her fears and got to experience an active volcano close up. In Summer 2010, I stayed a week at Arenal Observatory Lodge on the southern slope of the volcano and photographed it in eruption during the day and at night. The nighttime lava flows were magnificent and easy to see from the comfort of the Lodge’s patio and balconies. Erupting volcano? Cold beer and fresh nachos? Winner! Little did I know at the time that this would be the last series of eruption for many years. To date, Arenal only erupts with noxious gases and steam. Photographs are in the Volcanoes gallery.

Photographing the Anexion Celebration in Liberia

The Annexation of the Partido de Nicoya (now Guanacaste province) to Costa Rica occurred on July 25, 1824, when residents of Nicoya and Santa Cruz voted in a democratic, open town hall to join Costa Rica rather than remain with Nicaragua. The decision was driven by a desire for stability, peace, and closer trade ties, formalized under the motto "¡De la patria por nuestra voluntad!". I planned my trips in 2011 and 2015 so that I would be in Liberia for the Anexion and to be able to spend a few days around July 25 with my Tico friends, the Odios. The days began early with concerts and folkloric dance performances around Maria Canas Ruiz Park in front of the Immaculate Conception of Mary cathedral. Streets closed at noon for El Tope – the equestrian parade of almost 1,500 horses/riders both decked out in their finest sabanero (cowboy) garb. The parade began around 2pm and ended at sunset. Because there were so many riders on the two lanes of the main street, the pace was very slow – enabling me to weave between horses photographing without being in any danger. No one waved me off and most smiled at my poor Spanish phrases. The time flew and I left with hundreds of images. Back home, I printed a large copy of the photograph I made in 2011 of the Liberia police leadership mounted on beautiful horses. The next Summer, I brought the image to the Central Police Station and presented it the Chief. He called in everyone in the photo to express their gratitude and we had a nice celebration. In 2015, I was able to share the experience with my Colorado cousins; their daughter was in veterinary school specializing in large mammals, particularly horses, so she got a real charge from the experience as well. Photographs are in the Culture & History gallery.

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Photographing the Osa Peninsula by Air

Just getting to the Osa Peninsula is an adventure in itself. I boarded a small boat in Sierpe and motored downstream until it met the Pacific. The pilot timed the huge incoming swells just right before gunning the twin outboard engines to dash between rocky outcrops and into the ocean. The ride to Punta Marenco Biological Reserve Lodge adjacent to Rio Punta Clara National Wildlife Reserve was smooth. To land, the pilot brought the boat close to the shore inside a small area flanked by large rocks. We literally jumped out into waist deep water and waded to the beach. Fortunately, I had wrapped my camera bag in a plastic bag while on the trip out; a staff member brought my rolling duffle bag. I had five days to explore the Reserve, visit Corcovado National Park and Cano Island Biological Reserve. At Marenco, I met a recently discharged US Air Force pilot and his spouse. We hiked trails together and bonded over our mutual interest in Nature. Over dinner one night, he mentioned how interesting it would be to see the Osa from the air, so I asked the Lodge’s staff if this would be possible and they said yes. My new friend told me that he would pay for me if I would give him copies of all the photos; of course, I agreed. Two days later, after breakfast, we were driven over a dirt track in the back of a farmer’s truck to the airstrip at Drake Bay where we waited for our pilot. An old Cessna 172 soon landed on the grass strip. Because I would be sitting in the back seat without any window to shoot out of, I asked if they could remove the back door (something I never was able to do in my aerial shoots in South Florida) and was happily surprised that they agreed. They strapped me in well and we bounced down the airstrip and headed north to the mouth of Rio Sierpe. We then circled back over Drake Bay and into Corcovado National Park under overcast skies. We cris-crossed the Park from land to sea, circled Corcovado Lagoon, flew around Cabo Matapalo at the tip of the peninsula, then dropped into Sirena Biological Station inside the Park to drop off some packages as it began to rain. From Sirena, we headed back west along the coast, buzzed Punta Marenco, then landed at Drake Bay for one of my most exciting experiences ever. All the aerial photos in the Costa Rica collection were made on this trip.

Sauntering in Chirimiri

The title is doubly inspired. When I’m out in Nature, I find myself sauntering: walking at a leisurely pace while musing and in reverie. There’s a false etymology that suggests the term originally referred to Medieval pilgrims on their way to the Holy Lands (à la Saint[e] Terre), but considering that I see Nature as Spirit manifest, I’m just fine with sauntering as a spiritual practice. The word “chirimiri” has its origin in Spain, where it refers to precipitation finer than mist. I’ve rarely met a Tico who is familiar with this term but I find it accurately describing the cloud forest – particularly at the highest ridgetops where trade winds pour over the mountains.

Nowhere is "chirimiri" at its finest but in Monteverde and neighboring Santa Elena. I've spent more time here than anywhere else in Costa Rica - always finding new trails to explore and always swiftly savoring the present moment. Cool and misty air, bird song, and 360 degrees of lushness have graced me with deep connections to this place.

Photographs in the Land & Sky 'Scapes gallery attempt to capture the magic of the cloud forest.