Text by Chris Smith (instructor) and photos by Elizabeth Brunner (instructor), unless otherwise noted.
On April 15th, with five days of heads-stuck-in-computers behind us and finals over, we started our travels toward our last and final destination: Cerro Kamuk. With a height of early 3500 m, it is Costa Rica’s second tallest mountain and often acclaimed to be harder hiking that its slightly taller cousin, Chirripó further to the north. Located along Costa Rica’s southern border with Panama in La Amistad International Park, only a dozen or so groups per year successfully summit it, maybe because of the 54 km round trip journey that includes over 9000 ft total elevation gain. Usually groups take 4-7 days to make this hike, and we had exactly 4, in order to get back in San Jose by the time our flights left on the 21st.
Our travels to the mountain were nearly as eventful as the trip itself. Leaving at 6:30 am in the morning, the first group to leave Piro bought food for the trip, while the latter took gear to the bus station to buy tickets. We had been told a month ago that busing the day after Easter would mean an empty bus, but learned en-transit to Puerto Jimenez that this was not the case. The line outside the bus window had already started 45 min before the ticket window opened, when we arrived, and we bought the last tickets on the bus, standing room only. What we would have done if I had been one person later, we chose not to think about. We loaded our mountain of gear into the wheelchair exit (as normal) and were amazed to find 1/3 the bus still empty, with plenty of seats for all of us. However, as the bus traveled along and picked up more people, we were soon standing crammed tightly against each other or our luggage pile, wishing this 3 hour bus ride could be over. Perhaps our thoughts were heard…
About an hour into the trip, we heard a thudding coming from under the bus as it climbed a hill, which soon meant we were rapidly traveling about 5 km per hour to keep the noise at bay. Apparently the drive shaft had broken some bolts. So all 75 of us unloaded onto the side of the road (the driver had smartly chosen the only spot on the road without shade to park the bus) and tried to entertain ourselves for 3 hours while first the driver, then a hired mechanic banged under the bus, until the drive shaft came out. Next, the bus driver told us a back-up bus had been dispatched but would be there in 3 hours or he would get back first with the fixed part, and drove off with his mechanic friend to fix the part. We sat on the side of the road, eating what food we had and trying to entertain ourselves with Ukalele and throwing stick games, till finally the driver returned with the fixed part and water for all the people. By 1 am, we were back on the road and headed for our destination.
After that, our trip to the base of Cerro Kamuk was relatively uneventful, and we met our driver, William, in the town of Potrero Grande. As one of 5 families that had founded Tres Colinas (the settlement at the start of the trail up Cerro Kamuk), William had insight into local conservation problems. As his blue 1975 Land Cruiser slowly plodded up the ridiculously steep grade towards Tres Colinas, he told us how the Del Monte pineapple plantations we were passing caused runoff of soil and pesticides into the streams, and how some locals liked them because they had brought work, but in reality, they paid very little and had a much more negative impact on the land than other crops that could be grown. The grade was so steep, that the luggage had to be loaded in the rear part of the truck bed so it didn’t slide forward and squish those sitting in front of it. As we wound up in elevation, we started to experience something new: COLD AIR!! As we drove up out of the tropic zone, the pleasure of not sweating and feeling cool air, something we hadn’t felt in 3 full months, was hard to express. The incredible views of the surrounding country spreading below us, combined with the new flora and fauna all around made us incredibly grateful to be entering cloud forest.
The student group hanging out in the back of the 1975 Land Cruiser that served as our transport to Tres Colinas
Arriving at Tres Colinas, we had a quick introduction to our rooms, dinner, and met our guide Freddy and his wife Yendry. Freddy was a quiet, humble, unassuming man, which belied the fact that he was strong as a horse and had naturalist knowledge of the forests that surpassed anyone we had met to this point on our trip (scientists included). Every bird call, bird nest, mammal track, elevation, and mountain name were known to this man. Having no previous scientific training, he still managed through natural curiosity to identify and count every twig in the bird nests he collected and maintained 3 camera traps just for the fun of it (on which he had gotten photos of Jaguar, Puma, Margay, Ocelot, Oncilla, Jaguarundi, and Tapir all in the last 2 months). Freddy came over to check out our gear and pack weights, but we had had no time to repack our bags since the taxi. When Freddy (who me and Eli knew well from a pre-course trip) asked to feel how heavy one of the backpacks we were planning on carrying tomorrow was, I handed him my 80 lb pack. Freddy is always smiling, but attempting to lift the pack, for a few seconds, his smile turned pretty worried. That quickly changed back to laughter and smiles when we explained the joke. He seemed content, even impressed with our food and stove we had brought and left us to finish packing our bags.
