Pura Vida Costa Rica! - A Surfing Trip to Nicoya PeninsulaThe fuming air seemed too thick to breathe, and every gasp seemed smaller than the last as we trenched through the rain forest. Each endurance testing step felt the crunch of exotic palms, fallen soldiers in the battlefield that is the rain forest. The lush looming greens peeked down on us through the canopy roof. Beads of sweat monsooned from our sun kissed faces as we picked up the pace. "Hurry," snarled Nikko, "only a little further." I was exhausted. We had been drudging through the perilous mountain terrain of the Nicoya Peninsula for nearly three hours; I didn’t know where we were, but I knew where we were going.
My first stay in Mal Pais, Costa Rica proved the most eye opening notch on my traveling belt. Every February since my childhood, I would embark on a new journey to an exotic surfing location. Having previously ventured to Hawaii, California, Florida and most of the Atlantic Coast, I longed for international waters, in pursuit of the most natural high I’d ever known. Costa Rica compares to surfing as pebble beach compares to golfing, a pinnacle in the surfing world. I had always seen photos of the crystal blue water and the perfect tubes that the country’s’ various breaks brought. For me, traveling does not entail fancy hotels or luxurious living but immersion in the experience that you seek. After a short decision period, I booked my flight and the journey began.
The six hour flight from JFK International Airport into San Jose, CR proved too long for my impatient sixteen ear old mind. Every hour that ticked by made me that much more anxious. Upon arrival, we didn’t stop for a moment. My friend Taylor and I immediately located our contact, one of Taylor’s childhood friends, who now called Costa Rica his home. Nikko met us outside of our terminal, and we vanished into the conurbation. We headed west. Our destination, the infamous Nicoya Peninsula, awaited us, a rugged 3 hour drive away.
At first, the terrain seemed familiar. San Jose proved traditional and enchanting. Large buildings and tourist hotels populated the city. The further outside of the city we got, the less familiar the scene became. Shacks and make-shift houses overran the dirt path of a road we traveled on. Houses grew scarce and people even rarer. The expanse turned mountainous and the smell of salt christened the air. I knew we neared our destination. The mighty ocean roared over the hills and I could barely sit still as I pictured the perfect white curls breaking one hundred yards away from pristine white sand beaches. The various goats and livestock choked on the thick clouds of dust and debris our tires coughed up. I muttered "Step on it Nikko, we’re close" and zipped down the path in a small stick shift station wagon. The midday sun kissed our foreheads as we neared our destination.
The Surfing Paradise From Nicoya PeninsulaWe mounted the final hill and set eyes upon our prize. Nikko’s paltry two room bungalow was carpeted with sand, meshed with the beach. The seas whispers were the music we longed for. After unpacking, we immediately utilized whatever daylight was left and paddled out. The oceans warmth instantly soothed my traveling stress and I instantly transformed. I entered the war zone. I fought through wave after wave, as they attempted to carry me back to shore, each one hitting with more force than the last. I approached the impact zone and dove under the final wave, two feet below a torrent of white water and two feet above the razor sharp coral that enabled such a beautiful and powerful force to live. I passed beyond the breaking point, and the roar of the explosions ceased. The beach, a distant memory, and my sights filled with crystal blue serenity. I caught my first wave. As I shot down the face I was instantly reminded of why I traveled here. The power of the wave carried me down its giant face. As I hit the base of the wave I cut upwards slicing left and gaining more speed. After getting two hours worth of our adrenaline fix, Taylor, Nikko and I decided to call it a day.
We surfed at that spot for three days. When we weren’t in the water we explored the diverse culture of Costa Rica. The rain forest covered the land, and the exotic monkeys, insects, and even birds seemed to live in perfect harmony with the citizens. The cuisine consisted of local livestock and edible forest fruits, literally living off the land. "Pura Vida" is not only a heavily used expression in Costa Rican culture; it proves a way of life. We were surprised how each person we met lived with what they had, and nothing else mattered. These people cared not about with plasma televisions or fancy houses; they lived off the land and were in touch with the earth, truly symbiotic. This idea of basic necessities refreshed me; a breath of fresh air from the vanity of our "real world".
On the fourth day Nikko teased us with an idea of his "secret" surf spot. It was deep through the rain forest, untouched by tourists and hot dog vendors. Of course Taylor and I begged him to show us, and after hours of proving we could make the trek, he agreed. We set off at first light on our fifth day in this beautiful and harmonious country. Only a backpack full of water and a light lunch tagged along with our surfboards. We set off through the forest, dodging heloconia bihai, a red and prickly fellow. Bright purple butterfly vines grabbed at us, as if to say "stay and play!" An audience of apes high above the canopy floor observed us, we were the entertainment. The creatures swung from tree to tree, following us, as if to keep us out of harm’s way. The air was humid and thick, and sweat trickled down my shirtless body. We marched on for nearly three hours. Our calves grew swollen, and our heads heavy. The scrapes and bruises from battling the foliage kept us determined. The green maze we had been enslaved by finally broke, and palm trees were visible. We parted the final wall of leaves, and laid our eyes upon a powerful and alluring sight. The beach was a small inlet, only a hundred yards wide. Rocks and drift wood littered the beach, as our bare feet dodged the unpleasantness. The water seemed to be calling for us, and the massive waves, ours to claim. Not a single human graced the beach as far as the eyes could see. We stood at a remote beach southeast of Mal Pais. Our beach.
That surf spot was the most tranquil place I ever experienced on this planet. Its solidarity allowed me to get in touch with the ocean. There was nothing to distract us. We rode wave after wave, as the swell built up with the retreating tide. "Look!" Taylor proclaimed as he pointed to the shore. A horse paced back and forth in the distance and now lay directly in front of us on the beach. It’s mysterious figure stood out in the bleach white sand and seemed to take entertainment in watching us cut up and down wave after wave. The sheer joy I experienced was the reason I travel. To see the wonders that one cannot see in the blindness of modern life’s daily routine. Traveling puts simple life in perspective, and shows the traveler how beautiful freedom and liberation can be.
The sun had finally set, and we started to make our way back through the forest. With only flashlights to light our way, I turned and gazed in the dark abyss. I could not see the waves crash, but their distant boom, coupled with the sand beneath my toes reassured me of their presence. I stood there for a few moments, relief washing over me faster than the white water I had battled all day. I let out a sigh, and unwillingly turned to the forest. I knew I would never feel that same sense of inner peace again for a while, and wanted to cherish it. A smile came over my face, and I thanked the earth for giving me such a simple pleasure, a happiness and peace of mind so pure and true that one must experience it to understand. Everything I felt at that moment truly encompassed the Costa Rican meaning of life, our very own "Pura Vida!"
Travel Article Written By Brett Stephen Benza, Jr.
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