Costa Rica Travel

The Curu wildlife refuge is a 13-kilometer mass of tropical, dry forestland. It is part of the Tempisque Conservation area near Tambar; about an hour's commute from the loose scatter of ultra-lux Costa Rico resorts seemingly hidden within the country's waving, green hills. What little wildlife that are absent from the more gentrified areas of the country-those near extinction-can be found at Curu.

There is no doubt that visiting Costa Rica, be it the inner-city or jungle, is night and day from traditional vacations. The Bahamas is a domesticated house pet in comparison, and Tijuana-a theme-park. Instead, Curu and other tours are part of a more contemporary style of vacation, eco-tourism.

The wildlife refuge is a different breed, however; a way for novice eco-tourists to ease into the trend without any pressure to be in top physical condition or know the difference between a bowline knot or Italian hitch. The aim of Curu is not to introduce foreigners to the wildlife but, instead, to reintroduce wildlife back into their natural habitats.

The reserve rescues and protects species that would otherwise dissolve into extinction if left to fend against the devastating effects of urban sprawl. Scarlet macaws and crocodiles are just a few of the animals exclusive to the reserve. Others include capuchin and howler monkeys, agoutis, ocelots, white-tailed deer, and margays. Some winged species that populate Curu-hawks to hummingbirds to a bright and colorful spectrum of butterflies, including the morpho.

In the 1930s, Curu was acquired for 5 dollars and established by the European immigrant, Fredrico Schutt. In its current state, the reserve exists as SINAC-funded (National System of Conversation Arena) land and remains somewhat grassroots in complexity and financial backing. It is worth noting, oddly, that the wife of the late Fredrico Schutt still saunters about Curu and resides in a tiny and remote hut, absent of electricity or running water.

It's an area of the world still intact to its origins; where zones of jungle and lush greenery exceed the resorts and clubs; where horns and the fervent chatter of countless conversations subside to a steady Baru River wind. In Costa Rica, popular fare of its tourism does not revolve around Spring Break or the number of bold-name celebrities the country draws in; its tourists are ecologically-conscious and visit to embrace the natural attractions.

One such vestige of our devolving planet is hidden an hour, by horseback, into Costa Rican jungle-Nauyaca Falls. Hidden in the hills between San Isidro el General and Dominical, it is the highest and most expansive of the country, with furious channels of water careening over the top lip, crashing over three levels of rock, and into a number of different pools at the base. Engulfing Nauyaca are towering walls of trees and vine and bushes and the sounds of animals native to the area.

Getting to the Falls was not as much of a commitment as I had assumed. The commute to San Jose from my room at the Paradisus Playa Conchal was an hour's bus ride and from there, another 30 to the Nauyaca Office. It was there that I was introduced to Don Lulo, the tour's guide, well-versed in both English and Spanish, the horses, and Costa Rica's jungle. Lulo and his family have been guiding ecotourists like me to the Falls for over fifteen years.

The tour shared breakfast with Lulo's family before saddling up to follow a trail that would quickly disappear into a small parting in the trees. As we ventured further, the path would dip into waist-high mud, only to mount back up to rocky hill, and I couldn't help but appreciate the confident footing of my horse. I could tell that it knew the land as well as Don Lulo. Even when it was up to its knees in the thick mud, it would choose every step, exactly-certain.

When we arrived, we tied up our horses and surveyed the scene, the building sound of rushing water as we approached the falls was finally revealed as the thick channels of water exploding on the surface of a pool at the base of Nauyaca. When our guide, without hesitation, dived in, we all followed suit, eventually climping a rope up the falls to a ledge where the bravest of us, me included, leapt into the serene, tepid jungle air.

Somewhere between noon and one, a consensus vote sent us heading back to the tour office. It wasn't that we had tired of the place, but all of that swimming and diving can incite the most unruly of hunger pangs. Following lunch, I thanked Don Lulo and his family for the experience and vivid memories that would follow. The falls, I had decided, would be something of tradition, and an apex of future Costa Rican vacations.

Imagining Costa Rica ignites a picture of green, densely covered hills. The jungle paints most of the land and from an aerial view; seemingly the entire country is assembled by a palette of organic colors, save a light brown outline, the beach, separating land from ocean. It would only make sense, then, that a golf course in Costa Rica, and at one of the country's premier resorts, Paradisus Playa Conchal, would be a striking representative of Costa Rica's scenery.

Garra de Leon golf course feeds off of the same fertile soil as the jungle it rests in. On a normal day, the air is thick and humid and the sky, clear. There is no need to reserve a tee-time, one could simply walk into the proshop, pay the fee, and depart on a golf cart to enjoy 18 holes of picturesque tropics.

What's unique about the golf carts, and maybe this amazed me only because it had been so long since I had last golfed and that's just the way things are these days, but embedded in the carts are coolers stocked with water, sodas, and beer. You pay for what you drink, but it was the little things that would amount to the experience.

The course seemed to be a product of its arresting layout. There is something about playing a course that was designed to resonate the tropical Costa Rican ambiance, only to have the real thing towering around you.

I feel as though I've been spoiled; playing on other greens has become chore-exhausting and slightly dissatisfying. The change in scenery was expected; a vacation is a vacation for a reason. I found that what I had group accustomed to was the serenity of playing in, what felt like, complete isolation.

There were no waits, and although there were other groups playing besides mine, the course was otherwise vacant besides the sounds of birds and ocean. At one hole, you tee from a 100 foot rise; on another, mountains rise and howler monkey chatter to your back.

Now, instead of planning a vacation to Costa Rica, I plan a vacation to Garra de Leon golf course, as it's where I spend most of my days.