Our warm-clothes and bedding situation was a bit comical. As Me and Eli had only learned of our trip to Tres Colinas the day before students flew to Costa Rica, both of us had almost no warm weather gear. Students had been asked to bring what they had, but still, gear such as hats, gloves, and warm jackets were mostly missing. Eli had sewn two 68 F degree sleeping bags together (who uses a 68 degree F rated sleeping bags anyways?!!), which was all we could find at the camping store in San Jose. I used two blankets from Tres Colinas to wrap myself in burrito style using my tent fly at night, and students ended up mostly in sleeping bags in tents (Katie, Ester, and Carolina) or making do burrito-style like me (Max).
The next morning we started hiking around 6:30 am. The first 6 km were all uphill, but 2 horses carrying our backpacks made the kilometers fly. The last 3 km up the mountain to the first camp were slow, but we barely noticed because of the trees. 700-1000 year old oaks, the size of several humans in circumference, dominated the forest, making us feel small, knowing they may have watched Aztec traders and the first Europeans walk beneath them. None of us had ever seen trees like this in cloud forest before, including me and Eli who had been to many a “bosque del nubes” in our past. Clouds would role in among their canopies, engulfing us in a misty world where visibility was composed of giant trees and mist, punctuated by haunting songs of Black-faced Solitaires which linger in the muffled silence. I think these were some of the strongest memories many of us took from this trip….such a contrast to our hot tropical forests we had walked in 24 hours before.
Jaguar scratch marks on the bark of a cloud forest oak tree.
Around 11 pm, we arrived at the first camp, and quickly tore in to our lunch, which was amazing, mostly because we had a block of real cheese that wasn’t sweaty or half melted (another first in many months). After lunch, the remaining 8 km (17 km for the day) were long but not unbearable, and we spent our night at the 2nd shelter in good spirits. Around 4 am, two owls in camp woke me up, and after 15 minutes of hooting, a Black-and-White Owl showed up!!!, one of the largest and likely the coolest looking of the owls in Costa Rica.
Students stopping mid-hike to check out some jaguar scat. After inspecting this scat, we concluded that the jaguar had been feeding on a young Baird’s Tapir.
A Black-billed Nightingale Thrush nest.
The next day, we continued our hike through the giant oak forest, and eventually reached Paramo. Paramo feels like a different planet when you enter it. No tree grows taller than your head, and the vegetation is dense, evergreen, and often impenetrable.
Hiking down through the clouds in the Paramo
What maintains this landscape as a mosaic close to the edge with cloud forest isn’t fully known, although fire, wind, and elevation certainly play a part. The suite of bird and mammal species changed drastically, with large mammals whittled down to only Collared Peccary, Tapir, and Jaguar. Some of Costa Rica’s rarest birds occur at these elevations, due to the small area of the habitat and its patchiness across the tops of volcanoes throughout the country. And with all good changes in habitat, large amounts of naturalist geeking-out ensued, including Eli amassing a photo collection of nearly 15 different orchid species in bloom, along with 7 sp of club moss, several species of strap fern, and an unknown number of other plants similar to Chile. I found myself hunting the elusive “Volcano Junco”, (perhaps the biggest oxymoron that existes between a bird name and appearance). This species is the definition of a SBB (small brown bird), and has a tendency to hide meters away from pursuing birders, enraging them by calling just out of eye site (this might be a personal experience). Our pace slowed considerably (or at least the pace of the instructors) due to naturalist-geekage, which may have been part of the reason we didn’t reach our camp before it started pouring.
We saw many blooming specimens of this large, pink orchid while on our hike. Freddy informed us that in 10 years, he had never before seen it bloom.
Thunder started around noon, and we were soon in a true downpour. After three hours of slogging through wet peat bogs and sliding on our muddy, unimproved trail that climbed up or down small mountains endlessly, we arrived wet to the bone at our shelter, at 3300 m. “Shelter” might be giving it too much credit however; the 6 pieces of black plastic hung over the dilapidated center rope were saggy from holding water, leaking in several places, and the large drainage ditch running through the middle of the structures didn’t inspire much confidence. We quickly set up our 2 tents, changed into dry clothes and spent a half hour tying back various pieces of plastic with the little rope we had brought to make the shelter more livable and waterproof. By the time we had finished, the shelter looked liveable, and Freddy apologized a bit for the conditions….the government had promised in January to improve the shelter, so the Tres Colinas community had not undertaken repairs; that date had been moved to August, which was why things were still in a bit of disarray. Regardless, after only a short 20 minutes of 4 students in a 3 person tent, the tent was nearly 70 F, and people were relatively warm, dry, and happy. We settled in to wait out the rain a bit, but it continued into the night. We went to sleep in a light rain, dreaming it would stop by the morning, when we were to summit Kamuk.
