Returning from Chirripo and San Isidro, we spent a day in San Jose and then set off for Monteverde. It was a very long trip, the last stretch up a steep, bumpy dirt road, the bus groaning and creaking as it slowly crawled up the mountain. We arrived after dark and after a delicious dinner we went upstairs for an early night.
The next morning we set off up the dirt road to the park. The road was quite steep and we were glad we'd chosen a hotel close to the park. We walked past land cleared for grazing dairy cows, fenced of by the now familiar "living fences" - a row of regularly spaced saplings with barbed wire strung between them. The entrance fee was also quite steep but we figured it was for a worthy cause. So, map in hand, we headed off on the "cloud forest trail".
The forest was quite overwhelming, cool and moist, the trees dripping with lichens and moss, these in turn dripping cool, clear water. We were immersed in the most gorgeous green, but soon found ourselves chafing to see some of its inhabitants. Our first find was a snake (a cloud forest racer, Dendrophidion paucicarinatum), basking beside the path, which I caught and photographed and was photographed holding (somewhere out there is another photo album with an inexplicable photo of a scruffy looking herpetologist, complete with snake).
After the usual fight to get it to cooperate, I had it posed nicely and set about taking pictures. Then we heard something approaching. At first we both took it to be a person and I cursed their bad timing, but just as it occurred to us that there was something odd about the sound we saw a peccary (a type of native pig) come trundling over the crest of the hill behind us. As soon as it saw us it veered off, crashing into the undergrowth and out of sight.
We continued around the paths, and as we walked along one raised walkway we were buzzed by a gorgeous hummingbird, the bright sun flashing off its metallic blue, green and pink plumage. We also caught another snake, a parrot snake (Leptophis nebulosus) similar to the one at Manuel Antonio. This one also posed with its mouth agape and refused to close it again when I wanted some head shots. The only way I could get it to shut its mouth was to walk away, but then as soon as I moved closer the threat display would begin again.
Around mid-day we stopped to eat our hotel-provided packed lunches on a seat beside a set of stairs, situated opposite a gap in the trees that looked out over the forest canopy. As we ate, a very small, dark brown mouse appeared from under the stairs and greedily accepted the small pieces of bread and cheese that we threw to it.
When we'd done as much walking as we could handle we exited the park and visited the Hummingbird Gallery, an art gallery/souvenir shop set up by Michael and Patricia Fogden (world famous wildlife photographers) just outside the park. The walls were covered in the most spectacular prints of native animals...pardon me while I drool.
Outside, several bird feeders filled with a sugar solution attracted numerous brightly-coloured hummingbirds. The birds fought constantly, hovering at the feeders, their wings a blur, until another bird approached and they would leave the food to fly at the newcomer, chattering noisily.
After dinner, Kate went to bed and I answered the call of nature. Literally. Out into the dark and rainy night I went in search of things that hop and/or croak. I walked down the road to a bridge and listened out for evidence of an amphibian presence. Over the sound of the raging torrent below I could just make out the sound of a hopeful male, calling to his potential beloved. The question was, how was I going to get down there? The answer was, very rapidly, my torchbeam waving wildly as I slid down into the darkness, flailing at the dripping vegetation in an attempt to stop myself from falling all the way into the creek. I eventually managed to catch hold of something, and, at the bottom, picked myself up and listened again for my quarry. Naturally enough he was on the other side of the creek, only a few small, slippery-looking rocks poking themselves out of the dark water between me and there. How I managed to get across without seriously injuring myself I don't know. Doc Marten's are definitely not the footwear of choice for this sort of pursuit and with my torch in one hand and umbrella in the other I must have looked like a seriously lost and ill-equipped trapeze artist.
My arrival at the other side made one thing clear - I was not going to catch that frog. He was up in a tree, well out of reach, and so I turned around and took my life in my hands once more. I only slipped once during my death-defying journeys across the creek, my booted foot plunging into the icy water. Somehow I got back to the other side uninjured and a lot drier than I deserved, although still a lot wetter than I would have liked. I managed to climb back up to the road, navigating my way through a mass of dead branches that took more of my weight than sense would have suggested.
But the ordeal wasn't over. When I got back to the hotel, muddy, cold and wet, the door was locked. And so I found myself searching for suitably sized rocks to throw at what I hoped was our window. I chose right, both my rock size and target proving correct and Kate was roused and made aware of my predicament. Boy, that bed felt good.
The next day the sky was overcast and the day much cooler and we arrived at the park a little less overheated. Although we suspected that it was probably too late, we headed straight for the area marked on our map as being a good spot for spotting Quetzals. These birds, members of the trogon family, are one of the holy grails for most Central American travellers. The male bird truly spectacular with its glittering green plumage, crimson belly and white tail feathers, all capped off by a set of bright green tail coverts that may reach 60cm in length. Naturally such an eye-catching bird could not escape the attention of marauding humans and is now in danger of extinction, restricted to preserves like Monteverde.
When we found the right place we slowly walked back and forth, stopping every ten steps or so to scan the treetops for spectacularly coloured birds. We didn't see anything except another couple, plus guide, also looking up. We sidled over and quietly asked them what they'd seen. It was indeed a Quetzal and we actually saw it as it departed. Kate caught a glimpse of a big bird with a bright red belly, considerably more than the silhouette of a bird flying away that was my closest encounter with a wild Quetzal. As bird sightings go it wasn't terribly satisfying but at least we could now tell people that we had seen a Quetzal. We'd just have to keep quiet about the details.
This proved to be the day's highlight as far as animal spotting was concerned and that night I decided to forego another potentially life-threatening frogging expedition.
We couldn't really afford to stay any longer so the next day we set off for Liberia, further north on the Pacific coast. There we visited Santa Rosa National Park. The park preserves the last stand of tropical dry forest anywhere in Central America and its beaches are also important nesting sites for several species of marine turtle. Each year thousands of turtles come up onto the beaches in what are known as "arribadas", huge waves of nesting females. Unfortunately our herpetological encounters there were confined to a small toad and several lizards, all of which were too quick to catch. The mammals turned on a pretty good show though - deer, three monkey species and another peccary.