I accidentally went on a hike while looking for waterfalls in the Costa Rica rainforest. The fact that I’m alive to tell this is nothing short of a miracle. I joke, but only sort of.
Some people told me there was a beautiful waterfall a few towns over in Hermosa Playa in the Guanacaste province. I could visit by taking a bus. Once there, I just had to walk up a short road, and there would be a beautiful waterfall. It sounded fun and easy, alas, it would turn out to be neither.
Shuttles into towns
There are shuttle buses that run all over Costa Rica. They’re fairly dependable and affordable and if you’re anything like me, much better than renting a vehicle. Costa Rica roads are terrible and poorly marked.
The shuttle bus took me up and across the mountain to a small town where I was supposed to find the waterfall “right up the road.” This was my first experience learning that what “right up the road” means to an American and to anyone from pretty much any other country is widely different. To me, that meant between one and three blocks. In Costa Rica, it means between one and three miles.
In the town, there were no signs and even fewer people who spoke English. I’m known for my stellar sense of direction, so with my marginally trusty cell phone, a bottle of water, and vague directions, I headed north because it was uphill and seemed like the likely place for a waterfall.
A Sign to Follow or to Turn Around?
After a few blocks of walking uphill in 100-degree heat, I found a wooden sign shaped like an arrow that someone had painted the word, “waterfall.” It was either actual directions or a trick from a cartoon madman. I followed the sign further north.
The road was steep in a way I’d describe as crazy bananas, and it seemed to go on for a long, long time. My flips flops weren’t the ideal shoe for this either. I had to stop several times to catch my breath and wipe the sweat out of my eyes.
After about 20 minutes I am beet red and sweating insanely on the side of the road. There are no sidewalks. The narrowly, roughly paved just leads up this seeming mountain lined by jungle. People occasionally pass me in work trucks and on motorbikes. If they wonder why a lone white woman is on the side of this obscure road sweating profusely, maybe crying – or is she laughing hysterically? – they do not stop to inquire.
Maybe I am Lost and Should Turn Around
Slowly, so slowly, I journey up the road and note there are no more signs. I debate turning back many times. I’m not that desperate to see waterfalls in the Costa Rica rainforest. I’ve seen waterfalls before. I’ve even seen Niagara Falls and this one will surely pale by comparison. I should probably just turn around. Going downhill will be better. It will be heaven.
However, now and then, I heard what I think is a waterfall (these were, in fact, hallucinations (Just kidding heat stroke is real and should always be taken seriously)) so I keep going because I think I must be close. I am not close. I’m not even close to close.
After about two hours, I’m out of water and soaking wet, but I finally make it to the top of what I now know for sure was a mountain. There was a woman selling water, and a bathroom. Praise be. Another sign proclaimed it was the entrance to the waterfall. Thank you, Jesus and Montezuma.
I should be seeing a waterfall right now, but…
I’m not a fan of rope bridges, snakes, stairs made out of sticks, spiders, or hiking along treacherous paths in rainforests alone in my flip-flops; however, here we are. I had to pay the woman to see the waterfall, and though she didn’t speak English, though my terrible Spanish, I deduced that I must now venture through some obstacle course to get to the waterfall.
I had planned to get dropped off at the waterfall, take some pictures for my Instagram, have a Pina Colada at a nearby cafe, and recline oceanside. Instead, here I am, soaked in my own sweat, exhausted from a two-hour uphill climb in flip-freaking-flops and about to venture across a rope bridge into a rainforest alone. Above all, there was still no waterfall. This day was going sideways.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle
Safety regulations in Costa Rica are not like in America. These bridges and trails would not have passed muster where I come from. I sighed deeply to gather my courage and forged ahead. Again, I was alone.
I wondered, why were there no other people along this godforsaken waterfall rainforest path? How is it that I find myself on a narrow mud trail alongside a 500-foot drop to death, and there is no other soul around?
The signs along the path featured the animals and natural flora and fauna that could be found along the precarious trail I now found myself on. I could see a boa constrictor, poisonous frogs, infectious foliage, and other similarly delightful wildlife.
Isn’t it funny how being told a snake is in the area makes every vine in the rainforest appear to be a snake? Keeps the blood flowing!
The most underwhelming waterfall I’ve ever seen
After another 30 minutes of intense trail finagling, finally, I’d found the waterfall and two other women sunning themselves on the massive rocks. Or were they dead? Probably dead.
Hot, tired, and exhausted, I didn’t care. It was the most underwhelming waterfall I’d ever seen. The water falling off my body was more impressive.
I snapped a few pictures and kept along the trail in search of a Pina Colada.
Now Maybe I really am Lost
After what seemed like hours, but was probably only one, I found two more unimpressive waterfalls (only a spoiled brat could call any natural waterfall unimpressive), zero people, and one wild coati.
Then I came to the end of the trail where the “beach” that was supposed to be at the end, turned out to be a 12-foot wall of dirt and tree roots (or were those snakes? Hard to tell).
I sat down for a good cry/laugh, too exhausted to move. I was filthy. My shoes were destroyed; I was soaked from sweat and out of the water and likely to die in this freaking rainforest.
Mustering the last of my will, I roamed around looking for another path and, not wanting to get further lost, ended up back at the dirt wall.
Closely examining the roots to ensure they weren’t boa constrictors, I decided to climb it and see what was at the top.
To my tearful delight, it was a road, the very same stupid road that’d I’d climbed up to get here. I walked back down, laughing hysterically all the way and caught my shuttle back to my hotel.
In the end, I wasn’t really in any danger, or even very far off the main road, it just felt that way, but it was a good lesson on being more prepared and knowing what to expect when hiking alone or in any unfamiliar situations.
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