At 4:30 am the next morning, Freddy woke us to prepare for our climb. Sunrises on Kamuk, when visible are spectacular, but the fact it had been raining at 3 am made us worry. As we hiked the 1.5 km to the top in the dark, we wondered if we’d end up like the last group that had summited days earlier: with a vista that extended 100 m into the rain and fog. The amount of Tapir trails and tracks at these elevations was staggering, and several times, trails that appeared almost human in size appeared to leave our own, making us glad to have Freddy along. The climb up the final rocky peak was steeper than we had had up to that point, and even involved a rope, but ended with what we had come for. On top, literally half of Costa Rica and large stretches of Panama lay before us in the early morning rays of sunrise. On our left lay the Pacific, with the Osa Peninsula visible far in the haze and to our right, the Caribbean and the far off city lights of Limon. Far to the north lay mountains spread with uninterrupted forest as far as the eye could see, including the far off peak of Chirripo, and a plume of volcanic ash coming from erupting Turiabla near San Jose. At least one student said it was the most amazing view they had had in their life.
The view from near the top around sunrise.
As most mountains are, it was cold, and soon our lack of gear was inhibiting our use of cameras and zippers, as our fingers grew cold from lack of exercise. Katie had brought her Yukulele to the top (the first ever on top Cerro Kamuk), and we sang a quick song of “I can’t help falling in love with you”, dedicated to Brenna who couldn’t be there with us. How Katie managed to play with numb hands is still beyond us. After a few more photos, snacks, and water, we headed down to less-windy elevations and said goodbye to our final challenge.
View eastward from the summit, looking over Panama at the rising sun. Caribbean sea on the horizon.
Spring 2017 Costa Rica group on the summit of Cerro Kamuk
Our trip back was best described by a single word: wet. Soon after we packed up camp and were hiking the 9 km back to the 2nd Shelter, it started to pour. The trail the day before had been muddy, and now it turned into a swamp. Mud topped Eli’s 12” tall rubber boots several times and the tennis shoes that were most students’ substitute for hiking boots (which we had told them not to bring because leather boots mold in weeks in the tropics) lost all semblance of their previous colors. The constant ascending and descending of small mountains didn’t help the mud, and it wasn’t till 3 pm when we plodded into camp.
Student Carolina May hiking through the paramo.
Somewhere among this plodding though, Freddy managed to say the magic word I had been yearning for our the entire trip: Quetzal.
We had just reached the edge of the large oak forest from the paramo, and Freddy had heard a Quetzal calling nearby. Quetzal calls are easy to mimic (just a downslurred whistle), and I gave it a try. Ten seconds later a glittering emerald and red bird the size of a large chicken landed in a tree 40 m away. The male sat there for nearly a minute, glittering for all to see, while we all got great looks through binoculars at his amazing colors and tail. There is a long, personal story of coming to Costa Rica hoping of all birds to see this one, only to miss one by 10 minutes in Monteverde, 30 minutes in Cerro de la Muerte, and to have one sit outside a room I was studying in for an hour in San Gerardo de Dota (unbeknowest to me), which I will save readers. Seeing a Resplendent Quetzal was echoed by many as the coolest bird on our trip, and for a few, something we had been waiting years to see.
Dry clothes and warm food helped in camp helped keep our spirits up after we saw the Quetzal, and that evening we managed to sing our goodnight song with Katie’s Ukulele, as we had every evening for the last 3 months. A Mottled Owl called nearby most of the night, but decided our own owl hoots weren’t worth investigating, other than to fly over once. The next morning, we put on our wet clothes, and started our hike at 7 am, to try and finish our 17 kms still ahead of us. Around noon it once again started to pour, and the last 6 km downhill into Tres Colinas seemed to take forever. Walking up to our dry cabin and changing into dry clothes was nice, and we soon turned the kitchen into a laundry drying room. Unfortunately, our taxi ride to San Jose and early morning flights meant many of these wet clothes had to be put in plastic bags for airplane flights, which is not a good recipe for pleasant smells. Several students wondered aloud, if they would let us on our airplanes?
