Costa Rica #2
A Rainforest Adventure in Tortuguero
When we arrived at our wooden lodge in Tortuguero National Park, we wondered why it was on stilts. By the time we left, after over 24 hours of torrential rain, our question had been answered – we were now sleeping over a lake several feet deep.
Even for a Brit, the weather was remarkable. It was so wet and humid that the cover of my bird book curled back like an onion even though it stayed in the room; clothes were impossible to dry and had to be repacked wet; the bedsheets felt damp when you climbed in at night; it was near-impossible to hold a conversation at dinner because of relentless drumming on the metal roof. Sloths clung to trees like wet sponges. Saturated cormorants perched on branches. Bats sheltered under the eaves. Only the frogs were in their element, merrily croaking as their habitat expanded into the forest.
Photography was difficult because of the rain and humidity. Even the inside of my camera lens fogged up. Nevertheless, we can literally say we have soaked up the atmosphere of a tropical rainforest!1
During a brief let-up in the rain, we did a boat tour of one of the small canals that wind their way into the forest off the main river. Here, we saw a few herons sculking along the river banks, got our first good view of a pair of toucans that were affectionally tapping each other’s beaks at the top of a tall dead branch overhanging the river, and, best of all, saw a primaeval-looking green lizard, known as a ‘Jesus Christ Lizard’, clinging to a branch. Our guide explained it got its name because it walks, or rather runs, across the water.
Back at the lodge, I explored the trails that extended a short distance into the forest on boardwalks. I sat for a long time in the rain, looking and listening. Except for the ever-present clicking of cicadas and chirping of frogs, it was surprisingly quiet for such a diverse ecosystem. I admired the tangle of glossy plants and vines growing up the trunk of every tree, illustrating the evolutionary race to reach the light. They looked just like our house plants back at home but larger and in better condition.
The loudest noise in the forest was undoubtedly the howler monkeys that woke us up each morning with their boisterous calls, accompanied by much rattling and shaking of branches. Despite the racket, they were difficult to see, perhaps being so high up in the canopy. More evident, and a great crowd-pleaser, were the cheeky white-faced monkeys that loitered around the restaurant cabin looking for scraps and occasionally stealing diners’ puddings!
We departed Tortuguero the same way we arrived, on a noisy, speeding ‘bus-boat’. However, mercifully, the driver occasionally slowed down when he saw something of interest. This is when we got our best wildlife sightings of this leg of the trip: a juvenile caiman resting on a floating log and nearby a stunning Pterodactyl-like bird, drying itself after all the rain. It was an Anhinga, meaning ‘snake bird’ or ‘evil spirit of the woods’ from the Brazilian Tupi language. A vivid memory.
To be continued…
The official national park website states, ‘water is an abundant natural resource with up to 240 inches of rainfall per year’. That’s over six meters. A quick check on the Met Office website shows that Keswick, widely regarded as one of the wettest places in England, only receives an average of 1572mm per year. So, having done an ecology degree, I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was wet.