The next morning, we said goodbye to Freddy, Yendry, Tres Colinas, and Cerro Kamuk, as William drove us down the mountain to Potrero Grande. Our taxi ride was uneventful, other than our lunch, where the taxi driver watched wide-eyed as all 6 of us cleaned off heaping plates of beans, rice, and fried plantains due to our continued backpacking metabolism. Arriving in San Jose was a bit of a culture shock for me, after spending nearly 3 months in towns no larger than Puerto Jimenez which has a single paved main street. We went shopping for presents, had an amazing dinner, and were able to play our last round of “Hallelujah” (our good night song) while Skyping with Brenna. The mixture of excitement to be heading home and sadness to be leaving our tight-knit, community of friends gave the evening a strange feeling at times. Having to say goodbye to people with whom you have sweated with, birded with, cooked with, swam with, itched chigger bites with, sat on sun-lit tropical beaches with, hiked mountains with, and sang with is not easy. I have spent many years teaching in the field of environmental education, and rarely (perhaps never) have I seen a group of students who got along without once arguing, stayed so positive, looked out for each other so constantly, or were so happy together. The next morning in the airport, I know it was hard for some (including myself) to hold back a few tears, knowing it would be a long time again before we saw one another again. These three months in Costa Rica for me brings up many memories: walking tropical rivers looking for Neotropical River Otter scats, resting on tropical beaches watching sunsets, sitting in hot deserted cabins off the sides of highways, dancing at Bijagual, kayaking through Mangroves looking for Yellow-billed Cotingas, while shouting OH BABY! when a Turquoise one arrived instead, listening to blasting songs of Kentucky Warblers or “Janky, Janky“ from bird speakers, sitting on the Piro platform chatting after dinners with Luci-lights, hunting camaronies at night and catching frogs with Noel, sliding down ravines at Juana’s, having our clothes washed and breakfast made by kind Dona Sibaja, sweating in tents at night while itching chigger bites or listening to extended conversations with Parajeles, climbing mountains with forests, clouds, and quetzals, and singing goodnight songs. I think these memories and many more will be carried with us all for a long time, and trust they have made us all stronger, wiser, and more alive human beings.
Here are a few other parting words from the students about their experiences over the semester. It was a true pleasure to spend the last three months with all of you.
Katie Goodwin – University of New Hampshire
My time in Costa Rica has been by far the best experience of my life. I learned more than I ever thought possible and made amazing memories with even more amazing people. Being in Costa Rica opened my eyes to a part of the world which is very different from anything I had experienced before, and I loved getting to know the culture as well as the natural wonders of this beautiful country. I think we can all agree that we were so lucky to have spent the semester with such a wonderful group and such great instructors. I will always remember eating piña together until our mouths hurt, perfecting the jungle slide in the rain, singing good night song before going to sleep every night, and so much more. Standing on the top of Cerro Kamuk, we could see from one side of Costa Rica to the other, down to both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. It was the perfect way to end the semester, watching clouds drift over the peninsula which we had called home for the past three months while singing together one last time on the top of the mountain at sunrise.
Max Beal – Northland College
It seems like a lifetime ago that we all touched down in San Jose. Now, just like that, twelve weeks have passed us by and our time on the Osa peninsula has come to an end. Looking back, it’s hard to believe that everything we did fit into three short months. From helping Osa Conservation with river otter surveys, kayaking the mangrove systems of Gulfo Dulce, and looking for birds of concern to conducting biodiversity surveys on four fincas for FBS and everything in-between we managed to cover a lot of the peninsula and see a lot of incredible things. And even though I love the Osa, our final backpacking trip up Cerro Kamuk in La Amistad international park might take first place for my favorite week. My memories of the places and people I have been fortunate enough to visit and meet while in Costa Rica will last me a lifetime. As this semester comes to an end it’s hard to realize we may all never be together in those places again, but I still hope to see everyone’s faces and sit on the beaches of the Osa peninsula someday soon. Thanks for a great semester!
Carolina May – College of William and Mary
This semester brought the textbooks and articles that made up my previous science classes to life as we met with landowners, observed wildlife in their natural habitat, and collected and analyzed our own data. I learned that conservation is more complex than I ever imagined, and that many conservation decisions fall into a grey area that’s not easy to navigate. Our group discussions and readings helped me grow in understanding conservation as a discipline and a career. In terms of experiencing the biological diversity of Costa Rica, few things can compare to walking through stream canyons filled with hummingbirds, watching troops of squirrel monkeys swing their way through camp, or observing the incredible variety of mosses, ferns, and orchids as we ascended Cerro Kamuk. But possibly even more than these experiences, I loved the time we spent together as a group swimming in waterfalls, hammocking, taking down whole fruits, singing good night song, working on our jungle slide, and cooking camp meals. Thanks to our instructors for teaching us to walk slow and listen, and to embrace the things we are curious about. And to my fellow classmates (aka the unit): tort up, trudge on, and keep bagging peaks. Thanks for making this spring the semester of a lifetime!
Esther Daranciang – Westminster College
The past few months have allowed me to experience so much of what the Osa Peninsula has to offer. The wildlife and plant diversity is greater than I could have imagined. Through our month of homestays on the fincas we were able to connect with locals and learn what the Osa meant to them. We also experienced extreme hills/rain/bugs that were very challenging, but we faced every challenge together. Every night we came together over an ukulele, and the occasional guitar, to sing and end every day on a beautiful note of unity. As much I will miss watching the squirrel monkeys swing over camp and the vibrantly colored birds, I already miss the people I got to share the experience with even more. Tort up fam, thanks for everything!